(no subject)
Title: The Path.
Author: Iby.
Rating: PG-15.
Spoilers: School Reunion.
Characters and Pairings: The Tenth Doctor, Rose; Rose/Ten.
Author's Notes: Based on the following quote:
You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords.
Summary: Rose proves to the Doctor just how very wring he was.
“You see, Paul? He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life with her, knew that she’d spend the rest of her life with him. The path for her was short and the path for him was long. Maybe what he did was brave or noble, and yeah, I think it was, but in the end, I believe he did it because he loved her, and he wanted whatever time he could have with her.”
This is dedicated to my mum.
You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords.
;
“It’s funny.”
The Doctor, who’d heard Rose creep into the Console Room, feigns surprise at her appearance. He isn’t quite sure why, perhaps to allow himself a few seconds to cobble together his strength - give her a hard time for sneaking up on him whilst he sets his story in order. Like when people asked for the question they couldn’t possibly answer to be repeated, even though they’d heard it perfectly clearly the first time, in order to buy a second to make something up.
“Rose! You startled me!” He makes an effort to look ruffled, before remembering that none is actually required for this body.
She raises an eyebrow and he knows he’d been had. Too clever by half, she is.
He finds himself fiddling with his tie. Burgundy today. “Er, you were saying something?”
She makes her way to the Captain’s Chair and sits herself in it matter-of-factly. Normally, she lounges around a bit, curls her legs up or, if she really slouches, touches the tips of her toes to the console. Now though, she’s sitting like a school-girl in the middle of a stern talking-to, her back straight, her knees together and her hands in her lap. It’s distinctly un-her, and it makes the Doctor squirm with worry.
“It’s funny. Here you are, standing before me. The Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. The Last of the Time Lords and Captain of this mighty ship.” She looks up at the time rotor affectionately, before looking back down to catch the Doctor’s gaze. “You’re unique. Brilliant.”
The Doctor is struck by the look in her eyes. They hold a wisdom in them that he’s never seen before. Had it always been in there? He’d always thought she was fantastic, but maybe, just maybe, he’d missed something.
She smiles sadly. “So, what’s funny is how incredibly, unbelievably, devastatingly wrong you are.”
“What!?” He tugs on the tie a little too tightly and nearly chokes himself.
“You’re wrong. You’re absolutely wrong, and what makes it even funnier is that I’m right.”
He ducks backwards, hoping to put a little bit of the console between them. Admittedly, things have been a bit difficult since Rose’d met Sarah-Jane and found out about his previous companions, since he’d invited Mickey on board, but he hadn’t thought they’d come to arguing.
She stands and flattens out her t-shirt. Burgundy, like his tie, and he wonders for a minute about the universe. “Earth, London, 23rd of February, 1999, if that’s alright with you?”
Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s directing the TARDIS to her chosen location. He can’t calm the shake of his hearts. Surely she doesn’t want to leave? Had he hurt her that much?
She seems to sense his anxiety. “I just want to show you something, Doctor. Don’t worry.”
The TARDIS settles, and although it’s a bumpy ride, it’s not as bad as it sometimes is. Rose makes her way immediately to the door, but the Doctor hesitates. “Should we pick up Mickey?”
She shakes her head. “He’s asleep.”
Jealousy, he’ll admit to the emotion in the privacy of his mind, flares up in him. He wants to crush her to him, ask her desperately how she knows that her silly ape boyfriend is asleep, but he pushes it down. He’d asked Mickey to come.
“Just you and me then?” The words are strained, slightly breathless, and damn her she’s smirking slightly.
She holds her hand out to him, and he feels their roles reverse. This time, she’s the one who leads, he’s the one who follows. They’re here to teach him something, and even though a part of him bristles at the idea, he takes her hand, because she’s Rose and he feels that if anybody in the universe can teach him anything, it’s her.
She opens the door and together they step out. They’re at the Powell Estates, because she’d not given him any further direction than London, but he’s surprised when they don’t make their way up to the flat. Instead, Rose leads them out of the grounds and into the streets. They walk in silence, and it isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t uncomfortable either.
