Fic: Healing
Title : Healing
Rating : Teen (PG13-ish)
Gift for : rachelbeann
Betas: swankkat and aibhinn
Summary: The Doctor’s thoughts meander during a long night.
Prompt: Rose wandering off (again). Protective!Nine angst and a somewhat happy ending.
A/N: Written for the hearts_in_time ficathon.
At daylight, he’ll have to push her to move. They’ll need to reach the TARDIS before the next nightfall. He’d told her it was a severe sprain, but the emerging green bruise tells another story; she’s also been poisoned, and now time is running out.
They’d dropped Adam off in London in the year 2012, only a week ago. The insanity of recent travels had weighed heavy on both of them, but Rose in particular had begged for somewhere quiet and peaceful. The Doctor, of course, knew just the place. “No governments that could be collapsing, no history of natural disasters. Nothing. Just relaxation, pure and simple,” he’d said.
For three days, they’d been exploring the planet Val, an ecotourism haven on the edge of the Horsehead Nebula. Nature lovers from across the galaxy traveled here in the thirty-sixth century for the planet’s incredible environmental extremes, coexisting in an impossibly close-proximity ecosystem. Rivers divided the boundaries between rainforests and deserts. Traveling between beach and mountain was possible within only a couple of hours. The only hints of civilization were subtly placed tourist stops, inns, and restaurants to provide necessary materials for enjoying the great outdoors.
Which they had been doing until Rose had wandered off the marked path during one of the Doctor’s pauses to scratch his head and study the trail map again. She’d tripped and fallen over a Bagard root, slamming her knee into a knot in a nearby bush with spiky thorns. Rose had been unable to feel the impact of the spikes over the twist in her knee. The Doctor’s certain that’s a good thing. No sense worrying Rose about the severity of the injury. She’ll need to move quickly come morning, and he fears that knowledge of her condition may cause too much distraction, forcing her energy into her thoughts rather than her movement.
He is worried, however. Judging by her sleep pattern and the pallor of her skin, the poison is taking effect faster than he’d expected. She sleeps lightly, occasionally shifting positions. She’s been stirring for the past ten minutes, but never quite waking. Fearing a fever spike, he touches his open palm to her forehead. She is quite warm, but not dangerously so. For now, at least. She sighs a bit at his touch, leaning her head into the coolness of his palm. For only a moment, he allows himself the connection, but then the discomfort and fear takes hold and he snatches his hand away.
He’s torn between his desire for closeness, and the raw pain of loss that causes the fear that paralyzes him. It makes no sense - why does he feel such a need for connection? He’s always been a loner. Sure, he’s traveled with companions along the way, and yes, he’s considered a decent number of them friends. He’s never felt a need to connect closer than arm’s length before, though - always kept everything professional, academic, even. He relished the role of a professor, taking the planet-bound humans out to the stars, opening their eyes to the amazing potential their species contains. His own people never understood him, never embraced him - so he chose not to embrace them either. All was fine - he kept wandering, kept traveling, seeing the universe, and never looking back, happy to be on his own with only his rules to acknowledge.
But now, the rules have changed. The Time Lords are no more. He doesn’t have the overpowering need to be so stubborn anymore. The solitary existence he once adored has now become a curse. Where he once claimed no one would understand because they hadn’t been out there, knowing that the words were nothing more than the Gallifreyan equivalent of a rebellious streak - now no one does understand him.
Yet he thinks, every once in a while, that this young woman beside him may be coming damned close at times.
The flames from the lantern project dancing shadows across Rose’s face, intensifying her expression of discomfort, exaggerating their effect on her features. He notices her stirring again and, worried that he’s been making too much noise pacing around the tent, moves to the opposite corner to his cot, stretching out upon it as carefully as possible to avoid any unnecessary noise. He stares at the continued flickering upon the canvas ceiling, tracing the patterns, wondering if he focuses on the light like humans to do clouds, he’ll see objects from home in their wavering shapes.
“Doctor?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep. He turns only his head, seeing her frowning as she gazes at him, her eyes wide in worry.
“Shh… go back to sleep, Rose.”
“What time is it?”
In a less serious situation, he’d be the smartarse and recite the exact time, both locally and Greenwich Mean, down to the second. He knows, though, that now is not the time to be so impressive. He’s ashamed that the thought even crossed his mind as he glances at the simple wristwatch on his arm.
“Half three. Couple more hours ‘til sunrise. Now get some rest.” He speaks the words gently, despite their directness. She doesn’t expect much beyond the hardened, protective exterior he typically shows to the world, so she won’t recoil from his directions anyway. She understands that this is who he is, who he has to be.
