Fic: A Hand to Hold (Nine/Rose | PG)
Title: A Hand to Hold
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen Rose.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Summary: He holds out his hand and she takes it, as though her hand was made to fit into his.
Author's Note: Written for round 1.02 of doctor_rose_las, a last author standing community. Many thanks to my betas; you've all made this a better story.
I
The Nestene Consciousness. Fantastic. Invading the Earth for petroleum-tainted protein, also known as humans. He should go and stop them. Never mind that he's just recovered from regeneration sickness, or that the screams of Arcadia's death still ring in his ears: here, at least, is a planet he can save, or die trying.
Neither option is objectionable.
II
She asked questions.
He tries not to think about it as he slips around the mannequin guards, secures the explosive, sets the timer. But he can't help it.
She asked questions. And she came up with reasons that were really quite logical. Students! Who'd've thought it! Clever, her.
But she's human. She's probably on her way home right now, dismissing him as some sort of nutter. Give it half an hour and she'll be on her settee, eating beans on toast and talking to her boyfriend about the Northern bloke in the leather jacket.
That picture disturbs him. He's not sure why.
He's a little more careful than he planned to be as he finishes setting the bomb: gives himself a bit more time to leg it than he'd originally meant to. He survives.
He tells himself it's only because the Nestene Consciousness is still out there, and he still has to sort it. No other reason.
III
In a cramped two-bedroom Council flat, an animated plastic hand attacks them both, and he discovers he's not the only non-human creature on Earth who's fixated on her. He stops the control signal, saves her life, and then does a runner. Or attempts to: back to the TARDIS, back to the safety of himself, alone.
But she follows him across the estate, demands explanations, asks yet more clever, daft, fantastic questions. He can't quite admit to her that she's in danger; he pretends the hand only followed her because she'd met him. But he knows better. There's more to this ordinary, thoroughly-human young woman than meets the eye. He stops, turns to her, tries to explain.
"I can feel it."
Her hand is warm in his, soft, comfortable. Comforting.
"The turn of the Earth."
Her mouth is open, her eyes on him, and he can feel more than the turn of the Earth now; he can feel her, her heart and her breathing and her brain racing, racing, to keep up with what he's saying and what it means. Something inside him cracks open, and the words tumble out.
"The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go..."
It takes nearly all his will to force his hand to release hers. He's losing control to a human, a child, an innocent. She doesn't know about the blood on his hands, covering him, drowning him. She doesn't know how dangerous he is, and she mustn't, not ever.
He pulls himself together, tells her to forget him, and walks away.
IV
The Embankment. So close to the transmitter. He can feel it, he can taste it, and the frustration is killing him.
But then--ohh, there she goes asking questions again. Intelligent questions, fantastic questions, and they lead to the answer he's looking for. They run across Westminster Bridge together, and almost without thinking, he holds out his hand and she takes it, as though her hand was made to fit into his.
V
She said no.
He walks heavily around the console, flipping switches, feeling the familiar rumble of the Time Rotor starting up, the TARDIS dematerialising. His hearts ache, and he curses himself for it. She's just a kid, after all. Just a little human teenager who helped him out. He doesn't need her. He doesn't need anyone.
You do, the TARDIS sings softly in the recesses of his mind, golden tendrils curling tenderly into his awareness. I am not enough. You are alone.
"I'll always be alone," he tells her shortly. "Her boyfriend--" he spits the word "--is more important to her than travelling with me. She hardly knows me. What do I have to offer her?"
The universe, the TARDIS sings.
"Tried that. Didn't work." And that stings. He can take her anywhere, anywhen, and she'd rather watch telly with her idiot boyfriend than see the sun come up over the Egyptian pyramids in the year 3500 BC, or hear the song of the sun's rays hitting the crystals of Gallabora Prime, or meet the President of the United Earth three hundred years after she was born, or--
He stops, blinking. Hope is growing in his chest. Maybe…just maybe….
With the TARDIS's aria of encouragement in the background, he slams down the reset lever and reappears in the alleyway where he left her. This is his last chance. Please, he pleads to powers he's never believed in, please let this work.
He opens the door and sticks out his head.
"By the way, did I mention it also travels in time?"
His hearts brimming, he watches as, with a kiss on the cheek to the idiot boyfriend, his future comes running towards him.
