Runt of the Litter 4/6
Title: Runt of the Litter (4/6)
Pairing: 9/Rose
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Historical
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Crude Language (in Latin)
Summary:A trip to visit Caesar takes an unsuspected turn when everyone in a small village in Gaul, including Rose, has their memories changed and spontaneously develop lycanthropy. Can the Doctor reverse this before Caesar arrives and history is changed forever?
A/N: This is the second of my "Another Town" Series of standalones based off the song by the same title by Regina Spektor. This fic's line: "Don't let me forget"
Tyler paused for a moment before approaching Faoiltiama, collecting herself. She couldn’t tell them that their daughter was unwell due to creatures invading her mind, and that they were all under some type of spell that altered their memories. That would certainly send them into frenzy. Tyler decided it was better to tell them only what they needed to know. She quickly dashed the tears from her eyes that had arisen when the Doctor had pulled away from her and stepped forward.
“The Doctor thinks he can help her.” She told them gently, starting with the good news. “But he’s going to need our help and that of all the village.”
“How can we help?” Conall demanded, strain evident in his body.
“The Doctor needs all the young branches we can harvest by this evening. There will be a cleansing ritual.”
“The hell there will be,” Connall growled, trying to push past Tyler to pursue the Doctor who had already left to find the ship. “My daughter’s sick, that’s no reason for Conchobhar to go slandering her as someone who has angered the gods. She’s a good girl.”
Tyler tried to stand her ground, but Connall shoved her to the side. Tyler couldn’t help regret being the runt, but she would not be so easily dismissed. She wrapped her arms around Connall’s waist as he pushed past and held on firmly.
“Connall, no! It’s nothing she’s done. She’s been infected, and only the gods can chase out what has invaded her, but it’s not her fault! Don’t waste time by taking this out on the Doctor!”
Connall’s temper flared through his body, triggering the change, but Tyler held fast, ignoring the scratching claws as Connall struggled to get free. But the change and his sleepless night had weakened him, and Tyler was able to hold him back.
“The Doctor is going to help her. He’s the only one who can!” Rose insisted. “Go. Be with your daughter. She needs you to be with her, not to attack someone trying to cure her.” Connall fell limp in Tyler’s grip, and she cautiously released him, prepped to catch him if he bolted after the Doctor. Instead, he meekly walked into the room where his daughter rested, and curled up next to her, his head on her stomach. Tyler heaved a sigh of relief.
“Do not think unkindly on him, Tyler.” Faoiltiama said softly. “He never does reason well when worried.”
Tyler smiled at her. “I understand. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned for his daughter.”
Faoiltiama smiled her gratitude. “Now, let’s go address the rest of the bleithed. With all of us working together, we should have enough within a few hours.”
Tyler beamed at the older woman, immensely grateful to have someone else who could keep a cool head.
The next few hours passed in a blur of climbing, chopping, and dragging. It was well before dark when a pile of thin, flexible branches lay in the square. Several members of the bliethed stood wearily, while others, in wolf form to help haul the timber, lay panting in the late afternoon sun. Tyler looked towards the East, waiting for the Doctor to return. When the sun touched the earth behind her, the Doctor came into square, dragging an oblong metal object nearly the size of a grown man. The orange light of sunset blazed on his strong features, making the blue of his eyes flare as he grinned when his eyes met Tyler’s.
“I can fix it, Rose,” he told her with reverent jubilance as he came up next to her, dropping the metal craft to raise his hand to her cheek. “It’ll all be over so, so soon.”
Tyler beamed up at him. “So, what do we need to do?”
The Doctor elbowed her playfully. “Watch this.” He turned to the assembled crowd. “Bleithed, The plague that has killed Skoll and now infects Amou can be dispelled. The gods have given unto us that which they demand as tribute. They want a sacrifice of man and earth.” He kicked the object at his feet. “They provide the earth, we must provide the man.”
“Human sacrifice?” a voice called out. “The gods have never demanded that of us, Conchobhar.”
