(no subject)
Glimpses, 10/Rose, 9/Rose, G.
"You're not real," he says again, his eyes closed.
"No, I'm not," she says, pressing a kiss to his forehead as bright light engulfs her. 1,267 words.
A/N: I used both the picture prompts plus the Lykke Li video as inspiration for this one. I was supposed to write more, but after these first three, my writing prowess fizzled out and everything I wrote ended up being rubbish. :/ Anyways, uh, first post here. First fic too, in fact, so forgive me if it's a bit terrible. :P
xxx
On the fifth try, Rose finds herself in front of a sweets shop, a shelf of sweets covered in pastel-colored wrappers gleaming from the windows.
A boy and a girl rush out the door and slam into her, nearly knocking her backwards.
The boy looks about eight, the girl three, both with messy brown hair and begging her to buy them the chocolate-covered strawberries on display. She's about to tell them they've got the wrong person until she looks down and sees a replica of her own hazel eyes in theirs. She steps back, realizing she’s in the wrong universe. The children hang on to her, grasping her hands, and Rose almost wants to stay and pretend that this perfect life is hers.
But she can't.
She tears herself away, wincing at the look of hurt in the faces of her-the other Rose’s-children.
“I’m not your mum,” she whispers sadly at the confused pair. The shop bell rings as a pair of customers exit, and Rose finds herself face to face with the Doctor and… herself.
"How many times have I told you two not to wander--" the Doctor starts, until he catches sight of Rose. His head swivels from her to the Rose by his side and back again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. She would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression if it were another time and place, but for now she can only blink away tears at the scene, this family that will never be hers.
“I’ve got to go,” she says, turning away. As she sees the flash of light that will take her back to Pete’s world, the other Rose grabs her hand and squeezes tightly.
“Don’t ever give up,” she says as Rose begins to fade away.
“Never,” she replies, and the word seems to hang in the air, the weight of it heavy with its promise.
xxx
On the twenty-seventh try she lands in a train booth, the Doctor sitting in the seat across from her. He’s not jumping for joy, or hugging her, or telling her how happy he is to see her, and Rose knows immediately that something is wrong. Instead, the Doctor is eerily quiet, hands folded neatly on the table separating them, eyes fixed on the window. Rose looks out, seeing the scenery of snow-covered pine trees blurring into lines of green and white as the train rushes past. She doesn’t say anything, because she honestly doesn’t know what to say.
“I figured I’d see you again,” the Doctor says quietly, eyes never leaving the window.
Rose doesn’t know what to reply to this. Wasn’t it him, after all, who had told her that it was impossible?
“I thought that maybe one day you’d go away, that maybe one day I’d forgive myself-” He chokes a bit at the end, and Rose wants to lace her fingers through his, but she holds back.
The Doctor closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. He’s not his usual happy, hyper self. He’s different. Somber. Sad. Even his blue suit reflects it. Rose thinks she likes the brown one better.
“Sometimes I wish you were real, Rose,” he whispers painfully.
“I am real,” Rose insists. “I’m here. I came back.”
“You’re dead. And it’s my fault.” A tear slides down his cheek, but Rose is too confused to react.
“I’m not dead. I’m right here. Doctor, look at me!” She says the last words sharply, angrily. This wasn’t how their reunion played out in her mind.
He turns away from the window and stares at her, and Rose can see the full weight of his 900-something years reflected in his ancient eyes.
“I see you everywhere Rose. I see your face in every crowd, in every street corner. I hear your laugh sounding through the halls of the TARDIS. I see you standing beside me every time I look at myself in the mirror. You’re not real, Rose. You’re gone.”
“I’m not,” Rose says sadly, as she realizes the implications of his words. “I’m not dead.”
“You died in Canary Wharf. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t bring you back. But you’re still here, and it hurts.” He buries his face in his hands, and Rose can see the stubble adorning his jaw, the wrinkles in his blue suit, the deep, dark circles under his eyes.
It would be so desperately easy to stay with this Doctor, to comfort him. She’d tell him she’d survived by some sort of miracle, and she’d heal him and love him and they’d be the Doctor and Rose again, gallivanting through the universe.
But she can’t. She has her Doctor to get back to. She makes her decision, even if it tears her heart in two.
“You’re not real,” he says again, his eyes still closed.
“No, I’m not,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead as bright light engulfs her.
When the Doctor opens his eyes, the booth is empty.
xxx
On the thirty-fourth try she looks around and discovers she’s landed in a snow-covered forest, and she curses under her breath as a breeze sweeps by; her blue leather jacket an inadequate source of warmth in the chilly weather.
She walks around a bit, clutching her arms tightly around her middle. She’s about to give up and get out of this frozen wasteland until someone hurtles into her.
“Sorry,” the man says in a clear Northern accent. He scrambles off of her, all leather and Doc Martens, and Rose half-expects him to grab her hand and say, “Run!”
Instead, he takes off, running pell-mell into the opposite direction. “You should probably run!” he yells over his shoulder, and it’s only then Rose notices the angry mob, complete with pitchforks and torches, running in her direction.
“Bugger,” she swears before running after him.
She’s a fast runner. She’s had plenty of practice, after all. She soon spots the Doctor’s tall frame a few meters ahead of her. “Wait!” she yells, but her voice fades in the winter air and he doesn’t hear her.
“Even in the wrong bloody universe I still have to save your arse!” She yells in frustration. She could very well just leave him behind and go back, but she won’t because she’s Rose and he’s the Doctor and she saves him, every time.
She kicks of her trainers, not caring if they were her best pair or that she’s getting her socks all wet, and runs faster, putting all her effort into it. Finally, she catches up, coming up near enough to hurtle herself on him and roll themselves behind a nearby boulder. He starts to protest, opening his mouth, but Rose covers it with her hand and tells him, quite politely, to shut up. The mob rushes past, yelling in Celtic, and Rose stands, helping the Doctor to his feet.
He’s about to say something, most likely an I-don’t-need-your-help speech a la big-eared Doctor style, but Rose doesn’t want to hear any of it. She takes his hand and laces her fingers through his, looking up to meet his curious expression.
“Can you feel that? The turn of the earth? The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, hurtling around the sun at another sixty seven thousand. I know you can feel it. You think we're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And, if you let go...”
She lets go of his hand. “If you let go, I’m always here to pull you back again," she says, smiling. “I’m Rose Tyler, I work at Hendrik’s on Regent Street. I live in the Powell Estates, in London, in the year 2005. I'm about to be murdered by a bunch of plastic zombies in a basement. Go tell me to run."
She stands on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, and she can see his icy blue eyes filled with a mix of confusion and wonder. She smiles wistfully and turns away, stepping into the light that takes her home.
xxx