A few minutes later, they come upon a church, and it’s obvious from the way that Rose is eyeing it that it’s their destination. Pulling up, they stand in front of its arched doors, their hands still clasped together, and they can just hear the sounds of a deep voice murmuring from within.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part.”
Rose turns to look at him, but he’s not yet sure of what’s going on. “Today, the 23rd, is the day my cousin Meredith gets married.”
Confused, but unable to turn down the happiness that such an occasion brings, he smiles. “Well, that’s wonderful! Where are they off to, then?”
Rose doesn’t reply, just squeezes his hand and pulls them out of sight. They’re hidden, but they can see the entrance, see when people flock from it throwing confetti in the air.
That’s when the Doctor catches sight of the bride. She’s quite beautiful, her dress divine and the smile on her face is pure. It’s quite obvious though, what’s wrong.
Rose smiles sadly. “She’s sick. They know she’s sick, he knows she's sick. Breast cancer, and now metastatic breast cancer in the bones.”
The Doctor grips her hand so tightly, he’s sure he’s going to break it. There’s sweat between their fingers, and he knows it’s coming from him, so fast are his hearts beating. He turns to stare at her, and even though he’s not directly angry with her, the sadness he feels makes him want to lash out. “Why did you bring me here?” he hisses.
She smiles, not tauntingly, just knowingly. “To show you.” She returns to watching the crowd. “Come on, don’t despair Doctor, we’re not done yet.”
. . . .
He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t. He knows he will. Knows, oh he knows, because she asks, and he realizes right then how much he loves her. She’s teaching him.
So, when she tells him to take them to Paris, France, the 28th of February, 1999, he doesn’t want to but he does nonetheless.
“Near the Eiffel Tower, please.”
He lands them down in a little alleyway, and relishes the thought that she won’t know the way. It’s petty of him, but he needs it. He takes her hand and starts forwards, this time she’s at his heels.
They make their way quickly to the beautiful spire and situate themselves on the grass beneath it. The Doctor spreads his coat out like a blanket, and when she lays down beside him, it’s all he can do not to roll over and kiss her, press her into the soft springy ground. He can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t. He takes her hand.
They wait, and then something catches Rose’s eye. “Yes, they always said they came here on the last day of their honeymoon.”
The Doctor looks up, and notices the couple from the church; Rose’s cousin Meredith and…
Rose looks at him. “Paul. He’s a pilot in the RAF. He flew them here in a little plane he owns. Made it from scratch, he did. Calls it Suzie. He likes to pat its wings.”
She rolls to her side, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “He took her to see the world.”
. . . .
When she asks him to take them to September the 4th, 2004, he knows what they’re heading for. This time, he almost refuses. Almost denies her, because the pain is unbearable.
In the end, he gives in, because he knows her intention isn’t to hurt him, but to teach him.
“Saint Anne’s Hospital, please.”
He wants to cry. Wants to bundle her up in his arms and never let her go and kiss her forever. He does. Well, all except for the last.
Once again, it is she who leads the way, and any dislike he may have had for hospitals before is now magnified beyond quantification as he stares at the one she’s taken them to.
He holds her so close his ankles constantly crash against hers. It isn’t pretty, but it’s the only way they’re going to move. His hand is not in hers, but rather curled around her hip, his arm tucked beneath her jacket.
They turn a corner into a corridor just in time to see a man close a door behind him. It’s obvious he’s been crying, but he wipes his eyes and settles down into a seat.
“There’s hope, Doctor,” Rose whispers in his ear. She kisses his temple.
The Doctor watches as the man in the seat twists and scoops something up from the chair beside him. A little boy, two years old perhaps.
“Harry. Meredith’s son.”
. . . .
The Doctor beats a steady tattoo against Rose’s arm. They’re lying in his bed, fully clothed but underneath the covers. He’d slept, really slept, something he couldn’t say he’d done for a while, the minute she’d led them back to the TARDIS.
“Rose?”
She blinks her eyes open.
“What do we do now?” There’s such uncertainty in his voice.
She smiles at him, and he’s struck by how beautiful she is. “I know today was hard for you. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”
He knows it wasn’t, and rolls to his side. They’re face to face and so close that he can feel her breath on his cheek.
