dw fic: engine turning over [ten/rose, pg-13]
There is probably something wrong with me because Doctor Who has taken over my brain and this is my second post-ep for "The Stolen Earth."
engine turning over
doctor who; ten/rose, donna, jack; pg-13; 1,200 words
it is quite a bit like dying, he's been told. two regenerations, with the fast-forward button on. spoilers for "the stolen earth."
Engine Turning Over
Although the girl has little to do with your story,
she is, in a sense, the entire story.
- Stephen Dobyns, “Beauty”
i.
It is quite a bit like dying, he’s been told.
That’s what Rose said, the first time he talked to her about it. Which was after Christmas, two days after Christmas, maybe? It should have been sooner. He looks at Donna’s face - white and blurry because either his eyes have started to vibrate or she’s shaking. He should have this conversation sooner.
He pulls himself up against one of the beams of the console.
“What’s it like?” Rose had said. “When you - regenerate.” She felt the word around in her mouth. By then she said things like “Slitheen” and even “Raxacoricofallapatorious” like they were plain English and oh, it made him smile but “regenerate” was alien.
It might have been the most alien thing he’d shown her.
“I feel,” he had started, looking at his fingernails that didn’t need cutting yet. “I feel it in my arms, first. It feels like they’re on fire.”
“They were on fire.”
“Yes. But - but it doesn’t hurt.”
Her face changed, her eyes lifted and he knew she was relieved that he wasn’t in pain. It made his hearts twist. These hearts were different, and he thought they beat a little faster.
“It’s like being pulled a million different ways,” he said. He could see Rose grimace out of the corner of his eye and he turned towards her. “Like an hourglass, like an engine turning over. I see, oh, a million different futures. Different faces, people I, people I care about and,” he raised his hands up, a shrug. “I don’t know Rose, I can't explain.”
She had nodded. “When my dad died,” she said, her voice catching, “he whispered something to me.”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“He said he saw all the important things in his life, that he saw me being born. He said I was beautiful.”
He nods. These new eyes don’t see her as any less remarkable-looking.
“Is it anything like that?” she asked. “You see the important things in your life, you just see them in the future.”
“That could describe it, I think - yes.”
“So it’s like dying,” she said, dully.
“Rose, he said. He took both her hands. “I didn’t die.”
She nodded, and they sat for a moment. Then she pulled her hands away, tugging on his fingers and he leaned forward. When she spoke she was whispering. “Did you see me?”
He hadn’t answered. The door had creaked and Jackie had walked into the flat, balancing two grocery bags with her purse and her keys, and he had leapt up a little too quickly to help her with her things.
ii.
Of course he saw her. But really, he couldn’t have told her much of what he saw. It happened so fast; it always happens so fast.
“It’s too late,” he says, looking at Rose again - why has she had to see this twice? - “I’m regenerating.”
iii.
He is blonde, tall, broad, with a gap in his front teeth - he can see himself reflected in a dirty window in front of him. He’s got his arms behind his back against a dark wall and he can hear the daleks - that trundling noise they make that sounds like children’s toys at first but soon sounds like terror. One rounds the corner and then -
He doesn’t know what he looks like but he can feel a beard scratching against his chin. He’s smiling out at London, looking down from a hill, and he turns and Donna Noble’s next to him. She’s blinking into the sunlight, grinning. He reaches to take her hand and -
He is being kissed. Yes, it’s that utterly distinct feeling of being kissed, and that light breaking through his eyelids belongs to the TARDIS. He’s being kissed in the TARDIS and he’s actually doing quite a bit of kissing back and his arms are around a small waist and there’s blonde hair in front of him and there are fingertips running down his sideburns and he remembers this, last time, he’s seen this before -
He is lighting a funeral pyre. The fire is close, he feels the smoke sting his eyes and burn against his skin, against his head - he must be bald. He turns and feels the sweat on the back of his neck and walks away until he can’t hear the crackling flames anymore -
He is alone. In the TARDIS. His reflection is blurred in one of the monitors and he flips down a switch and feels time and space start to spin around him. He’s seen this before too, so many times.
iv.
He staggers back against the console, heels flat against the grating and he stretches his arms out, all the way out so his body makes a T.
“Doctor!” he hears.
It’s Jack’s voice. Jack is coming towards him. With big hands he pushes down the Doctor’s arms, and settles him into the console chair. Rose rushes over.
Donna is staying away. Donna is fluttering around the edges of his peripheral vision. He focuses on her. “It’s me, Donna,” he says. “I promise, it’s me. We met here, in the TARDIS - you just appeared wearing a wedding dress and you yelled at me. You have a mother and a grandfather, we’ve been to Pompeii. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry - ”
He can feel the babbling, the way words spill out of his lips without meaning. What worked on Rose? The Doctor reaches out for Donna’s hand but she’s there already.
“You look the same, you daft alien,” she says. “All that fire and everything and you look exactly the same.”
“I do?”
Jack nods and Rose has her fingers on his cheek. Sliding down his sideburn, around his ear, to his pulse. That’s - familiar is the word he’s looking for. “You’re you,” she says, as if she doesn’t believe him.
“Always will be.” He grins. Jack and Donna, and Rose. And what does it matter about the daleks right now because this, this energy inside of him could vanquish anything.
“What did you see?” Rose asks. Her hand is still on his shoulder and he thinks he might grab it, pull her against him, start the kissing that he’s seen twice now while regenerating, it must be this future.
But no, something is niggling at the back of his head. This isn’t how that happens.
