FIC: The Girl on the Spaceship, Chapter 7
Hey folks: new username, but this is still basically adonde_fui. I have another chapter for y'all. I'm actually running out of steam, so I was wondering if anyone out there felt like being a beta of sorts--well, really part beta, part muse, part drill sergeant? I just need someone to bounce ideas off of.
Title: The Girl on the Spaceship
Author: sonacry, or if you're on fanfiction.net, Katydidit
Characters: Mickey, Rose/Ten
Rating: PG (a bit of swearing in this one...)
Spoilers: The Girl in the Fireplace
Summary: A look at Rose during and after The Girl in the Fireplace. Farly simple...
Just after she passed through the doorway, the Doctor found his legs and stood up, hurrying after her. She seemed so weary, so tired. She probably hadn’t slept at all last night, and he was responsible for this. He approached her bedroom door and tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. Well, he found himself thinking, quite a bit ashamed of himself, he’d already intruded on her thoughts, what was the big deal about her bedroom? He took out the sonic screwdriver and unlocked the door, stepping through into her room. Rose was slowly packing a bag, staring blankly at her hands, at the stuff she was packing. She was ignoring him. He knew it. He just couldn’t allow it-couldn’t let her go before she knew what was really happening.
“Rose…” he said softly, still standing in the doorway. She went on ignoring him. “I can’t let you do this, Rose. Please…you can’t leave.”
This got her-as he’d hoped it would. She looked away from the bag and up at him, with anger in her eyes, contrasting with the fact that they were red and puffy. Before she said anything, though, the anger passed, and she seemed to deflate-it was a strange sight: one he might have wanted to study, if he hadn’t known exactly why she’d done that. Still, he took this as a good sign-she was looking at him now, after all. That was a step up. Sort of. Until she dropped her eyes once more, looking at the bag. At least now she was just poking at it, fumbling with a top that was sticking out of it.
“Why?” she asked softly. He braced himself for the biting end to that sentence-the one she’d delivered earlier, in the control room, but it didn’t come. Silence fell between them, and he finally looked up in surprise. He’d never understood the human fixation on their hearts-broken hearts, loving with all their hearts, knowing it in their hearts, etc-but now he actually felt a sort of pain in his own two hearts, the pain of realizing that she really and truly didn’t realize what she meant to him.
How do you express that to someone? Shouldn’t they already know. He lowered his eyes to the floor and went over to perch on the edge of her bed. Mickey had been right. Initially, he’d just thought he was being dramatic, or assuming the worst, or that he didn’t really know Rose at all, but…Mickey the Idiot had been…right.
“I’m sorry, Rose…” He still didn’t look up, and Rose didn’t step any closer to him, but the mood changed slightly, as though he could feel her curiosity, her confusion. Apologies didn’t usually come this naturally to him, but…well, he’d messed up just about everything now, and he was desperate to try to find some way to make it right. He looked over his shoulder at her, and saw that she was looking at him curiously-still somewhat cautious, of course, but at the same time…somewhat confused. He turned around, glad that at least she wasn’t ignoring him completely, and moved to the other side of the bed, to sit near her. She still didn’t move-he held her gaze, to try to keep her from running off again. Gently, he took her hand in his and pressed tender (for there was no other word for it) kisses to each of her knuckles. Now she moved to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She pulled away a little harder, but to no avail.
“Please, Doctor…” Rose whispered in a voice that betrayed the emotions she’d been trying to hide for so long. “Let me go…”
“I can’t, Rose,” the Doctor replied, just as quietly. He pulled her gently towards him, and she didn’t fight him. “I can’t let you go. I’m…not strong enough.” He heard her quick intake of breath and ventured a look up at her. She seemed almost too surprised to be hurt at the moment, and he took full advantage of that, rising to his feet, to cup her face in his hand. “I don’t know if I can even take you home, Rose. I’m too…selfish.”
