Fic [Doctor Who]: End of Line
Title: End of Line
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Bad Wolf
Prompt: by takethewords for the then_theres_us Ficathon. Actual prompt is in the notes under the cut.
Summary: At Canary Wharf, Rose fell, but Pete didn't make it back. Rose's story in the Void. It's also vaguely Battlestar Galactica; you don't have to know a thing about BSG, but if you do you'll recognize it. Goes AU during "Doomsday".
London or Prague. London or Prague. Londonorprague. Restart. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down. End of line.
New command. You create yourself. This is my last chance to say it.
Rome. No, not Rome. She tries to hold herself together enough to think. Naples! Must have been Naples. She remembers talking about Naples.
Do not go gentle into that good night. Solid, liquid, gas, plasma. London’s burning, London’s burning. Begin search…
No, it was too cold there (then). They never went to Naples either. Barcelona, that was it, that was the one. Barcelona, they made it there finally, where the dogs-
Where oh where has my little dog gone. Where oh where can he be.
Gone again.
Cracks in the wall; repair. Operation cannot be completed. New line.
Rose Tyler spins, spins, falls down. She would, except there is no Rose Tyler, nowhere to be, and no such thing as spinning.
This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends.
Add process: We’ll always have Paris. Flourish. Florence. B. A. G-sharp. A. B. Flat: insufficient. Cannot reach Vienna. Retry…
Coda: not with a bang, but a whimper.
There was/is/will be no Amsterdam, no Moscow. No New Earth, no Krop Tor, no Powell Estate. She feels resigned. Is that resigned? What is resigned? What is feel?
She almost lets it slip away then.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Invalid command. Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Windspeed: 60 knots. Jackie ran away to sea, to sea. Jackie ran away to sea. Windspeed: convert. Sixty-nine point oh-nine miles per sixty-minute hour. Storm warning: Huff, puff, blow your house down.
My. My. What big teeth you have. Packet sent. Waiting…
She almost lets it go before it occurs to her: she feels resigned. Feels. Resigned. There is nothing and she feels. She feels resigned.
Reply received: all join hands. I am large: I contain multitudes. Rockabye baby. Baby. Baby. Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I’m through. The reaper is always coming for you.
Caution: she wears sheep’s clothing. Rise and shine. End of line.
There is/was/will be someone else in here with her. Out there. In here. Nowhere.
Neither here nor there. Roses are red. Come out and smell the roses. Query. Query.
Roses. Why are roses important? Flowers, yes, but…
She can see flowers. Is that new or old? There are all kinds of flowers, daisies and dahlias, peonies and poppies. Why roses?
Incorrect. Format invalid. Capital R. Capitalize first words and proper nouns. I before E except after C. Plural, singular.
Rose is a rose is a Rose.
That is how she remembers her name.
Rose. Rose and who, she wonders. There is still someone else with her.
There is no one else here. There is no here, or where. There is no action, or how. There is no him or her, or who.
Everything is nothing; nothing is everything. She feels an intersection of no walls ever and walls dividing every cell in her body. She screams with no voice, no body, no air. She screams and screams.
New line: call a doctor. Cry wolf. Crywolf. Cry, wolf. Working...
And then it hits: she remembers everything. She remembers something new, something old. Something borrowed… Something gold?
Harbinger: a message to bring yourself here. Starting up. Let there be light. It was good.
There is light. Rose Tyler thinks, a bloody great lot of light. Her eyes burn. She has eyes that can burn.
Coming online. The Bad Wolf is there, grinning at her. Rose-colored glasses, dearie. Nothing is impossible.
There is the Void. Part of it is not-Void. We already were a paradox, don’t fret. It gives us an edge.
Hello, she says tentatively.
Hello. The Bad Wolf wiggles her fingers (such as they are) merrily, in a fantastically familiar wave. You’re Rose Tyler. I’m your plus one.
*
He has almost made it to the door, although he does not remember how, when the wall behind him shatters. Plaster and equipment fly everywhere. He whips around just in time to see the wall un-shatter, the computers right themselves, even the dust on his jacket sweep itself away.
