Of Cowards and Killers 5/?
Title: Of Cowards and Killers 5/?
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Rose, Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose
Spoilers: AU from Parting of the Ways
Author's notes: I always wondered what Ten would be like if things went differently in PotW... and then I was challenged to write a multi-chapter fic and whore myself out for reviews. So, here we are.
Many apologies again for how long it took to get this out, RL is still rather hectic - tis the season for it, though, right? Also, many, many thanks are owed to the wonderful wendymr who has hounded and reminded and prodded me endlessly. :)
Summary: “Rose, no!” he snaps, grabbing her around the waist as she tries to rush past him. “You can’t touch him.”
Of Cowards and Killers 5/?
--
Her voice is a whisper but it still slices through him.
“Oh, Doctor,” she says, freezing at the sight of his old body slumped next to the detonator.
He has to force himself to step past the threshold of the TARDIS, and when he does he can feel it straight away - the sheer and utter wrongness of the moment.
The Emperor is still there, watching him with his dull eye, and he thought he’d imagined it, dazed from the regeneration, but it still feels like they’re watching him, the Daleks and their dead eyes.
He knows, though, that it’s not just the echo of his memory that’s sending chills up his spine.
He shouldn’t be here - she shouldn’t be here - not like this.
“Rose, no!” he snaps, grabbing her around the waist as she tries to rush past him. “You can’t touch him.”
“Let go of me,” she growls, trying to twist free. “Let me go!”
“You can’t touch him,” he repeats, keeping his voice low as he tightens his hold.
“He really did it,” she says, slumping in his arms, “you really did it.” Her voice is low, and he thinks her words might be for him, but her eyes are glued to the prone figure across the room.
She chokes on the last word. “He’s really dead.”
“Watch,” he says, “it’s starting.” And sure enough, a flicker of gold ripples through the prone figure.
She flinches. “What was that?”
“The miracle of life,” he mutters, his voice bitter.
She turns her head away, pressing her face into his shoulder as the next surge of energy makes the body jerk.
He watches him, the man he was, wrapped in the same clothes he’s still wearing, and he can’t help the burning seed of hate. For him, for her, for all of it.
“You need to watch,” he says, turning her back. “You wanted proof.”
“Is it hurting him?” she asks, and when he turns to look at her he can see the silent tears on her cheeks.
“On some level,” he says, “it always hurts, but I don’t remember there being any pain this time. I think I was too far gone.”
“I can’t just stand here and watch it happen,” she says, pulling away and slipping from his grasp.
“You have to,” he says, and he almost has her but she brushes past the shell of a Dalek and he jerks backwards. “Always what the universe can do for you,” he says, and it’s enough.
She freezes, her gaze flicking to him before another burst of light ripples through his ninth body and her eyes are drawn back.
“Don’t,” she says, the plea in her voice unmistakable.
“You can’t touch him,” he says. “It already happened and you weren’t there when it did.”
“I can’t just watch,” she says, but her words are lost as the next ripple of energy flows through the man.
“Someone should,” he replies, distracted, as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end.
He can feel the prickle of energy as it slices through the air and then the light crackles through his ninth body for the last time and the man he was becomes the man he is.
He doesn’t watch.
She does.
--
“What about Jack?” she asks, her accusation made that much worse as it’s echoed in the stillness of the space station.
He hasn’t thought about the other man since he’d left his body - he hasn’t been able to - and he doesn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t think it’d be the first question she’d ask, especially in light of what she just witnessed, but then, it doesn’t exactly surprise him either.
He wants to say that Jack was the luckier one. He doesn’t have to live with the choice he’s made. He doesn’t, though. That’s more of a burden than he’s willing to share.
“Jack’s gone,” he says, finally.
The look she sends him is fierce. “You mean he’s dead, don’t you? He’s not gone like I was gone, he’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“Did you-?” She can’t finish the question, but he knows what she’s asking. He’s sure his silence is laced with guilt. He didn’t kill him; Jack was dead before he’d had the chance to activate the Delta wave, but he’d condemned him all the same.