She has a far-off look in her eyes. “You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords. That’s what you said to me, and that’s what you were wrong about. It’s not the curse of the Time Lords, it’s the curse of the living. I’ll grant, you’ve seen more death than most, you’ll live longer than Paul, but in the end Doctor, there’s no such thing as the slow path. There’s only the path we’re given and it’s what we do with it that counts.”
He can feel himself tremble. Oh, he doesn’t desire domestics, that much is true. He doesn’t want to make a life built on mortgages and early morning traffic, but he does want to make a life with her.
Rose inches closer to him. “You see, Paul? He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life with her, knew that she’d spend the rest of her life with him. The path for her was short and the path for him was long. Maybe what he did was brave or noble, and yeah, I think it was, but in the end, I believe he did it because he loved her, and he wanted whatever time he could have with her.”
He can barely look at her, so brightly is she sparkling.
“Now, I’m not telling you that you have to do that with me. I’ve got the shorter path, I know that. All I’m saying is that whether or not you should doesn’t matter at all in comparison to whether or not you want to.”
She’s barely got the words out before he’s kissing her, wrapping his body around hers and pulling her closer. He hooks his leg around her hip and trails his hand up to cup the back of her head gently, his fingers in her hair. He pushes gently at her lips with his tongue and she parts them with a smile that he can feel, and then he’s lost for the next few minutes. He, who can account for every second of every day, of every year in all of time and space. Breathing becomes necessary for her before it does for him, so he contents to let her have her oxygen whilst he presses warm, open mouthed kisses to the column of her neck.
Eventually, he shifts, moves over her. He realizes, and he knows it’s going to be the first of many times, that she’s right. Before, underneath the Eiffel Tower, he’d wanted to kiss her, press his body against hers. He hadn’t and it had left him feeling bereft. Now though, now he’s pushing her into the mattress, slipping her jacket from her shoulders and it summons up the most unbelievable happiness. Her words ring true;
There’s only the path we’re given and it’s what we do with it that counts.
He knows what he's going to do, knows that it's going to count for more than he can ever express. He's going to make a life with Rose Tyler.
Author: Iby.
Rating: PG-15.
Spoilers: School Reunion.
Characters and Pairings: The Tenth Doctor, Rose; Rose/Ten.
Author's Notes: Based on the following quote:
You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords.
Summary: Rose proves to the Doctor just how very wring he was.
“You see, Paul? He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life with her, knew that she’d spend the rest of her life with him. The path for her was short and the path for him was long. Maybe what he did was brave or noble, and yeah, I think it was, but in the end, I believe he did it because he loved her, and he wanted whatever time he could have with her.”
This is dedicated to my mum.
You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords.
;
“It’s funny.”
The Doctor, who’d heard Rose creep into the Console Room, feigns surprise at her appearance. He isn’t quite sure why, perhaps to allow himself a few seconds to cobble together his strength - give her a hard time for sneaking up on him whilst he sets his story in order. Like when people asked for the question they couldn’t possibly answer to be repeated, even though they’d heard it perfectly clearly the first time, in order to buy a second to make something up.
“Rose! You startled me!” He makes an effort to look ruffled, before remembering that none is actually required for this body.
She raises an eyebrow and he knows he’d been had. Too clever by half, she is.
He finds himself fiddling with his tie. Burgundy today. “Er, you were saying something?”
She makes her way to the Captain’s Chair and sits herself in it matter-of-factly. Normally, she lounges around a bit, curls her legs up or, if she really slouches, touches the tips of her toes to the console. Now though, she’s sitting like a school-girl in the middle of a stern talking-to, her back straight, her knees together and her hands in her lap. It’s distinctly un-her, and it makes the Doctor squirm with worry.
“It’s funny. Here you are, standing before me. The Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. The Last of the Time Lords and Captain of this mighty ship.” She looks up at the time rotor affectionately, before looking back down to catch the Doctor’s gaze. “You’re unique. Brilliant.”
The Doctor is struck by the look in her eyes. They hold a wisdom in them that he’s never seen before. Had it always been in there? He’d always thought she was fantastic, but maybe, just maybe, he’d missed something.
