Fic: ‘Bring her back.’
Title: Bring her back.
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During season 6, after Let’s Kill Hitler.
Summary: He has to see her again.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I couldn’t help myself after watching Let’s Kill Hitler.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
The Doctor sits on a chair near the console, his hands folded in his lap. “Bring her back,” he quietly asks.
Amelia Pond appears. “Voice interface enabled.”
“No, not Amelia!”
“I am not Amelia Pond. I am a voice interface.”
“Oh, you’re so Scottish,” he dismisses. “Bring her back.
“Guilt.”
Amelia vanishes from view. Martha Jones leans against the edge of the console, arms folded.
“No, not also guilt. Nor,” he holds up a finger, “more guilt. Bring her back.”
A disconsolate hum echoes around him.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Sexy, but,” he looks sadly at the console and the see-through Martha, “you know I love her.”
A blonde girl appears in place of Martha.
He leans forward in the chair, his hands dangling between his knees with fingers entwined. “Rose Tyler,” he smiles.
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
“I know all that,” he dismisses flippantly but the sadness in his eyes belies his voice. “Did we run, Rose Tyler? Did we-”
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
He sits back in his chair in disgust. His face falls into his hands, his hair falling through his fingers.
yes
He sharply looks up and at her, eyes wide. “And then?”
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
He stands suddenly, walks over to the interface and reaches gentle fingers to her cheek. Of course, his fingers slide through the projection. “I know. I know,’ he sighs as his hand falls away. “But did we run?”
yes
His gaze rises (it had fallen after his question) and meets the unflinching eyes of the voice interface; he knows Rose would never look at him like that.
“Doctor?”
“You may go,” he whispers and then spins to face the approaching redhead with a wide smile, resting both hands on the console. “What is it, Pond? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He twiddles a knob by his left hand.
“Who were you talkin’ to?” She asks as she comes up the steps, red hair sliding over a shoulder as she tilts her head.
“To my girl, if you must know, but my question remains: what do you want, Pond?”
She folds her arms. “Don’t be rude. I won’t take up much of your private time with the TARDIS. I’ve just come to remind you bunk beds are not cool.”
“Yes they are!” He slides on the edge of the console, stopping in front of her. “They’ve got ladders and there’s more than one!”
“Bunk beds,” Amy patiently repeats, her arms folded, “are not cool. Except,” she adds, “to you.”
He hears Rory yelp. “Run back to your husband, Pond, and be the boringest of boring in your non-ladder bed.” He flips a random switch.
“Thank you!” She leans over and kisses his cheek. He looks down, suddenly intensely interested in the console. There’s a hug he feels but not sees and then he’s alone.
He looks to the ceiling. “Are you happy?”
yes
“Just so long as you remember he’s not me,” he replies and pets the console. “So, where shall we go, Sexy?” He whispers. “I can’t go anywhere without you.”
yes
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During season 6, after Let’s Kill Hitler.
Summary: He has to see her again.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I couldn’t help myself after watching Let’s Kill Hitler.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
The Doctor sits on a chair near the console, his hands folded in his lap. “Bring her back,” he quietly asks.
Amelia Pond appears. “Voice interface enabled.”
“No, not Amelia!”
“I am not Amelia Pond. I am a voice interface.”
“Oh, you’re so Scottish,” he dismisses. “Bring her back.
“Guilt.”
Amelia vanishes from view. Martha Jones leans against the edge of the console, arms folded.
“No, not also guilt. Nor,” he holds up a finger, “more guilt. Bring her back.”
A disconsolate hum echoes around him.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Sexy, but,” he looks sadly at the console and the see-through Martha, “you know I love her.”
A blonde girl appears in place of Martha.
He leans forward in the chair, his hands dangling between his knees with fingers entwined. “Rose Tyler,” he smiles.
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
“I know all that,” he dismisses flippantly but the sadness in his eyes belies his voice. “Did we run, Rose Tyler? Did we-”
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
He sits back in his chair in disgust. His face falls into his hands, his hair falling through his fingers.
yes
He sharply looks up and at her, eyes wide. “And then?”
“I am not Rose Tyler. I am a voice interface.”
He stands suddenly, walks over to the interface and reaches gentle fingers to her cheek. Of course, his fingers slide through the projection. “I know. I know,’ he sighs as his hand falls away. “But did we run?”
yes
His gaze rises (it had fallen after his question) and meets the unflinching eyes of the voice interface; he knows Rose would never look at him like that.
“Doctor?”
“You may go,” he whispers and then spins to face the approaching redhead with a wide smile, resting both hands on the console. “What is it, Pond? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He twiddles a knob by his left hand.
“Who were you talkin’ to?” She asks as she comes up the steps, red hair sliding over a shoulder as she tilts her head.
“To my girl, if you must know, but my question remains: what do you want, Pond?”
She folds her arms. “Don’t be rude. I won’t take up much of your private time with the TARDIS. I’ve just come to remind you bunk beds are not cool.”
“Yes they are!” He slides on the edge of the console, stopping in front of her. “They’ve got ladders and there’s more than one!”
“Bunk beds,” Amy patiently repeats, her arms folded, “are not cool. Except,” she adds, “to you.”
He hears Rory yelp. “Run back to your husband, Pond, and be the boringest of boring in your non-ladder bed.” He flips a random switch.
“Thank you!” She leans over and kisses his cheek. He looks down, suddenly intensely interested in the console. There’s a hug he feels but not sees and then he’s alone.
He looks to the ceiling. “Are you happy?”
yes
“Just so long as you remember he’s not me,” he replies and pets the console. “So, where shall we go, Sexy?” He whispers. “I can’t go anywhere without you.”
yes