Fic: A Light Between These Fingers Caught (1/1)
Title: A Light Between These Fingers Caught (1/1)
Rating: All ages
Summary: Infatuation, lust, love and fairy dust: a deserted planet holds far more than the Doctor ever bargained for.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul. I own nothing.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Thanks to: ladychi for the totally awesometastic title and summary. I shall squish them and hug them and call them George.
Author's Note: After not having posted anything in forever, I decided to go through my hard drive and see if there was anything there I could post...
This was actually supposed to be a continuance of my very first Doctor Who fic, Pick a Star (which was never completed and I had started rewriting) but if I sit on this until it's the huge, multi-chaptered fic I had planned on, it'll never get posted. So instead, I did a little editing (read: cut off the scene I had at the end) and turned it into a one-shot. Wanna see the deleted scene? I'm keeping it just in case so...you may just get your wish someday (but don't count on it).
~~~
The warm night air blew across his skin, tickling his senses and ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck as the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, reaching out to take his companion's hand. Her gasp of surprise made him grin, happy that he could, once again, show someone like her the wonders of the universe. Wonders she'd have never known without him.
He was merely returning the favor. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be here, now, enjoying the magic of this place.
Though the planet was devoid of intelligent life and therefor any sort of artificial lighting, it wasn't difficult for him to lead her away from the TARDIS. They strolled leisurely across the grassy hill, lit by the illuminations of the pale moon hanging full in the sky above them and the faint glow of small, twinkling lights that appeared to follow them wherever they went. He could sense her excitement brimming, almost overflowing, questions that she'd yet to ask burning her tongue. And though he couldn't see it, he knew her gaze was flitting back and forth across their path, greedily drinking in everything around them.
Just wait, he thought to himself, she hasn't seen nothing yet.
And sure enough, when they reached their destination, a small outcropping of rock that overlooked the valley below, she was practically bouncing in place beside him. His smile grew even wider, knowing that for her to loose her poised exterior it took a lot more than any old tourist spot with generic sights that millions had feasted on before them.
This place, this planet hidden away from the highly trafficked areas of space, was his own little hideaway. A quite nook in the vastness of the universe that he was ascertained would always fulfill his need to be alone, to recuperate in peace from his hectic, dangerous life.
She turned to face him, eyes glittering, her perfectly painted-on smile brighter than he'd ever seen it before. “What are they?” she breathed, watching one of the small lights, pinkish in color, fly lazily between them before fluttering off to join a small group of others like it hovering a few feet away.
Following her gaze, he considered carefully whether to tell her the truth or not. He knew what they looked like: fairies, mythical beings with gossamer wings, that ferreted unsuspecting children away into the forest, never to be seen or heard from again. They weren't. But despite his love of enlightening the misinformed, he wasn't really sure he wanted to disillusion her of this fantasy.
Knowledge was power but belief in magical things was innocence, and there was so little of that left in her, so much responsibility having been thrust on her at such a young age, that he doubted she'd believed in even the simplicity of wishing upon a shooting star before she met him.
“It is fine, Doctor,” she assured him, and he had the same uncanny feeling he'd had upon finding out she was inside his mind. It was as if she still was, as if she were, even now, reading his thoughts. “I understand now, more than ever, that things are not always as they seem.” Her eyes did not leave the fluttering circle of multi-colored lights that danced gently on the breeze. “They look like the fairies of my childhood books. But those were just stories, flights of fancy thought up by those who had nothing better to do with their time.” She turned slowly to face him.
“Correct in one,” he proclaimed, trying not to let her see just how uncomfortable her quick acceptance made him. Burying his hands in his pockets, he proceeded directly to lecture mode, as if he had never considered letting her believe in anything other than the truth. “They're insects. Tarschetius balarius. Kind of like Earth's mosquito. Only these little creatures...” He reached out toward the churning ball of lights, watched as they surrounded his hand, making his skin glow reddish. “They carry two oppositely charged atoms on their wings. When they take flight, their wings ignite,” he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in demonstration, “creating an electrical charge, a spark of light.” Drawing his arm close, he brought his hand between them, mere inches from her face.