She smiles sadly. “So, what’s funny is how incredibly, unbelievably, devastatingly wrong you are.”
“What!?” He tugs on the tie a little too tightly and nearly chokes himself.
“You’re wrong. You’re absolutely wrong, and what makes it even funnier is that I’m right.”
He ducks backwards, hoping to put a little bit of the console between them. Admittedly, things have been a bit difficult since Rose’d met Sarah-Jane and found out about his previous companions, since he’d invited Mickey on board, but he hadn’t thought they’d come to arguing.
She stands and flattens out her t-shirt. Burgundy, like his tie, and he wonders for a minute about the universe. “Earth, London, 23rd of February, 1999, if that’s alright with you?”
Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s directing the TARDIS to her chosen location. He can’t calm the shake of his hearts. Surely she doesn’t want to leave? Had he hurt her that much?
She seems to sense his anxiety. “I just want to show you something, Doctor. Don’t worry.”
The TARDIS settles, and although it’s a bumpy ride, it’s not as bad as it sometimes is. Rose makes her way immediately to the door, but the Doctor hesitates. “Should we pick up Mickey?”
She shakes her head. “He’s asleep.”
Jealousy, he’ll admit to the emotion in the privacy of his mind, flares up in him. He wants to crush her to him, ask her desperately how she knows that her silly ape boyfriend is asleep, but he pushes it down. He’d asked Mickey to come.
“Just you and me then?” The words are strained, slightly breathless, and damn her she’s smirking slightly.
She holds her hand out to him, and he feels their roles reverse. This time, she’s the one who leads, he’s the one who follows. They’re here to teach him something, and even though a part of him bristles at the idea, he takes her hand, because she’s Rose and he feels that if anybody in the universe can teach him anything, it’s her.
She opens the door and together they step out. They’re at the Powell Estates, because she’d not given him any further direction than London, but he’s surprised when they don’t make their way up to the flat. Instead, Rose leads them out of the grounds and into the streets. They walk in silence, and it isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t uncomfortable either.
A few minutes later, they come upon a church, and it’s obvious from the way that Rose is eyeing it that it’s their destination. Pulling up, they stand in front of its arched doors, their hands still clasped together, and they can just hear the sounds of a deep voice murmuring from within.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part.”
Rose turns to look at him, but he’s not yet sure of what’s going on. “Today, the 23rd, is the day my cousin Meredith gets married.”
Confused, but unable to turn down the happiness that such an occasion brings, he smiles. “Well, that’s wonderful! Where are they off to, then?”
Rose doesn’t reply, just squeezes his hand and pulls them out of sight. They’re hidden, but they can see the entrance, see when people flock from it throwing confetti in the air.
That’s when the Doctor catches sight of the bride. She’s quite beautiful, her dress divine and the smile on her face is pure. It’s quite obvious though, what’s wrong.
Rose smiles sadly. “She’s sick. They know she’s sick, he knows she's sick. Breast cancer, and now metastatic breast cancer in the bones.”
The Doctor grips her hand so tightly, he’s sure he’s going to break it. There’s sweat between their fingers, and he knows it’s coming from him, so fast are his hearts beating. He turns to stare at her, and even though he’s not directly angry with her, the sadness he feels makes him want to lash out. “Why did you bring me here?” he hisses.
She smiles, not tauntingly, just knowingly. “To show you.” She returns to watching the crowd. “Come on, don’t despair Doctor, we’re not done yet.”
. . . .
He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t. He knows he will. Knows, oh he knows, because she asks, and he realizes right then how much he loves her. She’s teaching him.
So, when she tells him to take them to Paris, France, the 28th of February, 1999, he doesn’t want to but he does nonetheless.
“Near the Eiffel Tower, please.”
He lands them down in a little alleyway, and relishes the thought that she won’t know the way. It’s petty of him, but he needs it. He takes her hand and starts forwards, this time she’s at his heels.
They make their way quickly to the beautiful spire and situate themselves on the grass beneath it. The Doctor spreads his coat out like a blanket, and when she lays down beside him, it’s all he can do not to roll over and kiss her, press her into the soft springy ground. He can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t. He takes her hand.
