In This Reality (1/1)
Title: In This Reality
Author: azuredamsel
Pairings: Doctor/Rose
Spoilers: Up to Doomsday.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1269
Summary: Because he told you to live a fantastic life. Maybe what he meant was "normal".
Notes: This is for teenwitch77 for Secret Santa. ♥
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
--e.e. cummings
You can't quite pinpoint when you can no longer picture the Doctor's face. The day, or the tint of the light. (It was probably raining.)
But you're playing with the baby one day (she's four now) and she's coloring some book Mum bought her. Something smart. (You hope she ends up smarter than you.)
And Emma looks up from her crayons and paper and says, "I want to be a doctor."
"Oh?" And you think of him. You start to hear his voice, but his face blurs around the mouth and eyes, just enough that you're not sure you'd recognize him if you saw him. And you wonder how it got to be like this, before you distance yourself enough not to cry. Not in front of Emma.
"Maybe," you finally say, keeping your voice from trembling. You only just catch Em's face turn towards the page because your earpiece starts to ring. (You started using one three years ago after you helped wipe out every last Cyberman.)
You're glad -- you don't want to think about implications. He's not coming back, and you just have to deal with normal doctors now. (The adventures will shade off into the fabulous colors of dreams. The bright blue TARDIS, the neon colors of galaxies dying. The occasional scream of a Dalek.)
It's Mum asking you to fix dinner. You don't even bother pretending it's some kind of adventure. You just tuck your hair behind your ears and walk into the kitchen.
Because he told you to live a fantastic life. Maybe what he meant was "normal".
.
But it's not like you've been sitting on your ass since he left you. There's your work (this world's Torchwood doesn't have a name). Fighting aliens and somehow understanding them when they talk. You don't think about what that could mean.
Sometimes the parallel universe is comforting.
There's a bloke named Derek who volunteers to investigate suspicious activity with you, sometimes. When you're driving to Cardiff (Snarguls in a shop basement), you catch him staring at you with a little smile on his face. You've seen it before. (Derek always volunteers for the dangerous jobs and always comes back grinning.)
But it's not until both of you are on the plane to Tazmania (a possible Dalek sighting; Derek's not the only one who takes the dangerous jobs) that you lean over and kiss him square on the mouth.
He tastes like peppermint and coffee and endings. Maybe something like death. (You wouldn't admit that much. Or even think about it, really.)
Mickey calls about a bright blue box in Paris and you leave Derek snoring softly in the hotel room. (If you left a note he might read through the lines.)
.
This TARDIS is the same shade of blue as the other one. The one that was your TARDIS, a little. Mostly the Doctor's.
Maybe he was just a little yours, too. But in this universe you don't have a key inside, so you pace around it for an hour.
Maybe he'll look different in his universe, or maybe this is just a police call box, or maybe it's a dream and you'll wake up next to Derek and he won't understand why you're crying, or maybe...
And then he's there in front of you.
And you wonder how you could forget him -- your big-eared, leather-jacketed Doctor, the dark green sweater and close-cropped hair. (You didn't get to tell him that you loved him.) There's something so surreal about second chances now. You're not used to them.
"Doctor?"
He looks up at you, fast, and you watch as his hand sneaks over to the sonic screwdriver.
"Do I know you?" You know his voice well enough. There's more to it than instinct. Suspicion. Hope. Something blurred that you'd started to forget.
"Maybe." He's going to call you stupid in a minute, but that's okay right now. He's here. Your Doctor, the universe. Yours again.
"Listen, I don't have time to play guessing games right now. Important things to do." He takes a step toward the TARDIS, facing you. In case you're alien and dangerous.
(Which you are. Or might be.)
"Was there..." You had to guess about the Time War last time. And the lines around his mouth might be from something else. "Was there a war? With your people?"
This time (if this is a "this time") you don't want to be the stupid ape.
He looks at your chin and you see his eyes grow dark, and you think maybe he'll sob (there's that sort of shake to his shoulders, but this is your Doctor) but when he speaks his voice is harsh. "What are you?"
And you know that you can't keep beating around the bush. "I'm Rose Tyler, Doctor."