He turns sharply when he hears her hiss. She’s turning herself over, but her sore knee clearly is not in agreement with her movement plan. In a second, he’s by her side, assisting her.
“Careful,” he coaxes. Once she’s settled, he notices the awkward angle of her knee and pulls his leather jacket off, wadding it in a ball to serve as a cushion. He positions her leg carefully, and feels the tension in her leg slowly evaporate. “That’s it. Just relax, Rose. Better?”
She smiles weakly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand.
“I’m sorry I wandered off,” she whispers.
He cups her cheek, smiling brightly despite his worry for her. “You’re going to be fine, Rose. Just rest.” At her nod, he quickly moves his hand to clasp hers, returning to the now familiar touch as he worries that he may have crossed a line of intimacy that neither of them is ready to approach.
He remains at her side, watching and waiting as her breaths slow, become steady, and she sleeps once more. He’s unwilling to let go of the small gift of closeness her touch allows him, only under the privacy of her sleeping form. He lies down beside her, smoothing the thin blanket over her shoulders before allowing his vision to soften, his thoughts drifting into dreams.
The day’s events roll over and over in his mind - the laughter they shared at the discovery of a small pool, pleasantly warm as they splashed each other. He smiled at the memory. She’d taken such pride in ridding him of his boots. It was perplexing, honestly, that she was proud of such a trivial thing, but she’d insisted that breaking him of his usual armor was a grand feat.
She’d nearly fainted when, in response, he stripped down to his boxers to join her in the pool.
It had been a good day - a relaxed, worry-free, celebration of the wonders and beauty of traveling that he enjoyed far too infrequently. His love for exploration has been renewed by the image of Rose gasping in delight at her interaction with this new world, giggling as she cups a little gecko in her hands, observing it with childlike wonder. He’ll never get enough of that; the thrill of his companions as their minds open to the vast wonders of time and space. Whenever he feels that perhaps he should stop, he remembers those moments.
They bring him peace.
xXxXxXxXx
The warm beam of morning sunlight hits his face, and he groans. Surprised he’d fallen asleep, he stretches and rolls himself out of the small cot. He stumbles outside, rubbing the last of the grogginess from his eyes.
The sun shines brightly, with no clouds visible in the sky. Spotting a small stream nearby, he collects some water, pours it into a supply basin from the tent, and drops in a purification tablet. It fizzes quickly, slowly turning the water a bright pink, indicating that the tablets have done their job, before evaporating into the clear liquid he’s accustomed to. He refills their water packs, pours an additional glass for each of them, and soaks some towels before returning to the tent.
At the touch of the cool rag, she stirs. He remains silent, washing away the remaining dirt and grime he’d missed in the firelight.
“Doctor?” She sounds worried.
“Just getting a better look, Rose,” he reassures her, patting her good knee gently.
He grabs a long cotton wrap bandage from the first aid kit in her rucksack and wraps it around the wound. It’s changed color since last night, darker, angrier. “We’d best get a move on. Need to get back to the TARDIS today, and the weather’s good to make early progress.”
With a bit of effort, he manages to help her up, grasping her shoulders tightly as she finds her balance. She’s able to hobble relatively well around the camp, which relieves him. She’s limping badly, but her speed isn’t too slow. As long as they manage to get to the TARDIS, he’ll be able to repair the secondary damage she’s doing through overcompensation to her good leg.
“I can’t give you any painkillers yet,” he says apologetically. “I need you to tell me exactly how you’re feeling. Anything out of the ordinary, any sudden sharp pains, you tell me. All right, Rose?”
She nods. “I’m sorry for wandering off, Doctor. I just didn’t think…”
“No harm done, Rose,” he lies. “We just need to move. Get you back to the TARDIS, get you all patched up.” He hopes he’s reassuring. Her hand grips tightly in his, and he glances down at her. She’s smiling, believing him, trusting him.
“Right then!” he exclaims.
They head into the sunlight, the bright, sunny day erasing most of his worries.
xXxXxXxXx
Twelve hours later, he enters the television room with a tea service tray, smiling softly as he sees Rose dozing. The antitoxin is working well, fighting through her system, causing only the groggy side-effect he’s now witnessing.
He carefully places the tray on the table, then switches his attention to Rose. He brushes the back of his hand against her forehead, relieved to find her temperature returning to normal. He closes his eyes, releasing the tense breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding since yesterday. Rose is all right. She’s fine.
And she’s staring at him, a surprised, pensive expression on her face. She reaches up, repositioning his hand to her cheek, trapping it beneath her own palm.
“So where are we going tomorrow. Doctor?”
Another raw edge of loss heals itself, and he laughs. The journey will continue, and he’ll show her a brilliant new adventure tomorrow, another place for her to wander off, to get in trouble, and to help him heal.