“An effigy,” the Doctor clarified, gesturing towards the amassed branches. “Woven from those and surrounding the offering of earth. If we set it alight, sending its essence up to the gods, we will succeed in banishing this plague.”
There was a general murmuring of consent. Tyler took the Doctor’s hand and squeezed. “Let me handle it from here.” Quick as a flash, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone, leaving the Doctor to stand dumbfounded, his fingers pressed to his cheek and a look of such joyful longing on his face that the villagers nudged each other with knowing smiles. Tyler ignored their gossip, instead ordering the bleithed into different teams. Some would strip the branches, some would split the thicker ones, others would weave, while still others would see to fixing food for the village.
Children gathered the twigs and leaves stripped from the branches and started a fire in the square giving warmth and light for the night. The Doctor retreated into his blue-doored house and soon returned with a strangely clear sack filled with fluffy white things. He speared a few on sticks and showed the children how to roast them in the fire. Then he stuck his own in the fire, watched it burn for a few seconds, and blew it out, popping it in his mouth with an encouraging grin. The children laughed and tasted their own, crying out in delight. Tyler watched all of this, oblivious to the gentle smile that danced like the firelight in her eyes.
The Doctor took his time with the next one he speared until, after several minutes, it had become a deep golden color all over. He walked over to where Tyler was busy intertwining the branches, and with darkened eyes, he removed it from the stick and offered it to her lips. Not able to look away from his hooded gaze, Tyler accepted the morsel, sweetness bursting across her tongue. She blinked at him in delight.
“That’s amazing! What is that?” she asked eagerly.
“Marshmallows. I know you like them on your cocoa, so I thought you might like them toasted.” His thumb came up to swipe along the side of her bottom lip, the sensation forcing Tyler’s breath to a halt. It came away with a bit of the goo and he lapped it off, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Cocoa?” she asked breathlessly.
He nodded. “I’ll make you a cup as soon as this is over.”
Fingers itching with the need to drop her task and wrap her hands around the back of his ears like handles and haul his lips against hers to learn the taste of marshmallows on him, Tyler looked away. The Doctor had asked her to wait until she was herself again, and she only hoped she would remember how much she loved him when she returned to his Rose.
The sound of running feet broke her reverie. A man Tyler vaguely recognized as belonging to a neighboring village came pelting in amongst them, skidding to a halt.
“Caesar is coming. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
Worried mutters spread through the bleithed. Tyler closed her eyes wearily. “Will we ever get a break?” she muttered darkly. The Doctor smiled wanly.
A rustle at the back drew all eyes to Connall as he stood. He looked briefly panicked and Tyler worried that he was going to shift, but the pack leader took a steadying breath.
“Well then,” he stated calmly. “It looks like we have a deadline. Get back to work.” He came forward and drew the messenger to the side. Tyler turned her attention back to her task. One by one, the rest of the bleithed followed her example. When Tyler next glanced up, the village was back to work, the wicker man being quickly assembled. She caught the Doctor’s eyes from across the fire where he tinkered with the ship using strange tools, some of which occasionally buzzed or whirred, and the grin he sent her warmed her more than the flames.
*
First light trickled weakly through the village, doing little to dispel the stubborn shadows still clinging in the corners of both the square and people’s spirits. They had worked through the night, with brief naps being taken in shifts as the work became more bound together, requiring fewer hands. The only ones who hadn’t slept were the Doctor, Rose, and Amou’s parents. Amou remained trapped in a feverish sleep.
Each of the legs of the wicker man was the size of a large man, and the torso was built around the ship. The arms, which were nearly as large as the legs, lay nearby with the head, waiting to be connected. It was stuffed with straw to ensure it would fully burn. Most of the women went into their houses, and soon a meal was brought out to be shared with those still working.
Rose and the Doctor ate in silence in front of the cold ashes of the fire, sitting shoulder to shoulder in an effort to repel the grim atmosphere. The Doctor knew that Rose was exhausted, nodding a few times over the porridge-like meal but stubbornly jerking back awake, determined to keep going.