Studying them closely, clinically, she reminded him so much of the girl she'd once been that he felt a pain in his hearts. Not so different now. Still so analytical, so trained to use rationality. He couldn't imagine she'd had any sort of a childhood, filled with the pretend play and so called flights of fancy she apparently found beneath her.
Reinette reached out tentatively, eyes widening just that little bit when the glowing lights shifted from his hand to hers, circling her outstretched fingers briefly before flying off into the night.
“They're a bit tetchy,” he said in apology.
She merely smiled at him before turning to take in the view spreading out before them. The valley floor was a half a kilometer beneath their feet, covered in a blanket of wildflowers that shone brightly in the moonlight. There were forests in the distance, darkened patches of trees so thick, and situated so close together that only small animals the size of rodents could make their homes there. To their left was another hill, very similar to the one they were standing on, a magnificent waterfall plunging over it's side, into a small, glittering pool below.
It was there he'd taken Rose just after his regeneration. Things had been strained between them, she'd been so uncertain, of him, of them, and he'd wanted nothing more than to show her he was the same man. A day of exploring the safety of an uninhabited planet together, and things had been right as rain between them again. She'd no longer waited for him to reach for her, taking his offered hand reluctantly when he did. But even better than that, her smile had once more reached her eyes, making his hearts thump out of sync at the trust that shone in them.
It'd been a lovely time, one he wouldn't soon forget.
The soft rustle of fabric alerted him to Reinette's closer proximity just before her arm threaded through his. “It is a beautiful sight, Doctor,” she said, voice lowering as she snuggled up against his side.
He froze.
He'd heard that invitation in her tone once before, when she insisted he learn to dance in her arms. He knew then, and he knew now, just how she felt about him. What she wanted from him.
What he didn't know was how to let her down easy.
“It was the least I could do,” he replied, keeping his voice even. “After all, if you hadn't kept the fireplace--”
“I am afraid I did so for not so selfless reasons.” She kept her gaze level with his, shifting slightly upwards.
What he'd meant as a simple thank you for what she'd done, how she'd saved him from an unknown number of years stuck on the slow path, was quickly turning into a seduction. And with that understanding, came the realization that he, himself, had been the one who'd initiated it; insects that glowed like the flame of a candle and a field of flowers spread out for as far as the eye could see. The only thing missing was the strains of some light, romantic melody, perfect for swaying gently together to, bodies pressed close in dance.
This wasn't what he'd intended. Yes, he'd been enthralled from the moment they'd first met, intrigued by, and even attracted to her striking beauty, to who she was, but he simply wasn't interested in a human relationship with her. Or anyone else for that matter.
Even knowing what was coming, he was still too slow to stop it, and before he knew it, Reinette had closed the distance between them and was pressing her lips to his. They were just as soft, just as sweet tasting as he remembered them, fluttering lightly against his mouth, before becoming bolder, more firm in their request. Her lips parted over his, the tip of her tongue reaching out, requesting entrance, and he gently, but firmly grasped her by the upper arms, guiding her away.
“Reinette,” he implored, waiting for her eyes to open. When they did, he could see the desire in them, the heat of the passion she felt for him. It made this all that more difficult to do. “Reinette, I don't...I don't do this.”
She laughed, a lilting, musical laugh that carried on the breeze, and his gaze followed its invisible path, straight to the open TARDIS doors. There was a shadow there, a figure disrupting the light that spilt out onto the blueish tinted grass in front of his ship. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of Reinette speaking, telling him something with no small amount of amusement in her voice, but all of his attention was focused on the lone figure hidden in shadows and the gut churning fear that he knew just who it was standing there, watching them.
Then she turned from him, moving back into the TARDIS, and he didn't need to see her face to know that she'd seen everything.
“Doctor?”
Tearing his gaze from the sight of Rose walking slowly, dejectedly away, he refocused on Reinette. She was looking up at him, her face a picture of puzzlement and uncertainty, and he had to force himself not to run after Rose right then and there, leaving Reinette standing here, her questions unanswered. He couldn't abandon her like that though. He'd brought her here without thinking through the implications of what just such a romantic choice in scenery would mean to her.
He could deal with Rose later. Right after a quick stop in eighteenth century France.
