the sun and the moon and the stars (for Jane)

[sortofaman]

Night time, in an island October, and the Doctor was up on the roof of the compound, gazing up at the sky.

In perfect honesty, he usually tried not to look at the stars much, anymore. The restlessness that ensued wasn't pleasant for anyone, while it lasted, and he preferred to keep the peace when possible. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, most of the time.

But he'd assigned his students reading and viewing about the moon landing (not faked, for fuck's sake, though what they'd found had been glossed over for the public), and had them do some impromptu writing about what they thought people at the time felt about space exploration--imagining that no one else from their world had been up there and now people had gone so far.

It was only fair to have a good look himself, even if he'd need a beer in the Hub before going home. He sat and dangled his legs over the edge of the building, arms bracing himself, and looked up, really looked up.

For a minute, he smiled.

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[sortofaman.livejournal.com]

"Even warm towels?" the Doctor asked, but Jane had already gone on into the compound. He waited for her, heels thudding softly against the concrete in a four-beat staccato rhythm, until he caught himself recognising the pattern. Fortunately, that was the moment Jane reappeared, and he put it out of his mind.

"It's possible that it's genetic," he answered. "Or at least the tendency is...but if you're raised to love something, then it's awfully hard not to love it. Fortunately, the stars are worth loving."

[sciencefact]

"I never feel more comfortable than when I'm looking at the night sky," says Jane, her gaze still firmly fixed upon it. "I think you're right, though. It's been part of my life as far back as I can remember. It feels like a tangible part of me."

She pauses, and then tips a look his way. "Do you ever feel like that?"

[sortofaman.livejournal.com]

"More than one'd think," said the Doctor. Something about the thought of it all hit him hard, caused an ache somewhere between his hearts. So he carried on gazing upwards, the moon and starlight just barely illuminating his face, until he trusted himself to turn back to look at her without being too overwrought.

"Though they never used to feel so distant. When somewhere is your home, you can't think of it as anything but comfortable, sensical. But from here, it's easy to remember how damn big it all is."

[sciencefact]

"Living in this place, being trapped here, is definitely a challenge." In dozens and possibly hundreds of little ways, like feeling so far removed from something that had defined you, or in having that thing suddenly different, unreliable. Their lives here could be so much worse, but Jane doesn't know how to put out the flame in herself that keeps her forever reaching back, reaching out, reaching anywhere else.

"I have these moments when I've hit the same wall so many times that I think maybe everyone else has the right idea, maybe I should get back down to earth more often and stop worrying about theories and data all the time. But I don't really know how to do that."

[sortofaman.livejournal.com]

"I've never been one for the whole 'power of positive thinking' bollocks, but I've found that things have been a lot easier when I don't think of it as trapped. Stuck, perhaps, but trapped...trapped implies being an animal, being caged. Stuck allows for experimentation and analysis. Semantics, yeah, but sometimes that's the sort of thing that helps keep you focused." The Doctor smiled with half his face, a quirk that admitted to the potential futility therein. "Or maybe I've just decided that to win the island game, I had to intentionally lose; take all I can, give nothing back, so to speak.

"But, bringing it back to the big picture, humanity needs people like you," he continued. "Because otherwise no one ends up looking outwards, and everything is stagnant. I know it sounds like a cliche, but without theories or dreams, how does anyone proceed?"