Fic: It's a Virtue
Title: It's a Virtue
Author: meself, fid_gin
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: It's around the fourth hour and she's in his room when the hologram finds her.
Notes: In the grip of a recent S2 obsession, I'm revisiting some older fics I started and then abandoned for whatever reason. I found this one (or rather, one which inspired this one), realized I don't think I've ever actually written a Girl in the Fireplace fic, and decided to pick it back up. Mild angst, because it's unavoidable really, when discussing this ep.
It's around the fourth hour and she's in his room when the hologram finds her.
Four hours since the spaceship fell silent as a grave, the sights and sounds of Versailles under attack falling away even as shards of time window continued to fall. Four hours since she found herself looking down at a hundred fragments of Rose Tyler reflected back at her from the pieces, where they lay. Now staring at his bed - it's still unmade, a landscape of duvet rumple and Muppet bedsheets she bought him as a joke, and his voice comes from behind her, sounding so much like last night that if she didn't know better she'd turn and run toward it, laughing with relief.
“Rose.”
She closes her eyes, doesn't turn around. “No.”
“Rose, look at me.” She does and he's standing there, green and ghostly and not smiling. Staring her dead in the eye the hologram begins to intone, “This is Emergency Programme...”
“NO!”
He stops talking. Hands in his coat pockets, looking at her. “You can hear me?” she asks, and he looks almost sheepish.
“Sentient software.”
“Where are you?”
Shaking his head. “Don't know. I did have to record this beforehand, you know.”
She's so angry she considers striking out at it/him. “Well, I'll tell you: you left me.”
“I'm sorry.” He looks it, too, as much as a fuzzy green projection can look sorry. “That's why I need to take you home.”
“Why did you do it?” Now she's crying, alone here, with and without her Doctor. She wonders for a moment if there's a similar apparition appearing to Mickey elsewhere in the TARDIS.
“Rose, whatever it is I've done...I wouldn't have done it unless I didn't think I had a choice.”
She swallows. “You promised...” On that street, what, two days ago? Three? The flowers and doves of her fairytale romance may have been dead rats and Krillitanes, but he'd looked into her eyes that night and had promised he'd never leave her behind. The hologram doesn't answer - maybe it was recorded before then. Maybe it's as confused as she is. “Are you coming back?”
His face is all sad static. “I don't know. If I were able to, I like to think that I'd be back by now.”
“So it's 'Emergency Programme One' and 'have a nice life' and that's it? No,” she continues, shaking her head. “I'm gonna wait. I won't leave you.”
The hologram gives that lopsided grin she knows so well. “What's Mr. Mickey have to say about that?”
“Don't know. He's off somewhere kicking things and calling you names right now.”
“Good man.” They study each other. “No changing your mind, then?”
Folding her arms across her chest. “Nope.”
“Right! Well, see you soon, I hope.” The projection wrinkles its brow. “Mind you, this is all going to be terribly embarrassing if I've just popped out and fallen down a hole or something.”
She should be so lucky. “It's nothing like that.”
“The TARDIS will stay for another 24 hours. After that she'll return to her previous destination, nothing I can do to stop it. Say hi to Sarah Jane, if that's the case.” He/it steps closer. “And in case I've been too stupid to do this before now...” And the Doctor-hologram leans over and covers her mouth with his. There's nothing to feel but she puckers up and feels it anyway - a memory of something they've only just got around to, so recently that his sentient software self isn't even aware of it.
He fades, his phantom lips still pressed against hers, and she opens her eyes to find she's kissing only air, fingers clutching where his suit should be.
When he returns nearly two hours later, his shoulders slumped and pain behind his eyes, she gives him time and space - the only things you can give a Time Lord, really, and the very things he'll give you back. And when, weeks later, he runs diagnostics on the TARDIS systems and wonders aloud how and when one of the Emergency Programmes was engaged and overridden, her smile is knowing, mysterious, and very, very patient.
Author: meself, fid_gin
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: It's around the fourth hour and she's in his room when the hologram finds her.
Notes: In the grip of a recent S2 obsession, I'm revisiting some older fics I started and then abandoned for whatever reason. I found this one (or rather, one which inspired this one), realized I don't think I've ever actually written a Girl in the Fireplace fic, and decided to pick it back up. Mild angst, because it's unavoidable really, when discussing this ep.
It's around the fourth hour and she's in his room when the hologram finds her.
Four hours since the spaceship fell silent as a grave, the sights and sounds of Versailles under attack falling away even as shards of time window continued to fall. Four hours since she found herself looking down at a hundred fragments of Rose Tyler reflected back at her from the pieces, where they lay. Now staring at his bed - it's still unmade, a landscape of duvet rumple and Muppet bedsheets she bought him as a joke, and his voice comes from behind her, sounding so much like last night that if she didn't know better she'd turn and run toward it, laughing with relief.
“Rose.”
She closes her eyes, doesn't turn around. “No.”
“Rose, look at me.” She does and he's standing there, green and ghostly and not smiling. Staring her dead in the eye the hologram begins to intone, “This is Emergency Programme...”
“NO!”
He stops talking. Hands in his coat pockets, looking at her. “You can hear me?” she asks, and he looks almost sheepish.
“Sentient software.”
“Where are you?”
Shaking his head. “Don't know. I did have to record this beforehand, you know.”
She's so angry she considers striking out at it/him. “Well, I'll tell you: you left me.”
“I'm sorry.” He looks it, too, as much as a fuzzy green projection can look sorry. “That's why I need to take you home.”
“Why did you do it?” Now she's crying, alone here, with and without her Doctor. She wonders for a moment if there's a similar apparition appearing to Mickey elsewhere in the TARDIS.
“Rose, whatever it is I've done...I wouldn't have done it unless I didn't think I had a choice.”
She swallows. “You promised...” On that street, what, two days ago? Three? The flowers and doves of her fairytale romance may have been dead rats and Krillitanes, but he'd looked into her eyes that night and had promised he'd never leave her behind. The hologram doesn't answer - maybe it was recorded before then. Maybe it's as confused as she is. “Are you coming back?”
His face is all sad static. “I don't know. If I were able to, I like to think that I'd be back by now.”
“So it's 'Emergency Programme One' and 'have a nice life' and that's it? No,” she continues, shaking her head. “I'm gonna wait. I won't leave you.”
The hologram gives that lopsided grin she knows so well. “What's Mr. Mickey have to say about that?”
“Don't know. He's off somewhere kicking things and calling you names right now.”
“Good man.” They study each other. “No changing your mind, then?”
Folding her arms across her chest. “Nope.”
“Right! Well, see you soon, I hope.” The projection wrinkles its brow. “Mind you, this is all going to be terribly embarrassing if I've just popped out and fallen down a hole or something.”
She should be so lucky. “It's nothing like that.”
“The TARDIS will stay for another 24 hours. After that she'll return to her previous destination, nothing I can do to stop it. Say hi to Sarah Jane, if that's the case.” He/it steps closer. “And in case I've been too stupid to do this before now...” And the Doctor-hologram leans over and covers her mouth with his. There's nothing to feel but she puckers up and feels it anyway - a memory of something they've only just got around to, so recently that his sentient software self isn't even aware of it.
He fades, his phantom lips still pressed against hers, and she opens her eyes to find she's kissing only air, fingers clutching where his suit should be.
When he returns nearly two hours later, his shoulders slumped and pain behind his eyes, she gives him time and space - the only things you can give a Time Lord, really, and the very things he'll give you back. And when, weeks later, he runs diagnostics on the TARDIS systems and wonders aloud how and when one of the Emergency Programmes was engaged and overridden, her smile is knowing, mysterious, and very, very patient.