Twenty-Five Things Rose Tyler Learned About Moving On
Title: Twenty-Five Things Rose Tyler Learned About Moving On
Author: ladychi
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose, Ten II/Rose
Rating: Adult
Summary: I've always thought I should write a companion piece to Eighty-Five Things the Doctor Learned About Being Human, I just never really had the inclination until now.
If you're saying to yourself -- wow, Chi has been posting a lot of fic lately, you'd be right. I'm doing ten fics in ten days. I'm going to make an effort to make a good number of them non-Bones. I miss my Whovians and my Potterites! Not that I don't love the Bones people, because I do... Okay self, shut up. Post your fic.
Twenty-Five Things Rose Learned About Moving On
1. Separation. You should be able to wade into it, Rose thinks, like a child at the swimming pool the first day of summer holiday; one toe at a time until the water is comfortable.
2. She's not allowed that luxury, and dealing with the off-balance feeling of being shoved head-first in the deep-end takes all of her energy some days.
3. When Jackie says, "Come on, love, it's time to get out of bed", what Rose hears is "Come back to me because I don't recognize you anymore."
4. It's not like her to give up. That's what they keep telling her. It's not like her to feel so helpless.
5. They're right.
6. She wakes up one morning and there it is -- the determination in the pit of stomach, the steel will she rarely lets anybody see. She was born in the century where women took hold of their rights -- their right to be happy, with both hands, and she's ready to honor that part of herself.
7. The physics of crossing the void between universes is enough to make her head explode, but she can't stop because...
8. There is nothing like looking up at the sky and watching as the stars go out one by one.
9. She hums Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and changes the words to "how I wonder where you are".
10. The day they punch a hole through to the next universe, Rose loses her lunch in the bathroom stall. It could be nerves, it could be hope... mostly it's with the sick dread-certainty of knowing that the impossible isn't always fantastic.
11. She walks in worlds where the stars never shone and the Doctor never lived, but humanity clings to life with two hands, desperately. Giving everything, everything they can. She remembers the Doctor's joy in her race, his willingness to adopt them as his own, and she can start to understand it.
12. She meets Donna Noble the first time as she lies dying in the streets, exhausted and cold. She looks up into Rose's eyes and she says, "Tell the Doctor I tried".
13. Over and over they meet again, Rose Tyler and Donna Noble, until Rose knows exactly what's going to happen and when. She's quite certain that if they ever met when the very universe wasn't falling apart around them, they could be good friends.
14. The last time, the last time it happens, Rose gets a feeling in the pit of her stomach when she whispers "Bad Wolf" -- an excited churning like she used to get before Christmas. Anticipation, joy... hope.
15. There's no time to think when she's with the Doctor in his fabulous blue box. No time to acknowledge how far she's come, the hells she's crossed, the worlds she's tried and failed to save. There is only the Doctor and his bright wide smile and his kind brown eyes and the way that nothing seems to matter more than him.
16. She half-expected what happened at the beach. Life has taught Rose Tyler about love and loss -- and that they nearly always go hand in hand. When the TARDIS disappears, she's left with a brand-new man. He squeezes her hand, and it feels wrong and right at the same time.
17. He's so delightfully bad at being human. She thinks maybe that's why they never stuck around Earth very long -- she'd start to see what an alien he truly was -- but his awkward fumblings have a way of grounding her, reminding her that he, at least, still needs her.
18. They have great, roaring fights with seething underbellies of frustration. They're not sleeping together because they didn't before and neither one of them knows quite what to do with that. She wants to -- she really, really wants to, but when she strokes herself to climax imagining large hands and spiky hair and pinstripes, she's not really sure it's his face she's seeing.
19. She expects him to leave. At any second, to decide that this life is too boring, that she's too confining. She expects to find a note with "So long Rose, been fun -- XOXO, Doc" on her pillow, and yet...
20. She never does.
21. In her more poetic moments she thinks that he must have gotten the heart that belonged to her all along because it shines in his eyes and shows in the gentleness of his hand and in the timbre of his voice.
22. The first time they have sex, it's awkward, but so wonderfully funny. They shake with the shared joy and euphoria of finally, finally letting the rubber band snap.
23. And somehow, it's right. His hand in hers. His body over (and under) hers. His eyes across the kitchen table from hers. Her bad breath in the morning and his snoring at night. His shaving kit next to her cosmetics. His hair gel next to her straightening iron.
24. And yet it's never quite domestic. It's his sonic screwdriver next to her. His running converse next to her boots or old sneakers. His manic laugh, the lingering smell of an explosion. It is the same. It is different.
25. Moving on is a bit like shifting, Rose decides. Not quite separating from what came before, but adjusting. Welcoming the new and remembering the old. Less like metamorphosis and more like coming into a new, better-fitting skin. Because once she was a girl who laughed at danger and held the hand of an alien as they ran through space and time. And now she is a woman -- eyes wide open, heart full and feet always, always on the run.