"A stupid ape, then." But the anger's gone from his voice. It's something.
"You could say that."
"How do you know about the Time War? What do you know?"
"I -- The Daleks. And pain. It was far away -- I mean. I was far away. I. You -- might not understand. It's complicated."
"You weren't there." It's not a question. The Doctor always knew the answers. Some things, you imagine, stay consistent across time and space. Across parallel universes.
"No." You take a step towards him. He doesn't take a step back.
"How do you know?" The Doctor looks you straight in the eye. There's a spark of loneliness there, you realize. You wonder why you didn't see it before.
You take another step towards him. Another.
"Doctor. You know? You don't always have to fix everyone." You're close enough to touch him, so you reach out and brush your fingers against his cheek. You can feel the clench in his jaw and then you feel it relax.
He takes a step towards you. (You bought new perfume at the airport, something like sweet pea and pears.)
"It's just, Rose Tyler, that usually I can." Each word makes a puff of air on the apples of your cheeks.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Little dents on his cheek from your fingers.
"When I can't." He leans down to look you in the eye, and you can almost see the universe stretched out before you. (You can almost hear Derek snoring in the background. But you never wanted a normal life.)
"Don't you need a doctor sometimes?"
"It might not do any good." (Em or the universe?)
"Couldn't...couldn't I try?"
"Might as well." And he's so close.
And when you kiss him it's soft and ancient, like some ritual no one talks about. Falling into a sky of velvelt, spangled with stars.
He runs his tongue against your lips and you shiver. Because he's still trying to fix you. To be your Doctor against space and time and the universe.
And even though that's a little creepy, you don't think about the implications.
When he opens the door of the TARDIS to you, you step inside and you don't look behind you until he closes the door. Until you're on the other side of the galaxy.
.
One night you wake up next to the Doctor and his arms are wrapped tight around you, squashing you to his chest.
And you're reminded (just for a second) of Em and her coloring books, squeezing the crayons until they snapped in her little fists. Of the way Derek would clutch the steering wheel when it was his turn to drive.
But your Doctor can't always be awake to fix you. So you snake your arms around him and pull him tighter towards yourself.
Author: azuredamsel
Pairings: Doctor/Rose
Spoilers: Up to Doomsday.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1269
Summary: Because he told you to live a fantastic life. Maybe what he meant was "normal".
Notes: This is for teenwitch77 for Secret Santa. ♥
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
--e.e. cummings
You can't quite pinpoint when you can no longer picture the Doctor's face. The day, or the tint of the light. (It was probably raining.)
But you're playing with the baby one day (she's four now) and she's coloring some book Mum bought her. Something smart. (You hope she ends up smarter than you.)
And Emma looks up from her crayons and paper and says, "I want to be a doctor."
"Oh?" And you think of him. You start to hear his voice, but his face blurs around the mouth and eyes, just enough that you're not sure you'd recognize him if you saw him. And you wonder how it got to be like this, before you distance yourself enough not to cry. Not in front of Emma.
"Maybe," you finally say, keeping your voice from trembling. You only just catch Em's face turn towards the page because your earpiece starts to ring. (You started using one three years ago after you helped wipe out every last Cyberman.)
You're glad -- you don't want to think about implications. He's not coming back, and you just have to deal with normal doctors now. (The adventures will shade off into the fabulous colors of dreams. The bright blue TARDIS, the neon colors of galaxies dying. The occasional scream of a Dalek.)
It's Mum asking you to fix dinner. You don't even bother pretending it's some kind of adventure. You just tuck your hair behind your ears and walk into the kitchen.
Because he told you to live a fantastic life. Maybe what he meant was "normal".
.
But it's not like you've been sitting on your ass since he left you. There's your work (this world's Torchwood doesn't have a name). Fighting aliens and somehow understanding them when they talk. You don't think about what that could mean.
Sometimes the parallel universe is comforting.
There's a bloke named Derek who volunteers to investigate suspicious activity with you, sometimes. When you're driving to Cardiff (Snarguls in a shop basement), you catch him staring at you with a little smile on his face. You've seen it before. (Derek always volunteers for the dangerous jobs and always comes back grinning.)
