Fic: Home
Title: Home
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Jackie, OC, Ten, Ten/Rose implied
Setting: Alt!Earth, post Doomsday,
Rating: PG (for one mild swear word)
Summary: What home looks like.
Beta: achuislemochroi
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC, used without permission.
Author's Notes: baby!fic. Part of the Hope!verse. Prompts and references listed below.
Previous Fics in the series:
Questions | At Hope's Door
And I always knew, what was right
I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see with such a different sight
The rain pelted the windows unrelentingly. Hope pressed her face and palms against the glass, not even caring about the smudges she left. The plants bowed under the fat drops and the puddles danced with ripples. She felt certain if she stared at them hard enough, she could make them slow down or, maybe, shoot back up into the clouds. Seemed like a lot of work though. She sat back on the window seat and sighed.
It felt like she had been trapped indoors for years. Gran had scoffed at her when she'd told her that and had suggested she go read a book. But she'd read all her books. Twice. She'd even nicked a book or two from Grandad's library. The one entitled Physics of the Impossible had a promising description but it was all theory and sadly lacking in practical instructions. She had the feeling that somewhere there was a school that could teach her real science but she couldn't quite get to it. Maybe it was that it didn't exist yet. (Where had that idea come from?) Hope shrugged off the thought and put it aside for later. She was desperately tired of sitting and thinking.
"'And all we could do was just sit, sit, sit, sit. And we did not like that. Not one little bit.'" she muttered to herself. She half-wished a talking cat would come to wreck her house. Gran would be upset of course. And a talking cat was probably an alien anyway, sooo....
She eyed the wide open space of the room and turned several cartwheels until the rapidly approaching wall made her cut the last one short. She landed in a heap on the floor. In her pocket, something snapped apart sharply. Alarmed, Hope dug into it and came up with a handful of chalk dust and a broken piece of chalk. Huh, she mused, that wouldn't happen if there were such a thing as trans-dimensional pockets. She swiped her hand against the polished wood floor leaving a long smudge of white behind. She stared at the mar, watching as her finger, almost of its own volition, began tracing complex circles and whirls in the dust. For an absurd second, she thought she could write down the secrets of the universe in those shapes, if only she could divine the right design. Then the spell popped like a balloon and she smeared the pattern away with a frustrated hand.
Feeling vaguely put out, she stood and scribbled 3.14159 on the chair rail. She stepped back and surveyed her work. The white numerals stood out starkly against the dark wood. A second later she had added 26535. Pleased with the effect, she swiftly covered the remaining length of the moulding with numbers, counting out fifty-one places until she encountered the corner. Daunted only a moment she turned, continuing around the room and stopping only when she reached her own writing. She spun around to take it in and giggled, delighted. It was the Ouroboros of Pi. The serpent eating its tail. Feeling silly and a bit naughty, she sketched out the Ouroboros where her numbers met, a glyph in both the practical and mystical senses, and stepped into the hall.
***
Nearly an hour later, she finished. She had covered the chair rail of the entire lower floor of the house with numbers and whatever random glyphs she hit upon to mark the junctions between rooms. She walked from room to room, marveling. It seemed so big, so important. There was something, something in all of this. Something she should know. It meant something but, try as she might, Hope could not grasp it. The writing seemed to pulse in her head; in her mind she could almost see it in three dimensions twisting and turning in on itself - a form, a fractal. Almost idly, because it helped her think, she began writing a line of Fibonacci's sequence below the first, trying to make sense of the puzzle. It was there, so close. So....
"Hope Tyler!" Gran shrieked. "What is all of this?"
"Damnit."
"Hope!"
Hope simply sighed loudly.
"You can take yourself to the kitchen right now and get a wet cloth to clean up this mess you made," as she started to move, Gran added, "and you can bring me the rest of your chalk. I think it needs a time out."
***
The Doctor was just finishing up a particularly tedious writing exercise in Gallifreyan. Hope's hand and eyes were beginning to ache as she tried to form the complicated lines. Her assertion that computers worked just as well as handwriting had been met with a smirk and a thirty minute lecture on the importance of fine motor skills.