Rose still said nothing, and would probably have looked away, if he wasn’t still holding her cheek. He brushed his fingertips lightly over her cheekbone, over her smooth, warm skin. He moved just a bit closer, rested his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know that,” he continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that…” All this time she’d been with him, and he’d been feeling like this about her, and he hadn’t made it clear enough. Talking about these sorts of things…it’d never been his thing-he’d never thought it was overly important. Now, though, he was seeing what, exactly, doing that could do to people. “I’m so sorry I failed you, Rose, but I need you to know this now. I need you here with me, Rose. I can’t…be here without you.”
He trailed off, lowering his eyes somewhat without letting his hand drop from her cheek. She drew in a breath, and he looked up, to study her reaction, but what he found in her expression rendered him speechless-her eyes were dark with…anger. Her eyebrows had drawn together, and she was…yes, she was glaring at him. Suddenly, she clenched her eyes shut and jerked away from him, only to move closer, pummeling his chest with her fists. He tried, without success, to take hold of her wrists, but she was moving too fast.
“Why?” she was demanding now, loudly-almost yelling. “Why didn’t you tell me this? Why did you wait until just now?” She managed a few more strikes, before her lack of sleep seemed to catch up with her, and she sank down onto the bed. He sat too, and tried to slide his arm around her waist, but she pushed him aside roughly.
“Rose, what’s wrong?” he asked, honestly perplexed out of his mind. This was as different from the reaction he’d been expecting as one could possibly get and still be a human being. She scoffed, looking up at him incredulously.
“Really, Doctor?” She asked, rising again to her feet, if not somewhat unsteadily. “Are you really asking me that, Doctor? All this time I’ve been here with you, and you couldn’t maybe have mentioned it in passing? You had to put me through all this, over and over again, without me ever knowing, always figuring you liked me for this bloody companionship rubbish and not for anything else? Making me spend all this bloody time laying awake in bed, calling myself an idiot for thinking this way?” Her knees seemed to buckle, and he was on his feet in an instant, but she’d already recovered, caught herself. “You’re lying, that’s what it is…” she mumbled, striding away from him and over to her closet. “Why would you lie about something like this, Doctor?” She stopped and turned to look at him again. He rose, walking slowly over to her, as one might approach a wildcat one happened upon.
“I’m not, Rose. I would never lie to you about this. Why would I ever lie to you, ever?” He felt something in his chest twisting painfully at this whole situation-the way Rose kept backing away from him, the knowledge that she didn’t believe the truest, most important words he’d ever spoken. He finally got close enough to touch her, and touch her he did, putting one hand on either of her hips and resting his forehead against hers. She wasn’t pushing him away-this was a good thing. He liked good things. He moved back slightly, and caught her eyes, and then, without breaking that precious link between them, moved forward once more, to press his lips lightly but urgently to hers. She had to know…she had…to know…
When he pulled back, he looked down once more, to gauge her reaction, and was rewarded with a rather serious smack to the face. It didn’t hurt so much as sting a little, but, still, it was hardly the reaction he was hoping for. It was at this moment, as his hand came up to his own cheek, that things seemed to click for Rose, and her eyes immediately filled with tears, as she moved closer to him, putting her hand on his wrist and stroking his cheek lightly, apologetically.
“Oh, Doctor, no, I’m sorry…” she was mumbling now, as she held him tightly, trying to tuck her head under his chin, to get as close as possible. “Are you alright? God, I’m a right terror, aren’t I?” She pulled away quickly, though she did take his hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss over and over again. There she was-there was his Rose. He caressed her cheek lightly, catching her eyes with a smile.
“There, now, are we alright again?” he asked. She nodded sheepishly and looked away from him. “Oi,” he mumbled almost tenderly, putting one finger under her chin to make her look at him. “What’s the matter?”