But first there was the little issue of Reinette to deal with.
Unfortunately, the Doctor was never very good with things as complicated as human emotions. They made him uncomfortable, especially when they were directed at him. He didn't want to hurt her, but letting her down gently wasn't going to be easy.
Taking a step back, away from him, Reinette let her hands slip from his chest, her eyes lowering to the ground. “I apologize, Doctor. It seems I have overstepped my boundaries.”
“Don't,” his voice came out barely above a whisper and she lifted her gaze to his again. There was a glimmer of hope there, hope that he'd have to squash, no matter how much it hurt her. “Don't apologize. I should've never brought you here in the first place.”
The expression on her face changed to one he imagined looked quite like she would if she'd been slapped. She took another step backwards. “Why, pray tell, did you then?” she asked and there was a hint of anger in her voice.
Anger was good. He could deal with anger. It was the other emotion, simmering just beneath the surface of her cool, calm demeanor, that he was far less comfortable with facing head on. “Told you, I wanted to thank you for saving the fireplace.”
She smirked at him. “You can not lie to me, Doctor. I have seen the way you look at me.” Her eyes flickered to his lips and she retook one of the steps between them. “I remember the last time we kissed.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, cupped it gently in her palm. “When we danced together.” Taking one of his hands with her free one, she placed it on her waist, swaying lightly into it. “I think you care for me as much as I care for you.”
As much as her touch burned into his flesh, branding him in a way that he didn't want to be branded, he didn't pull away immediately. To do so would only further her belief that he desired her. She'd see it as fear, as him avoiding what he really wanted; and for a woman like Reinette, a woman who'd trained all her life in the fine art of seduction, that was tantamount to a predator smelling blood.
“Reinette, you barely know me,” he said in a tone that he prayed would neither inflate her hopes, nor dash them to the ground cruelly.
She laughed again, her eyes twinkling in merriment as she twined her fingers into his hair, tugging his head closer to hers. “I have known you all my life.”
“And you know nothing about me.” He could feel her breath ghosting over his skin, see her lips open slightly in invitation. Resisting her efforts to draw him in for another kiss, he pressed forward, “The kind of life I lead. The kind of person I am. I've seen things, done things you'd never---”
She brushed her thumb over his mouth, halting his speech. “I have been inside your head. I've seen enough of you and your world and it does not change how I feel.”
Reaching out and grasping her wrist firmly, he lowered her hand to her side. “No. You don't understand me.” He shook his head. Yes, she'd been inside his mind, walked amongst his memories, but she had no idea who he was, what he did. What little bits of his world she'd seen were nothing compared to the kind of horrors he dealt with on a daily basis. “And you're not in love with me either.”
Reinette opened her mouth to object, but he didn't give her the chance. “I was there when you were a child. Saved you from the monsters under the bed. It was only natural that you'd turn your gratitude into infatuation.” Releasing her wrist, he took a step backwards, putting a breathing-room distance between them. “And that's all this is, Reinette. An infatuation. A schoolgirl crush.”
There was a pregnant pause in which neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. Then Reinette raised her gaze to his, a demure expression gracing her face. “I suppose you will be returning me to Versailles now?” Her posture straightened, shoulders back, hands clutched primly in her lap. She was the perfect picture of aristocracy.
But it was all for show. Inside, buried away from prying eyes, she was hurting. The Doctor didn't need to be telepathic to know this. It was easy enough to recognize the plate of armor she'd donned as something he himself made use of on a daily basis; a well designed defensive against the world.
They were a lot alike, him and Reinette, but that didn't change things. In fact, it made him more certain that his world was not right for her. “It was only ever meant to be the one trip,” he told her gently, taking a step closer. To watch them from a distance, he imagined was something akin to viewing some strange dance, the way they moved together, then fell apart, only to come together once more.
After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and placed her hand gently in the crook of his elbow. “We should make haste then.” Her voice was even, unwavering, as she deftly turned them both back toward his ship. “I do not wish to deter you from any business you might have elsewhere any longer. You are most important to this world after all, and no doubt there is some monster or another that needs stopping.”
Walking alongside her, he wanted to correct her, wanted to point out that it was humans like her that were important to the universe, not him. But he didn't.
