Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

141(G)

                          Darkness

                        bendingwind

Long red nails scratch down the side of his face, leaving faint white lines that will later turn red.

“You’re being weak,” she says, and it is more of a command than a reprimand. “You know what has to be done.” He draws back, slowly, and nods. He does not look at his hands, with rusty blood dried into the pads of his fingers and the creases on his palm. He lifts a stained hand to cup her cheek, gently.

“River, am I going crazy?” he whispers, and she sighs and leans forward so that their foreheads meet.

“No, my love, this hurts far too much to be insanity.” Her breath puffs against his mouth, and he closes his eyes. Just a moment, a quick moment in time, when he can forget all that exists in their tiny collapsing world. She straightens first.

“Let’s go,” she says, businesslike, and he opens his eyes with a silent sigh and follows her, as he always does. Outside are a hundred innocent men and women, minds long since lost to tiny deadly ear buds, and he is going to kill every last one of them. He will do it with the same sick joy that always wells up like the blood he spills, and River will be by his side, a tiny smile on those perfect red lips. He wants more than anything to tell himself that he only does this because he must, but he knows the truth—the darkness that’s always been there is coming for him, urging him to kill rather than save, and he is taking River there with him. Or maybe she’s the one taking him with her. It doesn’t matter. He has a Sirisian blade in one hand and a common earth gun in the other, because he likes the spurts of pretty blood. Red is really such a pretty color, for hair and nails and lips and delicate jewel-like drops of life. River only carries a disintegrator ray gun, because she hates getting mess on her clothes.

“Love you, sweetie,” she says with a smile and a quick kiss on his cheek, before she heads out of the TARDIS doors before him. She’ll want to be out of his way when he begins. Her head pops around the door one final time. “Don’t forget,” she says, her eyes crinkling in that way that is so very adorable, “we owe this to them, to kill them each personally. I know you’d rather just blow them all up, but this is only fair. It’s not their fault they’ve become tools of the cybermen.”

He nods, hefts the gun in his hand, and strides towards the door behind her.

Hundreds will die tonight, and they will return to the TARDIS panting with a mad sort of brilliance, and they will fall into bed together and make love and the world will fall apart just a tiny bit more.