Dr Who Fics
New fandom, new fics.
Why is it I only write during exam periods? Weird.
Title: Nineteen
Rating: G
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Ninth Doctor/Rose (implied)
Category: Angst
Summary: In her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
Nineteen
In her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
She was nineteen when she left with that alien, the Doctor, to see the Universe. Or so she said. Jackie saw her twice after that. Only twice.
There were letters among the belongings in the pink shoebox that had turned up on her doorstep exactly two years to the day after Rose had first left.
The handwriting was undeniably Rose's, the carelessly scribbled words describing the adventures and scrapes, and near-death experiences her daughter had gotten into.
Jackie hated the Doctor. He had taken away her baby, her Rose. She'd been happy, though, exploring. Happier than she would have been in her mundane existence in London.
The handwriting changes subtly in the later letters. It is more careful, less hasty.
Rose had children. With the Doctor, Jackie presumes. Those two had a connection that she just hadn't been able to understand.
Her grandchildren. She has grandchildren. She is not quite fifty, and has grandchildren.
There are photographs, of a young, grinning Rose, an older Rose with lines around her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, not the lines of sadness that are etched on her own face.
And in each photograph, there is the Doctor. He looks different after the first ten or so, a completely different man, but it isn't hard to tell it's him by the way Rose looks at him.
She sees her grandchildren. She sees them growing, from red scrunched up bundles in soft blankets to mischievous-looking toddlers to confident goodlooking teenagers.
There are photographs, and letters, and trinkets.
A lock of her first grandchild's hair, a tiny mitten, an azure scarf, an empty bottle of alien perfume.
A baby tooth, a pendant, and inexplicably, an engagement ring.
And there is a final letter. In an entirely different script.
She saw the Universe. She was happy. This is her life. - The Doctor
She may have grown up, aged and died.
But in her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
Title: Twenty
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Ninth Doctor/Rose, Tenth Doctor/Rose (pre-fluff, lol)
Category: Angst, drama, lil bit of UST maybe
Spoilers: Teensy bit from The Doctor Dances in that Jack’s in there, Boom Town, Parting of the Ways (? - regeneration), and probably for the Tenth Doctor also.
Warnings: Regeneration!
Summary: Dear Mum, Today I realised that meeting the Doctor was the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Twenty
Dear Mum,
Today I realised that meeting the Doctor was the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know, I know, it's been ages since I saw you (I've been counting, trust me. Six months and twelve days. I miss you, Mum) but I've been having so much fun that it's just whizzed by.
I nearly missed my twentieth birthday last week, probably would have forgotten entirely if Jack - that's this American bloke from the 51st century or roundabouts who's been travelling with us since his ship got blown up - hadn't mentioned something about cake. Anyhow, they took me out that night, to this incredible, massive party on this fantastic place called Platform 5. We got some random being to take a picture of us, all dressed up (well, me and Jack, anyway, the Doctor won’t take that jacket off) and I’ve put it in along with this letter.
We've been to Platform 5 before, only last time nasty things happened, but this time was absolutely wicked. I had a party, the best party ever, wish you could have been there, Mum. There were aliens and everything. And brilliant cake. All three of us got completely sloshed and ended up passed out on the floor of the TARDIS. You should have seen Jack's face the next morning, it looked like he'd been grilled or something!
But yeah, I got my presents today. Jack got me a scarf in this gorgeous blue-green colour (azure I think he called it) and an odd little round thing that turned out to be bigger on the inside like the TARDIS - it's
like a suitcase, only it fits in the palm of your hand. It's brilliant.
And the Doctor got me something so much better than I could have wished for - my birthday present is learning how to drive the TARDIS. It's cheap, maybe, but the TARDIS is the Doctor's baby and he won't even let Jack touch her even though Jack's been with us for ages now.
So I'm learning how to, quote, navigate the wilds of time and space in my own personal chariot with two willing menservants, unquote (thank you very much, Jack. Yes Mum, I did hit him for that). It's fantastic.
I miss you Mum. And Mickey, too, silly sod though he may be. Tell him I'm sorry about breaking it off, but it just wasn't working anymore.
Hope you're all well,
Lots of Love,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
There's something really important I have to tell you, right now. I only realised it recently, if you count today as recently, when we went to this world where everyone thought me and the Doctor were married, but yeah.
I think I like the Doctor. As in, a lot. As in, when he holds my hand it's like the best chocolate cake Miss Lavender my ex-baker Year Three teacher ever made. As in, when Jack stares at his arse I feel like
hitting him. I should really stop thinking about this, I sound like a stupid little schoolgirl.
The TARDIS-driving lessons are going really well, I can nearly get her in the right century now. Might not seem like much, but the Doctor says for a month's lessons I'm doing really well. I think he's exaggerating,
of course, but it's still brilliant.
Anyhow, this morning we left Thallas V, this gorgeous planet covered with jungle. I picked this absolutely lovely flower, and thought I might press it so I can send it with this letter. Just hope it doesn't rot, my pressed flowers always rotted and fell apart and crumbled up into dust at school. Oh well.
I think I might put everything I want to give you in a shoebox or something, and post it to you next time we're on Earth in the same decade or so and we're not running for our lives.
Must go now, I think the boys just broke something. Honestly, those two are like little kids. And Jack is a consummate (new word, aren't you proud of me?) flirt, he'll try it on with anything that moves, for heaven's sake. It's kind of nice, though, having a bloke appreciate you once in a while. The Doctor's kind of monkish around me nowadays. Weird.
Love you, miss you,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I don't know what to do, Mum.
The Doctor got shot with some kind of energy weapon on some world, God I can't even remember the name of that stupid planet, and he was all burnt and bleeding all over the place. But then after we dragged him back onto the TARDIS and tried to patch him up, he died, and there was all this white light running over him and I couldn’t see him for a bit. And then, just like that, he was alright.
Only, it wasn't him. Not my Doctor, not the Doctor who picked me up out of London a year ago, not the one who taught me how to drive the TARDIS.
This Doctor is different. He looks different, for one. My Doctor was tall and had a nose and ears that were a bit too big, and blue eyes, and short hair, and this smile that would light up whatever room or cell or whatever we were in.
