Sadness Seen 5/8
Title: Sadness Seen 5/8
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: up to the end of season 3
Summary: The Doctor is seeing things...
Doctor.' He smiled at the voice.
Rose.' He acknowledged and let his eyes open to see his former companion standing in front of him.
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Doctor Who... that honour goes to the BBC.
Author's Notes: Many hugs and much thanks to my fantastic beta readers Lillith and
leizelau
The Doctor stood in the darkness before the funeral pyre of his one time friend and long time enemy. A gentle breeze, which appeared uncaring of the enormity of the event taking place, played with the flames of the torch in his right hand. He gripped the handle tightly, his knuckles white. The wood of the torch wasn’t smooth and pleasant. There was a particular knot on it that pressed painfully into his hand. He didn’t mind the pain, in fact he welcomed it, not that he would admit this to anyone. Pain seemed to be his life at the moment. It was familiar and oddly comforting, grounding in a way. So he was caught between hating the pain because it hurt and welcoming it because with the pain came the memories, of the Master, of Gallifrey, of Rose. For awhile there he had been able to remember Gallifrey without the pain, with much sadness, but less pain. As he had described it to Martha and Jack that night beneath that bridge that now seemed so long ago, he had been able to tell them, to draw up the images of his wonderful home. He had been able to remember the mountains, the suns, and the cities, the colours and smells and tastes. Able to remember it all with sadness and longing but with much less of the pain that usually gripped his hearts, and less of the guilt.
But now as he stood before the high pile of wood and carefully wrapped body, silent in the night air, the pain was flooding him again. He was consumed with loneliness. The desperation with which he’d begged the Master to regenerate had shaken him. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed them, how much he needed them, nor how alone he was until that moment when his nemesis was leaving him. Now he stared almost unseeing at the pyre, his thoughts filtered down to one. Just one. The intense longing he felt for her arms. It seemed that he could face anything if only he had Rose’s arms about him, and her in his. His body and arms ached for her.
He knew the exact moment she appeared at his side. For a time he didn’t even turn to look at her, just continued looking at the body on the pyre. She remained silent at his side. Eventually he turned his head and saw her smile at him. He held his left hand a little out from his side and let a small sigh escape his lips as she slid her hand against his. His hand curled around hers, feeling nothing more than a strong memory. He held his hand steady in that position, refusing to give up the illusion. He raised his eyes back to hers and she nodded encouragingly. He looked at the torch and then held it against the pyre. The prepared wood caught alight almost immediately and the flames swiftly licked their way along to encompass the whole structure.
Rose watched him and saw the fire shimmering in his wet eyes. Soon he blinked slowly and turned away. Together they walked the short distance back to the TARDIS. When he opened the door she followed him in. Jack and Martha were sitting in the control room waiting for his return. Both were very sober, full of memories of the year that wasn’t, and of concern for the Doctor. They sat in companionable silence and when the Doctor entered they quickly got up and came towards him. Jack gently took the torch the Doctor still held and went to extinguish it. He left it on the bench in the kitchen area, thinking the Doctor might like to keep it awhile. When he returned Martha was still standing in the same place, watching the Doctor as he moved silently and slowly around the console. Martha had yet to say anything, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything helpful and didn’t want to say anything damaging.
As Jack watched he noticed that the Doctor seemed to be doing everything with his right hand, his left hung rigidly by his side, his fingers curled in an odd position, almost as though he were holding someone’s hand.
‘Doctor?’ Jack asked quietly.
‘Hmmm?’ the Doctor refused to look up instead focusing on the buttons his fingers were pressing in well-practiced sequence.
‘What’s going on?’ Jack had never really been one for subtlety. He was certain there was something happening, something that concerned the Doctor, something that worried him. He’d noticed it under the bridge when the Doctor had appeared to be talking to someone. Jack was a perceptive man, and nothing around the Doctor was to be overlooked.
‘What do you mean? We’re taking you home.’ The Doctor continued to watch his moving hand. Jack shook his head and walked determinedly to the Doctor’s side.
‘No, Doctor. I mean this.’ Jack grabbed the Doctor’s left hand and lifted it. The Doctor jumped with the suddenness of the solid touch and the loss of the illusion. He wrenched his hand from Jack’s and took a step back. He looked at Rose who was now standing beside Jack.
‘Tell him Doctor.’ She said. The Doctor looked uncertain and wary. Sure, tell his companions that he’d been seeing things for the past few months. But Rose looked determined and he reasoned that if she was a figment of his imagination and therefore, on a certain level, himself, then maybe he had a very good reason for telling himself to tell the others. Either way he was tired of keeping this particular secret.
He looked at Jack and, seeing the desire to understand, and concern, in his eyes, he began.
‘I can see Rose.’ He said simply.
Jack looked puzzled, trying to figure out just what the Doctor meant by that.
‘What do you mean you can see her? Like through some sort of portal between the dimensions?’
‘No.’ The Doctor rubbed the back of his head. ‘She’s standing right beside you.’
