(no subject)
The Heart That You Call Home, Rose/Ten, rating g
This kind of, um, got away from me a bit. I hope it didn't stray too far from the prompt. Also, AU after Doomsday.
The feeling that courses through him upon that sight is utterly indescribable. It feels less like an emotion and more like something alive, something clawing at his insides for freedom., 517 words
Nine years after Bad Wolf Bay, two years and six months too late, he returns to her.
Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is long and loosely curled. She looks different than he's ever seen her, and for him this is saying a lot. He thinks of all the different costumes he's seen her wear: the puffy dresses and blue jeans, even his own suit on one memorable occasion, but this isn't the same. This isn't pretend. She's changed subtly; even from across the hall he can tell that. The knowledge burns him.
The man she's with is average enough. Tall, dark blond hair, ruddy complexion and a pleasant smile. He's already facing her when the Doctor steps in unnoticed, and he's clasping both of her hands in his. The feeling that courses through him upon that sight is utterly indescribable. It feels less like an emotion and more like something alive, something clawing at his insides for freedom. It's jealousy, plain and simple, and rage, and heartbreak. Emotions he can't allow to live or else they would grow independent from him, making his decisions and wrecking his hard work. Looking at them makes it hard to remember that though. Looking at them feels like losing his planet again, and he didn't deal well with that the first go round.
He shifts, and when Rose starts to speak he decides to leave. He's heard her vow before, on that beach so long ago she promised forever, and he can't stand the idea of listening to her make a similar promise to someone else. He steps out of the church, stands a moment on the stairs, blinks back tears.
He moves quickly when the wedding bells begin to toll, walking to the TARDIS in time with the heavy clangs. He feels separated from the world but somehow those deep sounds still burrow their way inside his brain, almost ticking, steady like a clock winding down.
In his dreams, she had always been walking away from him. Now he sees all along it was him.
Rose Tyler, no Rose Davis, stops on the first step of the church as the rice rains down on her, her smile frozen as her head tilts, listening, always listening, and shocked at what she thinks she may be hearing. She doesn't give herself time to think about what it might look like, just disengages her hand from that of her new husband and bolts, skirt in hand. She races around the corner, looking frantically for what she knows must be there, what she's been wishing to be there ever since that day nine years ago when she lost her heart on a stretch of beach in Norway.
Nothing.
The heartbreak comes back in a tidal wave of emotion. Disappointment courses all the way through her until she cannot hold herself up and crouches, fighting her tears. The wedding bells are still tolling and she can hear them, the distant steady drum of them in the back of her head.
They sound like a clock, slow and steady.
They sound like the end.
This kind of, um, got away from me a bit. I hope it didn't stray too far from the prompt. Also, AU after Doomsday.
The feeling that courses through him upon that sight is utterly indescribable. It feels less like an emotion and more like something alive, something clawing at his insides for freedom., 517 words
Nine years after Bad Wolf Bay, two years and six months too late, he returns to her.
Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is long and loosely curled. She looks different than he's ever seen her, and for him this is saying a lot. He thinks of all the different costumes he's seen her wear: the puffy dresses and blue jeans, even his own suit on one memorable occasion, but this isn't the same. This isn't pretend. She's changed subtly; even from across the hall he can tell that. The knowledge burns him.
The man she's with is average enough. Tall, dark blond hair, ruddy complexion and a pleasant smile. He's already facing her when the Doctor steps in unnoticed, and he's clasping both of her hands in his. The feeling that courses through him upon that sight is utterly indescribable. It feels less like an emotion and more like something alive, something clawing at his insides for freedom. It's jealousy, plain and simple, and rage, and heartbreak. Emotions he can't allow to live or else they would grow independent from him, making his decisions and wrecking his hard work. Looking at them makes it hard to remember that though. Looking at them feels like losing his planet again, and he didn't deal well with that the first go round.
He shifts, and when Rose starts to speak he decides to leave. He's heard her vow before, on that beach so long ago she promised forever, and he can't stand the idea of listening to her make a similar promise to someone else. He steps out of the church, stands a moment on the stairs, blinks back tears.
He moves quickly when the wedding bells begin to toll, walking to the TARDIS in time with the heavy clangs. He feels separated from the world but somehow those deep sounds still burrow their way inside his brain, almost ticking, steady like a clock winding down.
In his dreams, she had always been walking away from him. Now he sees all along it was him.
Rose Tyler, no Rose Davis, stops on the first step of the church as the rice rains down on her, her smile frozen as her head tilts, listening, always listening, and shocked at what she thinks she may be hearing. She doesn't give herself time to think about what it might look like, just disengages her hand from that of her new husband and bolts, skirt in hand. She races around the corner, looking frantically for what she knows must be there, what she's been wishing to be there ever since that day nine years ago when she lost her heart on a stretch of beach in Norway.
Nothing.
The heartbreak comes back in a tidal wave of emotion. Disappointment courses all the way through her until she cannot hold herself up and crouches, fighting her tears. The wedding bells are still tolling and she can hear them, the distant steady drum of them in the back of her head.
They sound like a clock, slow and steady.
They sound like the end.