When her head finally fell against his shoulder, he gently took the bowl from the limp grip of her hands that were covered with small cuts and abrasions from a night spent wrestling with rough-barked branches. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her more firmly against him. She nuzzled into his shoulder and let out a soft sigh, her left hand resting on his stomach where it balled into a fist clutching his jumper. The Doctor knew that the rest of the construction would be completed fairly quickly. If they set it alight when they heard the approach of the Romans, everything should get set right. Until then, he’d fight the world if he had to in order to let Rose rest. He tucked Rose’s head under his chin and glared threateningly at anyone in the wakening village who made too much noise.
By the time the sun no longer touched the ground, the villagers had attached the arms and were nearly done the head. Rose stirred against him instinctively turning her face into him to escape the light. She rested there a moment before starting, looking up at the risen sun before turning to the Doctor a charming blush tempting him to lower his head and kiss the embarrassment from her.
“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” she mumbled, her eyes briefly searching his before dropping to stare at her left hand where it still gripped his jumper.
“Don’t be. It won’t do for you collapse from exhaustion.” He felt Rose tense under his arm and cursed himself. “Besides,” he added quickly before she could draw away. “I-” He tried to force the words out, but he couldn’t. He’d spent so long denying and tamping down his feelings that he didn’t know how to give them voice.
Hope lived briefly in her eyes, but at his continued silence, it packed up and slunk off with bad grace. Rose started to move away, but the Doctor tightened his hold on her. “Don’t go,” he said not caring how desperate he sounded. “I like it when you’re near me.” Inwardly, he cringed at how inadequate, how paltry it sounded, but Rose didn’t seem to mind.
“Really?” she breathed.
“I feel whole again in a way I haven’t in a long time,” he admitted.
Rose’s eyes dipped to his mouth and she licked her lips quickly. The Doctor both longed for and feared her kiss. While he pined for her touch as he had since his hand had first grasped hers, even more so now that he had touched her mind, he still wanted her to want him only when she knew him, and the Alii had taken that away from her, from them.
A cheer went up from the bleithed, causing them to jerk apart. Looking over, they saw the wicker man being raised up, towering above the primitive village. The Doctor grinned down at Rose, full of joy and pride and longing and other emotions he daren’t give name to. She was absolutely entrancing, beaming and flushed with excitement.
Her lips were on his before he had a chance to stop her, and cursing his own weakness, he crushed her to him with a groan of surrender. It was the sort of kiss that would keep him up nights. Her lips parted eagerly under his, allowing him access to treasures he would never be so bold as to claim for his own. Her hand speared through his short hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp drawing a low moan from some primal part of him.
He cradled the back of her head, taking complete control of the kiss, plundering what was so freely given. Knowing he shouldn’t, the Doctor turned to face her more fully and let his hand wander up her side to graze her breast, relishing the moan that escaped her as it might be the only one he ever heard.
Marshaling his strength, he pulled back from her, panting with repressed desire. Guilt and longing and heartbreak warred to be his primary emotion, but he swallowed them all down and forced himself to meet her eyes.
“Rose, I-“ he started, uncertain that he knew what he would say.
“It’s okay. I know,” she reassured him gently. “You want to wait until I remember. That was just in case your Rose doesn’t remember how much I love you.”
Unable to breathe, the Doctor stared at his glorious Rose, his perpetual savior no matter what was done to her. He felt tears prick at his eyes. “Rose, I-“ he tried again and was again stopped.
“Don’t, Doctor. I want to remember, too. What if these past few months just disappear when she comes back?” Her hand came up to wipe the tear from his eye. “Soon, yeah?”
The Doctor swallowed thickly and nodded.
Connall approached them. “Conchobhar, when should we start? Scouts have reported that Caesar is nearly upon us.”