Jack moved and looked around him.
‘You can’t see her. Only I can.’ The Doctor refused to let any emotion other than tiredness to find it’s way into his voice.
‘What is it then? How can you see her?’ Jack frowned thinking of any alien explanation his mind could draw up.
‘I don’t know.’ The Doctor sounded so much like he’d meant it that Martha and Jack were immediately a bit scared.
‘Doctor?’ Martha was concerned. He knew she would be the one to reach for the medical explanation. She was honestly trying hard not to jump to the conclusion that was dangling in front of her nose and asked, ‘How long?’
The Doctor looked at Rose. It was easier to watch her than the others.
‘The first time was in Manhattan.’
Rose smirked at the memory of the Doctor’s reaction to her and the chair he’d tripped over. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.
‘Oh but not all the time.’ The Doctor looked from Jack to Martha. ‘Just every now and then. It’s only been four times I think.’
Rose nodded in agreement. He probably didn’t need to know all the times she’d come just to watch him sleep and disappeared before he’d woken.
Martha looked a little relieved but still as puzzled as Jack.
‘Was there anything connecting the instances?’ Martha was in full doctor mode. The Doctor was sure that if she’d had her way she’d have pushed him into the medical room and been shining blinking lights in his eyes by now.
The Doctor thought for a few seconds. ‘Oh I was thinking about her!’ He looked at Rose. ‘Each time, I was thinking about you and you came.’ He turned back to Martha. ‘I mean she didn’t come every time I thought about her… but those times I was.’
Martha sighed. Psychology really wasn’t her area. She much preferred physical medicine, illnesses and problems with straightforward solutions. She hadn’t the first idea of how to begin with a nine hundred-year-old alien who usually knew a vast deal more than she did anyway. She thankfully noted that the Doctor didn’t look as though he would want her to try and help in this anyway, in fact he looked almost fearful of it.
All three fell silent, looking between each other and anything in the room, lost in their own thoughts. Then, something happened. The Doctor’s eyes grew wide and he shouted ‘What?!’
Rose had been so relieved that the Doctor had told Jack and Martha about her, and that now they were caring for him, that she had let go for an instant. Just an instant, but it was enough. Reality had bled through the connection and the Doctor had seen her as she really was. The image of Rose strapped down, her body bruised and bloody, had seared itself into the Doctor’s mind.
‘What was that?!’ He was yelling now. Rose flinched and backed away from him around the console.
~*~*~
Right well... I hope you all enjoyed chapter five *grins*... I'm off to do an exam... yay me! *sarcasm*
six will be up soon
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: up to the end of season 3
Summary: The Doctor is seeing things...
Doctor.' He smiled at the voice.
Rose.' He acknowledged and let his eyes open to see his former companion standing in front of him.
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Doctor Who... that honour goes to the BBC.
Author's Notes: Many hugs and much thanks to my fantastic beta readers Lillith and
leizelau
The Doctor stood in the darkness before the funeral pyre of his one time friend and long time enemy. A gentle breeze, which appeared uncaring of the enormity of the event taking place, played with the flames of the torch in his right hand. He gripped the handle tightly, his knuckles white. The wood of the torch wasn’t smooth and pleasant. There was a particular knot on it that pressed painfully into his hand. He didn’t mind the pain, in fact he welcomed it, not that he would admit this to anyone. Pain seemed to be his life at the moment. It was familiar and oddly comforting, grounding in a way. So he was caught between hating the pain because it hurt and welcoming it because with the pain came the memories, of the Master, of Gallifrey, of Rose. For awhile there he had been able to remember Gallifrey without the pain, with much sadness, but less pain. As he had described it to Martha and Jack that night beneath that bridge that now seemed so long ago, he had been able to tell them, to draw up the images of his wonderful home. He had been able to remember the mountains, the suns, and the cities, the colours and smells and tastes. Able to remember it all with sadness and longing but with much less of the pain that usually gripped his hearts, and less of the guilt.
But now as he stood before the high pile of wood and carefully wrapped body, silent in the night air, the pain was flooding him again. He was consumed with loneliness. The desperation with which he’d begged the Master to regenerate had shaken him. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed them, how much he needed them, nor how alone he was until that moment when his nemesis was leaving him. Now he stared almost unseeing at the pyre, his thoughts filtered down to one. Just one. The intense longing he felt for her arms. It seemed that he could face anything if only he had Rose’s arms about him, and her in his. His body and arms ached for her.
He knew the exact moment she appeared at his side. For a time he didn’t even turn to look at her, just continued looking at the body on the pyre. She remained silent at his side. Eventually he turned his head and saw her smile at him. He held his left hand a little out from his side and let a small sigh escape his lips as she slid her hand against his. His hand curled around hers, feeling nothing more than a strong memory. He held his hand steady in that position, refusing to give up the illusion. He raised his eyes back to hers and she nodded encouragingly. He looked at the torch and then held it against the pyre. The prepared wood caught alight almost immediately and the flames swiftly licked their way along to encompass the whole structure.