- FIN -
Rating : Teen (PG13-ish)
Gift for : rachelbeann
Betas: swankkat and aibhinn
Summary: The Doctor’s thoughts meander during a long night.
Prompt: Rose wandering off (again). Protective!Nine angst and a somewhat happy ending.
A/N: Written for the hearts_in_time ficathon.
At daylight, he’ll have to push her to move. They’ll need to reach the TARDIS before the next nightfall. He’d told her it was a severe sprain, but the emerging green bruise tells another story; she’s also been poisoned, and now time is running out.
They’d dropped Adam off in London in the year 2012, only a week ago. The insanity of recent travels had weighed heavy on both of them, but Rose in particular had begged for somewhere quiet and peaceful. The Doctor, of course, knew just the place. “No governments that could be collapsing, no history of natural disasters. Nothing. Just relaxation, pure and simple,” he’d said.
For three days, they’d been exploring the planet Val, an ecotourism haven on the edge of the Horsehead Nebula. Nature lovers from across the galaxy traveled here in the thirty-sixth century for the planet’s incredible environmental extremes, coexisting in an impossibly close-proximity ecosystem. Rivers divided the boundaries between rainforests and deserts. Traveling between beach and mountain was possible within only a couple of hours. The only hints of civilization were subtly placed tourist stops, inns, and restaurants to provide necessary materials for enjoying the great outdoors.
Which they had been doing until Rose had wandered off the marked path during one of the Doctor’s pauses to scratch his head and study the trail map again. She’d tripped and fallen over a Bagard root, slamming her knee into a knot in a nearby bush with spiky thorns. Rose had been unable to feel the impact of the spikes over the twist in her knee. The Doctor’s certain that’s a good thing. No sense worrying Rose about the severity of the injury. She’ll need to move quickly come morning, and he fears that knowledge of her condition may cause too much distraction, forcing her energy into her thoughts rather than her movement.
He is worried, however. Judging by her sleep pattern and the pallor of her skin, the poison is taking effect faster than he’d expected. She sleeps lightly, occasionally shifting positions. She’s been stirring for the past ten minutes, but never quite waking. Fearing a fever spike, he touches his open palm to her forehead. She is quite warm, but not dangerously so. For now, at least. She sighs a bit at his touch, leaning her head into the coolness of his palm. For only a moment, he allows himself the connection, but then the discomfort and fear takes hold and he snatches his hand away.
He’s torn between his desire for closeness, and the raw pain of loss that causes the fear that paralyzes him. It makes no sense - why does he feel such a need for connection? He’s always been a loner. Sure, he’s traveled with companions along the way, and yes, he’s considered a decent number of them friends. He’s never felt a need to connect closer than arm’s length before, though - always kept everything professional, academic, even. He relished the role of a professor, taking the planet-bound humans out to the stars, opening their eyes to the amazing potential their species contains. His own people never understood him, never embraced him - so he chose not to embrace them either. All was fine - he kept wandering, kept traveling, seeing the universe, and never looking back, happy to be on his own with only his rules to acknowledge.
But now, the rules have changed. The Time Lords are no more. He doesn’t have the overpowering need to be so stubborn anymore. The solitary existence he once adored has now become a curse. Where he once claimed no one would understand because they hadn’t been out there, knowing that the words were nothing more than the Gallifreyan equivalent of a rebellious streak - now no one does understand him.
Yet he thinks, every once in a while, that this young woman beside him may be coming damned close at times.
The flames from the lantern project dancing shadows across Rose’s face, intensifying her expression of discomfort, exaggerating their effect on her features. He notices her stirring again and, worried that he’s been making too much noise pacing around the tent, moves to the opposite corner to his cot, stretching out upon it as carefully as possible to avoid any unnecessary noise. He stares at the continued flickering upon the canvas ceiling, tracing the patterns, wondering if he focuses on the light like humans to do clouds, he’ll see objects from home in their wavering shapes.
“Doctor?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep. He turns only his head, seeing her frowning as she gazes at him, her eyes wide in worry.
“Shh… go back to sleep, Rose.”
“What time is it?”
In a less serious situation, he’d be the smartarse and recite the exact time, both locally and Greenwich Mean, down to the second. He knows, though, that now is not the time to be so impressive. He’s ashamed that the thought even crossed his mind as he glances at the simple wristwatch on his arm.
“Half three. Couple more hours ‘til sunrise. Now get some rest.” He speaks the words gently, despite their directness. She doesn’t expect much beyond the hardened, protective exterior he typically shows to the world, so she won’t recoil from his directions anyway. She understands that this is who he is, who he has to be.
He turns sharply when he hears her hiss. She’s turning herself over, but her sore knee clearly is not in agreement with her movement plan. In a second, he’s by her side, assisting her.