The world seems to ripple, moving out from the unbroken wall and re-centering back on the crumpled figure on the floor.
It is flatly, totally, completely impossible, he thinks. And this is far too cruel.
She coughs and pulls herself to her feet. It is not Rose after all. Rose is gone again; it is the Bad Wolf.
“I am the message. I bring myself here. There is no boundary I do not contain. I am nothing. I see all.” She smiles, all glee and terror. “No power in the ‘verse can stop me.”
Her eyes burn, burn so brightly as her gaze falls that the floor glows. This is just like last time, facing a power he never dreamed possible, only more desperate. He will have to do it again, just to be sure, but he cannot let himself believe that there is anything left for him to save.
She takes a deep, deep breath and shivers. “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” There is no ethereal echo: that is Rose’s voice. Rose’s eyes look up. She is standing right in front of him, smiling and reaching out to gently push his disheveled hair out of his eyes, resting her hand on his cheek, lips twitching at his obvious astonishment.
He is only speechless for a moment. “But you-you-and the Void-and you’re not burning or dissolving things or, or-what? What?”
“For all you’ve got a gob, you really don’t make sense, Doctor.”
“But-”
She shakes her head at him, smile not leaving her lips, and glances around the room. “Bit of a mess here, yeah? How long was I gone?”
“Nine minutes. Roughly. More like nine minutes, five point three-eight-oh-four-”
“Felt like longer,” she says, and now the smile does not quite reach her eyes, her suddenly ancient, timeless eyes, which do not burn but still hold all that was, all that is, and all that ever could be. “Always wait nine minutes, Doctor. You could even wait ten if you like. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Rose.” Her name feels alien in his mouth, as if he had remade himself instead of…oh. The eyes, the not-burning: that would explain it. “Oh, Rose, what have you done?”
She gazes at him evenly. “Created myself. Just had some unusual stuff to work with is all.” She cocks her head suddenly and stares off into space. “You’re not where I left you, girl. Where-oh. There you are. Thanks.”
“Did you just-”
“Yeah. TARDIS, Time Vortex, Bad Wolf, remember?” And then suddenly all that glib confidence is gone.
“Truth is, Doctor, I’m tired. I’ve never been so tired. The Void, it was-you have no idea. There was no such thing as awful. Do you know how awful it is, when there’s not even an, an idea for it? No word for it?”
“Yes.” She meets his eyes; he meets hers, steady and full of answers for which there are no questions.
“Can we go home? Only-you should know-I mean, I’m not quite who, I’m not quite what I was-”
He smiles. Now it is real, it really is Rose, that little edge of uncertainty beneath the hero. Superhero, he supposes.
“Oh, Rose. You swore you’d never leave me, right? The Bad Wolf will always belong in the TARDIS. And you broke the Void to get home, so-let’s go home, you and me.”
They do.
* * *
New line: Ring around the Rosie. Pocket full of poseys. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.
She drifts. A dream is enough to hold off the Void, for a little while.
Waiting…
*
He waits nine minutes. Then he leaves.
***
Notes:
We never saw much of the Bad Wolf, but while she has consciousness, she seems to derive herself from the message she left across time and space--she derives herself from the universe. Almost everything she says in this story references or quotes another idea or work, including several nursery rhymes ("Ring Around the Rosie", "London's Burning", "Where oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone", and "Rockabye Baby"); fairy tales and fables ("The Three Little Pigs", "Red Riding Hood"); the essays and poetry of Dylan Thomas, T.S. Eliot, Walt Whitman, Sylvia Plath, and Ralph Waldo Emerson; films and TV shows Casablanca, Firefly, Battlestar Galactica; Mozart's Rondo Alla Turca; and, unintentionally I assure you, a Justin Bieber song. (I loathe Justin Bieber. It just fell in there between two other sentences).
The prompt for this story was: "Rose traveling through the Void" and the following picture:
This prompt also inspired another story, "The Train".
