Fic: Laughing at Stars 2/?
Title: Laughing at Stars, Part 1, 2/5
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Adult
Setting: S2 post AoS
Summary:This is the Doctor and Rose's journey together as they grow from friendship to something more. Can they overcome their separate fears to find a common ground?
Beta Team: achuislemochroiannissaghidden_n_hotmilievaoobiemcrubyroyalladyemma
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC. No infringement intended.
Prompt: prompt 1: never-ever-will prompt 14, pic 31
prompt2: never-ever-will prompt 21 pic 9
Notes: Written for journeystory Transcript from: Who Transcripts
Beautiful cover and chapter art by moodilylit
Note: if you have a light background format, click "view in in original" to see artwork.
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Previous:
Prologue
"Flowers.... are naïve.... They believe that their thorns are terrible weapons..."
"Sometimes I think that your thoughts," she said in a dreamlike tone, stretching out her hand to an unseen point, "are silver threads hovering just out of reach." Her fist closed suddenly. "And if I'm fast enough, I can catch one or two."
His breath caught and, just for a moment, time shivered and bent around them before righting itself with a delicate hiccough.
Sometimes, the Doctor thought, I think I did a terrible job of separating you from the vortex.
And the worst part was, he wasn't sure if he was horrified or enthralled.
"'Si quelqu'un aime une fleur qui n'existe qu'à un exemplaire dans les millions d'étoiles, ça suffit pour qu'il soit heureux quand il les regarde. Il se dit: "Ma fleur est là quelque part"... '" the Doctor read.
Rose shifted against him, turning until she could rest her head on his shoulder. Without missing a beat in his reading, he resettled his arm around her and turned a page in the book.
She tried to focus on the words he was saying, the ones he was really saying, separate and distinct from the translation going on in her head. Ever since the Doctor had tried to explain how he could hear both at once, she was determined to do the same. So far she had only managed to hear one or the other. Despite the Doctor's assurances that she was doing remarkably well in her attempts, his ill-concealed smirk had made her wonder if he wasn't "helping" her out a bit.
"'The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death? On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms, and rocked him. I said to him:
"'La fleur que tu aimes n'est pas en danger... Je lui dessinerai une muselière, à ton mouton... Je te dessinerai une armure pour ta fleur... Je...'"
Rose grimaced as the translation slipped away again. She forced her body to relax as the Doctor had taught her, to not try quite so hard. Then all at once it was as though the Doctor's voice echoed, doubled in her mind.
"'Je ne savais pas trop quoi dire. Je me sentais très maladroit. Je ne savais comment l'atteindre, où le rejoindre...
"'I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand-in-hand with him once more.'"
Rose gasped and sat up.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"
"I did it!" she breathed.
"Did what...?"
"I mean, I heard it. It was like there were two voices in my head. Two languages. But not. I could hear what you were saying and what you were really saying." Rose huffed in frustration. "Oh, I'm not explaining this right!"
"No, I understand what you mean." He looked at her, his expression carefully neutral. "Well done," he said quietly, entirely without enthusiasm.
Rose frowned a little, irritated by his reaction. "Thanks," she said flatly.
His eyes dropped for a moment and he looked a little guilty. With a sheepish grin, he met her eyes again. "You, Rose Tyler, are entirely too clever for your own good."
This close to his smiling eyes she was powerless to stay annoyed with him. Her irritation melted away and she found herself grinning back.
"So, we-" he began.
"Do ya-," she said at the same time and they both broke off, laughing.
"Go 'head," she offered.
But he shook his head and waved the offer off.
"Okay," she felt strangely awkward. "Just wondered if we should stop here for tonight since it's the end of the chapter."
The corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. "Read my mind. You were on the verge of drifting off a few times there. Keep this up much longer and you'll fall asleep on me and I'll be hopelessly trapped."
Rose made a face and playfully slapped at his shoulder. "Oh, and now you'll claim to fear the 'wrath of Rose Tyler' because I'm so grumpy when you wake me."
He spread his hands and signed dramatically, "Welll, the other morning you did have a particular quality in your voice-"
"What, when you were jumping on my bed?"
