Fic: just different.
What? A fic now too?! I know! I'm just going crazy with all these fandom things. Bizarre. All I can say is that it's summer.
Title: just different
Author: teddy_tips
Rating: PG
Warning! Spoilers for 4x13
Characters: Rose, and Alt!Ten
Summary: Snapshots into a life unexpected, and perhaps not all it was cracked up to be.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them all for a bit. They've all got homes with the BBC and such
A/N: So, first time writing/posting a fic. It's unbeta'd, so I apologise for any mistakes, and there's sure to be some. Mostly I hope it makes some sort of sense. A little nervous about all this, but any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks!
just different.
I
"Oh, she knows."
There is no wind anymore.
He’s left her behind; after everything - after ghosts and werewolves, the past and the future, and the end of the world, oh, so many times. The end of the universe. They were the stuff of legend. Mutt and Jeff. Shiver and Shake. He made her decision for her. She’d not even said goodbye.
And she can only think it’s funny that his footprints have already been erased. He’d never been.
Then he grabs her hand. She turns to him, and for one single second everything is perfect. Except,
“I love you,” he says again.
“Quite right, too.”
II
“You are inferior. Man will be reborn as Cyberman, but you will perish under maximum deletion. Delete! Delete! Delete! Delete!”
Mornings always hurt the worst, because then he wakes up. Then there are the sounds of breakfast from the floor below, echoing up the staircases, and along the corridors that were never made for running; People chattering, the rush of water, metal against metal, glass shattering when someone slips. Familiar sounds. The last time he was here, in this house, those sounds played out differently. They were warnings of danger, of something gone wrong. Very mauve sounds, he thinks once. He doesn’t listen to them anymore.
He doesn’t do that anymore.
His heart beats, and somewhere else his hearts beat.
III
“Good different or bad different?”
She comes home from work this one time, and he’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by what’s left of…she doesn’t know. Hopefully it wasn’t important. Not that anyone’s likely to notice, save the cook (because Jackie swore off cooking forever when she came here) and she’s sure no one will even think twice about the things that disappear in this household. She tries not to.
He’s piecing bits together, and his brow is furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly open just like she remembers.
She wants to ask him what exactly he thinks he’s doing, but words are harder with him here.
He looks at her, and she knows he knows that.
IV
“How long have we got?” “About two minutes”.
Sometimes he hates her. And he hates him. And it’s then he knows why he was sent away.
But he tries, and he thinks that has to count for something. He hopes.
His feet don’t stop moving, but he stays. His blood pounds and he releases a breath held, now gasping for air. He still remembers a past that’s his but not quite, and he still feels a world turn that could be his, but won’t be. This body can’t support him, and he knows that with every breath it dies a little, and he’s out of time.
But then, he never had any to begin with.
V
“Never forget, Doctor, you did this! I name you forever! You are the Destroyer of Worlds!”
Rose hates starting from scratch, and she thinks that she’s not enough anyway. He changed himself, and even then he still failed. Because if he’s only himself then he should have waited. But he didn’t, because he isn’t.
And in some ways he’s not so very different. In some ways he’s identical. He talks to drown the silence, but he only ever says what she wants to hear. Those words that don’t need to be said.
His hand fits hers, but they go nowhere. He’s nowhere. And she slips from his grasp. He has twice the blood on his hands.
VI
“I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi gods and would-be gods; out of all that - out of that whole pantheon - if I believe in one thing... just one thing... I believe in her!”
Adam Tyler looks in the mirror, and grins. Blue and brown against his pale skin. All stolen - name, suit, and self. He feels better if thinks of them like that. At least that way he took them for himself, and they weren’t forced upon him by accident, or because of some false destiny. All are punishments at least, and if nothing else, a reminder. Not that he’s ever likely to forget.
It’s like this, and he knows that it’s the only way for her fantastic life. He’s known that three times before, but he thinks that maybe this is finally the right decision.
