dw fic: let's try a new change [ten/rose, pg]
Guys, I wrote this in, I kid you not, twenty minutes. Apologies it it either has spelling mistakes or, you know, sucks. Let me know either way.
let's try a new change
doctor who; ten/rose, donna, jack; pg; 800 words
she's seen fires, before. spoilers for "the stolen earth."
Let's Try A New Change
He’s across the street from her.
He’s actually across the street, the same street as the one she’s standing on and he’s looking at her and her feet start moving before her brain could possibly have gotten the idea to tell them to and as he gets bigger, running towards her also, she can feel her mind taking snapshots of him.
He looks ridiculous. She’s out of breath but she can almost hear her voice, the way it used to sound, laughing at the way his jacket flies up as he runs. But she’s the world’s biggest hypocrite because she’s running too. And there’s a smile threatening to break her face in half, the kind of grin that makes her call herself unphotogenic.
Maybe the whole thing’s ridiculous, but the sight of him is the first thing to compete with her memory in what might as well be a new definition of forever. He’s burning her brain of that image of him on the beach until -
_
She’s seen fires, before.
There was a fire when they met Charles Dickens. It crackled pleasantly against cold stone and warmed her bare shoulders and he smiled at her from across the room. The fire lit his jacket like headlights until he was practically reflective. Pride and happiness and something else, she thought she could feel beaming at her.
And he exploded in front of her. There was a fire and this new him crawled out of it. And she was scared of him, this stranger who talked too fast and knew all her memories. Would become all her memories.
But there was a fire on the television that first Christmas at home, and she remembers pulling crackers with him and the way he said, “this one’s yours.” The snow and the lights and the feeling of closing a fantastic book but finding the sequel.
_
Now he’s on fire again. She knows Jack’s arm is around her but she can’t feel any pressure. All of the force in her body is coming out of her eyes, focusing on his face under the flames, trying to see what’s happening.
Something’s shifting. Something’s moving and she knows she can’t stay in this world if she’s killed him again. All the memories she’s rewritten from just running down the street towards him will disappear if she sees another stranger, and maybe it’s shallow and maybe it’s just terribly, terribly human but she misses him like an ache down to her toenails and all she wants to do is see him again.
_
“Hello,” he says. Licks his teeth. Blinks three times, one for Donna, one for Jack, one for Rose. They have arms wrapped around each other, and three identical open mouths gaping at him and surely he can’t look that bad, really. He glances down at his hands. They still come out of his sleeves at the same point. Well, on the bright side, that means he still has arms.
“I know big things are going on and everything,” he says - and isn’t it strange how his voice sounds the same - “end of the universe, you know, but really.” Rose has wrapped herself around him before he can ask, “could somebody tell me what I look like?”
“Hi,” she whispers into his neck. Her breath slips past his collar and he feels the chills rush down his arms as he tucks them around her waist.
“So not bad then,” he says, a laugh in his voice that he immediately associates with her. He glances over her shoulder at Jack, who’s grinning, and Donna, who’s smiling gently.
“You look the same, Doctor,” Donna says. She shakes her head. “You get a chance to stop being so skinny and you look exactly the same.”
“Really?” he asks. Rose is nodding against the knot of his tie. “Thought it might be time for a change.” She loosens one hand from around his neck and slaps his side with it. He catches it and holds it fast. “Did I ever tell you why I look like this?” he asks.
He can feel her shake her head, and Jack flashes him a questioning look. He disentangles himself from Rose and leans against the console, keeping her hand in his while he cracks his back. It feels wonderful. He’s positively springing with energy and it might be the most peaceful feeling he knows.
“I look like the kind of chap you bring home to your mother,” he starts, and Donna snorts. “Oi!” he says, clears his throat. “I look like this,” and his eyes find Rose’s, “because you wanted me to. ‘S why I have your accent, too. And since you were here for this regeneration, it only makes sense that I wouldn’t change.”
Rose presses her lips together. That’s no good. He wants her to smile. She smiled the first time he looked like this. He took her hand, he remembers, whispered one word, just one word, and she smiled.
There’s a crash outside, and the sound of metal scraping against metal. It’s instinctive the way he laces his fingers into hers. Tugging gently, he does it again. “Run!”