Rating: All ages
Summary: Infatuation, lust, love and fairy dust: a deserted planet holds far more than the Doctor ever bargained for.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul. I own nothing.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Thanks to: ladychi for the totally awesometastic title and summary. I shall squish them and hug them and call them George.
Author's Note: After not having posted anything in forever, I decided to go through my hard drive and see if there was anything there I could post...
This was actually supposed to be a continuance of my very first Doctor Who fic, Pick a Star (which was never completed and I had started rewriting) but if I sit on this until it's the huge, multi-chaptered fic I had planned on, it'll never get posted. So instead, I did a little editing (read: cut off the scene I had at the end) and turned it into a one-shot. Wanna see the deleted scene? I'm keeping it just in case so...you may just get your wish someday (but don't count on it).
~~~
The warm night air blew across his skin, tickling his senses and ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck as the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, reaching out to take his companion's hand. Her gasp of surprise made him grin, happy that he could, once again, show someone like her the wonders of the universe. Wonders she'd have never known without him.
He was merely returning the favor. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be here, now, enjoying the magic of this place.
Though the planet was devoid of intelligent life and therefor any sort of artificial lighting, it wasn't difficult for him to lead her away from the TARDIS. They strolled leisurely across the grassy hill, lit by the illuminations of the pale moon hanging full in the sky above them and the faint glow of small, twinkling lights that appeared to follow them wherever they went. He could sense her excitement brimming, almost overflowing, questions that she'd yet to ask burning her tongue. And though he couldn't see it, he knew her gaze was flitting back and forth across their path, greedily drinking in everything around them.
Just wait, he thought to himself, she hasn't seen nothing yet.
And sure enough, when they reached their destination, a small outcropping of rock that overlooked the valley below, she was practically bouncing in place beside him. His smile grew even wider, knowing that for her to loose her poised exterior it took a lot more than any old tourist spot with generic sights that millions had feasted on before them.
This place, this planet hidden away from the highly trafficked areas of space, was his own little hideaway. A quite nook in the vastness of the universe that he was ascertained would always fulfill his need to be alone, to recuperate in peace from his hectic, dangerous life.
She turned to face him, eyes glittering, her perfectly painted-on smile brighter than he'd ever seen it before. “What are they?” she breathed, watching one of the small lights, pinkish in color, fly lazily between them before fluttering off to join a small group of others like it hovering a few feet away.
Following her gaze, he considered carefully whether to tell her the truth or not. He knew what they looked like: fairies, mythical beings with gossamer wings, that ferreted unsuspecting children away into the forest, never to be seen or heard from again. They weren't. But despite his love of enlightening the misinformed, he wasn't really sure he wanted to disillusion her of this fantasy.
Knowledge was power but belief in magical things was innocence, and there was so little of that left in her, so much responsibility having been thrust on her at such a young age, that he doubted she'd believed in even the simplicity of wishing upon a shooting star before she met him.
“It is fine, Doctor,” she assured him, and he had the same uncanny feeling he'd had upon finding out she was inside his mind. It was as if she still was, as if she were, even now, reading his thoughts. “I understand now, more than ever, that things are not always as they seem.” Her eyes did not leave the fluttering circle of multi-colored lights that danced gently on the breeze. “They look like the fairies of my childhood books. But those were just stories, flights of fancy thought up by those who had nothing better to do with their time.” She turned slowly to face him.
“Correct in one,” he proclaimed, trying not to let her see just how uncomfortable her quick acceptance made him. Burying his hands in his pockets, he proceeded directly to lecture mode, as if he had never considered letting her believe in anything other than the truth. “They're insects. Tarschetius balarius. Kind of like Earth's mosquito. Only these little creatures...” He reached out toward the churning ball of lights, watched as they surrounded his hand, making his skin glow reddish. “They carry two oppositely charged atoms on their wings. When they take flight, their wings ignite,” he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in demonstration, “creating an electrical charge, a spark of light.” Drawing his arm close, he brought his hand between them, mere inches from her face.