The new Doctor's shorter, he has longer brown hair and dark eyes and a nose that fits his face. In fact, now that I think about it, he's what my Doctor would call pretty.
Which is the strange thing. He is. He's pretty. He's very good looking. Well, as far as I could tell from the thirty seconds or so that I spent gaping at him before running off to my room and crying for hours. I
guess if he's confused, I can't blame him, really.
Jack seemed sort of shaken, too. He helped me bring the Doctor back home, then disappeared as soon as he died. I think he’s in his room. Before everything went to hell, he was happier than he normally is,
strange that.
I miss my Doctor. Maybe I'll go talk to this one, I feel like such an idiot just abandoning him like that when he was all helpless and confused.
Love you Mum,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
It's been nearly eight months since he arrived on the TARDIS, but Jack left yesterday. He met this girl on Franti, a planet we visited (and stopped a civil war on) a couple of weeks ago, and they seemed to click completely. Never thought I'd see the day that Captain Jack Harkness was tied down to just one lifeform.
I sort of miss him. The TARDIS is slightly huge, and it's like just me and the new Doctor rattling around in here now, and it's kind of awkward sometimes. It was nice having him around to proposition me constantly, so I didn't feel like a complete idiot when I forgot obvious things. Although, he did stare at the Doctor's (admittedly very nice) arse rather an inordinate amount of time.
Oh, and I can drive the TARDIS now. And, to the new Doctor's chagrin and Jack's glee, I can drive it better than the new Doctor can. Maybe she just likes me better - a woman's touch and all that tosh. But yeah, I can land without everyone getting bruised up in the process. The new Doctor's annoyed something awful.
There's a picture of me, the new Doctor and Jack along with this letter, we took it just before we dropped Jack off with his new lady love. Hope he's happy. He certainly deserves to be. I still can't believe he's restricting himself to one girl.
And I just realised it's been almost ten months since you last saw me, Mum. I miss you and Mickey and Shireen, and I love you all.
Take care,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I know it hasn't been long since I last wrote you, only about five hours or so, but I did talk to the new Doctor finally. He's different, but he knows who I am and where we’ve been, and while his hands don’t feel the same when he grabs mine it still feels right.
I was kind of numb until now, I guess I was still in denial or something about how my Doctor wasn’t around anymore, but it’s not so bad now. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I think I can grow to like the new Doctor.
And yeah, I know the letters aren’t a replacement for me coming to visit you, but I’m really just having too much fun, getting to know the Universe, and the Doctor, all over again.
Sometimes I do wish I could be back home, watching Eastenders on the telly and eating chips, and it would have been nice to have you there when I was going through all this crap so’s I could cry on your shoulder (what say, Mum?).
I realised, though, that while I’m really terrible at writing letters that actually tell you how I’m feeling or whatever, I don’t know what I would do if I did see you again. I’ve gotten so used to being by myself - well, correction, being by myself with the Doctor - that I don’t think I could go back to a life
of stacking shelves and dinners in front of the telly.
And I just realised I’m never going to be able to get up the guts to send this letter to you, Mum. Sorry.
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I know I’m only twenty and what do I know, but I think I have, well, feelings of some kind towards the Doctor (see, I finally got myself to stop calling him the new Doctor.)
You know how I said him holding my hand made me happy and Jack looking at his arse made me jealous? Yesterday we were having lunch and I looked up at him for a second, and I just couldn’t look away. I couldn’t, because my mind had apparently come to the conclusion that I’m entirely smitten with this man, and willing to do anything for him, no matter what he looks like.
Which, that afternoon, turned out to be digging through a four-foot wall of stone and mud to get him out of the underground cell the local authorities had put him in for, quote, not conforming to the local regulations on public conduct, unquote. That is to say, of course, that he was dancing rather merrily in the town square while singing “The Bar Wench at the Hog’s Head”. No, I haven’t heard it before, but I’m sure I picked up a number of rather interesting-sounding new words.
But yeah. What the hell should I do, Mum? Just go up to this 900+-year-old alien and tell him I fancy him? Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away. Yeah, and the Queen Mum’ll wake up one day and say it was all a royal joke and could one have a cup of tea please?
I think I’ll ignore it.
Rose xx
Title: Mnemnosyne's Gift
Rating: R/FRM (Fan Rated for Mature Audiences)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack/OFC
Category: Angst, Tragedy, Drama, Character Study (sort of)
Spoilers: Anything with Jack in it, really. Mostly The Doctor Dances, though.
Warnings: sad!Jack
Summary: Jack remembers.
Mnemnosyne's Gift
Jack falls asleep as soon as his exhausted body is firmly ensconced under the covers of his new bed on the TARDIS.
And when he sleeps, he dreams.
Fingers skimming over warm dark soft skin, brushing against coarse cloth and silky hair.
Exploring the inside of that lovely mouth with his tongue, watching those magnificent eyes open wide and roll back in their sockets when he touches her.
Feeling her quick talented hands glide over his abdomen, coming to rest at the base of his erection, then stroking so gently it almost makes him weep.
Pure white light behind his eyelids, fireworks exploding in his head as he climaxes within her warm folds.
Collapsing on top of her as she comes down from her orgasm, both of them breathing heavily and clutching each other like it's the end of the world.
He wakes up then, sweaty and confused and aroused, and wonders why he can see those eyes and that mouth, but never her face.
This time he's sitting in the bath, the water pleasantly steamy around him. His eyes slip closed as he luxuriates in the water, and he dreams.
They are on a hill, surrounded by people whose faces he can't see, and there should be noise to go with the blood and smoke but there is only silence.
He sees her running, running away from him, down the hill to the river. She's shouting something at him, but he can't hear her or reply.
He tries to follow her, but is fixed to the spot, and he can't take his eyes from her retreating figure.
Then all at once there is a burst of blue light and a shockwave bowls him over, and when he gets up again she's gone.
He wakes up then, the bathwater cold around his body, and wonders why that blue light could knock him over but he couldn't move to get to her.
Rose has dragged him and the Doctor to a beach on a sunny planet, and laid herself out on the sand, sunglasses on and hat shading her face. The bikini she wears is indeed distracting, but she's Rose and thus off-limits. Watching her, his mind strays.