The Doctor stood and reached a hand down to pull Rose up with him. “Better sooner rather than later.” He said earnestly, Rose’s hand still tucked tightly in his. They made their way over to the wicker man, where the village was gathered.
The Doctor knelt by the bed that held Amou, and dipped briefly into her mind. The Alii still swarmed, the evidence of their damage even more evident. “Return to your ship. It is repaired. All that is necessary now is a ritual that the humans are taking care of. You will be free to leave within the hour. And stay away from this planet. You’ve done enough damage.” If they’d had legs, the Alii would have tripped over themselves trying to escape the Doctor’s rage. When they were gone, the Doctor tried his best to soothe the wounds they left, but this sort of healing was not his specialty. Most of her healing would be up to her. He withdrew, making sure he didn’t leave any footprints behind; the girl would likely struggle to find herself without him leaving a mental mess.
He stood before the bleithed just as the sound of many feet pounding the ground started to be audible. “Today, we honor the gods and petition them to remove this plague from among us.” He intoned loudly for all to hear. “We give to them an offering of earth and man so that they may know our devotion to them. Let us all pray and focus on removing the illness from the center of this offering.” He raised his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the feet of the man, grinning as flames began to hungrily spread over the wood, leaving red trails that resembled the wounds the Alii had left in Amou.
Rose came to stand next to him, her fingers interwoven with his. “How much longer?” she murmured.
“It won’t be long now,” he told her softly, and pulled her more fully into his side.
Rose stood, silently enfolded in his embrace. They watched the flames together; the Doctor was in turmoil waiting for what was to happen. He wanted so desperately for Rose to come back to him wholly herself, but he feared that she would forget pressing her lips to his or, worse yet, that she would regret it. The flames licked higher and there was suddenly an emptiness in the air. Around them, the bleithed collapsed to the ground. Rose leaned heavily against him, as though barely able to keep herself standing.
Rose raised a shaky hand to her forehead and massaged it for a moment before looking up at him. The Doctor looked down at her, his hearts in his throat blocking any words from escaping.
“Doctor?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Part 5
Pairing: 9/Rose
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Historical
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Crude Language (in Latin)
Summary:A trip to visit Caesar takes an unsuspected turn when everyone in a small village in Gaul, including Rose, has their memories changed and spontaneously develop lycanthropy. Can the Doctor reverse this before Caesar arrives and history is changed forever?
A/N: This is the second of my "Another Town" Series of standalones based off the song by the same title by Regina Spektor. This fic's line: "Don't let me forget"
Tyler paused for a moment before approaching Faoiltiama, collecting herself. She couldn’t tell them that their daughter was unwell due to creatures invading her mind, and that they were all under some type of spell that altered their memories. That would certainly send them into frenzy. Tyler decided it was better to tell them only what they needed to know. She quickly dashed the tears from her eyes that had arisen when the Doctor had pulled away from her and stepped forward.
“The Doctor thinks he can help her.” She told them gently, starting with the good news. “But he’s going to need our help and that of all the village.”
“How can we help?” Conall demanded, strain evident in his body.
“The Doctor needs all the young branches we can harvest by this evening. There will be a cleansing ritual.”
“The hell there will be,” Connall growled, trying to push past Tyler to pursue the Doctor who had already left to find the ship. “My daughter’s sick, that’s no reason for Conchobhar to go slandering her as someone who has angered the gods. She’s a good girl.”
Tyler tried to stand her ground, but Connall shoved her to the side. Tyler couldn’t help regret being the runt, but she would not be so easily dismissed. She wrapped her arms around Connall’s waist as he pushed past and held on firmly.
“Connall, no! It’s nothing she’s done. She’s been infected, and only the gods can chase out what has invaded her, but it’s not her fault! Don’t waste time by taking this out on the Doctor!”
Connall’s temper flared through his body, triggering the change, but Tyler held fast, ignoring the scratching claws as Connall struggled to get free. But the change and his sleepless night had weakened him, and Tyler was able to hold him back.