Studying them closely, clinically, she reminded him so much of the girl she'd once been that he felt a pain in his hearts. Not so different now. Still so analytical, so trained to use rationality. He couldn't imagine she'd had any sort of a childhood, filled with the pretend play and so called flights of fancy she apparently found beneath her.
Reinette reached out tentatively, eyes widening just that little bit when the glowing lights shifted from his hand to hers, circling her outstretched fingers briefly before flying off into the night.
“They're a bit tetchy,” he said in apology.
She merely smiled at him before turning to take in the view spreading out before them. The valley floor was a half a kilometer beneath their feet, covered in a blanket of wildflowers that shone brightly in the moonlight. There were forests in the distance, darkened patches of trees so thick, and situated so close together that only small animals the size of rodents could make their homes there. To their left was another hill, very similar to the one they were standing on, a magnificent waterfall plunging over it's side, into a small, glittering pool below.
It was there he'd taken Rose just after his regeneration. Things had been strained between them, she'd been so uncertain, of him, of them, and he'd wanted nothing more than to show her he was the same man. A day of exploring the safety of an uninhabited planet together, and things had been right as rain between them again. She'd no longer waited for him to reach for her, taking his offered hand reluctantly when he did. But even better than that, her smile had once more reached her eyes, making his hearts thump out of sync at the trust that shone in them.
It'd been a lovely time, one he wouldn't soon forget.
The soft rustle of fabric alerted him to Reinette's closer proximity just before her arm threaded through his. “It is a beautiful sight, Doctor,” she said, voice lowering as she snuggled up against his side.
He froze.
He'd heard that invitation in her tone once before, when she insisted he learn to dance in her arms. He knew then, and he knew now, just how she felt about him. What she wanted from him.
What he didn't know was how to let her down easy.
“It was the least I could do,” he replied, keeping his voice even. “After all, if you hadn't kept the fireplace--”
“I am afraid I did so for not so selfless reasons.” She kept her gaze level with his, shifting slightly upwards.
What he'd meant as a simple thank you for what she'd done, how she'd saved him from an unknown number of years stuck on the slow path, was quickly turning into a seduction. And with that understanding, came the realization that he, himself, had been the one who'd initiated it; insects that glowed like the flame of a candle and a field of flowers spread out for as far as the eye could see. The only thing missing was the strains of some light, romantic melody, perfect for swaying gently together to, bodies pressed close in dance.
This wasn't what he'd intended. Yes, he'd been enthralled from the moment they'd first met, intrigued by, and even attracted to her striking beauty, to who she was, but he simply wasn't interested in a human relationship with her. Or anyone else for that matter.
Even knowing what was coming, he was still too slow to stop it, and before he knew it, Reinette had closed the distance between them and was pressing her lips to his. They were just as soft, just as sweet tasting as he remembered them, fluttering lightly against his mouth, before becoming bolder, more firm in their request. Her lips parted over his, the tip of her tongue reaching out, requesting entrance, and he gently, but firmly grasped her by the upper arms, guiding her away.
“Reinette,” he implored, waiting for her eyes to open. When they did, he could see the desire in them, the heat of the passion she felt for him. It made this all that more difficult to do. “Reinette, I don't...I don't do this.”
She laughed, a lilting, musical laugh that carried on the breeze, and his gaze followed its invisible path, straight to the open TARDIS doors. There was a shadow there, a figure disrupting the light that spilt out onto the blueish tinted grass in front of his ship. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of Reinette speaking, telling him something with no small amount of amusement in her voice, but all of his attention was focused on the lone figure hidden in shadows and the gut churning fear that he knew just who it was standing there, watching them.
Then she turned from him, moving back into the TARDIS, and he didn't need to see her face to know that she'd seen everything.
“Doctor?”
Tearing his gaze from the sight of Rose walking slowly, dejectedly away, he refocused on Reinette. She was looking up at him, her face a picture of puzzlement and uncertainty, and he had to force himself not to run after Rose right then and there, leaving Reinette standing here, her questions unanswered. He couldn't abandon her like that though. He'd brought her here without thinking through the implications of what just such a romantic choice in scenery would mean to her.
He could deal with Rose later. Right after a quick stop in eighteenth century France.
But first there was the little issue of Reinette to deal with.