Her arms slip around his neck, she rests her chin on his head. He can feel her breath stirring his hair.
He sees his hands programming in coordinates, but he can't see what they are, though he does notice a scar on the back of his hand that he's never seen before.
He presses the control that will execute the commands he has given the ship, and rises from the seat, catching her small hand in the process.
She draws him near to her, holding him close. He kisses her, tasting the sweet honeyfruit that was their last meal.
He tastes her, too, a mixture of spice and life and the delicate blossoms that floated on the breezes of her home.
He wakes up then, to Rose tapping his shoulder and wonders why he can taste her but not remember her.
He wonders if the dreams are from those two precious years of his life that he's lost somewhere along the way.
He sleeps deeply that night. At their last stop he picked up some sleeping aids, hoping the dreams would last longer so he could figure out something, at least. One detail, it's all he wants.
All he sees is her, lying on a cold steel bench, eyes closed and hands folded across her chest.
Her hair is spread around her head like a halo, dull and lifeless and matted with unidentifiable substances.
Her clothing is stained with dark, dried blood, concentrated around the small, round hole in her abdomen.
But in his arms, he cradles something wrapped in a ragged blanket. It whimpers, and he can hear it, and he looks down to see his own eyes staring back at him from her face, only smaller.
And he remembers. He remembers all of it, the fear, the rage, the horror, the pain. The devastation of the war, and death, so much death.
He remembers the way he used to hold her after they made love, and kissing her underneath the suns of a hundred worlds, and running her hands over her expanding belly.
He remembers her face now, the dancing eyes that had so entranced him when they first met, the hair that felt like the finest silk under his fingers, and the mouth that curved so sweetly when she smiled.
He looks down into his child's eyes, and he remembers.
He spends the last minutes of the dream with his lover and his child, knowing with a disconcerting certainty that they are both gone, but making peace with them a last time.
They hold him and love him and for a few glorious moments, he is whole.
He wakes up then, tears streaming down his face.
Title: Been a Long Time Coming
Rating: PG-13
Category: Character Study, Romance
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary:
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Been a Long Time Coming
Nine hundred years and more, and the Doctor could remember most of it like it was yesterday. Or, at least, like it was last year. There were some fuzzy bits, mostly around his regenerations. No-one had ever really gotten over the amnesia.
There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
He missed Gallifrey, it had been and always would be his home, even though it was gone. Well, technically it had never existed, but he could remember it. The only one in the Universe to remember Gallifrey would be him. It was not so much sweet as bitter, his failure to keep the world that had given him life safe from destruction. It was a long time ago now, though, and though the scars ached when the weather was bad, figuratively speaking, it was behind him.
Besides, he'd enjoyed his time with his people. There wasn't anything he could say he regretted doing - those indiscretions with certain pretty beings aside - except using his head instead of his heart.
Something had changed now, though. His current body, his ninth, seemed to be so different. During his eighth regeneration, he recalled, there had been these nigglings at the back of his mind that things weren’t the same, and since then he hadn’t been able to distance himself from things like he used to. He could *feel* now.
He could remember loving people, though he hadn't acknowledged it (or maybe even known it) at the time. Nyssa, Ace, Peri, Adric, Grace...he'd loved them all. Not in a romantic way, but it was enough to make him regret their leaving.
It wasn't he hadn't, what was the word she used, danced with anyone, in all those centuries. It was just that it had never felt like this before, not with anyone.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
As far as he could recall though, he'd never felt something quite like this before. He couldn't remember a time when just thinking about someone could make him this happy. Perhaps somewhat with Susan, but she was gone now.
This is who I am, right here, right now he'd said. And he'd meant it, he'd learnt the hard way that living in the past did nothing except ruin the present and jeopardise the future.
All the same, he couldn't remember a time when just holding hands sent tingles up his spine and a warm, safe feeling into the very depths of his stomach.
He couldn't remember if he'd ever found himself this entranced by a look or a word or a gesture, or a pair of bright eyes in a lovely face.
He couldn't remember ever being quite this comfortable around one person.
He couldn't remember, and wasn't sure if he understood it.
But there was something special about her. No-one had ever touched his heart - hearts - or his soul, like she had.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
She'd stumbled into his life, blinked, and then made herself comfortable in a little place in his existence. He suspected that she wasn't quite aware of what exactly she did to him. Your wish is my command, he'd said. None of his past companions had ever gotten special treatment from him like that. Some had gotten close, but just hadn't clicked in same way she had.
I could save the world, but lose you. If he lost her now, there wouldn't be a point to his life anymore. He lived, now, to show her the Universe, and to keep her safe.
Only she could keep him with her even after her mother had slapped him, after she'd gotten him killed, after bringing pretty-boy troublemakers aboard his precious TARDIS. Which was another thing, he reflected. The TARDIS had never in the past been so accommodating of a companion - Rose had remarked on how easy it was to navigate the corridors, and how when she lay in bed sleepless it was like having someone right there with her, lulling her to sleep with gentle fingers on her brow.
The TARDIS, his first love, had never done that before. He'd had a talk with her - the TARDIS, not her - and found out in a somewhat roundabout way that she approved, strongly.
Which was probably why he'd been led, that night after they had walked on a frozen sea under a sky filled with stars and a luminous moon, to the expansive bathroom. She'd been dozing in the large tub, covered to her shoulders in thick scented foam, steam rising from the water. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun-ponytail thing, exposing the line of her neck. He'd felt perverted and somewhat guilty standing there watching her like that, but he must have made some kind of noise because her eyes opened and she blinked fuzzily.
She'd stared up at him, vaguely confused, bits of hair falling around her face, until he coughed and turned to leave.
She'd asked him not to. So he stayed, and until her bathwater cooled till she was just on the point of shivering, they talked.
It hadn't been the last time; quiet nights often found one of them in the bath, the other sitting on the cool marble floor leaning against the tub, as they spoke about anything and everything.
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Then Jack had come along, and flirted his way into their lives, and they functioned so well as a team that, despite his constant propositions, the Doctor figured he'd come in useful someday and decided to let him stay.
It may have also had something to do, though, with the fact that Jack made her laugh, and he loved listening to her laugh. He'd take the flirting and the innuendo, as long as she was happy.
