FIC: Where Weary Eyes No More Will Weep
Title: Where Weary Eyes No More Will Weep
Rating: G
Length: 1,151
Pairing(s): Ten/Rose, Ten II/Rose
Summary: He does not know what awaits the last of the Time Lords.
[See the end of the fic for notes.]
It is said that in the instant before death, the important moments of life pass before a human's eyes.
The Doctor wonders about that, sometimes tries to imagine it, because he does not know what awaits the last of the Time Lords.
In days of old, a Time Lord would return to Gallifrey from his final sojourns. His regenerations spent and his last form aged, he would retire to the halls of his forefathers and chronicle his travels. In his final hours, he would be joined by the preceding versions of himself. He would be buried by his former selves and a few witnesses.
This ritual was venerated on Gallifrey. If a Time Lord passed without his earlier selves, it was believed that his soul would enter eternity broken.
The Doctor tells Jack Harkness about the ceremony one night in a near-empty bar on the planet Dayamir. It's been more a millennium since the two last met, and the Doctor's face has changed twice, but the profound respect and admiration they share eases the wound of lost years.
When all that remains of the TARDIS is the sound of its engines echoing faintly down the beach, the Tylers and the single-hearted Doctor turn and walk in the opposite direction.
The Doctor follows Jackie and Rose silently as they tread the sands of the beach. He realizes then how truly alike the mother and daughter are. They square their shoulders and follow a straight line.
The greatest unknown lies before him. He hasn't felt so inexperienced since he graduated the Time Lord academy and realized he hadn't the faintest idea where to go from there. He's aware of the beating of his heart, that it thrums a different rhythm than a pair of Time Lord hearts.
After two kilometers, the three come to a road. After another, a town appears on the horizon before them. Jackie's shoulders slag. As they near the town, he briefly wonders if she's crying, but then she begins lecturing him about the great messes he leaves everywhere. Rose turns then and holds out her hand. As he takes it, a cloud lifts from her eyes, as if she realizes that their roles have reversed. He's entering a life he hasn't known, and she must guide him.
She speaks for the first time in three kilometers. "Your eyes are lighter." More like her first Doctor's, she means. It's her acceptance of his other self's words: He needs her. As they walk, she steps in closer to him. Her shoulders are no longer squared; she is relaxed and walks with him with an ease he remembers from their years together.
His Thirteenth self is not ginger. It's a travesty, he tells his companion. Thirteen bodies and not a single ginger. She laughs and pats his blond hair. "You'd look terrible ginger."
Her name is Belle, a half-human in the fifty-first century. She's sixteen, orphaned in the destruction of her planet. She had survived because she had freed him from her father's prison and hauled him to the TARDIS. Her home imploded around them.
She is the last of her kind.
Ten years pass and the Doctor discovers he prefers regeneration to aging. A few years in a body, then a few years in another. "Time Lords shouldn't age," he complains to Rose as he compares a photo from their first Christmas to his image in the mirror. "Just look at this."
Rose only laughs. Their TARDIS, a beautiful craft that the two grew together and a home that reflects the best of each of them, orbits Earth. Unlike him, Rose has aged beautifully.
"You sound like mum." Across the room, Tony examines the TARDIS console, learning it through touches.
"How dare you. I ought to open that door and boot you into space."
Tony shrugs. "You do."
Rose does a horrible job of hiding her laughter. It's contagious.
It took time, and sometimes they faltered, but he and Rose had built a life.
He falls ill.
Belle worries over him.
On Gallifrey, an infirmary held the treatment for many foreign ills. The cure for his was among them, but Gallifrey is long gone.
His time has come.
"Jack," he says through his fever.
Tony has children.
The Doctor pretends this thought worries him, but the truth is that Tony has grown into a fine man. His ninth self would be horrified if he saw three children running about the TARDIS, but the Doctor feels only contentment.
He is human. His time will pass. When he and Rose have gone, Tony will care for the TARDIS, and when Tony has gone, his children will look after the ship. The Tylers will never remain stationary in time.
Rose's hand is warm in his.