"Last one," he announced to her relief. She looked up as he quickly wrote on the white board he had set up.
She looked at it and felt a shiver of recognition. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I know that one!"
"Really?" He looked towards her, pleased. "What does it mean, then?"
"It means.... I think it means 'home.'"
"Molto bene!"
She smiled, sheepishly. "Yeah, I sorta turned the ground floor of Gran's house into a giant symbol."
He looked intrigued. "Show me."
She concentrated on the events of that rainy day for a moment.
"Hope Tyler," he said with an air of mock censure, "your grandmother must have been beside herself."
"Yeah, just a bit."
"See, that proves it: you're a natural. You're simply trying too hard."
"How could I do that, though? Just know a word in a language I'd never heard?"
"Welllll, Gallifreyan is highly symbolic language. Picture writing, as it were. Except the images it evokes only make sense to a Gallifreyan mind. Just as no one really teaches a human child how to draw a house, you just knew how to form the word. Well, more or less."
"More or less?"
"A child's drawing of a house is not the same as an architect's blueprints, now is it?"
"So, what you're saying is that I scribbled?"
"Umm, pretty much, yeah."
Hope's lips turned down in a small pout.
"But it was a very nice scribble."
___________________________________________________
Further notes:
References: Physics of the Impossible
Song Lyrics: "Twilight" ~ Vanessa Carlton
The Cat in the Hat ~ Dr Seuss
Prompt: (Quoted from At Hope's Door )
She ran though some prime numbers half-wishing she had her chalk back. Unfortunately, her chalk was still on a time out after she'd ringed the house with the longest string of pi she could write before she ran out of house. It had been so glorious, covering that boring molding strip with numbers like a mathematical version of the pagan protection symbols she'd studied in RE. Or it had been until she'd been found out. Maybe starting the second row of Fibonacci's sequence had been a bit too far.
Next:
Gang Aft Agley | This Funny Old Life | Three Lives
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Jackie, OC, Ten, Ten/Rose implied
Setting: Alt!Earth, post Doomsday,
Rating: PG (for one mild swear word)
Summary: What home looks like.
Beta: achuislemochroi
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC, used without permission.
Author's Notes: baby!fic. Part of the Hope!verse. Prompts and references listed below.
Previous Fics in the series:
Questions | At Hope's Door
And I always knew, what was right
I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see with such a different sight
The rain pelted the windows unrelentingly. Hope pressed her face and palms against the glass, not even caring about the smudges she left. The plants bowed under the fat drops and the puddles danced with ripples. She felt certain if she stared at them hard enough, she could make them slow down or, maybe, shoot back up into the clouds. Seemed like a lot of work though. She sat back on the window seat and sighed.
It felt like she had been trapped indoors for years. Gran had scoffed at her when she'd told her that and had suggested she go read a book. But she'd read all her books. Twice. She'd even nicked a book or two from Grandad's library. The one entitled Physics of the Impossible had a promising description but it was all theory and sadly lacking in practical instructions. She had the feeling that somewhere there was a school that could teach her real science but she couldn't quite get to it. Maybe it was that it didn't exist yet. (Where had that idea come from?) Hope shrugged off the thought and put it aside for later. She was desperately tired of sitting and thinking.
"'And all we could do was just sit, sit, sit, sit. And we did not like that. Not one little bit.'" she muttered to herself. She half-wished a talking cat would come to wreck her house. Gran would be upset of course. And a talking cat was probably an alien anyway, sooo....
She eyed the wide open space of the room and turned several cartwheels until the rapidly approaching wall made her cut the last one short. She landed in a heap on the floor. In her pocket, something snapped apart sharply. Alarmed, Hope dug into it and came up with a handful of chalk dust and a broken piece of chalk. Huh, she mused, that wouldn't happen if there were such a thing as trans-dimensional pockets. She swiped her hand against the polished wood floor leaving a long smudge of white behind. She stared at the mar, watching as her finger, almost of its own volition, began tracing complex circles and whirls in the dust. For an absurd second, she thought she could write down the secrets of the universe in those shapes, if only she could divine the right design. Then the spell popped like a balloon and she smeared the pattern away with a frustrated hand.