He expected to feel somewhat disgusted at himself for getting all squishy like this over her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. After so long, he had finally found the one person who accepted him as he was, and he was far too fond of her to be disgusted at anything she did.
So when she had appeared at his bedroom door one night, drawn there by his scream from an old nightmare, and climbed into bed with him and held him without uttering a word, he simply could not bring himself to make her go. She was too warm, too soft, too understanding in his arms, soft blonde hair tickling his cheek, for him to kick her out.
They'd changed each other; he'd become somewhat less careless and stopped rushing headlong into situations he didn't know how to get out of, while she'd developed a slightly unhealthy affinity for running very fast away from trouble.
That had never happened before. He pondered this for a while, then gave up, just accepting the (to him, anyway) pleasant realisation that she'd domesticated him.
She'd archly noted that he was more civilised nowadays; he'd replied with a grin that it was only around her. He'd meant it, but he didn't know if she knew that.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
He'd known for a while now, that he loved her. Not in the cheesy, I-love-you-will-you-marry-me way, but more of a timeless, I-want-to-be-yours-forever way. If that made any sense.
He could hear the TARDIS rumble under his feet, and grinned. His TARDIS was slightly telepathic, and had probably picked up on his thoughts, and was laughing at him. He chuckled, patting her walls, and continued on towards his destination.
It had taken far too long, he mused, for him to work up the courage to tell her. He made his way down the corridors, taking the most roundabout route he knew to the bath. Of course, the TARDIS being telepathic and all sensed him hedging, and warped it close to him so he had no excuse.
He knocked on the door, waiting for her muffled affirmation to open the door and enter. He closed and locked it behind him; ever since Jack had come on board the Doctor had been paranoid about him walking in on her bathing. Luckily, tonight Jack seemed to be safely ensconced in his own room.
She was neck-deep in bubbles as usual, but she appeared to have been there for a while because the layer of foam was thinning. She smiled drowsily at him and patted the edge of the tub; he grinned, shucking his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door, before making his way over to the tub and perching himself on its rim.
She reached out a wet hand and traced it down the exposed portion of his arm - he'd rolled up the sleeves of his blue jumper - and giggled as he scowled at her for leaving a trail of bubbles on him. She got that look in her eye that indicated she was going to do something he'd be annoyed at, her tongue straying to the corner of her mouth as it did in such situations. He was about to get up and move away when her hand closed like a vice around his wrist, and she pulled once, hard, landing him in the tub with her.
He plunged in with a great splash, getting a good mouthful of warm soapy water before he surfaced, spluttering. She was laughing her arse off at him, until she realised where he'd put his hand in an effort to get a little more upright than he was right then - he'd blindly reached out and braced himself against her upper thigh, and didn't notice until she squeaked and blushed hotly when his hand moved, just a little, in entirely the wrong direction.
He looked down at where his hand was, which gave them both a good opportunity to realise that the bubbles were now well and truly gone, splashed out of the tub with the water. However, instead of stuttering and trying to hide herself as she might have done a few months ago, this time she looked up at him with wide eyes from beneath dark eyelashes, lips parted slightly and her breath coming out in small, uneven puffs.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In hindsight, it was not all that surprising that the TARDIS should have taken that moment to shudder just slightly, making him slip a bit and literally fall onto her lips. They stayed there for a moment, lips just kind of mashed together, and broke apart with a forced laugh. Then she licked her lips. He decided he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions, and tilted her chin up with his free hand.
They met halfway.
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
Just before he laid her out on his bed, the Doctor whispered in her ear.
"By the way, I was actually going to tell you that I love you, before you got me all wet. That alright?"
Rose beamed, then smirked when she felt exactly how much he loved her pressing against her hip.
"Yeah, should be alright. Shall we dance, then?"
-end-
Title: Blind Man for a Watchdog
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Um...Parting of the Ways?
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Warnings: REGENERATION
Summary:
Lay your head upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am
Blind Man for a Watchdog
I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
See your faith in me subsiding
See you prime for giving in
I give you all that I am
This was his punishment, he mused. For murdering countless innocent souls, unmaking them so that they had never existed in the first place. His punishment.
He would never know peace; he would never know contentment. He was condemned to be restless for the rest of his days, never being able to stop long enough to live.
I am the sound of love's arriving
Echoed softly on the sand
Lay your head upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am
A chance meeting. Sixty seconds of running down a corridor, a battle with a plastic arm and a melted head later, she'd imprinted herself irrevocably on his consciousness. She'd saved him, made him whole again.
He had been alone for so long before he had met her. Alone, restlessly wandering the Universe and Time itself, crucifying himself on the remnants of the last great Time War. He couldn't stop it now, couldn't go back and undo or redo his actions.
So he mourned them instead. And then she had appeared and taught him how to live and love again. He would never forget her for that; but he wasn't sure he could forgive her for it either. Numbness was so much less painful.
And I breathe where you breathe
Let me stand where you stand
With all that I am
He didn't deserve her; she was so much better than him. Her mother was right; he was dangerous and a bad influence on her. But under his watchful gaze she flourished, no longer unsatisfied, a child growing into new, adult shoes.
He watched as her innocence was lost. He watched her as she learned how to look after herself; taught her everything she needed to know.
I am the white dove for a soldier
Ever marching as to war
I would give my life to save you
I stand guarding at your door
I give you all that I am
Now, fighting back the enroaching darkness - or was it light? - he could swear he saw her hovering above him, her face pinched in worry, black streaks of the mascara she didn't need running down her face as she tried in vain to bring him back.
He didn't know if, in his next life, he would remember or care for her in the same way he did. She did not understand the process of regeneration; he'd kept it vague but now regretted it. It would hurt her infinitely more than it would hurt him.
I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
I am the blind man for a watchdog
I am prime for giving in
I'll show you all that I am
He felt rather than saw the Watcher, hovering just at the other side of consciousness. As more precious life left his body, the misty figure became more solid, wreathed in light. Or was it darkness?
He'd fought it long enough; he was tired and just wanted to sleep. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her, how much he wanted her, how much he couldn't live without her by his side.
But the darkness - or the light - had already claimed him.
And I breathe so you breathe
Let me stand so you'll stand
With all that I am
Why is it I only write during exam periods? Weird.