“The Doctor is going to help her. He’s the only one who can!” Rose insisted. “Go. Be with your daughter. She needs you to be with her, not to attack someone trying to cure her.” Connall fell limp in Tyler’s grip, and she cautiously released him, prepped to catch him if he bolted after the Doctor. Instead, he meekly walked into the room where his daughter rested, and curled up next to her, his head on her stomach. Tyler heaved a sigh of relief.
“Do not think unkindly on him, Tyler.” Faoiltiama said softly. “He never does reason well when worried.”
Tyler smiled at her. “I understand. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned for his daughter.”
Faoiltiama smiled her gratitude. “Now, let’s go address the rest of the bleithed. With all of us working together, we should have enough within a few hours.”
Tyler beamed at the older woman, immensely grateful to have someone else who could keep a cool head.
The next few hours passed in a blur of climbing, chopping, and dragging. It was well before dark when a pile of thin, flexible branches lay in the square. Several members of the bliethed stood wearily, while others, in wolf form to help haul the timber, lay panting in the late afternoon sun. Tyler looked towards the East, waiting for the Doctor to return. When the sun touched the earth behind her, the Doctor came into square, dragging an oblong metal object nearly the size of a grown man. The orange light of sunset blazed on his strong features, making the blue of his eyes flare as he grinned when his eyes met Tyler’s.
“I can fix it, Rose,” he told her with reverent jubilance as he came up next to her, dropping the metal craft to raise his hand to her cheek. “It’ll all be over so, so soon.”
Tyler beamed up at him. “So, what do we need to do?”
The Doctor elbowed her playfully. “Watch this.” He turned to the assembled crowd. “Bleithed, The plague that has killed Skoll and now infects Amou can be dispelled. The gods have given unto us that which they demand as tribute. They want a sacrifice of man and earth.” He kicked the object at his feet. “They provide the earth, we must provide the man.”
“Human sacrifice?” a voice called out. “The gods have never demanded that of us, Conchobhar.”
“An effigy,” the Doctor clarified, gesturing towards the amassed branches. “Woven from those and surrounding the offering of earth. If we set it alight, sending its essence up to the gods, we will succeed in banishing this plague.”
There was a general murmuring of consent. Tyler took the Doctor’s hand and squeezed. “Let me handle it from here.” Quick as a flash, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone, leaving the Doctor to stand dumbfounded, his fingers pressed to his cheek and a look of such joyful longing on his face that the villagers nudged each other with knowing smiles. Tyler ignored their gossip, instead ordering the bleithed into different teams. Some would strip the branches, some would split the thicker ones, others would weave, while still others would see to fixing food for the village.
Children gathered the twigs and leaves stripped from the branches and started a fire in the square giving warmth and light for the night. The Doctor retreated into his blue-doored house and soon returned with a strangely clear sack filled with fluffy white things. He speared a few on sticks and showed the children how to roast them in the fire. Then he stuck his own in the fire, watched it burn for a few seconds, and blew it out, popping it in his mouth with an encouraging grin. The children laughed and tasted their own, crying out in delight. Tyler watched all of this, oblivious to the gentle smile that danced like the firelight in her eyes.
The Doctor took his time with the next one he speared until, after several minutes, it had become a deep golden color all over. He walked over to where Tyler was busy intertwining the branches, and with darkened eyes, he removed it from the stick and offered it to her lips. Not able to look away from his hooded gaze, Tyler accepted the morsel, sweetness bursting across her tongue. She blinked at him in delight.
“That’s amazing! What is that?” she asked eagerly.
“Marshmallows. I know you like them on your cocoa, so I thought you might like them toasted.” His thumb came up to swipe along the side of her bottom lip, the sensation forcing Tyler’s breath to a halt. It came away with a bit of the goo and he lapped it off, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Cocoa?” she asked breathlessly.
He nodded. “I’ll make you a cup as soon as this is over.”