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Bad Wolf
Prompt: by takethewords for the then_theres_us Ficathon. Actual prompt is in the notes under the cut.
Summary: At Canary Wharf, Rose fell, but Pete didn't make it back. Rose's story in the Void. It's also vaguely Battlestar Galactica; you don't have to know a thing about BSG, but if you do you'll recognize it. Goes AU during "Doomsday".
London or Prague. London or Prague. Londonorprague. Restart. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down. End of line.
New command. You create yourself. This is my last chance to say it.
Rome. No, not Rome. She tries to hold herself together enough to think. Naples! Must have been Naples. She remembers talking about Naples.
Do not go gentle into that good night. Solid, liquid, gas, plasma. London’s burning, London’s burning. Begin search…
No, it was too cold there (then). They never went to Naples either. Barcelona, that was it, that was the one. Barcelona, they made it there finally, where the dogs-
Where oh where has my little dog gone. Where oh where can he be.
Gone again.
Cracks in the wall; repair. Operation cannot be completed. New line.
Rose Tyler spins, spins, falls down. She would, except there is no Rose Tyler, nowhere to be, and no such thing as spinning.
This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends.
Add process: We’ll always have Paris. Flourish. Florence. B. A. G-sharp. A. B. Flat: insufficient. Cannot reach Vienna. Retry…
Coda: not with a bang, but a whimper.
There was/is/will be no Amsterdam, no Moscow. No New Earth, no Krop Tor, no Powell Estate. She feels resigned. Is that resigned? What is resigned? What is feel?
She almost lets it slip away then.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Invalid command. Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Windspeed: 60 knots. Jackie ran away to sea, to sea. Jackie ran away to sea. Windspeed: convert. Sixty-nine point oh-nine miles per sixty-minute hour. Storm warning: Huff, puff, blow your house down.
My. My. What big teeth you have. Packet sent. Waiting…
She almost lets it go before it occurs to her: she feels resigned. Feels. Resigned. There is nothing and she feels. She feels resigned.
Reply received: all join hands. I am large: I contain multitudes. Rockabye baby. Baby. Baby. Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I’m through. The reaper is always coming for you.
Caution: she wears sheep’s clothing. Rise and shine. End of line.
There is/was/will be someone else in here with her. Out there. In here. Nowhere.
Neither here nor there. Roses are red. Come out and smell the roses. Query. Query.
Roses. Why are roses important? Flowers, yes, but…
She can see flowers. Is that new or old? There are all kinds of flowers, daisies and dahlias, peonies and poppies. Why roses?
Incorrect. Format invalid. Capital R. Capitalize first words and proper nouns. I before E except after C. Plural, singular.
Rose is a rose is a Rose.
That is how she remembers her name.
Rose. Rose and who, she wonders. There is still someone else with her.
There is no one else here. There is no here, or where. There is no action, or how. There is no him or her, or who.
Everything is nothing; nothing is everything. She feels an intersection of no walls ever and walls dividing every cell in her body. She screams with no voice, no body, no air. She screams and screams.
New line: call a doctor. Cry wolf. Crywolf. Cry, wolf. Working...
And then it hits: she remembers everything. She remembers something new, something old. Something borrowed… Something gold?
Harbinger: a message to bring yourself here. Starting up. Let there be light. It was good.
There is light. Rose Tyler thinks, a bloody great lot of light. Her eyes burn. She has eyes that can burn.
Coming online. The Bad Wolf is there, grinning at her. Rose-colored glasses, dearie. Nothing is impossible.
There is the Void. Part of it is not-Void. We already were a paradox, don’t fret. It gives us an edge.
Hello, she says tentatively.
Hello. The Bad Wolf wiggles her fingers (such as they are) merrily, in a fantastically familiar wave. You’re Rose Tyler. I’m your plus one.
*
He has almost made it to the door, although he does not remember how, when the wall behind him shatters. Plaster and equipment fly everywhere. He whips around just in time to see the wall un-shatter, the computers right themselves, even the dust on his jacket sweep itself away.