Title: Nineteen
Rating: G
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Ninth Doctor/Rose (implied)
Category: Angst
Summary: In her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
Nineteen
In her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
She was nineteen when she left with that alien, the Doctor, to see the Universe. Or so she said. Jackie saw her twice after that. Only twice.
There were letters among the belongings in the pink shoebox that had turned up on her doorstep exactly two years to the day after Rose had first left.
The handwriting was undeniably Rose's, the carelessly scribbled words describing the adventures and scrapes, and near-death experiences her daughter had gotten into.
Jackie hated the Doctor. He had taken away her baby, her Rose. She'd been happy, though, exploring. Happier than she would have been in her mundane existence in London.
The handwriting changes subtly in the later letters. It is more careful, less hasty.
Rose had children. With the Doctor, Jackie presumes. Those two had a connection that she just hadn't been able to understand.
Her grandchildren. She has grandchildren. She is not quite fifty, and has grandchildren.
There are photographs, of a young, grinning Rose, an older Rose with lines around her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, not the lines of sadness that are etched on her own face.
And in each photograph, there is the Doctor. He looks different after the first ten or so, a completely different man, but it isn't hard to tell it's him by the way Rose looks at him.
She sees her grandchildren. She sees them growing, from red scrunched up bundles in soft blankets to mischievous-looking toddlers to confident goodlooking teenagers.
There are photographs, and letters, and trinkets.
A lock of her first grandchild's hair, a tiny mitten, an azure scarf, an empty bottle of alien perfume.
A baby tooth, a pendant, and inexplicably, an engagement ring.
And there is a final letter. In an entirely different script.
She saw the Universe. She was happy. This is her life. - The Doctor
She may have grown up, aged and died.
But in her mother's mind, Rose Tyler will always be nineteen.
Title: Twenty
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Ninth Doctor/Rose, Tenth Doctor/Rose (pre-fluff, lol)
Category: Angst, drama, lil bit of UST maybe
Spoilers: Teensy bit from The Doctor Dances in that Jack’s in there, Boom Town, Parting of the Ways (? - regeneration), and probably for the Tenth Doctor also.
Warnings: Regeneration!
Summary: Dear Mum, Today I realised that meeting the Doctor was the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Twenty
Dear Mum,
Today I realised that meeting the Doctor was the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know, I know, it's been ages since I saw you (I've been counting, trust me. Six months and twelve days. I miss you, Mum) but I've been having so much fun that it's just whizzed by.
I nearly missed my twentieth birthday last week, probably would have forgotten entirely if Jack - that's this American bloke from the 51st century or roundabouts who's been travelling with us since his ship got blown up - hadn't mentioned something about cake. Anyhow, they took me out that night, to this incredible, massive party on this fantastic place called Platform 5. We got some random being to take a picture of us, all dressed up (well, me and Jack, anyway, the Doctor won’t take that jacket off) and I’ve put it in along with this letter.
We've been to Platform 5 before, only last time nasty things happened, but this time was absolutely wicked. I had a party, the best party ever, wish you could have been there, Mum. There were aliens and everything. And brilliant cake. All three of us got completely sloshed and ended up passed out on the floor of the TARDIS. You should have seen Jack's face the next morning, it looked like he'd been grilled or something!
But yeah, I got my presents today. Jack got me a scarf in this gorgeous blue-green colour (azure I think he called it) and an odd little round thing that turned out to be bigger on the inside like the TARDIS - it's
like a suitcase, only it fits in the palm of your hand. It's brilliant.
And the Doctor got me something so much better than I could have wished for - my birthday present is learning how to drive the TARDIS. It's cheap, maybe, but the TARDIS is the Doctor's baby and he won't even let Jack touch her even though Jack's been with us for ages now.
So I'm learning how to, quote, navigate the wilds of time and space in my own personal chariot with two willing menservants, unquote (thank you very much, Jack. Yes Mum, I did hit him for that). It's fantastic.
I miss you Mum. And Mickey, too, silly sod though he may be. Tell him I'm sorry about breaking it off, but it just wasn't working anymore.
Hope you're all well,
Lots of Love,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
There's something really important I have to tell you, right now. I only realised it recently, if you count today as recently, when we went to this world where everyone thought me and the Doctor were married, but yeah.
I think I like the Doctor. As in, a lot. As in, when he holds my hand it's like the best chocolate cake Miss Lavender my ex-baker Year Three teacher ever made. As in, when Jack stares at his arse I feel like
hitting him. I should really stop thinking about this, I sound like a stupid little schoolgirl.
The TARDIS-driving lessons are going really well, I can nearly get her in the right century now. Might not seem like much, but the Doctor says for a month's lessons I'm doing really well. I think he's exaggerating,
of course, but it's still brilliant.
Anyhow, this morning we left Thallas V, this gorgeous planet covered with jungle. I picked this absolutely lovely flower, and thought I might press it so I can send it with this letter. Just hope it doesn't rot, my pressed flowers always rotted and fell apart and crumbled up into dust at school. Oh well.
I think I might put everything I want to give you in a shoebox or something, and post it to you next time we're on Earth in the same decade or so and we're not running for our lives.
Must go now, I think the boys just broke something. Honestly, those two are like little kids. And Jack is a consummate (new word, aren't you proud of me?) flirt, he'll try it on with anything that moves, for heaven's sake. It's kind of nice, though, having a bloke appreciate you once in a while. The Doctor's kind of monkish around me nowadays. Weird.
Love you, miss you,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I don't know what to do, Mum.
The Doctor got shot with some kind of energy weapon on some world, God I can't even remember the name of that stupid planet, and he was all burnt and bleeding all over the place. But then after we dragged him back onto the TARDIS and tried to patch him up, he died, and there was all this white light running over him and I couldn’t see him for a bit. And then, just like that, he was alright.
Only, it wasn't him. Not my Doctor, not the Doctor who picked me up out of London a year ago, not the one who taught me how to drive the TARDIS.
This Doctor is different. He looks different, for one. My Doctor was tall and had a nose and ears that were a bit too big, and blue eyes, and short hair, and this smile that would light up whatever room or cell or whatever we were in.