Fingers itching with the need to drop her task and wrap her hands around the back of his ears like handles and haul his lips against hers to learn the taste of marshmallows on him, Tyler looked away. The Doctor had asked her to wait until she was herself again, and she only hoped she would remember how much she loved him when she returned to his Rose.
The sound of running feet broke her reverie. A man Tyler vaguely recognized as belonging to a neighboring village came pelting in amongst them, skidding to a halt.
“Caesar is coming. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
Worried mutters spread through the bleithed. Tyler closed her eyes wearily. “Will we ever get a break?” she muttered darkly. The Doctor smiled wanly.
A rustle at the back drew all eyes to Connall as he stood. He looked briefly panicked and Tyler worried that he was going to shift, but the pack leader took a steadying breath.
“Well then,” he stated calmly. “It looks like we have a deadline. Get back to work.” He came forward and drew the messenger to the side. Tyler turned her attention back to her task. One by one, the rest of the bleithed followed her example. When Tyler next glanced up, the village was back to work, the wicker man being quickly assembled. She caught the Doctor’s eyes from across the fire where he tinkered with the ship using strange tools, some of which occasionally buzzed or whirred, and the grin he sent her warmed her more than the flames.
*
First light trickled weakly through the village, doing little to dispel the stubborn shadows still clinging in the corners of both the square and people’s spirits. They had worked through the night, with brief naps being taken in shifts as the work became more bound together, requiring fewer hands. The only ones who hadn’t slept were the Doctor, Rose, and Amou’s parents. Amou remained trapped in a feverish sleep.
Each of the legs of the wicker man was the size of a large man, and the torso was built around the ship. The arms, which were nearly as large as the legs, lay nearby with the head, waiting to be connected. It was stuffed with straw to ensure it would fully burn. Most of the women went into their houses, and soon a meal was brought out to be shared with those still working.
Rose and the Doctor ate in silence in front of the cold ashes of the fire, sitting shoulder to shoulder in an effort to repel the grim atmosphere. The Doctor knew that Rose was exhausted, nodding a few times over the porridge-like meal but stubbornly jerking back awake, determined to keep going.
When her head finally fell against his shoulder, he gently took the bowl from the limp grip of her hands that were covered with small cuts and abrasions from a night spent wrestling with rough-barked branches. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her more firmly against him. She nuzzled into his shoulder and let out a soft sigh, her left hand resting on his stomach where it balled into a fist clutching his jumper. The Doctor knew that the rest of the construction would be completed fairly quickly. If they set it alight when they heard the approach of the Romans, everything should get set right. Until then, he’d fight the world if he had to in order to let Rose rest. He tucked Rose’s head under his chin and glared threateningly at anyone in the wakening village who made too much noise.
By the time the sun no longer touched the ground, the villagers had attached the arms and were nearly done the head. Rose stirred against him instinctively turning her face into him to escape the light. She rested there a moment before starting, looking up at the risen sun before turning to the Doctor a charming blush tempting him to lower his head and kiss the embarrassment from her.
“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” she mumbled, her eyes briefly searching his before dropping to stare at her left hand where it still gripped his jumper.
“Don’t be. It won’t do for you collapse from exhaustion.” He felt Rose tense under his arm and cursed himself. “Besides,” he added quickly before she could draw away. “I-” He tried to force the words out, but he couldn’t. He’d spent so long denying and tamping down his feelings that he didn’t know how to give them voice.
Hope lived briefly in her eyes, but at his continued silence, it packed up and slunk off with bad grace. Rose started to move away, but the Doctor tightened his hold on her. “Don’t go,” he said not caring how desperate he sounded. “I like it when you’re near me.” Inwardly, he cringed at how inadequate, how paltry it sounded, but Rose didn’t seem to mind.
“Really?” she breathed.
“I feel whole again in a way I haven’t in a long time,” he admitted.
Rose’s eyes dipped to his mouth and she licked her lips quickly. The Doctor both longed for and feared her kiss. While he pined for her touch as he had since his hand had first grasped hers, even more so now that he had touched her mind, he still wanted her to want him only when she knew him, and the Alii had taken that away from her, from them.
