(no subject)
love, it seems, has triumphed over virtue, Ten/Rose, G
How did you say goodbye? Oh, he knew the words, in more languages than the stars in the sky. All of them seemed stuck in his throat, 767 words
The fog was so thick he could barely see, and he was glad for it. He didn't have to watch her leave. He wanted to give her the stars to dance with, to learn the wonders of universe once more through her eyes. His hearts somehow felt like they had been squeezed through a juicer, but it was better than let her play his sick game of tag with death. That night, they had almost been caught.
“Rose,” he said, the quiet word almost lost in the darkness. His black fedora tipped, obscuring his eyes, his hands going deep in the pockets of his coat. How did you say goodbye? Oh, he knew the words, in more languages than the stars in the sky. All of them seemed stuck in his throat. He didn't have to explain himself, he really didn't, he could just turn away and leave, as he had done countless times before her.
He couldn't.
“You have to go.”
“Wha-”
Her skirt lifted when she turned, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. The white dress she wore, now torn and dirty, was more than ten years too early for the period they had been in, and had spots of blood she had tried to hide. The question formed in her tongue, but he wouldn't let it out, not wanting to be convinced otherwise. It was what he did, his mission. The martyr, always alone. A curse. “It's your place, your world,” he sighed, “it's where you belong.”
Her eyes were thin slits, ruby-red mouth open in a scoff. He avoided her, examining the old graffiti in the brick wall instead. Bad Wolf. “Don't you see? You can't stay.” His mouth twitched in a forced smile, while his thoughts held memories of nine hundred years and two more. “We'll always have Barcelona.”
He only heard the sound and felt the pain of her slap.
“You going mad?” Rose glared at him, voice going an octave or three higher than it normally was. “Or is that huge brain of yours fried, Doctor?!”
Face contorted in a scowl, he cradled a stinging cheek in his hand. Fire, ice and rage trampled over each other in his tone as he spoke, “Rose, I'm serious. You are going back home.”
“Oooh you're going home, Rose. Ooh it's not safe, Rose, you're going to die, Rose, the green midgets are going to eat your brain, Rose,” she mocked, performing an acid impression of him. “What's gonna be next, hmm? A spaceship is gonna run me over? Am I gonna choke on my intergalactic coke?”
“This is an important matter, Rose! Do not make fun of it!” Stubborn ape! Couldn't she see how fragile she was? Only human, still a child, but, of course, the younger they were, the more they thought they knew. “I'm a Time Lord. I know better. Go.”
“Ha! Think you're so impressive, don't ya? His Lord-ness, going around saving people-- aliens-- same difference,” she huffed, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear, facing him with her nose defiantly in the air.
“I know it's dangerous. I knew from the second I went with you. But I'm never leaving you, hear? I'm helping you. I know I could die at any moment, on some planet with a name I can't even spell. Mum would never even know. Do I look like I regret it?”
She didn't. He wanted to hold her by the shoulders and give her a good shake for it. His people had burnt by his hands. Tragedy walked on his wake. The Oncoming Storm. He should give her a piece of his mind, this peroxide blonde shopgirl who entered his life swinging from a rope and suddenly thought she owned everything. The lecture didn't come out, because, in a little and often ignored corner of his hearts, he knew she did. He swallowed, throat dry, hoping she never found out.
“Good, 'cos I'm staying. With you,” she said with a pointed stare and firm nod, and made her way to the TARDIS, heels clicking on the rough pavement. The beginnings of a retort formed in his brain, but she was already inside. Only her blonde head peeked at him from the door. “So, coming? We're having chips next. I’ll pay.”
He adjusted the fedora on his head, not wanting to smile but doing it anyway, entering the blue box, heart light but so, so heavy. On to the next adventure and maybe, just maybe, if he faked enough and looked the other way, the day she wouldn't be there would never come.
How did you say goodbye? Oh, he knew the words, in more languages than the stars in the sky. All of them seemed stuck in his throat, 767 words
The fog was so thick he could barely see, and he was glad for it. He didn't have to watch her leave. He wanted to give her the stars to dance with, to learn the wonders of universe once more through her eyes. His hearts somehow felt like they had been squeezed through a juicer, but it was better than let her play his sick game of tag with death. That night, they had almost been caught.
“Rose,” he said, the quiet word almost lost in the darkness. His black fedora tipped, obscuring his eyes, his hands going deep in the pockets of his coat. How did you say goodbye? Oh, he knew the words, in more languages than the stars in the sky. All of them seemed stuck in his throat. He didn't have to explain himself, he really didn't, he could just turn away and leave, as he had done countless times before her.
He couldn't.
“You have to go.”
“Wha-”
Her skirt lifted when she turned, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. The white dress she wore, now torn and dirty, was more than ten years too early for the period they had been in, and had spots of blood she had tried to hide. The question formed in her tongue, but he wouldn't let it out, not wanting to be convinced otherwise. It was what he did, his mission. The martyr, always alone. A curse. “It's your place, your world,” he sighed, “it's where you belong.”
Her eyes were thin slits, ruby-red mouth open in a scoff. He avoided her, examining the old graffiti in the brick wall instead. Bad Wolf. “Don't you see? You can't stay.” His mouth twitched in a forced smile, while his thoughts held memories of nine hundred years and two more. “We'll always have Barcelona.”
He only heard the sound and felt the pain of her slap.
“You going mad?” Rose glared at him, voice going an octave or three higher than it normally was. “Or is that huge brain of yours fried, Doctor?!”
Face contorted in a scowl, he cradled a stinging cheek in his hand. Fire, ice and rage trampled over each other in his tone as he spoke, “Rose, I'm serious. You are going back home.”
“Oooh you're going home, Rose. Ooh it's not safe, Rose, you're going to die, Rose, the green midgets are going to eat your brain, Rose,” she mocked, performing an acid impression of him. “What's gonna be next, hmm? A spaceship is gonna run me over? Am I gonna choke on my intergalactic coke?”
“This is an important matter, Rose! Do not make fun of it!” Stubborn ape! Couldn't she see how fragile she was? Only human, still a child, but, of course, the younger they were, the more they thought they knew. “I'm a Time Lord. I know better. Go.”
“Ha! Think you're so impressive, don't ya? His Lord-ness, going around saving people-- aliens-- same difference,” she huffed, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear, facing him with her nose defiantly in the air.
“I know it's dangerous. I knew from the second I went with you. But I'm never leaving you, hear? I'm helping you. I know I could die at any moment, on some planet with a name I can't even spell. Mum would never even know. Do I look like I regret it?”
She didn't. He wanted to hold her by the shoulders and give her a good shake for it. His people had burnt by his hands. Tragedy walked on his wake. The Oncoming Storm. He should give her a piece of his mind, this peroxide blonde shopgirl who entered his life swinging from a rope and suddenly thought she owned everything. The lecture didn't come out, because, in a little and often ignored corner of his hearts, he knew she did. He swallowed, throat dry, hoping she never found out.
“Good, 'cos I'm staying. With you,” she said with a pointed stare and firm nod, and made her way to the TARDIS, heels clicking on the rough pavement. The beginnings of a retort formed in his brain, but she was already inside. Only her blonde head peeked at him from the door. “So, coming? We're having chips next. I’ll pay.”
He adjusted the fedora on his head, not wanting to smile but doing it anyway, entering the blue box, heart light but so, so heavy. On to the next adventure and maybe, just maybe, if he faked enough and looked the other way, the day she wouldn't be there would never come.