The new Doctor's shorter, he has longer brown hair and dark eyes and a nose that fits his face. In fact, now that I think about it, he's what my Doctor would call pretty.
Which is the strange thing. He is. He's pretty. He's very good looking. Well, as far as I could tell from the thirty seconds or so that I spent gaping at him before running off to my room and crying for hours. I
guess if he's confused, I can't blame him, really.
Jack seemed sort of shaken, too. He helped me bring the Doctor back home, then disappeared as soon as he died. I think he’s in his room. Before everything went to hell, he was happier than he normally is,
strange that.
I miss my Doctor. Maybe I'll go talk to this one, I feel like such an idiot just abandoning him like that when he was all helpless and confused.
Love you Mum,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
It's been nearly eight months since he arrived on the TARDIS, but Jack left yesterday. He met this girl on Franti, a planet we visited (and stopped a civil war on) a couple of weeks ago, and they seemed to click completely. Never thought I'd see the day that Captain Jack Harkness was tied down to just one lifeform.
I sort of miss him. The TARDIS is slightly huge, and it's like just me and the new Doctor rattling around in here now, and it's kind of awkward sometimes. It was nice having him around to proposition me constantly, so I didn't feel like a complete idiot when I forgot obvious things. Although, he did stare at the Doctor's (admittedly very nice) arse rather an inordinate amount of time.
Oh, and I can drive the TARDIS now. And, to the new Doctor's chagrin and Jack's glee, I can drive it better than the new Doctor can. Maybe she just likes me better - a woman's touch and all that tosh. But yeah, I can land without everyone getting bruised up in the process. The new Doctor's annoyed something awful.
There's a picture of me, the new Doctor and Jack along with this letter, we took it just before we dropped Jack off with his new lady love. Hope he's happy. He certainly deserves to be. I still can't believe he's restricting himself to one girl.
And I just realised it's been almost ten months since you last saw me, Mum. I miss you and Mickey and Shireen, and I love you all.
Take care,
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I know it hasn't been long since I last wrote you, only about five hours or so, but I did talk to the new Doctor finally. He's different, but he knows who I am and where we’ve been, and while his hands don’t feel the same when he grabs mine it still feels right.
I was kind of numb until now, I guess I was still in denial or something about how my Doctor wasn’t around anymore, but it’s not so bad now. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I think I can grow to like the new Doctor.
And yeah, I know the letters aren’t a replacement for me coming to visit you, but I’m really just having too much fun, getting to know the Universe, and the Doctor, all over again.
Sometimes I do wish I could be back home, watching Eastenders on the telly and eating chips, and it would have been nice to have you there when I was going through all this crap so’s I could cry on your shoulder (what say, Mum?).
I realised, though, that while I’m really terrible at writing letters that actually tell you how I’m feeling or whatever, I don’t know what I would do if I did see you again. I’ve gotten so used to being by myself - well, correction, being by myself with the Doctor - that I don’t think I could go back to a life
of stacking shelves and dinners in front of the telly.
And I just realised I’m never going to be able to get up the guts to send this letter to you, Mum. Sorry.
Rose xx
Dear Mum,
I know I’m only twenty and what do I know, but I think I have, well, feelings of some kind towards the Doctor (see, I finally got myself to stop calling him the new Doctor.)
You know how I said him holding my hand made me happy and Jack looking at his arse made me jealous? Yesterday we were having lunch and I looked up at him for a second, and I just couldn’t look away. I couldn’t, because my mind had apparently come to the conclusion that I’m entirely smitten with this man, and willing to do anything for him, no matter what he looks like.
Which, that afternoon, turned out to be digging through a four-foot wall of stone and mud to get him out of the underground cell the local authorities had put him in for, quote, not conforming to the local regulations on public conduct, unquote. That is to say, of course, that he was dancing rather merrily in the town square while singing “The Bar Wench at the Hog’s Head”. No, I haven’t heard it before, but I’m sure I picked up a number of rather interesting-sounding new words.
But yeah. What the hell should I do, Mum? Just go up to this 900+-year-old alien and tell him I fancy him? Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away. Yeah, and the Queen Mum’ll wake up one day and say it was all a royal joke and could one have a cup of tea please?
I think I’ll ignore it.
Rose xx
Title: Mnemnosyne's Gift
Rating: R/FRM (Fan Rated for Mature Audiences)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack/OFC
Category: Angst, Tragedy, Drama, Character Study (sort of)
Spoilers: Anything with Jack in it, really. Mostly The Doctor Dances, though.
Warnings: sad!Jack
Summary: Jack remembers.
Mnemnosyne's Gift
Jack falls asleep as soon as his exhausted body is firmly ensconced under the covers of his new bed on the TARDIS.
And when he sleeps, he dreams.
Fingers skimming over warm dark soft skin, brushing against coarse cloth and silky hair.
Exploring the inside of that lovely mouth with his tongue, watching those magnificent eyes open wide and roll back in their sockets when he touches her.
Feeling her quick talented hands glide over his abdomen, coming to rest at the base of his erection, then stroking so gently it almost makes him weep.
Pure white light behind his eyelids, fireworks exploding in his head as he climaxes within her warm folds.
Collapsing on top of her as she comes down from her orgasm, both of them breathing heavily and clutching each other like it's the end of the world.
He wakes up then, sweaty and confused and aroused, and wonders why he can see those eyes and that mouth, but never her face.
This time he's sitting in the bath, the water pleasantly steamy around him. His eyes slip closed as he luxuriates in the water, and he dreams.
They are on a hill, surrounded by people whose faces he can't see, and there should be noise to go with the blood and smoke but there is only silence.
He sees her running, running away from him, down the hill to the river. She's shouting something at him, but he can't hear her or reply.
He tries to follow her, but is fixed to the spot, and he can't take his eyes from her retreating figure.
Then all at once there is a burst of blue light and a shockwave bowls him over, and when he gets up again she's gone.
He wakes up then, the bathwater cold around his body, and wonders why that blue light could knock him over but he couldn't move to get to her.
Rose has dragged him and the Doctor to a beach on a sunny planet, and laid herself out on the sand, sunglasses on and hat shading her face. The bikini she wears is indeed distracting, but she's Rose and thus off-limits. Watching her, his mind strays.