And Rose is smiling as the four of them race for the door.
let's try a new change
doctor who; ten/rose, donna, jack; pg; 800 words
she's seen fires, before. spoilers for "the stolen earth."
Let's Try A New Change
He’s across the street from her.
He’s actually across the street, the same street as the one she’s standing on and he’s looking at her and her feet start moving before her brain could possibly have gotten the idea to tell them to and as he gets bigger, running towards her also, she can feel her mind taking snapshots of him.
He looks ridiculous. She’s out of breath but she can almost hear her voice, the way it used to sound, laughing at the way his jacket flies up as he runs. But she’s the world’s biggest hypocrite because she’s running too. And there’s a smile threatening to break her face in half, the kind of grin that makes her call herself unphotogenic.
Maybe the whole thing’s ridiculous, but the sight of him is the first thing to compete with her memory in what might as well be a new definition of forever. He’s burning her brain of that image of him on the beach until -
_
She’s seen fires, before.
There was a fire when they met Charles Dickens. It crackled pleasantly against cold stone and warmed her bare shoulders and he smiled at her from across the room. The fire lit his jacket like headlights until he was practically reflective. Pride and happiness and something else, she thought she could feel beaming at her.
And he exploded in front of her. There was a fire and this new him crawled out of it. And she was scared of him, this stranger who talked too fast and knew all her memories. Would become all her memories.
But there was a fire on the television that first Christmas at home, and she remembers pulling crackers with him and the way he said, “this one’s yours.” The snow and the lights and the feeling of closing a fantastic book but finding the sequel.
_
Now he’s on fire again. She knows Jack’s arm is around her but she can’t feel any pressure. All of the force in her body is coming out of her eyes, focusing on his face under the flames, trying to see what’s happening.
Something’s shifting. Something’s moving and she knows she can’t stay in this world if she’s killed him again. All the memories she’s rewritten from just running down the street towards him will disappear if she sees another stranger, and maybe it’s shallow and maybe it’s just terribly, terribly human but she misses him like an ache down to her toenails and all she wants to do is see him again.
_
“Hello,” he says. Licks his teeth. Blinks three times, one for Donna, one for Jack, one for Rose. They have arms wrapped around each other, and three identical open mouths gaping at him and surely he can’t look that bad, really. He glances down at his hands. They still come out of his sleeves at the same point. Well, on the bright side, that means he still has arms.
“I know big things are going on and everything,” he says - and isn’t it strange how his voice sounds the same - “end of the universe, you know, but really.” Rose has wrapped herself around him before he can ask, “could somebody tell me what I look like?”
“Hi,” she whispers into his neck. Her breath slips past his collar and he feels the chills rush down his arms as he tucks them around her waist.
“So not bad then,” he says, a laugh in his voice that he immediately associates with her. He glances over her shoulder at Jack, who’s grinning, and Donna, who’s smiling gently.
“You look the same, Doctor,” Donna says. She shakes her head. “You get a chance to stop being so skinny and you look exactly the same.”
“Really?” he asks. Rose is nodding against the knot of his tie. “Thought it might be time for a change.” She loosens one hand from around his neck and slaps his side with it. He catches it and holds it fast. “Did I ever tell you why I look like this?” he asks.
He can feel her shake her head, and Jack flashes him a questioning look. He disentangles himself from Rose and leans against the console, keeping her hand in his while he cracks his back. It feels wonderful. He’s positively springing with energy and it might be the most peaceful feeling he knows.
“I look like the kind of chap you bring home to your mother,” he starts, and Donna snorts. “Oi!” he says, clears his throat. “I look like this,” and his eyes find Rose’s, “because you wanted me to. ‘S why I have your accent, too. And since you were here for this regeneration, it only makes sense that I wouldn’t change.”
Rose presses her lips together. That’s no good. He wants her to smile. She smiled the first time he looked like this. He took her hand, he remembers, whispered one word, just one word, and she smiled.
There’s a crash outside, and the sound of metal scraping against metal. It’s instinctive the way he laces his fingers into hers. Tugging gently, he does it again. “Run!”
And Rose is smiling as the four of them race for the door.