He wakes to Jack, concern etched on his face. Belle sits on the foot of his bed. "The TARDIS listened to you, Doctor. It brought us to him."
"Doctor." Jack's voice cracks just a little. "Rest. I'll take care of you."
It's a holiday on Earth. He and Rose wake simultaneously to the sounds of an approaching TARDIS. They dress silently and leave.
Outside, a familiar TARDIS sits beside their own. Jack Harkness waits. The captain looks haggard, as though he hasn't slept in more than a week, so he and Rose don't press for answers. Whatever drastic means he used to cross between realities, his reason must be a dreadful one.
When he wakes again, he is far from alone. There are many voices, though few speak above a whisper.
He lifts his head and finds-
-his life.
His first self, his second, his third, all of them. The familiarity of the faces, faces that he once wore, comforts him.
His former incarnations are not alone. Jack has gathered who he could. His first self has come with Susan. Victoria is there, along with Jo and Sarah Jane, Nyssa and Peri. Ace, Charley, Lucie, River. Amy, Martha.
And-standing between his ninth and tenth self-Rose Tyler.
The years have aged her, but he knows her instantly nonetheless. Behind her, he sees a unique version of himself, a Time Lord with one heart who wears many years.
He speaks alone with each of them, then they form a quiet circle around him. They wait with him.
As his last breath is drawn, the Doctor is aware of them and he feels-
-whole.
Rose Tyler dies on her one hundredth birthday. The Tylers travel to Woman Wept to bury her.
The Doctor observes the ceremonies of humanity, of laying one's beloved to rest.
He returns to the TARDIS, to the bed he shared with her for nearly eight decades, and drifts to sleep as the footsteps and laughter of Tony's grandchildren echo through his ship.
He dreams of Rose, glowing and beautiful as she had when she looked into the TARDIS, but safe now.
He does not wake.
Notes: While not my first attempt at the Doctor Who fandom, this story is my first genuine venture. As with any fandom, I hope to improve as my efforts increase. Immeasurable thanks to snowfire, solookup, and ishie for beta reading. [IMPORTED 03/31/2012.]
Rating: G
Length: 1,151
Pairing(s): Ten/Rose, Ten II/Rose
Summary: He does not know what awaits the last of the Time Lords.
[See the end of the fic for notes.]
It is said that in the instant before death, the important moments of life pass before a human's eyes.
The Doctor wonders about that, sometimes tries to imagine it, because he does not know what awaits the last of the Time Lords.
In days of old, a Time Lord would return to Gallifrey from his final sojourns. His regenerations spent and his last form aged, he would retire to the halls of his forefathers and chronicle his travels. In his final hours, he would be joined by the preceding versions of himself. He would be buried by his former selves and a few witnesses.
This ritual was venerated on Gallifrey. If a Time Lord passed without his earlier selves, it was believed that his soul would enter eternity broken.
The Doctor tells Jack Harkness about the ceremony one night in a near-empty bar on the planet Dayamir. It's been more a millennium since the two last met, and the Doctor's face has changed twice, but the profound respect and admiration they share eases the wound of lost years.
When all that remains of the TARDIS is the sound of its engines echoing faintly down the beach, the Tylers and the single-hearted Doctor turn and walk in the opposite direction.
The Doctor follows Jackie and Rose silently as they tread the sands of the beach. He realizes then how truly alike the mother and daughter are. They square their shoulders and follow a straight line.
The greatest unknown lies before him. He hasn't felt so inexperienced since he graduated the Time Lord academy and realized he hadn't the faintest idea where to go from there. He's aware of the beating of his heart, that it thrums a different rhythm than a pair of Time Lord hearts.
After two kilometers, the three come to a road. After another, a town appears on the horizon before them. Jackie's shoulders slag. As they near the town, he briefly wonders if she's crying, but then she begins lecturing him about the great messes he leaves everywhere. Rose turns then and holds out her hand. As he takes it, a cloud lifts from her eyes, as if she realizes that their roles have reversed. He's entering a life he hasn't known, and she must guide him.