The world seems to ripple, moving out from the unbroken wall and re-centering back on the crumpled figure on the floor.
It is flatly, totally, completely impossible, he thinks. And this is far too cruel.
She coughs and pulls herself to her feet. It is not Rose after all. Rose is gone again; it is the Bad Wolf.
“I am the message. I bring myself here. There is no boundary I do not contain. I am nothing. I see all.” She smiles, all glee and terror. “No power in the ‘verse can stop me.”
Her eyes burn, burn so brightly as her gaze falls that the floor glows. This is just like last time, facing a power he never dreamed possible, only more desperate. He will have to do it again, just to be sure, but he cannot let himself believe that there is anything left for him to save.
She takes a deep, deep breath and shivers. “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” There is no ethereal echo: that is Rose’s voice. Rose’s eyes look up. She is standing right in front of him, smiling and reaching out to gently push his disheveled hair out of his eyes, resting her hand on his cheek, lips twitching at his obvious astonishment.
He is only speechless for a moment. “But you-you-and the Void-and you’re not burning or dissolving things or, or-what? What?”
“For all you’ve got a gob, you really don’t make sense, Doctor.”
“But-”
She shakes her head at him, smile not leaving her lips, and glances around the room. “Bit of a mess here, yeah? How long was I gone?”
“Nine minutes. Roughly. More like nine minutes, five point three-eight-oh-four-”
“Felt like longer,” she says, and now the smile does not quite reach her eyes, her suddenly ancient, timeless eyes, which do not burn but still hold all that was, all that is, and all that ever could be. “Always wait nine minutes, Doctor. You could even wait ten if you like. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Rose.” Her name feels alien in his mouth, as if he had remade himself instead of…oh. The eyes, the not-burning: that would explain it. “Oh, Rose, what have you done?”
She gazes at him evenly. “Created myself. Just had some unusual stuff to work with is all.” She cocks her head suddenly and stares off into space. “You’re not where I left you, girl. Where-oh. There you are. Thanks.”
“Did you just-”
“Yeah. TARDIS, Time Vortex, Bad Wolf, remember?” And then suddenly all that glib confidence is gone.
“Truth is, Doctor, I’m tired. I’ve never been so tired. The Void, it was-you have no idea. There was no such thing as awful. Do you know how awful it is, when there’s not even an, an idea for it? No word for it?”
“Yes.” She meets his eyes; he meets hers, steady and full of answers for which there are no questions.
“Can we go home? Only-you should know-I mean, I’m not quite who, I’m not quite what I was-”
He smiles. Now it is real, it really is Rose, that little edge of uncertainty beneath the hero. Superhero, he supposes.
“Oh, Rose. You swore you’d never leave me, right? The Bad Wolf will always belong in the TARDIS. And you broke the Void to get home, so-let’s go home, you and me.”
They do.
* * *
New line: Ring around the Rosie. Pocket full of poseys. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.
She drifts. A dream is enough to hold off the Void, for a little while.
Waiting…
*
He waits nine minutes. Then he leaves.
***
Notes:
We never saw much of the Bad Wolf, but while she has consciousness, she seems to derive herself from the message she left across time and space--she derives herself from the universe. Almost everything she says in this story references or quotes another idea or work, including several nursery rhymes ("Ring Around the Rosie", "London's Burning", "Where oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone", and "Rockabye Baby"); fairy tales and fables ("The Three Little Pigs", "Red Riding Hood"); the essays and poetry of Dylan Thomas, T.S. Eliot, Walt Whitman, Sylvia Plath, and Ralph Waldo Emerson; films and TV shows Casablanca, Firefly, Battlestar Galactica; Mozart's Rondo Alla Turca; and, unintentionally I assure you, a Justin Bieber song. (I loathe Justin Bieber. It just fell in there between two other sentences).
The prompt for this story was: "Rose traveling through the Void" and the following picture:
This prompt also inspired another story, "The Train".