Unfortunately, the Doctor was never very good with things as complicated as human emotions. They made him uncomfortable, especially when they were directed at him. He didn't want to hurt her, but letting her down gently wasn't going to be easy.
Taking a step back, away from him, Reinette let her hands slip from his chest, her eyes lowering to the ground. “I apologize, Doctor. It seems I have overstepped my boundaries.”
“Don't,” his voice came out barely above a whisper and she lifted her gaze to his again. There was a glimmer of hope there, hope that he'd have to squash, no matter how much it hurt her. “Don't apologize. I should've never brought you here in the first place.”
The expression on her face changed to one he imagined looked quite like she would if she'd been slapped. She took another step backwards. “Why, pray tell, did you then?” she asked and there was a hint of anger in her voice.
Anger was good. He could deal with anger. It was the other emotion, simmering just beneath the surface of her cool, calm demeanor, that he was far less comfortable with facing head on. “Told you, I wanted to thank you for saving the fireplace.”
She smirked at him. “You can not lie to me, Doctor. I have seen the way you look at me.” Her eyes flickered to his lips and she retook one of the steps between them. “I remember the last time we kissed.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, cupped it gently in her palm. “When we danced together.” Taking one of his hands with her free one, she placed it on her waist, swaying lightly into it. “I think you care for me as much as I care for you.”
As much as her touch burned into his flesh, branding him in a way that he didn't want to be branded, he didn't pull away immediately. To do so would only further her belief that he desired her. She'd see it as fear, as him avoiding what he really wanted; and for a woman like Reinette, a woman who'd trained all her life in the fine art of seduction, that was tantamount to a predator smelling blood.
“Reinette, you barely know me,” he said in a tone that he prayed would neither inflate her hopes, nor dash them to the ground cruelly.
She laughed again, her eyes twinkling in merriment as she twined her fingers into his hair, tugging his head closer to hers. “I have known you all my life.”
“And you know nothing about me.” He could feel her breath ghosting over his skin, see her lips open slightly in invitation. Resisting her efforts to draw him in for another kiss, he pressed forward, “The kind of life I lead. The kind of person I am. I've seen things, done things you'd never---”
She brushed her thumb over his mouth, halting his speech. “I have been inside your head. I've seen enough of you and your world and it does not change how I feel.”
Reaching out and grasping her wrist firmly, he lowered her hand to her side. “No. You don't understand me.” He shook his head. Yes, she'd been inside his mind, walked amongst his memories, but she had no idea who he was, what he did. What little bits of his world she'd seen were nothing compared to the kind of horrors he dealt with on a daily basis. “And you're not in love with me either.”
Reinette opened her mouth to object, but he didn't give her the chance. “I was there when you were a child. Saved you from the monsters under the bed. It was only natural that you'd turn your gratitude into infatuation.” Releasing her wrist, he took a step backwards, putting a breathing-room distance between them. “And that's all this is, Reinette. An infatuation. A schoolgirl crush.”
There was a pregnant pause in which neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. Then Reinette raised her gaze to his, a demure expression gracing her face. “I suppose you will be returning me to Versailles now?” Her posture straightened, shoulders back, hands clutched primly in her lap. She was the perfect picture of aristocracy.
But it was all for show. Inside, buried away from prying eyes, she was hurting. The Doctor didn't need to be telepathic to know this. It was easy enough to recognize the plate of armor she'd donned as something he himself made use of on a daily basis; a well designed defensive against the world.
They were a lot alike, him and Reinette, but that didn't change things. In fact, it made him more certain that his world was not right for her. “It was only ever meant to be the one trip,” he told her gently, taking a step closer. To watch them from a distance, he imagined was something akin to viewing some strange dance, the way they moved together, then fell apart, only to come together once more.
After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and placed her hand gently in the crook of his elbow. “We should make haste then.” Her voice was even, unwavering, as she deftly turned them both back toward his ship. “I do not wish to deter you from any business you might have elsewhere any longer. You are most important to this world after all, and no doubt there is some monster or another that needs stopping.”
Walking alongside her, he wanted to correct her, wanted to point out that it was humans like her that were important to the universe, not him. But he didn't.