She speaks for the first time in three kilometers. "Your eyes are lighter." More like her first Doctor's, she means. It's her acceptance of his other self's words: He needs her. As they walk, she steps in closer to him. Her shoulders are no longer squared; she is relaxed and walks with him with an ease he remembers from their years together.
His Thirteenth self is not ginger. It's a travesty, he tells his companion. Thirteen bodies and not a single ginger. She laughs and pats his blond hair. "You'd look terrible ginger."
Her name is Belle, a half-human in the fifty-first century. She's sixteen, orphaned in the destruction of her planet. She had survived because she had freed him from her father's prison and hauled him to the TARDIS. Her home imploded around them.
She is the last of her kind.
Ten years pass and the Doctor discovers he prefers regeneration to aging. A few years in a body, then a few years in another. "Time Lords shouldn't age," he complains to Rose as he compares a photo from their first Christmas to his image in the mirror. "Just look at this."
Rose only laughs. Their TARDIS, a beautiful craft that the two grew together and a home that reflects the best of each of them, orbits Earth. Unlike him, Rose has aged beautifully.
"You sound like mum." Across the room, Tony examines the TARDIS console, learning it through touches.
"How dare you. I ought to open that door and boot you into space."
Tony shrugs. "You do."
Rose does a horrible job of hiding her laughter. It's contagious.
It took time, and sometimes they faltered, but he and Rose had built a life.
He falls ill.
Belle worries over him.
On Gallifrey, an infirmary held the treatment for many foreign ills. The cure for his was among them, but Gallifrey is long gone.
His time has come.
"Jack," he says through his fever.
Tony has children.
The Doctor pretends this thought worries him, but the truth is that Tony has grown into a fine man. His ninth self would be horrified if he saw three children running about the TARDIS, but the Doctor feels only contentment.
He is human. His time will pass. When he and Rose have gone, Tony will care for the TARDIS, and when Tony has gone, his children will look after the ship. The Tylers will never remain stationary in time.
Rose's hand is warm in his.
He wakes to Jack, concern etched on his face. Belle sits on the foot of his bed. "The TARDIS listened to you, Doctor. It brought us to him."
"Doctor." Jack's voice cracks just a little. "Rest. I'll take care of you."
It's a holiday on Earth. He and Rose wake simultaneously to the sounds of an approaching TARDIS. They dress silently and leave.
Outside, a familiar TARDIS sits beside their own. Jack Harkness waits. The captain looks haggard, as though he hasn't slept in more than a week, so he and Rose don't press for answers. Whatever drastic means he used to cross between realities, his reason must be a dreadful one.
When he wakes again, he is far from alone. There are many voices, though few speak above a whisper.
He lifts his head and finds-
-his life.
His first self, his second, his third, all of them. The familiarity of the faces, faces that he once wore, comforts him.
His former incarnations are not alone. Jack has gathered who he could. His first self has come with Susan. Victoria is there, along with Jo and Sarah Jane, Nyssa and Peri. Ace, Charley, Lucie, River. Amy, Martha.
And-standing between his ninth and tenth self-Rose Tyler.
The years have aged her, but he knows her instantly nonetheless. Behind her, he sees a unique version of himself, a Time Lord with one heart who wears many years.
He speaks alone with each of them, then they form a quiet circle around him. They wait with him.
As his last breath is drawn, the Doctor is aware of them and he feels-
-whole.
Rose Tyler dies on her one hundredth birthday. The Tylers travel to Woman Wept to bury her.
The Doctor observes the ceremonies of humanity, of laying one's beloved to rest.
He returns to the TARDIS, to the bed he shared with her for nearly eight decades, and drifts to sleep as the footsteps and laughter of Tony's grandchildren echo through his ship.
He dreams of Rose, glowing and beautiful as she had when she looked into the TARDIS, but safe now.
He does not wake.
Notes: While not my first attempt at the Doctor Who fandom, this story is my first genuine venture. As with any fandom, I hope to improve as my efforts increase. Immeasurable thanks to snowfire, solookup, and ishie for beta reading. [IMPORTED 03/31/2012.]