Fic: Into the open. (PG-13, Rose/Ten, reunion/season four)
Into the open. Rose/Ten, reunion-fic. PG-13 for language. No real spoilers for Season Four, unless you count Donna. Four holidays in the life of the Doctor and Rose.
"Two x's connected by a dotted line,
a special gift to you.
One representing where you are,
and what is left to do."
-The Velvet Teen
They shut the door and stroll back up the ramp, walking backwards, kissing idly, not wanting to hurry. "Doctor," she says, "take me somewhere." She puts her hand over his as he spins the dial, and the whole world hums between their skin.
This is Easter.
"I told you," he says, holding her head in his hands; his fingers tremble against her skin, looking for a pulse, looking for the flutter of her mind against his. There's darkness and a flicker of light, moth's wings. She's like water in his arms; she pools around him and lies still, cooling his hearts. He can't tell if she's alive. If she's going to live at all. "Fuck-I fucking told you," he cries. "I told you it was dangerous. You should never, never-"
"We should get her to a hospital," Donna says, tugging at his jacket. He doesn't look up and he doesn't let go.
"Rose," he says, as angry as he could be with her and not just die, right now, from the sheer weight of it all, "I wasn't worth it."
Her heart moves, and it moves him.
"Oh God, my head," she says. She turns slightly, dizzily, and vomits onto his thigh. She looks up at his horrified face as it turns to stark joy, and then briefly back to nausea. He stammers at her. Rose covers her mouth and starts to laugh. And then they're both laughing, and they're together, and they smell like barf.
"That's romantic," says Donna.
"I missed this," the Doctor says.
This is Christmas.
"You got me socks." She stares down, into the bag. "I sleep with you and you buy me socks for Christmas."
"Oh, look at the tag," he says defensively. "Before you start judging."
She pulls them out and they're nothing remarkable, just white cotton socks, ankle socks, though they are a little- lighter ? The tag's printed in another language but as she holds it, it shifts to English in a shimmering design. He watches her face for a reaction. "Well, go on." He is perhaps not the most patient man in the galaxy.
"They- sorry, massage in a sock ? I don't get it." She holds them out in front of her. Mumbling to himself about human ingenuity, he takes them out of her hands and snaps the plastic tie holding them together. He indicates her slippered feet and she obliges, trustingly, letting the shoes drop. He tugs the socks over her toes.
"Alright ?"
"Oh." Rose's eyes widen, and then roll back. "Ohhhhhh." She makes a dignified flop backwards into a pile of presents, and he crosses his arms over his chest, waiting. "Yes. Okay. You're a fabulous, fabulous man. I'm sure that's what you wanted to- ohhh. Hear. Yes."
"You run a lot," he says, and lies down beside her; if he notices the tinsel in her hair, and the lights reflecting fireflies and stars in her eyes, he doesn't exactly say so out loud. "I thought-"
"You thought," she agrees. "You were full of thought. They're wonderful socks. The best socks I've ever gotten. And I've gotten plenty of socks for Christmas. Just not from anyone who's seen me naked." She rolls up onto an elbow and regards him with amusement. "Or, you know, dressed like a Roman slave girl." He smirks. "Or a go-go dancer. Or a half-naked duchess of the house of whatchamacallit. Lucky thing we landed during their lunar festival, you kept saying."
"That was purely political."
"Political, my arse." She squeaks as he makes a deft diplomatic maneuver towards the region. "Save it for after breakfast, dearest. Not all of us want to get up at four in the morning for presents."
"After midnight, it's-"
"-technically Christmas morning." She rolls her eyes. "You and the five-year-olds."
"Such a good grasp of time," he murmurs, kissing her.
This is valentine's day.