Her arms slip around his neck, she rests her chin on his head. He can feel her breath stirring his hair.
He sees his hands programming in coordinates, but he can't see what they are, though he does notice a scar on the back of his hand that he's never seen before.
He presses the control that will execute the commands he has given the ship, and rises from the seat, catching her small hand in the process.
She draws him near to her, holding him close. He kisses her, tasting the sweet honeyfruit that was their last meal.
He tastes her, too, a mixture of spice and life and the delicate blossoms that floated on the breezes of her home.
He wakes up then, to Rose tapping his shoulder and wonders why he can taste her but not remember her.
He wonders if the dreams are from those two precious years of his life that he's lost somewhere along the way.
He sleeps deeply that night. At their last stop he picked up some sleeping aids, hoping the dreams would last longer so he could figure out something, at least. One detail, it's all he wants.
All he sees is her, lying on a cold steel bench, eyes closed and hands folded across her chest.
Her hair is spread around her head like a halo, dull and lifeless and matted with unidentifiable substances.
Her clothing is stained with dark, dried blood, concentrated around the small, round hole in her abdomen.
But in his arms, he cradles something wrapped in a ragged blanket. It whimpers, and he can hear it, and he looks down to see his own eyes staring back at him from her face, only smaller.
And he remembers. He remembers all of it, the fear, the rage, the horror, the pain. The devastation of the war, and death, so much death.
He remembers the way he used to hold her after they made love, and kissing her underneath the suns of a hundred worlds, and running her hands over her expanding belly.
He remembers her face now, the dancing eyes that had so entranced him when they first met, the hair that felt like the finest silk under his fingers, and the mouth that curved so sweetly when she smiled.
He looks down into his child's eyes, and he remembers.
He spends the last minutes of the dream with his lover and his child, knowing with a disconcerting certainty that they are both gone, but making peace with them a last time.
They hold him and love him and for a few glorious moments, he is whole.
He wakes up then, tears streaming down his face.
Title: Been a Long Time Coming
Rating: PG-13
Category: Character Study, Romance
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary:
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Been a Long Time Coming
Nine hundred years and more, and the Doctor could remember most of it like it was yesterday. Or, at least, like it was last year. There were some fuzzy bits, mostly around his regenerations. No-one had ever really gotten over the amnesia.
There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
He missed Gallifrey, it had been and always would be his home, even though it was gone. Well, technically it had never existed, but he could remember it. The only one in the Universe to remember Gallifrey would be him. It was not so much sweet as bitter, his failure to keep the world that had given him life safe from destruction. It was a long time ago now, though, and though the scars ached when the weather was bad, figuratively speaking, it was behind him.
Besides, he'd enjoyed his time with his people. There wasn't anything he could say he regretted doing - those indiscretions with certain pretty beings aside - except using his head instead of his heart.
Something had changed now, though. His current body, his ninth, seemed to be so different. During his eighth regeneration, he recalled, there had been these nigglings at the back of his mind that things weren’t the same, and since then he hadn’t been able to distance himself from things like he used to. He could *feel* now.
He could remember loving people, though he hadn't acknowledged it (or maybe even known it) at the time. Nyssa, Ace, Peri, Adric, Grace...he'd loved them all. Not in a romantic way, but it was enough to make him regret their leaving.
It wasn't he hadn't, what was the word she used, danced with anyone, in all those centuries. It was just that it had never felt like this before, not with anyone.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
As far as he could recall though, he'd never felt something quite like this before. He couldn't remember a time when just thinking about someone could make him this happy. Perhaps somewhat with Susan, but she was gone now.
This is who I am, right here, right now he'd said. And he'd meant it, he'd learnt the hard way that living in the past did nothing except ruin the present and jeopardise the future.
All the same, he couldn't remember a time when just holding hands sent tingles up his spine and a warm, safe feeling into the very depths of his stomach.
He couldn't remember if he'd ever found himself this entranced by a look or a word or a gesture, or a pair of bright eyes in a lovely face.
He couldn't remember ever being quite this comfortable around one person.
He couldn't remember, and wasn't sure if he understood it.
But there was something special about her. No-one had ever touched his heart - hearts - or his soul, like she had.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
She'd stumbled into his life, blinked, and then made herself comfortable in a little place in his existence. He suspected that she wasn't quite aware of what exactly she did to him. Your wish is my command, he'd said. None of his past companions had ever gotten special treatment from him like that. Some had gotten close, but just hadn't clicked in same way she had.
I could save the world, but lose you. If he lost her now, there wouldn't be a point to his life anymore. He lived, now, to show her the Universe, and to keep her safe.
Only she could keep him with her even after her mother had slapped him, after she'd gotten him killed, after bringing pretty-boy troublemakers aboard his precious TARDIS. Which was another thing, he reflected. The TARDIS had never in the past been so accommodating of a companion - Rose had remarked on how easy it was to navigate the corridors, and how when she lay in bed sleepless it was like having someone right there with her, lulling her to sleep with gentle fingers on her brow.
The TARDIS, his first love, had never done that before. He'd had a talk with her - the TARDIS, not her - and found out in a somewhat roundabout way that she approved, strongly.
Which was probably why he'd been led, that night after they had walked on a frozen sea under a sky filled with stars and a luminous moon, to the expansive bathroom. She'd been dozing in the large tub, covered to her shoulders in thick scented foam, steam rising from the water. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun-ponytail thing, exposing the line of her neck. He'd felt perverted and somewhat guilty standing there watching her like that, but he must have made some kind of noise because her eyes opened and she blinked fuzzily.
She'd stared up at him, vaguely confused, bits of hair falling around her face, until he coughed and turned to leave.
She'd asked him not to. So he stayed, and until her bathwater cooled till she was just on the point of shivering, they talked.
It hadn't been the last time; quiet nights often found one of them in the bath, the other sitting on the cool marble floor leaning against the tub, as they spoke about anything and everything.
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Then Jack had come along, and flirted his way into their lives, and they functioned so well as a team that, despite his constant propositions, the Doctor figured he'd come in useful someday and decided to let him stay.
It may have also had something to do, though, with the fact that Jack made her laugh, and he loved listening to her laugh. He'd take the flirting and the innuendo, as long as she was happy.