But it's not until both of you are on the plane to Tazmania (a possible Dalek sighting; Derek's not the only one who takes the dangerous jobs) that you lean over and kiss him square on the mouth.
He tastes like peppermint and coffee and endings. Maybe something like death. (You wouldn't admit that much. Or even think about it, really.)
Mickey calls about a bright blue box in Paris and you leave Derek snoring softly in the hotel room. (If you left a note he might read through the lines.)
.
This TARDIS is the same shade of blue as the other one. The one that was your TARDIS, a little. Mostly the Doctor's.
Maybe he was just a little yours, too. But in this universe you don't have a key inside, so you pace around it for an hour.
Maybe he'll look different in his universe, or maybe this is just a police call box, or maybe it's a dream and you'll wake up next to Derek and he won't understand why you're crying, or maybe...
And then he's there in front of you.
And you wonder how you could forget him -- your big-eared, leather-jacketed Doctor, the dark green sweater and close-cropped hair. (You didn't get to tell him that you loved him.) There's something so surreal about second chances now. You're not used to them.
"Doctor?"
He looks up at you, fast, and you watch as his hand sneaks over to the sonic screwdriver.
"Do I know you?" You know his voice well enough. There's more to it than instinct. Suspicion. Hope. Something blurred that you'd started to forget.
"Maybe." He's going to call you stupid in a minute, but that's okay right now. He's here. Your Doctor, the universe. Yours again.
"Listen, I don't have time to play guessing games right now. Important things to do." He takes a step toward the TARDIS, facing you. In case you're alien and dangerous.
(Which you are. Or might be.)
"Was there..." You had to guess about the Time War last time. And the lines around his mouth might be from something else. "Was there a war? With your people?"
This time (if this is a "this time") you don't want to be the stupid ape.
He looks at your chin and you see his eyes grow dark, and you think maybe he'll sob (there's that sort of shake to his shoulders, but this is your Doctor) but when he speaks his voice is harsh. "What are you?"
And you know that you can't keep beating around the bush. "I'm Rose Tyler, Doctor."
"A stupid ape, then." But the anger's gone from his voice. It's something.
"You could say that."
"How do you know about the Time War? What do you know?"
"I -- The Daleks. And pain. It was far away -- I mean. I was far away. I. You -- might not understand. It's complicated."
"You weren't there." It's not a question. The Doctor always knew the answers. Some things, you imagine, stay consistent across time and space. Across parallel universes.
"No." You take a step towards him. He doesn't take a step back.
"How do you know?" The Doctor looks you straight in the eye. There's a spark of loneliness there, you realize. You wonder why you didn't see it before.
You take another step towards him. Another.
"Doctor. You know? You don't always have to fix everyone." You're close enough to touch him, so you reach out and brush your fingers against his cheek. You can feel the clench in his jaw and then you feel it relax.
He takes a step towards you. (You bought new perfume at the airport, something like sweet pea and pears.)
"It's just, Rose Tyler, that usually I can." Each word makes a puff of air on the apples of your cheeks.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Little dents on his cheek from your fingers.
"When I can't." He leans down to look you in the eye, and you can almost see the universe stretched out before you. (You can almost hear Derek snoring in the background. But you never wanted a normal life.)
"Don't you need a doctor sometimes?"
"It might not do any good." (Em or the universe?)
"Couldn't...couldn't I try?"
"Might as well." And he's so close.
And when you kiss him it's soft and ancient, like some ritual no one talks about. Falling into a sky of velvelt, spangled with stars.
He runs his tongue against your lips and you shiver. Because he's still trying to fix you. To be your Doctor against space and time and the universe.
And even though that's a little creepy, you don't think about the implications.
When he opens the door of the TARDIS to you, you step inside and you don't look behind you until he closes the door. Until you're on the other side of the galaxy.
.
One night you wake up next to the Doctor and his arms are wrapped tight around you, squashing you to his chest.
And you're reminded (just for a second) of Em and her coloring books, squeezing the crayons until they snapped in her little fists. Of the way Derek would clutch the steering wheel when it was his turn to drive.
But your Doctor can't always be awake to fix you. So you snake your arms around him and pull him tighter towards yourself.