He jumps up. It’s too fast, he slumps back into the chair again. All three of them are around him now, and Rose is saying “I’ll make you some tea,” and Donna looks worried again and Jack is frowning. He closes his eyes and feels them move around him, breathes out energy and smiles when Rose presses a warm mug into his hands. That’s the second time he’s ducked her question, and as he breathes in the steam he hopes there won’t be a third.
engine turning over
doctor who; ten/rose, donna, jack; pg-13; 1,200 words
it is quite a bit like dying, he's been told. two regenerations, with the fast-forward button on. spoilers for "the stolen earth."
Engine Turning Over
Although the girl has little to do with your story,
she is, in a sense, the entire story.
- Stephen Dobyns, “Beauty”
i.
It is quite a bit like dying, he’s been told.
That’s what Rose said, the first time he talked to her about it. Which was after Christmas, two days after Christmas, maybe? It should have been sooner. He looks at Donna’s face - white and blurry because either his eyes have started to vibrate or she’s shaking. He should have this conversation sooner.
He pulls himself up against one of the beams of the console.
“What’s it like?” Rose had said. “When you - regenerate.” She felt the word around in her mouth. By then she said things like “Slitheen” and even “Raxacoricofallapatorious” like they were plain English and oh, it made him smile but “regenerate” was alien.
It might have been the most alien thing he’d shown her.
“I feel,” he had started, looking at his fingernails that didn’t need cutting yet. “I feel it in my arms, first. It feels like they’re on fire.”
“They were on fire.”
“Yes. But - but it doesn’t hurt.”
Her face changed, her eyes lifted and he knew she was relieved that he wasn’t in pain. It made his hearts twist. These hearts were different, and he thought they beat a little faster.
“It’s like being pulled a million different ways,” he said. He could see Rose grimace out of the corner of his eye and he turned towards her. “Like an hourglass, like an engine turning over. I see, oh, a million different futures. Different faces, people I, people I care about and,” he raised his hands up, a shrug. “I don’t know Rose, I can't explain.”
She had nodded. “When my dad died,” she said, her voice catching, “he whispered something to me.”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“He said he saw all the important things in his life, that he saw me being born. He said I was beautiful.”
He nods. These new eyes don’t see her as any less remarkable-looking.
“Is it anything like that?” she asked. “You see the important things in your life, you just see them in the future.”
“That could describe it, I think - yes.”
“So it’s like dying,” she said, dully.
“Rose, he said. He took both her hands. “I didn’t die.”
She nodded, and they sat for a moment. Then she pulled her hands away, tugging on his fingers and he leaned forward. When she spoke she was whispering. “Did you see me?”
He hadn’t answered. The door had creaked and Jackie had walked into the flat, balancing two grocery bags with her purse and her keys, and he had leapt up a little too quickly to help her with her things.
ii.
Of course he saw her. But really, he couldn’t have told her much of what he saw. It happened so fast; it always happens so fast.
“It’s too late,” he says, looking at Rose again - why has she had to see this twice? - “I’m regenerating.”
iii.
He is blonde, tall, broad, with a gap in his front teeth - he can see himself reflected in a dirty window in front of him. He’s got his arms behind his back against a dark wall and he can hear the daleks - that trundling noise they make that sounds like children’s toys at first but soon sounds like terror. One rounds the corner and then -
He doesn’t know what he looks like but he can feel a beard scratching against his chin. He’s smiling out at London, looking down from a hill, and he turns and Donna Noble’s next to him. She’s blinking into the sunlight, grinning. He reaches to take her hand and -
He is being kissed. Yes, it’s that utterly distinct feeling of being kissed, and that light breaking through his eyelids belongs to the TARDIS. He’s being kissed in the TARDIS and he’s actually doing quite a bit of kissing back and his arms are around a small waist and there’s blonde hair in front of him and there are fingertips running down his sideburns and he remembers this, last time, he’s seen this before -
He is lighting a funeral pyre. The fire is close, he feels the smoke sting his eyes and burn against his skin, against his head - he must be bald. He turns and feels the sweat on the back of his neck and walks away until he can’t hear the crackling flames anymore -
He is alone. In the TARDIS. His reflection is blurred in one of the monitors and he flips down a switch and feels time and space start to spin around him. He’s seen this before too, so many times.
iv.
He staggers back against the console, heels flat against the grating and he stretches his arms out, all the way out so his body makes a T.
“Doctor!” he hears.
It’s Jack’s voice. Jack is coming towards him. With big hands he pushes down the Doctor’s arms, and settles him into the console chair. Rose rushes over.
Donna is staying away. Donna is fluttering around the edges of his peripheral vision. He focuses on her. “It’s me, Donna,” he says. “I promise, it’s me. We met here, in the TARDIS - you just appeared wearing a wedding dress and you yelled at me. You have a mother and a grandfather, we’ve been to Pompeii. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry - ”
He can feel the babbling, the way words spill out of his lips without meaning. What worked on Rose? The Doctor reaches out for Donna’s hand but she’s there already.
“You look the same, you daft alien,” she says. “All that fire and everything and you look exactly the same.”
“I do?”
Jack nods and Rose has her fingers on his cheek. Sliding down his sideburn, around his ear, to his pulse. That’s - familiar is the word he’s looking for. “You’re you,” she says, as if she doesn’t believe him.
“Always will be.” He grins. Jack and Donna, and Rose. And what does it matter about the daleks right now because this, this energy inside of him could vanquish anything.
“What did you see?” Rose asks. Her hand is still on his shoulder and he thinks he might grab it, pull her against him, start the kissing that he’s seen twice now while regenerating, it must be this future.
But no, something is niggling at the back of his head. This isn’t how that happens.
He jumps up. It’s too fast, he slumps back into the chair again. All three of them are around him now, and Rose is saying “I’ll make you some tea,” and Donna looks worried again and Jack is frowning. He closes his eyes and feels them move around him, breathes out energy and smiles when Rose presses a warm mug into his hands. That’s the second time he’s ducked her question, and as he breathes in the steam he hopes there won’t be a third.