He expected to feel somewhat disgusted at himself for getting all squishy like this over her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. After so long, he had finally found the one person who accepted him as he was, and he was far too fond of her to be disgusted at anything she did.
So when she had appeared at his bedroom door one night, drawn there by his scream from an old nightmare, and climbed into bed with him and held him without uttering a word, he simply could not bring himself to make her go. She was too warm, too soft, too understanding in his arms, soft blonde hair tickling his cheek, for him to kick her out.
They'd changed each other; he'd become somewhat less careless and stopped rushing headlong into situations he didn't know how to get out of, while she'd developed a slightly unhealthy affinity for running very fast away from trouble.
That had never happened before. He pondered this for a while, then gave up, just accepting the (to him, anyway) pleasant realisation that she'd domesticated him.
She'd archly noted that he was more civilised nowadays; he'd replied with a grin that it was only around her. He'd meant it, but he didn't know if she knew that.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
He'd known for a while now, that he loved her. Not in the cheesy, I-love-you-will-you-marry-me way, but more of a timeless, I-want-to-be-yours-forever way. If that made any sense.
He could hear the TARDIS rumble under his feet, and grinned. His TARDIS was slightly telepathic, and had probably picked up on his thoughts, and was laughing at him. He chuckled, patting her walls, and continued on towards his destination.
It had taken far too long, he mused, for him to work up the courage to tell her. He made his way down the corridors, taking the most roundabout route he knew to the bath. Of course, the TARDIS being telepathic and all sensed him hedging, and warped it close to him so he had no excuse.
He knocked on the door, waiting for her muffled affirmation to open the door and enter. He closed and locked it behind him; ever since Jack had come on board the Doctor had been paranoid about him walking in on her bathing. Luckily, tonight Jack seemed to be safely ensconced in his own room.
She was neck-deep in bubbles as usual, but she appeared to have been there for a while because the layer of foam was thinning. She smiled drowsily at him and patted the edge of the tub; he grinned, shucking his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door, before making his way over to the tub and perching himself on its rim.
She reached out a wet hand and traced it down the exposed portion of his arm - he'd rolled up the sleeves of his blue jumper - and giggled as he scowled at her for leaving a trail of bubbles on him. She got that look in her eye that indicated she was going to do something he'd be annoyed at, her tongue straying to the corner of her mouth as it did in such situations. He was about to get up and move away when her hand closed like a vice around his wrist, and she pulled once, hard, landing him in the tub with her.
He plunged in with a great splash, getting a good mouthful of warm soapy water before he surfaced, spluttering. She was laughing her arse off at him, until she realised where he'd put his hand in an effort to get a little more upright than he was right then - he'd blindly reached out and braced himself against her upper thigh, and didn't notice until she squeaked and blushed hotly when his hand moved, just a little, in entirely the wrong direction.
He looked down at where his hand was, which gave them both a good opportunity to realise that the bubbles were now well and truly gone, splashed out of the tub with the water. However, instead of stuttering and trying to hide herself as she might have done a few months ago, this time she looked up at him with wide eyes from beneath dark eyelashes, lips parted slightly and her breath coming out in small, uneven puffs.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In hindsight, it was not all that surprising that the TARDIS should have taken that moment to shudder just slightly, making him slip a bit and literally fall onto her lips. They stayed there for a moment, lips just kind of mashed together, and broke apart with a forced laugh. Then she licked her lips. He decided he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions, and tilted her chin up with his free hand.
They met halfway.
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
Just before he laid her out on his bed, the Doctor whispered in her ear.
"By the way, I was actually going to tell you that I love you, before you got me all wet. That alright?"
Rose beamed, then smirked when she felt exactly how much he loved her pressing against her hip.
"Yeah, should be alright. Shall we dance, then?"
-end-
Title: Blind Man for a Watchdog
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Um...Parting of the Ways?
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Warnings: REGENERATION
Summary:
Lay your head upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am
Blind Man for a Watchdog
I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
See your faith in me subsiding
See you prime for giving in
I give you all that I am
This was his punishment, he mused. For murdering countless innocent souls, unmaking them so that they had never existed in the first place. His punishment.
He would never know peace; he would never know contentment. He was condemned to be restless for the rest of his days, never being able to stop long enough to live.
I am the sound of love's arriving
Echoed softly on the sand
Lay your head upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am
A chance meeting. Sixty seconds of running down a corridor, a battle with a plastic arm and a melted head later, she'd imprinted herself irrevocably on his consciousness. She'd saved him, made him whole again.
He had been alone for so long before he had met her. Alone, restlessly wandering the Universe and Time itself, crucifying himself on the remnants of the last great Time War. He couldn't stop it now, couldn't go back and undo or redo his actions.
So he mourned them instead. And then she had appeared and taught him how to live and love again. He would never forget her for that; but he wasn't sure he could forgive her for it either. Numbness was so much less painful.
And I breathe where you breathe
Let me stand where you stand
With all that I am
He didn't deserve her; she was so much better than him. Her mother was right; he was dangerous and a bad influence on her. But under his watchful gaze she flourished, no longer unsatisfied, a child growing into new, adult shoes.
He watched as her innocence was lost. He watched her as she learned how to look after herself; taught her everything she needed to know.
I am the white dove for a soldier
Ever marching as to war
I would give my life to save you
I stand guarding at your door
I give you all that I am
Now, fighting back the enroaching darkness - or was it light? - he could swear he saw her hovering above him, her face pinched in worry, black streaks of the mascara she didn't need running down her face as she tried in vain to bring him back.
He didn't know if, in his next life, he would remember or care for her in the same way he did. She did not understand the process of regeneration; he'd kept it vague but now regretted it. It would hurt her infinitely more than it would hurt him.
I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
I am the blind man for a watchdog
I am prime for giving in
I'll show you all that I am
He felt rather than saw the Watcher, hovering just at the other side of consciousness. As more precious life left his body, the misty figure became more solid, wreathed in light. Or was it darkness?
He'd fought it long enough; he was tired and just wanted to sleep. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her, how much he wanted her, how much he couldn't live without her by his side.
But the darkness - or the light - had already claimed him.
And I breathe so you breathe
Let me stand so you'll stand
With all that I am