Rose looked up at him through those thick lashes of hers, and seemed to be formulating an answer, but before she could get the words out, her face paled right before his eyes, and she collapsed, sliding limply to the floor. Luckily, the Doctor reacted quickly, lifting her into his arms before she managed to hit the floor, and hurried out of the room.
Title: The Girl on the Spaceship
Author: sonacry, or if you're on fanfiction.net, Katydidit
Characters: Mickey, Rose/Ten
Rating: PG (a bit of swearing in this one...)
Spoilers: The Girl in the Fireplace
Summary: A look at Rose during and after The Girl in the Fireplace. Farly simple...
Just after she passed through the doorway, the Doctor found his legs and stood up, hurrying after her. She seemed so weary, so tired. She probably hadn’t slept at all last night, and he was responsible for this. He approached her bedroom door and tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. Well, he found himself thinking, quite a bit ashamed of himself, he’d already intruded on her thoughts, what was the big deal about her bedroom? He took out the sonic screwdriver and unlocked the door, stepping through into her room. Rose was slowly packing a bag, staring blankly at her hands, at the stuff she was packing. She was ignoring him. He knew it. He just couldn’t allow it-couldn’t let her go before she knew what was really happening.
“Rose…” he said softly, still standing in the doorway. She went on ignoring him. “I can’t let you do this, Rose. Please…you can’t leave.”
This got her-as he’d hoped it would. She looked away from the bag and up at him, with anger in her eyes, contrasting with the fact that they were red and puffy. Before she said anything, though, the anger passed, and she seemed to deflate-it was a strange sight: one he might have wanted to study, if he hadn’t known exactly why she’d done that. Still, he took this as a good sign-she was looking at him now, after all. That was a step up. Sort of. Until she dropped her eyes once more, looking at the bag. At least now she was just poking at it, fumbling with a top that was sticking out of it.
“Why?” she asked softly. He braced himself for the biting end to that sentence-the one she’d delivered earlier, in the control room, but it didn’t come. Silence fell between them, and he finally looked up in surprise. He’d never understood the human fixation on their hearts-broken hearts, loving with all their hearts, knowing it in their hearts, etc-but now he actually felt a sort of pain in his own two hearts, the pain of realizing that she really and truly didn’t realize what she meant to him.
How do you express that to someone? Shouldn’t they already know. He lowered his eyes to the floor and went over to perch on the edge of her bed. Mickey had been right. Initially, he’d just thought he was being dramatic, or assuming the worst, or that he didn’t really know Rose at all, but…Mickey the Idiot had been…right.
“I’m sorry, Rose…” He still didn’t look up, and Rose didn’t step any closer to him, but the mood changed slightly, as though he could feel her curiosity, her confusion. Apologies didn’t usually come this naturally to him, but…well, he’d messed up just about everything now, and he was desperate to try to find some way to make it right. He looked over his shoulder at her, and saw that she was looking at him curiously-still somewhat cautious, of course, but at the same time…somewhat confused. He turned around, glad that at least she wasn’t ignoring him completely, and moved to the other side of the bed, to sit near her. She still didn’t move-he held her gaze, to try to keep her from running off again. Gently, he took her hand in his and pressed tender (for there was no other word for it) kisses to each of her knuckles. Now she moved to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She pulled away a little harder, but to no avail.
“Please, Doctor…” Rose whispered in a voice that betrayed the emotions she’d been trying to hide for so long. “Let me go…”
“I can’t, Rose,” the Doctor replied, just as quietly. He pulled her gently towards him, and she didn’t fight him. “I can’t let you go. I’m…not strong enough.” He heard her quick intake of breath and ventured a look up at her. She seemed almost too surprised to be hurt at the moment, and he took full advantage of that, rising to his feet, to cup her face in his hand. “I don’t know if I can even take you home, Rose. I’m too…selfish.”
