fic: (Doctor Who) Dear Doctor (2/10)
Dear Doctor - Letter Two
Author: CK
Rating: P14 (mention of character death)
Spoilers: Story is set post-JE, so everything up to and including 4x13.
Characters: Ten, Rose; TenII (only mentioned; no actual "appearance")
Contents: Rose has a life, a good life with a man who loves her. A man who looks like her Doctor, who thinks and talks and acts like him. And yet can't she just forget the man she met and fell in love with...
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardener and BBC. People who invented River Song and Reinette are not part of it.
Letter Two
The weather on Algrenid was cold, almost icy, and windy. Seeking a winter planet with three moons had brought him here to this uninhabited planet countless light years from Earth. He didn't know where this sudden impulse, the wish for this sight had come from, but he had followed it without further questions.
But after the past weeks that had been eventful and - as usual - dangerous the silence now surrounding him was almost frightening.
It was something white pinned to one side of the TARDIS that took his attention. Looking closer, he identified the object as an envelope, and grabbed it instantly, already knowing where it came from. Whom it came from. And he was right. Written with Rose's neat handwriting, was his name onto the envelope. He safely put the letter into his coat and took a last look at the moons, mourning silently that no one was there to admire the beauty with him. Then he went back inside the TARDIS.
The ship's library had become a well-frequented room since he was alone; back in the old days, this incarnation's first ones, he had spent some evenings there with Rose. Now his only company was the letter from her he didn't ask or wonder about where it came from. He had learned to accept some things as they were - especially when Rose was involved, because she had surprised him more than once. Opening the envelope, he carefully took out the letter, and unfolded it with slightly shaking hands.
Dear Doctor,
Nothing much has changed here since my first letter. Although some weeks have passed, maybe a few months - somehow, I can never exactly tell when I don't count like I did in the first months -, life here is still the same. Suddenly living on Earth again, after traveling with you, feels like an endless repeating of events.
Julian and I live our life like every other normal couple out there. Or we try to. The only difference are our memories. And the little things Julian builds to make our life a bit easier; things probably no one on this planet has. We even have a sonic screwdriver again, which comes in handy quite often.
Also something no one in this planet has is a TARDIS. But that includes us. The piece you gave us died. We tried to grow it, we wanted that TARDIS, even if it would have taken us decades to finally have it fully grown. In the beginning, we - it - made good progress. But then, suddenly from one day to the next, all life energy was gone. It was dead. It is dead.
Neither Julian nor I know what has happened. It was our straw of hope, our only chance to resume at least one part of our - my - former life. Now we will stay here and really go our life step by step. The long, slow path. Somehow a very terrifying imagination.
I had really been hoping that I would get an answer to my last letter. I know it isn't possible, since I didn't even send it - where to anyway? -, but only put it into one of the drawers of my desk. All the letters that may follow will be put there - it's like a drawer to my past. A treasure chest with all the things that remind me of our time together.
The chunk is lying atop the letter; it is the first thing I see whenever I open the drawer, and sometimes I take it and hold it close to me and then it seems that it isn't dead, because I think I can feel it pulsing and humming. It may only imagination, since no one else feels it, not even Julian. It may only wish to find a way back to you. But I cling to the feeling, never ceasing hope. I just can't. And maybe, just maybe, one day there will be an answering letter lying between the letters and the chunk.
It's late, already dark outside; so strange to have day and night again, and to have to adjust to the world's rhythm.
Good Night, Doctor.
Love, Rose
Author: CK
Rating: P14 (mention of character death)
Spoilers: Story is set post-JE, so everything up to and including 4x13.
Characters: Ten, Rose; TenII (only mentioned; no actual "appearance")
Contents: Rose has a life, a good life with a man who loves her. A man who looks like her Doctor, who thinks and talks and acts like him. And yet can't she just forget the man she met and fell in love with...
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardener and BBC. People who invented River Song and Reinette are not part of it.
Letter Two
The weather on Algrenid was cold, almost icy, and windy. Seeking a winter planet with three moons had brought him here to this uninhabited planet countless light years from Earth. He didn't know where this sudden impulse, the wish for this sight had come from, but he had followed it without further questions.
But after the past weeks that had been eventful and - as usual - dangerous the silence now surrounding him was almost frightening.
It was something white pinned to one side of the TARDIS that took his attention. Looking closer, he identified the object as an envelope, and grabbed it instantly, already knowing where it came from. Whom it came from. And he was right. Written with Rose's neat handwriting, was his name onto the envelope. He safely put the letter into his coat and took a last look at the moons, mourning silently that no one was there to admire the beauty with him. Then he went back inside the TARDIS.
The ship's library had become a well-frequented room since he was alone; back in the old days, this incarnation's first ones, he had spent some evenings there with Rose. Now his only company was the letter from her he didn't ask or wonder about where it came from. He had learned to accept some things as they were - especially when Rose was involved, because she had surprised him more than once. Opening the envelope, he carefully took out the letter, and unfolded it with slightly shaking hands.
Dear Doctor,
Nothing much has changed here since my first letter. Although some weeks have passed, maybe a few months - somehow, I can never exactly tell when I don't count like I did in the first months -, life here is still the same. Suddenly living on Earth again, after traveling with you, feels like an endless repeating of events.
Julian and I live our life like every other normal couple out there. Or we try to. The only difference are our memories. And the little things Julian builds to make our life a bit easier; things probably no one on this planet has. We even have a sonic screwdriver again, which comes in handy quite often.
Also something no one in this planet has is a TARDIS. But that includes us. The piece you gave us died. We tried to grow it, we wanted that TARDIS, even if it would have taken us decades to finally have it fully grown. In the beginning, we - it - made good progress. But then, suddenly from one day to the next, all life energy was gone. It was dead. It is dead.
Neither Julian nor I know what has happened. It was our straw of hope, our only chance to resume at least one part of our - my - former life. Now we will stay here and really go our life step by step. The long, slow path. Somehow a very terrifying imagination.
I had really been hoping that I would get an answer to my last letter. I know it isn't possible, since I didn't even send it - where to anyway? -, but only put it into one of the drawers of my desk. All the letters that may follow will be put there - it's like a drawer to my past. A treasure chest with all the things that remind me of our time together.
The chunk is lying atop the letter; it is the first thing I see whenever I open the drawer, and sometimes I take it and hold it close to me and then it seems that it isn't dead, because I think I can feel it pulsing and humming. It may only imagination, since no one else feels it, not even Julian. It may only wish to find a way back to you. But I cling to the feeling, never ceasing hope. I just can't. And maybe, just maybe, one day there will be an answering letter lying between the letters and the chunk.
It's late, already dark outside; so strange to have day and night again, and to have to adjust to the world's rhythm.
Good Night, Doctor.
Love, Rose