For Blue Skies (Fic: Doctor Who, 10/R, Oneshot)
He could find her. He could go back to that market and take her hand and lead her away, away from the bezoolium and the other useless trinkets. He could go back and coax the TARDIS into doing the laundry (no, he thinks, he could demand she do it; no reason he can’t except there are so many reasons but he no longer pays them heed). He could strip her of every reason to go back to Jackie’s that day. He could keep her with him. That would be the greatest victory of all.
He’d save the sun he’d burned and the valiant child he’d lost.
She’d lose her family and her world and the wretched other him but it wouldn’t matter because her hand would be in his and she could make him stop, she’d always been able to make him stop, he should have stopped and he hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to.
“I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.” Adelaide’s words, not five minutes ago.
“What about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changin' into?” Rose’s, years ago but still in the future, in 2012. The past and future words that echo in his head and spur him back, back, back…
***
Rose Tyler is eighteen and it’s her first day on the job. She’s supposed to be in women’s clothes but Millie is sick and now she’s in men’s. An annoyingly indecisive man is laboring over three ties, all nearly the same shade of blue, and she wants to tell him to sod off, she was supposed to be on her lunch break five minutes ago. But something about him gives her pause. He seems sad. Worn. Older than his years. Like he’s lost someone. And though there’s a pang of hunger in her stomach, a pang of sympathy wins out, and she walks over to him.
“Need help with anythin’?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. That’d be lovely.” He gives her a grin and holds up two of the ties. “Which do you like best?”
“That one.” She points to the darker blue. It matches the ocean’s depth in his eyes, the weight of little disasters and griefs piling one onto the other.
“You tryin' to impress someone special?” she asks a moment later as he undoes his tie and tries on the new one.
“The missus. Did something wrong, you know.” He swallows. She thinks maybe the tie is too tight and reaches up to help him. When her hands brush his, he flinches, and she murmurs a sorry. He continues. “Hoping she’ll forgive me. She always goes on and on about how I never change my clothes, so I thought a new tie…”
“… is probably just the thing.” Rose grins, tongue against teeth, and finishes fixing it. “I think she’ll forgive you. You’re at least tryin' to change.”
“You think that’s enough?”
“It would be for me.”
Poor bloke, she thinks. He’s about to cry.
He’d save the sun he’d burned and the valiant child he’d lost.
She’d lose her family and her world and the wretched other him but it wouldn’t matter because her hand would be in his and she could make him stop, she’d always been able to make him stop, he should have stopped and he hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to.
“I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.” Adelaide’s words, not five minutes ago.
“What about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changin' into?” Rose’s, years ago but still in the future, in 2012. The past and future words that echo in his head and spur him back, back, back…
***
Rose Tyler is eighteen and it’s her first day on the job. She’s supposed to be in women’s clothes but Millie is sick and now she’s in men’s. An annoyingly indecisive man is laboring over three ties, all nearly the same shade of blue, and she wants to tell him to sod off, she was supposed to be on her lunch break five minutes ago. But something about him gives her pause. He seems sad. Worn. Older than his years. Like he’s lost someone. And though there’s a pang of hunger in her stomach, a pang of sympathy wins out, and she walks over to him.
“Need help with anythin’?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. That’d be lovely.” He gives her a grin and holds up two of the ties. “Which do you like best?”
“That one.” She points to the darker blue. It matches the ocean’s depth in his eyes, the weight of little disasters and griefs piling one onto the other.
“You tryin' to impress someone special?” she asks a moment later as he undoes his tie and tries on the new one.
“The missus. Did something wrong, you know.” He swallows. She thinks maybe the tie is too tight and reaches up to help him. When her hands brush his, he flinches, and she murmurs a sorry. He continues. “Hoping she’ll forgive me. She always goes on and on about how I never change my clothes, so I thought a new tie…”
“… is probably just the thing.” Rose grins, tongue against teeth, and finishes fixing it. “I think she’ll forgive you. You’re at least tryin' to change.”
“You think that’s enough?”
“It would be for me.”
Poor bloke, she thinks. He’s about to cry.