Rose still said nothing, and would probably have looked away, if he wasn’t still holding her cheek. He brushed his fingertips lightly over her cheekbone, over her smooth, warm skin. He moved just a bit closer, rested his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know that,” he continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that…” All this time she’d been with him, and he’d been feeling like this about her, and he hadn’t made it clear enough. Talking about these sorts of things…it’d never been his thing-he’d never thought it was overly important. Now, though, he was seeing what, exactly, doing that could do to people. “I’m so sorry I failed you, Rose, but I need you to know this now. I need you here with me, Rose. I can’t…be here without you.”
He trailed off, lowering his eyes somewhat without letting his hand drop from her cheek. She drew in a breath, and he looked up, to study her reaction, but what he found in her expression rendered him speechless-her eyes were dark with…anger. Her eyebrows had drawn together, and she was…yes, she was glaring at him. Suddenly, she clenched her eyes shut and jerked away from him, only to move closer, pummeling his chest with her fists. He tried, without success, to take hold of her wrists, but she was moving too fast.
“Why?” she was demanding now, loudly-almost yelling. “Why didn’t you tell me this? Why did you wait until just now?” She managed a few more strikes, before her lack of sleep seemed to catch up with her, and she sank down onto the bed. He sat too, and tried to slide his arm around her waist, but she pushed him aside roughly.
“Rose, what’s wrong?” he asked, honestly perplexed out of his mind. This was as different from the reaction he’d been expecting as one could possibly get and still be a human being. She scoffed, looking up at him incredulously.
“Really, Doctor?” She asked, rising again to her feet, if not somewhat unsteadily. “Are you really asking me that, Doctor? All this time I’ve been here with you, and you couldn’t maybe have mentioned it in passing? You had to put me through all this, over and over again, without me ever knowing, always figuring you liked me for this bloody companionship rubbish and not for anything else? Making me spend all this bloody time laying awake in bed, calling myself an idiot for thinking this way?” Her knees seemed to buckle, and he was on his feet in an instant, but she’d already recovered, caught herself. “You’re lying, that’s what it is…” she mumbled, striding away from him and over to her closet. “Why would you lie about something like this, Doctor?” She stopped and turned to look at him again. He rose, walking slowly over to her, as one might approach a wildcat one happened upon.
“I’m not, Rose. I would never lie to you about this. Why would I ever lie to you, ever?” He felt something in his chest twisting painfully at this whole situation-the way Rose kept backing away from him, the knowledge that she didn’t believe the truest, most important words he’d ever spoken. He finally got close enough to touch her, and touch her he did, putting one hand on either of her hips and resting his forehead against hers. She wasn’t pushing him away-this was a good thing. He liked good things. He moved back slightly, and caught her eyes, and then, without breaking that precious link between them, moved forward once more, to press his lips lightly but urgently to hers. She had to know…she had…to know…
When he pulled back, he looked down once more, to gauge her reaction, and was rewarded with a rather serious smack to the face. It didn’t hurt so much as sting a little, but, still, it was hardly the reaction he was hoping for. It was at this moment, as his hand came up to his own cheek, that things seemed to click for Rose, and her eyes immediately filled with tears, as she moved closer to him, putting her hand on his wrist and stroking his cheek lightly, apologetically.
“Oh, Doctor, no, I’m sorry…” she was mumbling now, as she held him tightly, trying to tuck her head under his chin, to get as close as possible. “Are you alright? God, I’m a right terror, aren’t I?” She pulled away quickly, though she did take his hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss over and over again. There she was-there was his Rose. He caressed her cheek lightly, catching her eyes with a smile.
“There, now, are we alright again?” he asked. She nodded sheepishly and looked away from him. “Oi,” he mumbled almost tenderly, putting one finger under her chin to make her look at him. “What’s the matter?”
Rose looked up at him through those thick lashes of hers, and seemed to be formulating an answer, but before she could get the words out, her face paled right before his eyes, and she collapsed, sliding limply to the floor. Luckily, the Doctor reacted quickly, lifting her into his arms before she managed to hit the floor, and hurried out of the room.