Drowning (1/1)
Composing this ficlet on the spot to welcome my new archivey journal. And take away intensify the pain of "Doomsday." Ohhhh, the pain.
Title: Drowning
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Word Count: 271
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up until 2.13, "Doomsday."
Characters: Ten/Rose.
It was so, so blue.
It was shallow, of course, so bits of sunlight still rippled in, gleaming around Rose but not -- she felt -- ever touching her at all. 'Course not. Probably wouldn't feel it anyway, what with the water overwhelming her lungs and all.
Rose flapped her hands, not in an attempt to swim upwards but just to revel in their uselessness -- her hands. She couldn't have pulled that lever just a little tighter the first time. She couldn't have checked the famous Torchwood's locking mechanisms. No, she was doomed. The Devil himself had told her that, and if she hadn't been spiraling toward a watery death she'd have smiled wryly at the memory. Doomed to die in battle, watching the Doctor's face distort in anger for one last time, floating slowly back to life with a day job and chips and minibreaks.
But you don't just give up. You take a stand. You say no. So she went back to the beach, swept her fingers through the air where she'd seen him that one last time, and walked quietly into the water. It was a beautiful day for it, really.
"Then it lied," he'd told her, so confidently, and she believed, even though she knew how he made it all up as he went along. Really, he was the one who had lied. He'd said she could spend the rest of her life with him.
Perhaps, Rose thought, listening to the glug-glug noises of the last bubbly breath leaving her body -- perhaps she still could.
He only ever came when she was about to die.
Title: Drowning
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Word Count: 271
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up until 2.13, "Doomsday."
Characters: Ten/Rose.
It was so, so blue.
It was shallow, of course, so bits of sunlight still rippled in, gleaming around Rose but not -- she felt -- ever touching her at all. 'Course not. Probably wouldn't feel it anyway, what with the water overwhelming her lungs and all.
Rose flapped her hands, not in an attempt to swim upwards but just to revel in their uselessness -- her hands. She couldn't have pulled that lever just a little tighter the first time. She couldn't have checked the famous Torchwood's locking mechanisms. No, she was doomed. The Devil himself had told her that, and if she hadn't been spiraling toward a watery death she'd have smiled wryly at the memory. Doomed to die in battle, watching the Doctor's face distort in anger for one last time, floating slowly back to life with a day job and chips and minibreaks.
But you don't just give up. You take a stand. You say no. So she went back to the beach, swept her fingers through the air where she'd seen him that one last time, and walked quietly into the water. It was a beautiful day for it, really.
"Then it lied," he'd told her, so confidently, and she believed, even though she knew how he made it all up as he went along. Really, he was the one who had lied. He'd said she could spend the rest of her life with him.
Perhaps, Rose thought, listening to the glug-glug noises of the last bubbly breath leaving her body -- perhaps she still could.
He only ever came when she was about to die.