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen Rose.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Summary: He holds out his hand and she takes it, as though her hand was made to fit into his.
Author's Note: Written for round 1.02 of doctor_rose_las, a last author standing community. Many thanks to my betas; you've all made this a better story.
I
The Nestene Consciousness. Fantastic. Invading the Earth for petroleum-tainted protein, also known as humans. He should go and stop them. Never mind that he's just recovered from regeneration sickness, or that the screams of Arcadia's death still ring in his ears: here, at least, is a planet he can save, or die trying.
Neither option is objectionable.
II
She asked questions.
He tries not to think about it as he slips around the mannequin guards, secures the explosive, sets the timer. But he can't help it.
She asked questions. And she came up with reasons that were really quite logical. Students! Who'd've thought it! Clever, her.
But she's human. She's probably on her way home right now, dismissing him as some sort of nutter. Give it half an hour and she'll be on her settee, eating beans on toast and talking to her boyfriend about the Northern bloke in the leather jacket.
That picture disturbs him. He's not sure why.
He's a little more careful than he planned to be as he finishes setting the bomb: gives himself a bit more time to leg it than he'd originally meant to. He survives.
He tells himself it's only because the Nestene Consciousness is still out there, and he still has to sort it. No other reason.
III
In a cramped two-bedroom Council flat, an animated plastic hand attacks them both, and he discovers he's not the only non-human creature on Earth who's fixated on her. He stops the control signal, saves her life, and then does a runner. Or attempts to: back to the TARDIS, back to the safety of himself, alone.
But she follows him across the estate, demands explanations, asks yet more clever, daft, fantastic questions. He can't quite admit to her that she's in danger; he pretends the hand only followed her because she'd met him. But he knows better. There's more to this ordinary, thoroughly-human young woman than meets the eye. He stops, turns to her, tries to explain.
"I can feel it."
Her hand is warm in his, soft, comfortable. Comforting.
"The turn of the Earth."
Her mouth is open, her eyes on him, and he can feel more than the turn of the Earth now; he can feel her, her heart and her breathing and her brain racing, racing, to keep up with what he's saying and what it means. Something inside him cracks open, and the words tumble out.
"The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go..."
It takes nearly all his will to force his hand to release hers. He's losing control to a human, a child, an innocent. She doesn't know about the blood on his hands, covering him, drowning him. She doesn't know how dangerous he is, and she mustn't, not ever.
He pulls himself together, tells her to forget him, and walks away.
IV
The Embankment. So close to the transmitter. He can feel it, he can taste it, and the frustration is killing him.
But then--ohh, there she goes asking questions again. Intelligent questions, fantastic questions, and they lead to the answer he's looking for. They run across Westminster Bridge together, and almost without thinking, he holds out his hand and she takes it, as though her hand was made to fit into his.
V
She said no.
He walks heavily around the console, flipping switches, feeling the familiar rumble of the Time Rotor starting up, the TARDIS dematerialising. His hearts ache, and he curses himself for it. She's just a kid, after all. Just a little human teenager who helped him out. He doesn't need her. He doesn't need anyone.
You do, the TARDIS sings softly in the recesses of his mind, golden tendrils curling tenderly into his awareness. I am not enough. You are alone.
"I'll always be alone," he tells her shortly. "Her boyfriend--" he spits the word "--is more important to her than travelling with me. She hardly knows me. What do I have to offer her?"
The universe, the TARDIS sings.
"Tried that. Didn't work." And that stings. He can take her anywhere, anywhen, and she'd rather watch telly with her idiot boyfriend than see the sun come up over the Egyptian pyramids in the year 3500 BC, or hear the song of the sun's rays hitting the crystals of Gallabora Prime, or meet the President of the United Earth three hundred years after she was born, or--
He stops, blinking. Hope is growing in his chest. Maybe…just maybe….
With the TARDIS's aria of encouragement in the background, he slams down the reset lever and reappears in the alleyway where he left her. This is his last chance. Please, he pleads to powers he's never believed in, please let this work.
He opens the door and sticks out his head.
"By the way, did I mention it also travels in time?"
His hearts brimming, he watches as, with a kiss on the cheek to the idiot boyfriend, his future comes running towards him.