“I’m sorry,” he says and he’s just as surprised that he means it.
He doesn’t want to care - not about the fate of the Earth, not about the consequences, and especially not about fallen friends - but it seems there’s a part of him that can’t stop.
“I don’t want to leave his body here.”
The weight of Jack’s Vortex manipulator is burning a hole in his pocket. “We have to.”
Her words strike a nerve. “So you can use him, even after he’s dead, right?”
“Rose,” he starts, reaching for her, but she pulls away.
“What right did you have?”
“What choice did I have?” he counters, and he’s glad his voice betrays more confidence in his decisions than he feels. Still, he doesn’t try to touch her again.
She shakes her head and he can see the tears in her eyes. “What gave you the right to pick me over him?”
He doesn’t know how to answer that; he doesn’t want to tell her the truth, he certainly doesn’t want to give her that much power over him, but he has nothing else to offer. “I picked you over everyone, Rose.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
There’s a part of him that recognises the anger in her voice as his own; he’s condemned her to survival too, and he can see a piece of his own pain etched across her face. The rational part of his mind fades to the background in the face of her judgement, though.
“None of this was supposed to happen,” he says, his voice louder than he meant it to be. “But it did, and I did what needed to be done; I did it again. Die as a human or live as a Dalek - I made it, but it was his choice too. Now it’s done, decision made, and it can’t be undone; I can’t take it back. Damned if I’ll apologise for doing what I needed to first.”
He expected her to shrink away, but she doesn’t. Her face softens and before he knows what’s happened she’s pulled him into her embrace. He’s limp in her arms but he lets her hold him; surrounded by the remains of his hollow victory, he lets go. His tears are silent.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, though they both know it isn’t.
“I needed you alive, needed to know you’d be safe.” His confession is muffled against her shoulder. “I killed them, Rose. I couldn’t kill you too.”
--
TBC…
< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 >
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Rose, Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose
Spoilers: AU from Parting of the Ways
Author's notes: I always wondered what Ten would be like if things went differently in PotW... and then I was challenged to write a multi-chapter fic and whore myself out for reviews. So, here we are.
Many apologies again for how long it took to get this out, RL is still rather hectic - tis the season for it, though, right? Also, many, many thanks are owed to the wonderful wendymr who has hounded and reminded and prodded me endlessly. :)
Summary: “Rose, no!” he snaps, grabbing her around the waist as she tries to rush past him. “You can’t touch him.”
Of Cowards and Killers 5/?
--
Her voice is a whisper but it still slices through him.
“Oh, Doctor,” she says, freezing at the sight of his old body slumped next to the detonator.
He has to force himself to step past the threshold of the TARDIS, and when he does he can feel it straight away - the sheer and utter wrongness of the moment.
The Emperor is still there, watching him with his dull eye, and he thought he’d imagined it, dazed from the regeneration, but it still feels like they’re watching him, the Daleks and their dead eyes.
He knows, though, that it’s not just the echo of his memory that’s sending chills up his spine.
He shouldn’t be here - she shouldn’t be here - not like this.
“Rose, no!” he snaps, grabbing her around the waist as she tries to rush past him. “You can’t touch him.”
“Let go of me,” she growls, trying to twist free. “Let me go!”
“You can’t touch him,” he repeats, keeping his voice low as he tightens his hold.
“He really did it,” she says, slumping in his arms, “you really did it.” Her voice is low, and he thinks her words might be for him, but her eyes are glued to the prone figure across the room.
She chokes on the last word. “He’s really dead.”
“Watch,” he says, “it’s starting.” And sure enough, a flicker of gold ripples through the prone figure.
She flinches. “What was that?”
“The miracle of life,” he mutters, his voice bitter.
She turns her head away, pressing her face into his shoulder as the next surge of energy makes the body jerk.
