• Now I'm on my own side
It's better than being on your side
It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes
All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends. •
She met him before. So many times, now. He's been at the edge of her life, one of the people who's influenced it, and yet not fully part of it. He's not "different" like she is, he's different in a way that sets him apart.
She used to like him.
She doesn't know when it started, she doesn't know how it happened, but he's not who he used to be. His hair is wilder, his eyes are colder. His face is fixed in an eternal smirk, a sort of smugness she doesn't recognize. He stands at the edge of the circus and watches the people who pass him.
She starts towards him as she always has, a smile on her face. She thinks about the things she'll tell him, the things she thinks he wants to know about her life. But as she walks towards him, she stops. It's that smile. It's how different it looks.
It's like he's the Doctor, but she's looking at Sylar. That insanity, it's there. It's frightening. Even moreso because she's always seen the Doctor as a friend. She's tempted to believe it's not him, it's a shapeshifter with his face, but part of her knows it isn't. It's him, he's just…different.
"Doctor?" she asks.
"Claire," he replies. She expects more out of him (when has he ever not found time for talking?), but he stays quiet, staring out into the circus. It's calculating. It's a way she's never seen him look at the world around him before.
"What are you----?" she starts.
"I'm waiting," he says. Again, she expects him to elaborate, but he doesn't. It's like the excitement she's always seen in him has been ripped out, replaced by…she's not sure what.
"For what?" she finally asks.
"Something's coming. I've decided I want to be part of it," he says. In his voice, she can hear the excitement she remembers, but he still holds back.
"What's coming?" she asks.
He smiles. It's a twisted, cruel smile. A mockery of the grin she so often saw on her friend before. It curls at the edges and twists into something grotesque.
His reply is both cryptic and excited. It's almost like he used to be, only it's wrong. Something about him is wrong now.
Muse: The Doctor (Valeyard)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 375