Feeling vaguely put out, she stood and scribbled 3.14159 on the chair rail. She stepped back and surveyed her work. The white numerals stood out starkly against the dark wood. A second later she had added 26535. Pleased with the effect, she swiftly covered the remaining length of the moulding with numbers, counting out fifty-one places until she encountered the corner. Daunted only a moment she turned, continuing around the room and stopping only when she reached her own writing. She spun around to take it in and giggled, delighted. It was the Ouroboros of Pi. The serpent eating its tail. Feeling silly and a bit naughty, she sketched out the Ouroboros where her numbers met, a glyph in both the practical and mystical senses, and stepped into the hall.
***
Nearly an hour later, she finished. She had covered the chair rail of the entire lower floor of the house with numbers and whatever random glyphs she hit upon to mark the junctions between rooms. She walked from room to room, marveling. It seemed so big, so important. There was something, something in all of this. Something she should know. It meant something but, try as she might, Hope could not grasp it. The writing seemed to pulse in her head; in her mind she could almost see it in three dimensions twisting and turning in on itself - a form, a fractal. Almost idly, because it helped her think, she began writing a line of Fibonacci's sequence below the first, trying to make sense of the puzzle. It was there, so close. So....
"Hope Tyler!" Gran shrieked. "What is all of this?"
"Damnit."
"Hope!"
Hope simply sighed loudly.
"You can take yourself to the kitchen right now and get a wet cloth to clean up this mess you made," as she started to move, Gran added, "and you can bring me the rest of your chalk. I think it needs a time out."
***
The Doctor was just finishing up a particularly tedious writing exercise in Gallifreyan. Hope's hand and eyes were beginning to ache as she tried to form the complicated lines. Her assertion that computers worked just as well as handwriting had been met with a smirk and a thirty minute lecture on the importance of fine motor skills.
"Last one," he announced to her relief. She looked up as he quickly wrote on the white board he had set up.
She looked at it and felt a shiver of recognition. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I know that one!"
"Really?" He looked towards her, pleased. "What does it mean, then?"
"It means.... I think it means 'home.'"
"Molto bene!"
She smiled, sheepishly. "Yeah, I sorta turned the ground floor of Gran's house into a giant symbol."
He looked intrigued. "Show me."
She concentrated on the events of that rainy day for a moment.
"Hope Tyler," he said with an air of mock censure, "your grandmother must have been beside herself."
"Yeah, just a bit."
"See, that proves it: you're a natural. You're simply trying too hard."
"How could I do that, though? Just know a word in a language I'd never heard?"
"Welllll, Gallifreyan is highly symbolic language. Picture writing, as it were. Except the images it evokes only make sense to a Gallifreyan mind. Just as no one really teaches a human child how to draw a house, you just knew how to form the word. Well, more or less."
"More or less?"
"A child's drawing of a house is not the same as an architect's blueprints, now is it?"
"So, what you're saying is that I scribbled?"
"Umm, pretty much, yeah."
Hope's lips turned down in a small pout.
"But it was a very nice scribble."
___________________________________________________
Further notes:
References: Physics of the Impossible
Song Lyrics: "Twilight" ~ Vanessa Carlton
The Cat in the Hat ~ Dr Seuss
Prompt: (Quoted from At Hope's Door )
She ran though some prime numbers half-wishing she had her chalk back. Unfortunately, her chalk was still on a time out after she'd ringed the house with the longest string of pi she could write before she ran out of house. It had been so glorious, covering that boring molding strip with numbers like a mathematical version of the pagan protection symbols she'd studied in RE. Or it had been until she'd been found out. Maybe starting the second row of Fibonacci's sequence had been a bit too far.
Next:
Gang Aft Agley | This Funny Old Life | Three Lives