Fic: Shoreline, she says
Shoreline, she says: A Dreamer's Tale. Doctor Who: Ten/Rose, Pg-13.
She never thought her beginning and end would be on a beach. For whoverse_las.
Most nights, the waves are calm, and there is no sound save for a wind which does not stir anything. She falls through things those nights, the sand becoming unsteady, her feet sinking with each step as the earth itself opens to new horizons, and unexplored terrain.
She dreams of the shore. It feels familiar, but she can never remember how she came to be on the long stretch of sand. Sometimes she will pick up stones and try to skip them across the water, but her arms become heavy, unmovable.
Most nights, the waves are calm, and there is no sound save for a wind which does not stir anything. She falls through things those nights, the sand becoming unsteady, her feet sinking with each step as the earth itself opens to new horizons, and unexplored terrain. There is never any other person with her when she dreams of this place, only herself and her strange, assured acceptance of its existence. Sometimes she thinks she can see a shadow of someone or something familiar out of the corner of her eye, but when she turns she is met only by the lap of the ocean and the bright expanse of the shore. She doesn't mind. Nothing matters, here.
When she wakes, there is this feeling in her lungs that she can't explain. She wants to cry or to laugh or just fade into nothing. She doesn't remember the dream until night falls and she is on the thin edge of slumber once again. She feels some half-remembered thought trying to take hold of her- it's important, it must be important, she knows it's something to do with water, somewhere she has to be -and then sleep takes her. Her eyes close and open at the same time, and she is looking down at her feet, half-covered by sand.
----
During the day she grows both listless and restless. The hours fill up with an empty space, melt themselves together so each minute seems the same as the last. She drinks tea in the morning and wonders what day it is as she watches the sun rise. By the time it rests on the horizon, her cup is empty, and she is staring at nothing at all.
----
She goes for long walks in the country, trying to free herself of the catharsis which has become her second skin. Once, she comes in through the sliding glass doors near the kitchen, and a book is lying on the counter, waiting for her. Dream Moods, it says, and she can feel a spark of something in her head. She ignores it.
That night the ocean is wild, the sky telling of an impending storm, and she is simply standing on the shore, untouched by the wind or the tide. When she wakes, it's raining.
----
"But you ought to do something, darling," her mother says. "You're like a ghost. This world isn't so bad, is it?" Her mother's hands are wrapped in each other; nervous, concerned. Pete stands listening in the doorway, his eyes on the floor.
She doesn't say anything, only takes a sip of tea before the cup clinks in its rightful place on the saucer. She watches her mother wait for an answer, can feel Pete's stare shift to her.
A thought surfaces like a forgotten dream, and she almost smiles. "Yes," she says quietly. "I really ought to do something."
Her parents stand, confused and silent, as she walks from the room.
----
She begins reading about dreams. What places mean, the symbolism of trees or sand or houses. She feels an unknown attachment to the words, as if they are hers and hers alone. She begins to remember a long, long shoreline.
Her books tell her she is letting life pass her by. That she is emotionally unrested.
"Well bugger that," she says to them.
The next day she's at Torchwood and they say something about how there is a whole other world out there, up in the sky. She can tell that they don't get a lot of walk-ins.
"I know," she says. "I've been to most of them."
They are unbelieving.
"I'm not even really supposed to be in this universe," she says quietly. She looks an agent square in the eye. "Can you get me back?"
----
It has been months since she dreamt of the beach. But tonight is different, there is a shift in the air. Something is not quite right about the shore. She walks slowly along the ocean, the waves washing over her feet. She can't feel anything.
Hello, says a voice, and she stops in her tracks.
He is like static, as if he is more of a presence than an image. An echo.
You- I am not. -possible? I thought... ever see.
He is full of nonsense, as always. She wants to laugh, but she can't. There is some other feeling welling inside her. The wind howls at her ears, and for the first time, her seaside is lit by a moon.
Can find, his voice says incomprehensibly. He looks sad.
She nearly snarls, and is surprised by the anger that curls within it. "Oh, I'm coming all right."
"You had better be ready."
----
It isn't so hard, in the end. She's become clever with thinking outside their parameters. "What about this?" she says once, and they look at her as if she was a god. The Torchwood teams chatter amongst themselves with excitement.
They take her to a beach. She feels an overpowering sense of déjà vu, and doesn't understand the sudden anger and joy and relief it brings. She bends to pick up a stone, but when she tries to skip it across the water, her wristwatch is too heavy, and they just sink to the bottom gracelessly.
A storm has begun to boil on the horizon, and the salty breath of the wind invigorates her.
"It's now or never, boys," she says. The team sets up the strange equipment, and creates a large iron circle for her to step into. They flip the last of the switches, and nod to her. "Allons-y," she whispers, and pushes a button on her wristband.
The earth opens in a vortex beneath her. Her eyes close and open at the same time, and she is looking down at her feet on metal grating.
The Doctor storms through his ship, unaware of whom his intruder is. When he spots her, his mouth opens. Shuts. Opens again- "But," he stutters, "you're impossible. Rose-you, you can't- this is impossible."