She is helping the refugees up the ramp, into the medical ship; there's a gash on her arm that won't stop bleeding. He wraps his tie around it and neither of them make a joke about it being her favorite, anyway. There's a child crying next to a body and Rose picks it up, tentacles and all, and rocks it against her, shushing it, until it's calm enough to be handed over to a nurse. The Doctor double-checks their coordinates. "Yes," he says, strong and certain. "Follow that out of the rings- then use the signal boost. It won't work until you're clear of the debris."
They stand together, hand-in-hand, watching the ship lift off, away. They saved twenty-seven and lost twenty-three.
"They'll be alright. They'll stick together." She shades her eyes to watch the rocket burn. "That's what matters." She leans a little closer into him. "I love you," she says, because she's young enough, and she believes these things you say aloud can matter.
She makes him feel as if they really might.
"I love you, too," he says.
This is New Year's Day.
"I got to see it," she says, at the edge of the earth, where it ends; where the sky continues on, alone, reflecting the water and the grass. They are looking out of the doorway, together; the ships buffers the atmosphere but their breath still evaporates out of their mouths into the heat. "I really got to see it."
"It's the new year," he agrees, resting his head on top of hers. "The last new year on earth."
"What happens now ?"
"Well, right at this minute, the last rockets are firing up into the atmosphere." He points to a ring of light at the edge of the horizon, shimmering with steam. "The last human beings born on earth will scatter out to the stars, and their children will populate the entire universe. You've seen them. You know this isn't the end. They'll tell stories about earth for a million years. I mean, they'll be talking about the finale to The Young and The Restless until 4849-B."
"I know." The skies are red. He watches her, watching the rockets. "We were up there, once. We watched earth burn. Are we there, now ? Somewhere ?" She slips her hand into his. "Tell me you and I are still out there, somewhere. Still travelling."
He points to a star.
"We're there," he says. He points to another, and another. "And there. There, and past that one, and past that still. We're-" he stops, unable to speak for the knot in his chest.
Rose points to the furthest star still in view.
"We're there," she says.
They shut the door and stroll back up the ramp, walking backwards, kissing idly, not wanting to hurry. "Doctor," she says, "take me somewhere." She puts her hand over his as he spins the dial, and the whole world hums between their skin.
They go up, and away.
"Two x's connected by a dotted line,
a special gift to you.
One representing where you are,
and what is left to do."
-The Velvet Teen
They shut the door and stroll back up the ramp, walking backwards, kissing idly, not wanting to hurry. "Doctor," she says, "take me somewhere." She puts her hand over his as he spins the dial, and the whole world hums between their skin.
This is Easter.
"I told you," he says, holding her head in his hands; his fingers tremble against her skin, looking for a pulse, looking for the flutter of her mind against his. There's darkness and a flicker of light, moth's wings. She's like water in his arms; she pools around him and lies still, cooling his hearts. He can't tell if she's alive. If she's going to live at all. "Fuck-I fucking told you," he cries. "I told you it was dangerous. You should never, never-"
"We should get her to a hospital," Donna says, tugging at his jacket. He doesn't look up and he doesn't let go.
"Rose," he says, as angry as he could be with her and not just die, right now, from the sheer weight of it all, "I wasn't worth it."
Her heart moves, and it moves him.
"Oh God, my head," she says. She turns slightly, dizzily, and vomits onto his thigh. She looks up at his horrified face as it turns to stark joy, and then briefly back to nausea. He stammers at her. Rose covers her mouth and starts to laugh. And then they're both laughing, and they're together, and they smell like barf.
"That's romantic," says Donna.
"I missed this," the Doctor says.
This is Christmas.
"You got me socks." She stares down, into the bag. "I sleep with you and you buy me socks for Christmas."
"Oh, look at the tag," he says defensively. "Before you start judging."
She pulls them out and they're nothing remarkable, just white cotton socks, ankle socks, though they are a little- lighter ? The tag's printed in another language but as she holds it, it shifts to English in a shimmering design. He watches her face for a reaction. "Well, go on." He is perhaps not the most patient man in the galaxy.