“Careful,” he coaxes. Once she’s settled, he notices the awkward angle of her knee and pulls his leather jacket off, wadding it in a ball to serve as a cushion. He positions her leg carefully, and feels the tension in her leg slowly evaporate. “That’s it. Just relax, Rose. Better?”
She smiles weakly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand.
“I’m sorry I wandered off,” she whispers.
He cups her cheek, smiling brightly despite his worry for her. “You’re going to be fine, Rose. Just rest.” At her nod, he quickly moves his hand to clasp hers, returning to the now familiar touch as he worries that he may have crossed a line of intimacy that neither of them is ready to approach.
He remains at her side, watching and waiting as her breaths slow, become steady, and she sleeps once more. He’s unwilling to let go of the small gift of closeness her touch allows him, only under the privacy of her sleeping form. He lies down beside her, smoothing the thin blanket over her shoulders before allowing his vision to soften, his thoughts drifting into dreams.
The day’s events roll over and over in his mind - the laughter they shared at the discovery of a small pool, pleasantly warm as they splashed each other. He smiled at the memory. She’d taken such pride in ridding him of his boots. It was perplexing, honestly, that she was proud of such a trivial thing, but she’d insisted that breaking him of his usual armor was a grand feat.
She’d nearly fainted when, in response, he stripped down to his boxers to join her in the pool.
It had been a good day - a relaxed, worry-free, celebration of the wonders and beauty of traveling that he enjoyed far too infrequently. His love for exploration has been renewed by the image of Rose gasping in delight at her interaction with this new world, giggling as she cups a little gecko in her hands, observing it with childlike wonder. He’ll never get enough of that; the thrill of his companions as their minds open to the vast wonders of time and space. Whenever he feels that perhaps he should stop, he remembers those moments.
They bring him peace.
xXxXxXxXx
The warm beam of morning sunlight hits his face, and he groans. Surprised he’d fallen asleep, he stretches and rolls himself out of the small cot. He stumbles outside, rubbing the last of the grogginess from his eyes.
The sun shines brightly, with no clouds visible in the sky. Spotting a small stream nearby, he collects some water, pours it into a supply basin from the tent, and drops in a purification tablet. It fizzes quickly, slowly turning the water a bright pink, indicating that the tablets have done their job, before evaporating into the clear liquid he’s accustomed to. He refills their water packs, pours an additional glass for each of them, and soaks some towels before returning to the tent.
At the touch of the cool rag, she stirs. He remains silent, washing away the remaining dirt and grime he’d missed in the firelight.
“Doctor?” She sounds worried.
“Just getting a better look, Rose,” he reassures her, patting her good knee gently.
He grabs a long cotton wrap bandage from the first aid kit in her rucksack and wraps it around the wound. It’s changed color since last night, darker, angrier. “We’d best get a move on. Need to get back to the TARDIS today, and the weather’s good to make early progress.”
With a bit of effort, he manages to help her up, grasping her shoulders tightly as she finds her balance. She’s able to hobble relatively well around the camp, which relieves him. She’s limping badly, but her speed isn’t too slow. As long as they manage to get to the TARDIS, he’ll be able to repair the secondary damage she’s doing through overcompensation to her good leg.
“I can’t give you any painkillers yet,” he says apologetically. “I need you to tell me exactly how you’re feeling. Anything out of the ordinary, any sudden sharp pains, you tell me. All right, Rose?”
She nods. “I’m sorry for wandering off, Doctor. I just didn’t think…”
“No harm done, Rose,” he lies. “We just need to move. Get you back to the TARDIS, get you all patched up.” He hopes he’s reassuring. Her hand grips tightly in his, and he glances down at her. She’s smiling, believing him, trusting him.
“Right then!” he exclaims.
They head into the sunlight, the bright, sunny day erasing most of his worries.
xXxXxXxXx
Twelve hours later, he enters the television room with a tea service tray, smiling softly as he sees Rose dozing. The antitoxin is working well, fighting through her system, causing only the groggy side-effect he’s now witnessing.
He carefully places the tray on the table, then switches his attention to Rose. He brushes the back of his hand against her forehead, relieved to find her temperature returning to normal. He closes his eyes, releasing the tense breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding since yesterday. Rose is all right. She’s fine.
And she’s staring at him, a surprised, pensive expression on her face. She reaches up, repositioning his hand to her cheek, trapping it beneath her own palm.
“So where are we going tomorrow. Doctor?”
Another raw edge of loss heals itself, and he laughs. The journey will continue, and he’ll show her a brilliant new adventure tomorrow, another place for her to wander off, to get in trouble, and to help him heal.
- FIN -