They wait, and then something catches Rose’s eye. “Yes, they always said they came here on the last day of their honeymoon.”
The Doctor looks up, and notices the couple from the church; Rose’s cousin Meredith and…
Rose looks at him. “Paul. He’s a pilot in the RAF. He flew them here in a little plane he owns. Made it from scratch, he did. Calls it Suzie. He likes to pat its wings.”
She rolls to her side, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “He took her to see the world.”
. . . .
When she asks him to take them to September the 4th, 2004, he knows what they’re heading for. This time, he almost refuses. Almost denies her, because the pain is unbearable.
In the end, he gives in, because he knows her intention isn’t to hurt him, but to teach him.
“Saint Anne’s Hospital, please.”
He wants to cry. Wants to bundle her up in his arms and never let her go and kiss her forever. He does. Well, all except for the last.
Once again, it is she who leads the way, and any dislike he may have had for hospitals before is now magnified beyond quantification as he stares at the one she’s taken them to.
He holds her so close his ankles constantly crash against hers. It isn’t pretty, but it’s the only way they’re going to move. His hand is not in hers, but rather curled around her hip, his arm tucked beneath her jacket.
They turn a corner into a corridor just in time to see a man close a door behind him. It’s obvious he’s been crying, but he wipes his eyes and settles down into a seat.
“There’s hope, Doctor,” Rose whispers in his ear. She kisses his temple.
The Doctor watches as the man in the seat twists and scoops something up from the chair beside him. A little boy, two years old perhaps.
“Harry. Meredith’s son.”
. . . .
The Doctor beats a steady tattoo against Rose’s arm. They’re lying in his bed, fully clothed but underneath the covers. He’d slept, really slept, something he couldn’t say he’d done for a while, the minute she’d led them back to the TARDIS.
“Rose?”
She blinks her eyes open.
“What do we do now?” There’s such uncertainty in his voice.
She smiles at him, and he’s struck by how beautiful she is. “I know today was hard for you. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”
He knows it wasn’t, and rolls to his side. They’re face to face and so close that he can feel her breath on his cheek.
She has a far-off look in her eyes. “You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords. That’s what you said to me, and that’s what you were wrong about. It’s not the curse of the Time Lords, it’s the curse of the living. I’ll grant, you’ve seen more death than most, you’ll live longer than Paul, but in the end Doctor, there’s no such thing as the slow path. There’s only the path we’re given and it’s what we do with it that counts.”
He can feel himself tremble. Oh, he doesn’t desire domestics, that much is true. He doesn’t want to make a life built on mortgages and early morning traffic, but he does want to make a life with her.
Rose inches closer to him. “You see, Paul? He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life with her, knew that she’d spend the rest of her life with him. The path for her was short and the path for him was long. Maybe what he did was brave or noble, and yeah, I think it was, but in the end, I believe he did it because he loved her, and he wanted whatever time he could have with her.”
He can barely look at her, so brightly is she sparkling.
“Now, I’m not telling you that you have to do that with me. I’ve got the shorter path, I know that. All I’m saying is that whether or not you should doesn’t matter at all in comparison to whether or not you want to.”
She’s barely got the words out before he’s kissing her, wrapping his body around hers and pulling her closer. He hooks his leg around her hip and trails his hand up to cup the back of her head gently, his fingers in her hair. He pushes gently at her lips with his tongue and she parts them with a smile that he can feel, and then he’s lost for the next few minutes. He, who can account for every second of every day, of every year in all of time and space. Breathing becomes necessary for her before it does for him, so he contents to let her have her oxygen whilst he presses warm, open mouthed kisses to the column of her neck.
Eventually, he shifts, moves over her. He realizes, and he knows it’s going to be the first of many times, that she’s right. Before, underneath the Eiffel Tower, he’d wanted to kiss her, press his body against hers. He hadn’t and it had left him feeling bereft. Now though, now he’s pushing her into the mattress, slipping her jacket from her shoulders and it summons up the most unbelievable happiness. Her words ring true;
There’s only the path we’re given and it’s what we do with it that counts.
He knows what he's going to do, knows that it's going to count for more than he can ever express. He's going to make a life with Rose Tyler.