(no subject)
Beautiful Paradox, alt!Tenth Doctor/Rose, PG
It's such a foreign emotion it takes him several seconds to recognize it..., 695 words
It's such a foreign emotion it takes him several seconds to recognize it, and it begins as a painful twist in his guts, moving up like indigestion to tug at his heart and finally settling in his brain to take root and grow. The Doctor remembers feeling this way quite often when he first met Rose - she of the boyfriend and thick mascara, she of the pretty boys back before he was one. Maybe 'disused' is a better adjective for the emotion of jealousy than 'foreign'.
Humanoid, check. Handsome (even with tiny antennae wiggling at each side of his forehead), check. A time traveller, check. If Rose Tyler has a type then this most recent guest to the planet Earth, the Torchwood Institute specifically, suits that type to a T. His name is unpronounceable to humans, he says. “Try me,” the Doctor says in a low voice, and the alien laughs. And does Rose laugh along with him? Yes, she does.
If there's one thing he's never gotten used to about this universe, it's the fact that his introduction fails to produce that awestruck recognition he remembers. “I'm the Doctor,” receives only a polite smile from this one, when what the Doctor would really like is to see him flinch and cower and back away. Away from Rose, especially.
“I like that,” the stranger says. “Going by titles. You could call me the Visitor?” He speaks this last into Rose's ear, and again she laughs, a little too loudly the Doctor thinks. It's all diplomatic relations after that and the Doctor is little use with no languages to translate and no alien customs to explain. He knocks off early and finds himself at a pub down the road, scowling into a pint of lager.
“I am not interested in your female,” the Visitor says in a friendly voice from the stool next to his, startling the Doctor so badly his hand jerks and sloshes foamy beer down the front of his blue suit. “And she's not interested in me,” he continues. Catching the Doctor's puzzled expression, he explains: “Empath.”
“She's not my female,” the Doctor says, sullenly. “She's just...Rose.”
Minutes pass in silence as they sip their drinks. “When I first came to your planet,” the alien next to him says finally, “it was 150 years from now. She's still with you then, you know.” The Doctor snorts derisively. “You were not much older than you are now, actually, the first time I met you both, and your...what did you call it? TARDIS.”
The Doctor chokes on his lager. “What?”
“Built it yourself, you said, soon after the birth of your...” The Visitor's antennae twitch nervously, and he looks down into his empty glass. “Oh dear. I've said too much, haven't I? Alien intoxicants never agree with me.” Still sputtering, the Doctor struggles to regain the power of speech he lost at the word 'TARDIS', but the stranger is rising to leave.
“Jealousy is such an ugly emotion,” the other alien says, dropping coins with strange writing on the bar. “You're all she thinks about, you know. Even before you save this universe, years from now.” He places something wrapped in thin cloth in front of the Doctor. “You asked me to give you this.” He winks, and his antennae seem to bow. “Be well.”
He feels the TARDIS coral before he unwraps it - a beautiful little paradox, only existing because of a hiccup in time where he keeps sending it back to himself through this friendly stranger he'd earlier wished he could kill with the power of his mind. The Doctor smiles at the delightful, magical absurdity of his life as his mobile phone buzzes with a text message alert: “When R U coming home? Miss U. Love - R”
Jealousy is an ugly emotion, he decides as he pays up, pocketing the Visitor's coins and resolving to give them back to him someday. Friendship. Love. Hope. Yeah, those are much better.
The Doctor whistles cheerfully to himself as he leaves the pub, going home to Rose, the beginnings of his TARDIS warming his thigh through the thin material of his trouser pocket.
It's such a foreign emotion it takes him several seconds to recognize it..., 695 words
It's such a foreign emotion it takes him several seconds to recognize it, and it begins as a painful twist in his guts, moving up like indigestion to tug at his heart and finally settling in his brain to take root and grow. The Doctor remembers feeling this way quite often when he first met Rose - she of the boyfriend and thick mascara, she of the pretty boys back before he was one. Maybe 'disused' is a better adjective for the emotion of jealousy than 'foreign'.
Humanoid, check. Handsome (even with tiny antennae wiggling at each side of his forehead), check. A time traveller, check. If Rose Tyler has a type then this most recent guest to the planet Earth, the Torchwood Institute specifically, suits that type to a T. His name is unpronounceable to humans, he says. “Try me,” the Doctor says in a low voice, and the alien laughs. And does Rose laugh along with him? Yes, she does.
If there's one thing he's never gotten used to about this universe, it's the fact that his introduction fails to produce that awestruck recognition he remembers. “I'm the Doctor,” receives only a polite smile from this one, when what the Doctor would really like is to see him flinch and cower and back away. Away from Rose, especially.
“I like that,” the stranger says. “Going by titles. You could call me the Visitor?” He speaks this last into Rose's ear, and again she laughs, a little too loudly the Doctor thinks. It's all diplomatic relations after that and the Doctor is little use with no languages to translate and no alien customs to explain. He knocks off early and finds himself at a pub down the road, scowling into a pint of lager.
“I am not interested in your female,” the Visitor says in a friendly voice from the stool next to his, startling the Doctor so badly his hand jerks and sloshes foamy beer down the front of his blue suit. “And she's not interested in me,” he continues. Catching the Doctor's puzzled expression, he explains: “Empath.”
“She's not my female,” the Doctor says, sullenly. “She's just...Rose.”
Minutes pass in silence as they sip their drinks. “When I first came to your planet,” the alien next to him says finally, “it was 150 years from now. She's still with you then, you know.” The Doctor snorts derisively. “You were not much older than you are now, actually, the first time I met you both, and your...what did you call it? TARDIS.”
The Doctor chokes on his lager. “What?”
“Built it yourself, you said, soon after the birth of your...” The Visitor's antennae twitch nervously, and he looks down into his empty glass. “Oh dear. I've said too much, haven't I? Alien intoxicants never agree with me.” Still sputtering, the Doctor struggles to regain the power of speech he lost at the word 'TARDIS', but the stranger is rising to leave.
“Jealousy is such an ugly emotion,” the other alien says, dropping coins with strange writing on the bar. “You're all she thinks about, you know. Even before you save this universe, years from now.” He places something wrapped in thin cloth in front of the Doctor. “You asked me to give you this.” He winks, and his antennae seem to bow. “Be well.”
He feels the TARDIS coral before he unwraps it - a beautiful little paradox, only existing because of a hiccup in time where he keeps sending it back to himself through this friendly stranger he'd earlier wished he could kill with the power of his mind. The Doctor smiles at the delightful, magical absurdity of his life as his mobile phone buzzes with a text message alert: “When R U coming home? Miss U. Love - R”
Jealousy is an ugly emotion, he decides as he pays up, pocketing the Visitor's coins and resolving to give them back to him someday. Friendship. Love. Hope. Yeah, those are much better.
The Doctor whistles cheerfully to himself as he leaves the pub, going home to Rose, the beginnings of his TARDIS warming his thigh through the thin material of his trouser pocket.