Author: ladychi
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose, Ten II/Rose
Rating: Adult
Summary: I've always thought I should write a companion piece to Eighty-Five Things the Doctor Learned About Being Human, I just never really had the inclination until now.
If you're saying to yourself -- wow, Chi has been posting a lot of fic lately, you'd be right. I'm doing ten fics in ten days. I'm going to make an effort to make a good number of them non-Bones. I miss my Whovians and my Potterites! Not that I don't love the Bones people, because I do... Okay self, shut up. Post your fic.
Twenty-Five Things Rose Learned About Moving On
1. Separation. You should be able to wade into it, Rose thinks, like a child at the swimming pool the first day of summer holiday; one toe at a time until the water is comfortable.
2. She's not allowed that luxury, and dealing with the off-balance feeling of being shoved head-first in the deep-end takes all of her energy some days.
3. When Jackie says, "Come on, love, it's time to get out of bed", what Rose hears is "Come back to me because I don't recognize you anymore."
4. It's not like her to give up. That's what they keep telling her. It's not like her to feel so helpless.
5. They're right.
6. She wakes up one morning and there it is -- the determination in the pit of stomach, the steel will she rarely lets anybody see. She was born in the century where women took hold of their rights -- their right to be happy, with both hands, and she's ready to honor that part of herself.
7. The physics of crossing the void between universes is enough to make her head explode, but she can't stop because...
8. There is nothing like looking up at the sky and watching as the stars go out one by one.
9. She hums Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and changes the words to "how I wonder where you are".
10. The day they punch a hole through to the next universe, Rose loses her lunch in the bathroom stall. It could be nerves, it could be hope... mostly it's with the sick dread-certainty of knowing that the impossible isn't always fantastic.
11. She walks in worlds where the stars never shone and the Doctor never lived, but humanity clings to life with two hands, desperately. Giving everything, everything they can. She remembers the Doctor's joy in her race, his willingness to adopt them as his own, and she can start to understand it.
12. She meets Donna Noble the first time as she lies dying in the streets, exhausted and cold. She looks up into Rose's eyes and she says, "Tell the Doctor I tried".
13. Over and over they meet again, Rose Tyler and Donna Noble, until Rose knows exactly what's going to happen and when. She's quite certain that if they ever met when the very universe wasn't falling apart around them, they could be good friends.
14. The last time, the last time it happens, Rose gets a feeling in the pit of her stomach when she whispers "Bad Wolf" -- an excited churning like she used to get before Christmas. Anticipation, joy... hope.
15. There's no time to think when she's with the Doctor in his fabulous blue box. No time to acknowledge how far she's come, the hells she's crossed, the worlds she's tried and failed to save. There is only the Doctor and his bright wide smile and his kind brown eyes and the way that nothing seems to matter more than him.
16. She half-expected what happened at the beach. Life has taught Rose Tyler about love and loss -- and that they nearly always go hand in hand. When the TARDIS disappears, she's left with a brand-new man. He squeezes her hand, and it feels wrong and right at the same time.
17. He's so delightfully bad at being human. She thinks maybe that's why they never stuck around Earth very long -- she'd start to see what an alien he truly was -- but his awkward fumblings have a way of grounding her, reminding her that he, at least, still needs her.
18. They have great, roaring fights with seething underbellies of frustration. They're not sleeping together because they didn't before and neither one of them knows quite what to do with that. She wants to -- she really, really wants to, but when she strokes herself to climax imagining large hands and spiky hair and pinstripes, she's not really sure it's his face she's seeing.
19. She expects him to leave. At any second, to decide that this life is too boring, that she's too confining. She expects to find a note with "So long Rose, been fun -- XOXO, Doc" on her pillow, and yet...
20. She never does.
21. In her more poetic moments she thinks that he must have gotten the heart that belonged to her all along because it shines in his eyes and shows in the gentleness of his hand and in the timbre of his voice.
22. The first time they have sex, it's awkward, but so wonderfully funny. They shake with the shared joy and euphoria of finally, finally letting the rubber band snap.
23. And somehow, it's right. His hand in hers. His body over (and under) hers. His eyes across the kitchen table from hers. Her bad breath in the morning and his snoring at night. His shaving kit next to her cosmetics. His hair gel next to her straightening iron.
24. And yet it's never quite domestic. It's his sonic screwdriver next to her. His running converse next to her boots or old sneakers. His manic laugh, the lingering smell of an explosion. It is the same. It is different.
25. Moving on is a bit like shifting, Rose decides. Not quite separating from what came before, but adjusting. Welcoming the new and remembering the old. Less like metamorphosis and more like coming into a new, better-fitting skin. Because once she was a girl who laughed at danger and held the hand of an alien as they ran through space and time. And now she is a woman -- eyes wide open, heart full and feet always, always on the run.