"- that hearkens back to a certain female antecedent -"
"Jumping, Doctor! Like a hyperactive toddler or something!"
"Yes, that's it, right there."
"Wait, are you trying to say something snide about my mother?"
"What? No, never. Your mother's a lovely women. With excellent aim."
Rose laughed and went to tease him about learning to duck, but instead she felt the smile slide from her face. A familiar strangeness swept over her. And, dancing just out reach near the Doctor's head, she could almost make out silver filaments of light. She stretched out her hand to them: her fingertips could almost touch.
"Sometimes I think that your thoughts," she said, halfway in a dream, "are silver threads hovering just out of reach." She tried to grasp one of those filmy strands hovering, just there. "And if I'm fast enough, I can catch one or two."
She opened her hand, disappointed to see it was empty. When she looked back at the Doctor, his eyes were wide and fearful.
"What's wrong?" She frowned.
He shook his head, easing out from under her and drawing her to her feet.
"Time you were in bed. Sleeping. Think we'll take it easy tomorrow. The TARDIS could use some maintenance. You can have a nice, long lie-in. You always like that."
She was tired so she didn't complain about his strange behaviour and, instead, let him lead her to her door and bid her good night.
I must endure the presence of two or three caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies.
Rose tossed restlessly in her bed, casting a weary glance out of her "window." When the Doctor had shown her to her room for the first time, she'd quickly found the four solid walls claustrophobic. Then, after a particularly long day, when all she'd wanted was to collapse and sleep but secretly dreaded those oppressive walls, she'd entered the room to find a simulated window had appeared on the far side of the room.
It was currently displaying a moonlit countryside complete with the peaceful sound of some chirping insect's song. Rose sighed. She usually found it soothing, but not tonight. Tonight, her mind would not be still. So much had happened recently. It was finally hitting home how very unsafe her lifestyle was.
Rose had begun to realise exactly what it meant to be heroic. She'd tried to explain it to her mother the first time the Doctor had left her behind to save the day on his own. Even Mickey had heard that call and left her for a place where he could do something that mattered. Live that better life the Doctor had shown him; be noble and give her up because even sweet, thick Mickey could see where her heart lay.
But, as much as she missed Mickey, it was another goodbye that had haunted her dreams that night.
"Well, can't we just smash through it?" Mickey demanded.
"Hyperplex this side, plate glass the other. We need a truck."
"We don't have a truck."
"I know we don't have a truck!" the Doctor bellowed impatiently.
"Well, we've gotta try something!" Rose scanned his face.
The Doctor met her eyes for moment, then looked away. "No, smash the glass, smash the time window; there'd be no way back."
The Doctor paced frantically, hands in his hair, ruffling it until it nearly stood on end.
“You've got to help them, Doctor.”
“I know! But how? I'd have to shatter the time windows. It's not like I can ride in there like a knight on a white horse to -, “
A loud whinny and a snort caused all of them to spin around.
“Arthur!” The Doctor shouted, elated, “Of course! I'll-” He deflated suddenly. “I can't.”
“Why not?” Rose asked.
“Rose, I'd be trapped there. No way back. All the windows would break at once.”
The screams grew louder.
“Do it.” Rose said softly.
“What?”
“Do it.”
The Doctor gave her a hard look. “I can't. No. Way. Back.”
“You have to. You know you do. Those things - they're messin' with history. You can't let 'em kill her. What would happen to the world if they changed things?”
"Fixed points," he muttered darkly.
As he'd looked back at her longingly before he'd charged off into history (and on white horse no less), it had come to her as a revelation. When the choice was her or the world, (the universe, or even the fabric of time itself), he would always choose the world. And that was the way it had to be. She did understand that even if, clearly, the Doctor didn't think she could.
"The Doctor and the monsters," Rose whispered to herself.
She turned back to her imaginary window though its comfort was elusive. But as she stared at the impassive scene, the insects hushed and the moon clouded over. Then the sound and smell of a soft summer rain filled the room. She smiled in spite of herself and soon drifted off to sleep in the embrace of the storm.
Chapter 2
