In Dreams [1/1]
Title: In Dreams [1/1]
Pairing: Rose/Ten [Doctor Who]
Rating: PG
Summary: She knows it has to end. They have had too many goodbyes already.
Author’s Note: You knew this was coming. It's only a short one. Post Doomsday.
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Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning ‘Sonnet VI’
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She often dreams about the Doctor, but she never mentions it to anyone. Not anymore.
Her Mum thinks she should be moving on, and a subtle frown crinkles her face whenever she brings up stories of the past. She’s not trying to stifle her memories, but she thinks it’s an unhealthy preoccupation (she doesn‘t use these words exactly, but that‘s more or less what she means). Rose hears her tell Pete - Dad - once, so she tries to stop mentioning it.
She still feels awkward talking to Mickey about him, though she knows he understands. He’s a fine man, Mickey Smith is. He saw them together firsthand, and he loved her enough to let her go.
Rose Tyler doesn’t give in easily. She isn’t made of glass. She knows she is doing good things at Torchwood. She is making a difference in the world. The universe, even. Not many shop assistants could say that.
She knows the dreams don’t mean anything. Not what she wants them to mean. He isn’t coming to find her again, to finish what he started to say. To take her away on another adventure. The void is closed. Forever and ever.
The memories of those adventures are starting to flicker and fade, become the frightful fancies of a young girl, a girl who chased dragons and princesses with her shining knight in armour by her side. Impossibilities made possible.
None of her childhood fairytales ever ended like this.
She knows she has to let them go. If she lets them go then maybe his face will stop haunting her at night. Mouthing things she has no ability to hear.
When daylight fades and tiredness envelopes her, she reluctantly crawls under the covers and tells herself that she won’t see him tonight. He’ll be gone for good.
Of course his smiling, chiselled face hovers in her vision the moment she closes her eyes, and the words are there again. The words she never got to hear. Words his lips linger over with meaningful precision.
In her dream she can touch him, and she does, lets her fingertips graze the smooth surface of his cheek, admiring the mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he stands still beneath her ministrations.
She knows it has to end. They have had too many goodbyes already.
“I have to go,” she says, staring into his face, watching the way his eyes penetrate hers. The way they see things others never see.
He nods, strongly and surely, and this time when he speaks, she can hear the words, and it fills her heart with sorrow. “I know.”
Then he does something he has never done, never in all her dreams, never in reality, not like this. He lowers his head, and lightly, gently takes her lips. He tastes of tears and the universe. A universe no longer within her reach.
He steps back and slowly breaks the kiss, grinning at her calmly, that light, carefree smile they have shared so many times. She feels the corners of her lips tug up tentatively.
He lifts his hand in a silent, cheery wave. There is something almost childlike about him. He has lived hundreds of years, and it’s still there, still in him. It’s part of what he is. What she loves about him.
She waves back, a slow, mournful waggle of her fingers. She blinks in surprise when he slowly vanishes, dissipating into air. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
She has always hated that expression.
When she opens her eyes, the darkness of her room surrounds her, and moonlight filters in from outside.
And she knows she is finally alone.
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