A cheer went up from the bleithed, causing them to jerk apart. Looking over, they saw the wicker man being raised up, towering above the primitive village. The Doctor grinned down at Rose, full of joy and pride and longing and other emotions he daren’t give name to. She was absolutely entrancing, beaming and flushed with excitement.
Her lips were on his before he had a chance to stop her, and cursing his own weakness, he crushed her to him with a groan of surrender. It was the sort of kiss that would keep him up nights. Her lips parted eagerly under his, allowing him access to treasures he would never be so bold as to claim for his own. Her hand speared through his short hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp drawing a low moan from some primal part of him.
He cradled the back of her head, taking complete control of the kiss, plundering what was so freely given. Knowing he shouldn’t, the Doctor turned to face her more fully and let his hand wander up her side to graze her breast, relishing the moan that escaped her as it might be the only one he ever heard.
Marshaling his strength, he pulled back from her, panting with repressed desire. Guilt and longing and heartbreak warred to be his primary emotion, but he swallowed them all down and forced himself to meet her eyes.
“Rose, I-“ he started, uncertain that he knew what he would say.
“It’s okay. I know,” she reassured him gently. “You want to wait until I remember. That was just in case your Rose doesn’t remember how much I love you.”
Unable to breathe, the Doctor stared at his glorious Rose, his perpetual savior no matter what was done to her. He felt tears prick at his eyes. “Rose, I-“ he tried again and was again stopped.
“Don’t, Doctor. I want to remember, too. What if these past few months just disappear when she comes back?” Her hand came up to wipe the tear from his eye. “Soon, yeah?”
The Doctor swallowed thickly and nodded.
Connall approached them. “Conchobhar, when should we start? Scouts have reported that Caesar is nearly upon us.”
The Doctor stood and reached a hand down to pull Rose up with him. “Better sooner rather than later.” He said earnestly, Rose’s hand still tucked tightly in his. They made their way over to the wicker man, where the village was gathered.
The Doctor knelt by the bed that held Amou, and dipped briefly into her mind. The Alii still swarmed, the evidence of their damage even more evident. “Return to your ship. It is repaired. All that is necessary now is a ritual that the humans are taking care of. You will be free to leave within the hour. And stay away from this planet. You’ve done enough damage.” If they’d had legs, the Alii would have tripped over themselves trying to escape the Doctor’s rage. When they were gone, the Doctor tried his best to soothe the wounds they left, but this sort of healing was not his specialty. Most of her healing would be up to her. He withdrew, making sure he didn’t leave any footprints behind; the girl would likely struggle to find herself without him leaving a mental mess.
He stood before the bleithed just as the sound of many feet pounding the ground started to be audible. “Today, we honor the gods and petition them to remove this plague from among us.” He intoned loudly for all to hear. “We give to them an offering of earth and man so that they may know our devotion to them. Let us all pray and focus on removing the illness from the center of this offering.” He raised his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the feet of the man, grinning as flames began to hungrily spread over the wood, leaving red trails that resembled the wounds the Alii had left in Amou.
Rose came to stand next to him, her fingers interwoven with his. “How much longer?” she murmured.
“It won’t be long now,” he told her softly, and pulled her more fully into his side.
Rose stood, silently enfolded in his embrace. They watched the flames together; the Doctor was in turmoil waiting for what was to happen. He wanted so desperately for Rose to come back to him wholly herself, but he feared that she would forget pressing her lips to his or, worse yet, that she would regret it. The flames licked higher and there was suddenly an emptiness in the air. Around them, the bleithed collapsed to the ground. Rose leaned heavily against him, as though barely able to keep herself standing.
Rose raised a shaky hand to her forehead and massaged it for a moment before looking up at him. The Doctor looked down at her, his hearts in his throat blocking any words from escaping.
“Doctor?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Part 5