"They- sorry, massage in a sock ? I don't get it." She holds them out in front of her. Mumbling to himself about human ingenuity, he takes them out of her hands and snaps the plastic tie holding them together. He indicates her slippered feet and she obliges, trustingly, letting the shoes drop. He tugs the socks over her toes.
"Alright ?"
"Oh." Rose's eyes widen, and then roll back. "Ohhhhhh." She makes a dignified flop backwards into a pile of presents, and he crosses his arms over his chest, waiting. "Yes. Okay. You're a fabulous, fabulous man. I'm sure that's what you wanted to- ohhh. Hear. Yes."
"You run a lot," he says, and lies down beside her; if he notices the tinsel in her hair, and the lights reflecting fireflies and stars in her eyes, he doesn't exactly say so out loud. "I thought-"
"You thought," she agrees. "You were full of thought. They're wonderful socks. The best socks I've ever gotten. And I've gotten plenty of socks for Christmas. Just not from anyone who's seen me naked." She rolls up onto an elbow and regards him with amusement. "Or, you know, dressed like a Roman slave girl." He smirks. "Or a go-go dancer. Or a half-naked duchess of the house of whatchamacallit. Lucky thing we landed during their lunar festival, you kept saying."
"That was purely political."
"Political, my arse." She squeaks as he makes a deft diplomatic maneuver towards the region. "Save it for after breakfast, dearest. Not all of us want to get up at four in the morning for presents."
"After midnight, it's-"
"-technically Christmas morning." She rolls her eyes. "You and the five-year-olds."
"Such a good grasp of time," he murmurs, kissing her.
This is valentine's day.
She is helping the refugees up the ramp, into the medical ship; there's a gash on her arm that won't stop bleeding. He wraps his tie around it and neither of them make a joke about it being her favorite, anyway. There's a child crying next to a body and Rose picks it up, tentacles and all, and rocks it against her, shushing it, until it's calm enough to be handed over to a nurse. The Doctor double-checks their coordinates. "Yes," he says, strong and certain. "Follow that out of the rings- then use the signal boost. It won't work until you're clear of the debris."
They stand together, hand-in-hand, watching the ship lift off, away. They saved twenty-seven and lost twenty-three.
"They'll be alright. They'll stick together." She shades her eyes to watch the rocket burn. "That's what matters." She leans a little closer into him. "I love you," she says, because she's young enough, and she believes these things you say aloud can matter.
She makes him feel as if they really might.
"I love you, too," he says.
This is New Year's Day.
"I got to see it," she says, at the edge of the earth, where it ends; where the sky continues on, alone, reflecting the water and the grass. They are looking out of the doorway, together; the ships buffers the atmosphere but their breath still evaporates out of their mouths into the heat. "I really got to see it."
"It's the new year," he agrees, resting his head on top of hers. "The last new year on earth."
"What happens now ?"
"Well, right at this minute, the last rockets are firing up into the atmosphere." He points to a ring of light at the edge of the horizon, shimmering with steam. "The last human beings born on earth will scatter out to the stars, and their children will populate the entire universe. You've seen them. You know this isn't the end. They'll tell stories about earth for a million years. I mean, they'll be talking about the finale to The Young and The Restless until 4849-B."
"I know." The skies are red. He watches her, watching the rockets. "We were up there, once. We watched earth burn. Are we there, now ? Somewhere ?" She slips her hand into his. "Tell me you and I are still out there, somewhere. Still travelling."
He points to a star.
"We're there," he says. He points to another, and another. "And there. There, and past that one, and past that still. We're-" he stops, unable to speak for the knot in his chest.
Rose points to the furthest star still in view.
"We're there," she says.
They shut the door and stroll back up the ramp, walking backwards, kissing idly, not wanting to hurry. "Doctor," she says, "take me somewhere." She puts her hand over his as he spins the dial, and the whole world hums between their skin.
They go up, and away.