Here's what happens when you're up at 3.a.m. and the plot bunnies keep scurrying through your head!
Doctor Who fic:
Title: Ephemeral
Author: handful_of_sky
Rated: All ages
Spoilers: None, really
Story behind the cut:
Ephemeral
The Doctor understands that Rose is ephemeral. Humanity burns so brightly in her-- a holiday sparkler in the hands of a small child (look, mummy, isn't it beautiful)-- a visual spectacle to be admired for the extent of its all-too-brief lifetime. He knows she will leave him, whether it be through boredom, homesickness, a cause worth fighting for, a lover, or through death. She will leave and he would almost rather that she died than know that she chose to leave him willingly.
Almost.
The Doctor understands why his dreams of Gallifrey are different now. Why, as he picks his way through the rubble and weeps for what was lost, he's likely as not to come across an occasional oasis of green--a garden that survived the holocaust. Roses are native to Earth, but the gardens in his mind are always full of flowers in full bloom--huge yellow roses, soft pink ones, delicate red tea roses--a hundred varieties and their fragrance almost washes away the stink of death and decay.
Almost.
The Doctor understands the look he sees on Rose's face now and then. Oh, he's seen it before from other companions--equal parts awe, hero worship, affection, and possessiveness. It makes up for the times when it's merely annoyance, but that look stirs him now in a way that he can't shake. He is the Doctor--900 years older and wiser than she is--and she is ephemeral. But she is Rose and when he sees the universe through her eyes he remembers why he fell in love with it to begin with. He's almost ready to fall in love with her as well.
Almost.
Title: Ephemeral
Author: handful_of_sky
Rated: All ages
Spoilers: None, really
Story behind the cut:
Ephemeral
The Doctor understands that Rose is ephemeral. Humanity burns so brightly in her-- a holiday sparkler in the hands of a small child (look, mummy, isn't it beautiful)-- a visual spectacle to be admired for the extent of its all-too-brief lifetime. He knows she will leave him, whether it be through boredom, homesickness, a cause worth fighting for, a lover, or through death. She will leave and he would almost rather that she died than know that she chose to leave him willingly.
Almost.
The Doctor understands why his dreams of Gallifrey are different now. Why, as he picks his way through the rubble and weeps for what was lost, he's likely as not to come across an occasional oasis of green--a garden that survived the holocaust. Roses are native to Earth, but the gardens in his mind are always full of flowers in full bloom--huge yellow roses, soft pink ones, delicate red tea roses--a hundred varieties and their fragrance almost washes away the stink of death and decay.
Almost.
The Doctor understands the look he sees on Rose's face now and then. Oh, he's seen it before from other companions--equal parts awe, hero worship, affection, and possessiveness. It makes up for the times when it's merely annoyance, but that look stirs him now in a way that he can't shake. He is the Doctor--900 years older and wiser than she is--and she is ephemeral. But she is Rose and when he sees the universe through her eyes he remembers why he fell in love with it to begin with. He's almost ready to fall in love with her as well.
Almost.