Rose watched him and saw the fire shimmering in his wet eyes. Soon he blinked slowly and turned away. Together they walked the short distance back to the TARDIS. When he opened the door she followed him in. Jack and Martha were sitting in the control room waiting for his return. Both were very sober, full of memories of the year that wasn’t, and of concern for the Doctor. They sat in companionable silence and when the Doctor entered they quickly got up and came towards him. Jack gently took the torch the Doctor still held and went to extinguish it. He left it on the bench in the kitchen area, thinking the Doctor might like to keep it awhile. When he returned Martha was still standing in the same place, watching the Doctor as he moved silently and slowly around the console. Martha had yet to say anything, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything helpful and didn’t want to say anything damaging.
As Jack watched he noticed that the Doctor seemed to be doing everything with his right hand, his left hung rigidly by his side, his fingers curled in an odd position, almost as though he were holding someone’s hand.
‘Doctor?’ Jack asked quietly.
‘Hmmm?’ the Doctor refused to look up instead focusing on the buttons his fingers were pressing in well-practiced sequence.
‘What’s going on?’ Jack had never really been one for subtlety. He was certain there was something happening, something that concerned the Doctor, something that worried him. He’d noticed it under the bridge when the Doctor had appeared to be talking to someone. Jack was a perceptive man, and nothing around the Doctor was to be overlooked.
‘What do you mean? We’re taking you home.’ The Doctor continued to watch his moving hand. Jack shook his head and walked determinedly to the Doctor’s side.
‘No, Doctor. I mean this.’ Jack grabbed the Doctor’s left hand and lifted it. The Doctor jumped with the suddenness of the solid touch and the loss of the illusion. He wrenched his hand from Jack’s and took a step back. He looked at Rose who was now standing beside Jack.
‘Tell him Doctor.’ She said. The Doctor looked uncertain and wary. Sure, tell his companions that he’d been seeing things for the past few months. But Rose looked determined and he reasoned that if she was a figment of his imagination and therefore, on a certain level, himself, then maybe he had a very good reason for telling himself to tell the others. Either way he was tired of keeping this particular secret.
He looked at Jack and, seeing the desire to understand, and concern, in his eyes, he began.
‘I can see Rose.’ He said simply.
Jack looked puzzled, trying to figure out just what the Doctor meant by that.
‘What do you mean you can see her? Like through some sort of portal between the dimensions?’
‘No.’ The Doctor rubbed the back of his head. ‘She’s standing right beside you.’
Jack moved and looked around him.
‘You can’t see her. Only I can.’ The Doctor refused to let any emotion other than tiredness to find it’s way into his voice.
‘What is it then? How can you see her?’ Jack frowned thinking of any alien explanation his mind could draw up.
‘I don’t know.’ The Doctor sounded so much like he’d meant it that Martha and Jack were immediately a bit scared.
‘Doctor?’ Martha was concerned. He knew she would be the one to reach for the medical explanation. She was honestly trying hard not to jump to the conclusion that was dangling in front of her nose and asked, ‘How long?’
The Doctor looked at Rose. It was easier to watch her than the others.
‘The first time was in Manhattan.’
Rose smirked at the memory of the Doctor’s reaction to her and the chair he’d tripped over. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.
‘Oh but not all the time.’ The Doctor looked from Jack to Martha. ‘Just every now and then. It’s only been four times I think.’
Rose nodded in agreement. He probably didn’t need to know all the times she’d come just to watch him sleep and disappeared before he’d woken.
Martha looked a little relieved but still as puzzled as Jack.
‘Was there anything connecting the instances?’ Martha was in full doctor mode. The Doctor was sure that if she’d had her way she’d have pushed him into the medical room and been shining blinking lights in his eyes by now.
The Doctor thought for a few seconds. ‘Oh I was thinking about her!’ He looked at Rose. ‘Each time, I was thinking about you and you came.’ He turned back to Martha. ‘I mean she didn’t come every time I thought about her… but those times I was.’
Martha sighed. Psychology really wasn’t her area. She much preferred physical medicine, illnesses and problems with straightforward solutions. She hadn’t the first idea of how to begin with a nine hundred-year-old alien who usually knew a vast deal more than she did anyway. She thankfully noted that the Doctor didn’t look as though he would want her to try and help in this anyway, in fact he looked almost fearful of it.
All three fell silent, looking between each other and anything in the room, lost in their own thoughts. Then, something happened. The Doctor’s eyes grew wide and he shouted ‘What?!’
Rose had been so relieved that the Doctor had told Jack and Martha about her, and that now they were caring for him, that she had let go for an instant. Just an instant, but it was enough. Reality had bled through the connection and the Doctor had seen her as she really was. The image of Rose strapped down, her body bruised and bloody, had seared itself into the Doctor’s mind.
‘What was that?!’ He was yelling now. Rose flinched and backed away from him around the console.
~*~*~
Right well... I hope you all enjoyed chapter five *grins*... I'm off to do an exam... yay me! *sarcasm*
six will be up soon