He watches him, the man he was, wrapped in the same clothes he’s still wearing, and he can’t help the burning seed of hate. For him, for her, for all of it.
“You need to watch,” he says, turning her back. “You wanted proof.”
“Is it hurting him?” she asks, and when he turns to look at her he can see the silent tears on her cheeks.
“On some level,” he says, “it always hurts, but I don’t remember there being any pain this time. I think I was too far gone.”
“I can’t just stand here and watch it happen,” she says, pulling away and slipping from his grasp.
“You have to,” he says, and he almost has her but she brushes past the shell of a Dalek and he jerks backwards. “Always what the universe can do for you,” he says, and it’s enough.
She freezes, her gaze flicking to him before another burst of light ripples through his ninth body and her eyes are drawn back.
“Don’t,” she says, the plea in her voice unmistakable.
“You can’t touch him,” he says. “It already happened and you weren’t there when it did.”
“I can’t just watch,” she says, but her words are lost as the next ripple of energy flows through the man.
“Someone should,” he replies, distracted, as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end.
He can feel the prickle of energy as it slices through the air and then the light crackles through his ninth body for the last time and the man he was becomes the man he is.
He doesn’t watch.
She does.
--
“What about Jack?” she asks, her accusation made that much worse as it’s echoed in the stillness of the space station.
He hasn’t thought about the other man since he’d left his body - he hasn’t been able to - and he doesn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t think it’d be the first question she’d ask, especially in light of what she just witnessed, but then, it doesn’t exactly surprise him either.
He wants to say that Jack was the luckier one. He doesn’t have to live with the choice he’s made. He doesn’t, though. That’s more of a burden than he’s willing to share.
“Jack’s gone,” he says, finally.
The look she sends him is fierce. “You mean he’s dead, don’t you? He’s not gone like I was gone, he’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“Did you-?” She can’t finish the question, but he knows what she’s asking. He’s sure his silence is laced with guilt. He didn’t kill him; Jack was dead before he’d had the chance to activate the Delta wave, but he’d condemned him all the same.
“I’m sorry,” he says and he’s just as surprised that he means it.
He doesn’t want to care - not about the fate of the Earth, not about the consequences, and especially not about fallen friends - but it seems there’s a part of him that can’t stop.
“I don’t want to leave his body here.”
The weight of Jack’s Vortex manipulator is burning a hole in his pocket. “We have to.”
Her words strike a nerve. “So you can use him, even after he’s dead, right?”
“Rose,” he starts, reaching for her, but she pulls away.
“What right did you have?”
“What choice did I have?” he counters, and he’s glad his voice betrays more confidence in his decisions than he feels. Still, he doesn’t try to touch her again.
She shakes her head and he can see the tears in her eyes. “What gave you the right to pick me over him?”
He doesn’t know how to answer that; he doesn’t want to tell her the truth, he certainly doesn’t want to give her that much power over him, but he has nothing else to offer. “I picked you over everyone, Rose.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
There’s a part of him that recognises the anger in her voice as his own; he’s condemned her to survival too, and he can see a piece of his own pain etched across her face. The rational part of his mind fades to the background in the face of her judgement, though.
“None of this was supposed to happen,” he says, his voice louder than he meant it to be. “But it did, and I did what needed to be done; I did it again. Die as a human or live as a Dalek - I made it, but it was his choice too. Now it’s done, decision made, and it can’t be undone; I can’t take it back. Damned if I’ll apologise for doing what I needed to first.”
He expected her to shrink away, but she doesn’t. Her face softens and before he knows what’s happened she’s pulled him into her embrace. He’s limp in her arms but he lets her hold him; surrounded by the remains of his hollow victory, he lets go. His tears are silent.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, though they both know it isn’t.
“I needed you alive, needed to know you’d be safe.” His confession is muffled against her shoulder. “I killed them, Rose. I couldn’t kill you too.”
--
TBC…
< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 >