Clipped wings, and in a cage, but that’s why he stays.
Title: just different
Author: teddy_tips
Rating: PG
Warning! Spoilers for 4x13
Characters: Rose, and Alt!Ten
Summary: Snapshots into a life unexpected, and perhaps not all it was cracked up to be.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them all for a bit. They've all got homes with the BBC and such
A/N: So, first time writing/posting a fic. It's unbeta'd, so I apologise for any mistakes, and there's sure to be some. Mostly I hope it makes some sort of sense. A little nervous about all this, but any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks!
just different.
I
"Oh, she knows."
There is no wind anymore.
He’s left her behind; after everything - after ghosts and werewolves, the past and the future, and the end of the world, oh, so many times. The end of the universe. They were the stuff of legend. Mutt and Jeff. Shiver and Shake. He made her decision for her. She’d not even said goodbye.
And she can only think it’s funny that his footprints have already been erased. He’d never been.
Then he grabs her hand. She turns to him, and for one single second everything is perfect. Except,
“I love you,” he says again.
“Quite right, too.”
II
“You are inferior. Man will be reborn as Cyberman, but you will perish under maximum deletion. Delete! Delete! Delete! Delete!”
Mornings always hurt the worst, because then he wakes up. Then there are the sounds of breakfast from the floor below, echoing up the staircases, and along the corridors that were never made for running; People chattering, the rush of water, metal against metal, glass shattering when someone slips. Familiar sounds. The last time he was here, in this house, those sounds played out differently. They were warnings of danger, of something gone wrong. Very mauve sounds, he thinks once. He doesn’t listen to them anymore.
He doesn’t do that anymore.
His heart beats, and somewhere else his hearts beat.
III
“Good different or bad different?”
She comes home from work this one time, and he’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by what’s left of…she doesn’t know. Hopefully it wasn’t important. Not that anyone’s likely to notice, save the cook (because Jackie swore off cooking forever when she came here) and she’s sure no one will even think twice about the things that disappear in this household. She tries not to.
He’s piecing bits together, and his brow is furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly open just like she remembers.
She wants to ask him what exactly he thinks he’s doing, but words are harder with him here.
He looks at her, and she knows he knows that.
IV
“How long have we got?” “About two minutes”.
Sometimes he hates her. And he hates him. And it’s then he knows why he was sent away.
But he tries, and he thinks that has to count for something. He hopes.
His feet don’t stop moving, but he stays. His blood pounds and he releases a breath held, now gasping for air. He still remembers a past that’s his but not quite, and he still feels a world turn that could be his, but won’t be. This body can’t support him, and he knows that with every breath it dies a little, and he’s out of time.
But then, he never had any to begin with.
V
“Never forget, Doctor, you did this! I name you forever! You are the Destroyer of Worlds!”
Rose hates starting from scratch, and she thinks that she’s not enough anyway. He changed himself, and even then he still failed. Because if he’s only himself then he should have waited. But he didn’t, because he isn’t.
And in some ways he’s not so very different. In some ways he’s identical. He talks to drown the silence, but he only ever says what she wants to hear. Those words that don’t need to be said.
His hand fits hers, but they go nowhere. He’s nowhere. And she slips from his grasp. He has twice the blood on his hands.
VI
“I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi gods and would-be gods; out of all that - out of that whole pantheon - if I believe in one thing... just one thing... I believe in her!”
Adam Tyler looks in the mirror, and grins. Blue and brown against his pale skin. All stolen - name, suit, and self. He feels better if thinks of them like that. At least that way he took them for himself, and they weren’t forced upon him by accident, or because of some false destiny. All are punishments at least, and if nothing else, a reminder. Not that he’s ever likely to forget.
It’s like this, and he knows that it’s the only way for her fantastic life. He’s known that three times before, but he thinks that maybe this is finally the right decision.
Clipped wings, and in a cage, but that’s why he stays.