She only laughs. "I really don't think that word means what you think it means."
He grins, and takes her up in his arms.
She never thought her beginning and end would be on a beach. For whoverse_las.
Most nights, the waves are calm, and there is no sound save for a wind which does not stir anything. She falls through things those nights, the sand becoming unsteady, her feet sinking with each step as the earth itself opens to new horizons, and unexplored terrain.
She dreams of the shore. It feels familiar, but she can never remember how she came to be on the long stretch of sand. Sometimes she will pick up stones and try to skip them across the water, but her arms become heavy, unmovable.
Most nights, the waves are calm, and there is no sound save for a wind which does not stir anything. She falls through things those nights, the sand becoming unsteady, her feet sinking with each step as the earth itself opens to new horizons, and unexplored terrain. There is never any other person with her when she dreams of this place, only herself and her strange, assured acceptance of its existence. Sometimes she thinks she can see a shadow of someone or something familiar out of the corner of her eye, but when she turns she is met only by the lap of the ocean and the bright expanse of the shore. She doesn't mind. Nothing matters, here.
When she wakes, there is this feeling in her lungs that she can't explain. She wants to cry or to laugh or just fade into nothing. She doesn't remember the dream until night falls and she is on the thin edge of slumber once again. She feels some half-remembered thought trying to take hold of her- it's important, it must be important, she knows it's something to do with water, somewhere she has to be -and then sleep takes her. Her eyes close and open at the same time, and she is looking down at her feet, half-covered by sand.
----
During the day she grows both listless and restless. The hours fill up with an empty space, melt themselves together so each minute seems the same as the last. She drinks tea in the morning and wonders what day it is as she watches the sun rise. By the time it rests on the horizon, her cup is empty, and she is staring at nothing at all.
----
She goes for long walks in the country, trying to free herself of the catharsis which has become her second skin. Once, she comes in through the sliding glass doors near the kitchen, and a book is lying on the counter, waiting for her. Dream Moods, it says, and she can feel a spark of something in her head. She ignores it.
That night the ocean is wild, the sky telling of an impending storm, and she is simply standing on the shore, untouched by the wind or the tide. When she wakes, it's raining.
----
"But you ought to do something, darling," her mother says. "You're like a ghost. This world isn't so bad, is it?" Her mother's hands are wrapped in each other; nervous, concerned. Pete stands listening in the doorway, his eyes on the floor.
She doesn't say anything, only takes a sip of tea before the cup clinks in its rightful place on the saucer. She watches her mother wait for an answer, can feel Pete's stare shift to her.
A thought surfaces like a forgotten dream, and she almost smiles. "Yes," she says quietly. "I really ought to do something."
Her parents stand, confused and silent, as she walks from the room.
----
She begins reading about dreams. What places mean, the symbolism of trees or sand or houses. She feels an unknown attachment to the words, as if they are hers and hers alone. She begins to remember a long, long shoreline.
Her books tell her she is letting life pass her by. That she is emotionally unrested.
"Well bugger that," she says to them.
The next day she's at Torchwood and they say something about how there is a whole other world out there, up in the sky. She can tell that they don't get a lot of walk-ins.
"I know," she says. "I've been to most of them."
They are unbelieving.
"I'm not even really supposed to be in this universe," she says quietly. She looks an agent square in the eye. "Can you get me back?"
----
It has been months since she dreamt of the beach. But tonight is different, there is a shift in the air. Something is not quite right about the shore. She walks slowly along the ocean, the waves washing over her feet. She can't feel anything.
Hello, says a voice, and she stops in her tracks.
He is like static, as if he is more of a presence than an image. An echo.
You- I am not. -possible? I thought... ever see.
He is full of nonsense, as always. She wants to laugh, but she can't. There is some other feeling welling inside her. The wind howls at her ears, and for the first time, her seaside is lit by a moon.
Can find, his voice says incomprehensibly. He looks sad.
She nearly snarls, and is surprised by the anger that curls within it. "Oh, I'm coming all right."
"You had better be ready."
----
It isn't so hard, in the end. She's become clever with thinking outside their parameters. "What about this?" she says once, and they look at her as if she was a god. The Torchwood teams chatter amongst themselves with excitement.
They take her to a beach. She feels an overpowering sense of déjà vu, and doesn't understand the sudden anger and joy and relief it brings. She bends to pick up a stone, but when she tries to skip it across the water, her wristwatch is too heavy, and they just sink to the bottom gracelessly.
A storm has begun to boil on the horizon, and the salty breath of the wind invigorates her.
"It's now or never, boys," she says. The team sets up the strange equipment, and creates a large iron circle for her to step into. They flip the last of the switches, and nod to her. "Allons-y," she whispers, and pushes a button on her wristband.
The earth opens in a vortex beneath her. Her eyes close and open at the same time, and she is looking down at her feet on metal grating.
The Doctor storms through his ship, unaware of whom his intruder is. When he spots her, his mouth opens. Shuts. Opens again- "But," he stutters, "you're impossible. Rose-you, you can't- this is impossible."
She only laughs. "I really don't think that word means what you think it means."
He grins, and takes her up in his arms.