Fic: Forever. (G, Rose/Ten, Season Two.)
Forever. Rose/Ten, a missing scene set somewhere in Season Two between Fear Her and Army of Ghosts. G for no swearing. That's new for me.
"Love is a story told to a friend-
it's second hand."
-Joni Mitchell
"Yeah, but really," she says, rolling over him, so that she's a cloud to the sun, smelling like grass, her hair orange and gold at the edges like a Turner painting, though she'd hate to be hung in a museum and stared at, after all.
This incarnation does love to ramble.
"Hmm ?"
"Really, Doctor." She's quite serious, he sees that now. "You. Children. You said you were a dad, once."
They're at the games, or they were; he forgot where exactly they'd been on their way to before he switched the dials again and took her to the first Olympics- except he missed and they made it in time for the third. Oh, well. First. Third. He had a first and a third, and they both turned out alright.
Children.
"It was an arranged marriage," he says first; that's what she wants to hear and yes, for some reason, that's what he wants her to hear, too. That it didn't mean anything; that he didn't hold that woman against him, like this, on a hill over a city, wishing for a simpler life with her always in it. He didn't. But he does now. "A good genetic match. The children came from the looms- genetic blenders, really; matching some things together, editing out other bits, trying to get the best out of the two of us. And they did. I had a daughter."
"A daughter." He can almost hear the thoughts inside her head, can almost touch them. "What was she like ?"
"She was like me," he says honestly. "Very much like me. It gave my- it gave her mother fits. But with the looms, the academy- you didn't have much of a say. Children grew up apart from their parents. She ended up a bit of a wandering spirit."
"Did she-"
"Yes." He hears the sentence complete in her head, so obvious, at the surface. Did she die in the war ? Yes. Yes, she died; he remembers her death, like the others; he wears them under his skin. "She had a daughter, too, before the war. My granddaughter." He takes in a breath and he can feel Rose breathe in, too, like it'll help him. It might. "Susan."
"That's a nice name."
"She was a nice girl." He smiles. "Half-human."
"Really ?"
"I thought her mother was mad, marrying a human. Just a man. Out of the whole world, just a human man with a car and a house and a wardrobe that didn't lead anywhere. And having a child with him- I couldn't understand her. Not for a long time." Rose is perfectly still against him. "And then there was Susan, and I understood."
"She made something beautiful with him," Rose says, dreamily, and like always he's amazed at her perceptiveness. The warmth that grows in her like a seed. "Something that would last."
"Rose-"
"I know," she says, and it's his turn to have his mind read. "Oh, I know."
She rolls onto her back and they both shut their eyes, letting their fingers slip together, folded over his hearts. One for Rose Tyler and one to always be breaking for the future, the present, the past. He imagines their child; it's a madness that's taken him lately, an impossibility. Something with her eyes and his wanderlust. Something with her kindness and his stubborn nature. The best bits. He knows the storm is coming and he still wants to stand outside in the wind, pretending it isn't.
"How long," he asks, "are you going to stay with me ?"
Rose smiles.
"Love is a story told to a friend-
it's second hand."
-Joni Mitchell
"Yeah, but really," she says, rolling over him, so that she's a cloud to the sun, smelling like grass, her hair orange and gold at the edges like a Turner painting, though she'd hate to be hung in a museum and stared at, after all.
This incarnation does love to ramble.
"Hmm ?"
"Really, Doctor." She's quite serious, he sees that now. "You. Children. You said you were a dad, once."
They're at the games, or they were; he forgot where exactly they'd been on their way to before he switched the dials again and took her to the first Olympics- except he missed and they made it in time for the third. Oh, well. First. Third. He had a first and a third, and they both turned out alright.
Children.
"It was an arranged marriage," he says first; that's what she wants to hear and yes, for some reason, that's what he wants her to hear, too. That it didn't mean anything; that he didn't hold that woman against him, like this, on a hill over a city, wishing for a simpler life with her always in it. He didn't. But he does now. "A good genetic match. The children came from the looms- genetic blenders, really; matching some things together, editing out other bits, trying to get the best out of the two of us. And they did. I had a daughter."
"A daughter." He can almost hear the thoughts inside her head, can almost touch them. "What was she like ?"
"She was like me," he says honestly. "Very much like me. It gave my- it gave her mother fits. But with the looms, the academy- you didn't have much of a say. Children grew up apart from their parents. She ended up a bit of a wandering spirit."
"Did she-"
"Yes." He hears the sentence complete in her head, so obvious, at the surface. Did she die in the war ? Yes. Yes, she died; he remembers her death, like the others; he wears them under his skin. "She had a daughter, too, before the war. My granddaughter." He takes in a breath and he can feel Rose breathe in, too, like it'll help him. It might. "Susan."
"That's a nice name."
"She was a nice girl." He smiles. "Half-human."
"Really ?"
"I thought her mother was mad, marrying a human. Just a man. Out of the whole world, just a human man with a car and a house and a wardrobe that didn't lead anywhere. And having a child with him- I couldn't understand her. Not for a long time." Rose is perfectly still against him. "And then there was Susan, and I understood."
"She made something beautiful with him," Rose says, dreamily, and like always he's amazed at her perceptiveness. The warmth that grows in her like a seed. "Something that would last."
"Rose-"
"I know," she says, and it's his turn to have his mind read. "Oh, I know."
She rolls onto her back and they both shut their eyes, letting their fingers slip together, folded over his hearts. One for Rose Tyler and one to always be breaking for the future, the present, the past. He imagines their child; it's a madness that's taken him lately, an impossibility. Something with her eyes and his wanderlust. Something with her kindness and his stubborn nature. The best bits. He knows the storm is coming and he still wants to stand outside in the wind, pretending it isn't.
"How long," he asks, "are you going to stay with me ?"
Rose smiles.