DW Fic - His Own Reflection
Title: His Own Reflection
Author: redknightalex
Pairing: Ten2/Rose
Rating: PG-13 to Mature (for violent situations, see warnings)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, the BBC and all those involved do.
Word Count: 989
Warnings: Character death. Most likely tissues will be required.
Spoiler Warnings: Doomsday, Journey's End, and some deleted scenes from the latter.
Summary: Yet, here they were, on another bloody beach. Where they began and where they would end. A story come full circle.
It was windy and cold, just like the day they had started on that beach, on that famous, wonderful, dreadful, teary beach.
He thought of that place now, looking straight into her beautiful eyes, and how he had seen uncertainty instead of the love that used to flare in them as they had stood in that sand when the TARDIS, and her Doctor, left them behind forever.
Yet even then he could never have thought, never have imagined in his worst nightmares, that it would come to this.
His heart pounded slowly, he could feel it struggling in his very human chest, as the blood seeped quickly out of the wound in his stomach. A bullet wound, of all things, would bring him down. And he was dying; slowly, surely, inevitably. Death, real, horrible, eternal, was moments away and Rose, oh his poor Rose, was dying too.
She had taken the fall for him. She had tried her best to defend him, even placed her body between them and him, explained to the xenophobic citizens of Vixerunt that they were both humans and came, in the most cliched way, in peace. But they didn't understand, couldn't with their tiny, closed-minded brains, so they declared them, and their mysterious blue box, trespassers.
Trespassing, by their law, was punishable only by death.
The leader pressed a trigger of a blue gun and out shot a bullet laced with fire and acid.
The first went into Rose's chest, propelling her body backward into his waiting arms.
The second went into his stomach, barely missing Rose. He fell back with a grunt, taking her with him as he fell into the cold, hard sand. He clutched her hard, pressing her back against his chest, as if he was trying to protect her, to hold her tight as the wind rushed over them.
The third grazed his temple and sent searing pain through his head. Strangely it was then that he knew, beyond a doubt, that they would die here, on this beach.
It's always the third.
For a moment, as the leader looked down at them, his gun still smoking, he thought that those corrosive bullets would be fired into his and Rose's heads. Instead, the leader grunted, satisfied with his justice. The leader gave a good spit, the bile liquid falling onto his hair, before turning around and spoke in an odd tongue. Then, with steps heavy on the beach, the group of them marched off, their heads held high and guns now safely holstered.
And with a fourth, silent shot, the new TARDIS groaned. It had felt his pain like any good relation between a Time Lord and his machine, and although they were different, although they were grown in unconventional ways, they still felt each other like a true Time Lord felt two hearts. And they would all die: him, Rose, and the new TARDIS. Together.
For a while, all he could do was choke out blood and feel the pain that leapt from his midsection, blinding him with a whiteness that only came when he, or the real he, would regenerate. Not this time, he reminded himself, not today, not now, not ever.
And oh how it hurt! It had never hurt this much when he was wounded before. Never this much, never this blistering-
He suddenly felt Rose moan and he berated himself for not thinking of her, for not checking in with her, for not recognizing her pain. Oh, but what was the point? They were all doomed to die this day, right here, right now, and her feeble attempts to hide her agony from him would do nothing. He saw right past her.
He used his hands to feel her wound, grazing the corrosive substance that had laced each bullet, feeling the sweet sting of it on his fingers. He knew the acid, and if his mind weren't concentrating so hard on Rose he would have recalled the name, yet still he knew that it would act quickly. It would gather momentum in the blood that was rapidly flowing out of her, push its way into her heart, and stop it cold. It certainly was an immoral way to kill someone but incredibly effective. He was reminded, once more, of how much he hated guns.
They only had seconds left and he needed to make sure that he got it right this time. No more second chances.
“Rose,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and dry, tongue sticking to the top of his mouth as if he had attached it to a cold pole.
With a struggle, she looked up, opening her eyes with a flutter, eyelashes glued together with blood, tears, and sweat, and the only thing he could see was his own reflection smiling sadly back at him.
“Doc-” she began, before wincing. A cough sprang from her lips, wracking her whole body, and he felt tears spring eternal from his eyes. He had tried so hard to spare her from pain and yet, in the end, it would always, could only be him that made her feel this anguish, this horror. She always claimed she followed him through love. It took him years to see that she loved him and not the man that had left her, not just once, but twice on a beach they had never visited again.
Yet, here they were, on another bloody beach. Where they began and where they would end. A story come full circle.
He forced his eyes open, looking at Rose with a fiery passion that burned hotter than the pain in his stomach.
“Rose,” he began again, tears mixing with the blood flowing down from his temple. It felt right. “I love you.”
And, when his world went black, all he could remember, all he could see, was his own reflection, his own words, shimmering back in her teary love-filled eyes.
Author: redknightalex
Pairing: Ten2/Rose
Rating: PG-13 to Mature (for violent situations, see warnings)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, the BBC and all those involved do.
Word Count: 989
Warnings: Character death. Most likely tissues will be required.
Spoiler Warnings: Doomsday, Journey's End, and some deleted scenes from the latter.
Summary: Yet, here they were, on another bloody beach. Where they began and where they would end. A story come full circle.
It was windy and cold, just like the day they had started on that beach, on that famous, wonderful, dreadful, teary beach.
He thought of that place now, looking straight into her beautiful eyes, and how he had seen uncertainty instead of the love that used to flare in them as they had stood in that sand when the TARDIS, and her Doctor, left them behind forever.
Yet even then he could never have thought, never have imagined in his worst nightmares, that it would come to this.
His heart pounded slowly, he could feel it struggling in his very human chest, as the blood seeped quickly out of the wound in his stomach. A bullet wound, of all things, would bring him down. And he was dying; slowly, surely, inevitably. Death, real, horrible, eternal, was moments away and Rose, oh his poor Rose, was dying too.
She had taken the fall for him. She had tried her best to defend him, even placed her body between them and him, explained to the xenophobic citizens of Vixerunt that they were both humans and came, in the most cliched way, in peace. But they didn't understand, couldn't with their tiny, closed-minded brains, so they declared them, and their mysterious blue box, trespassers.
Trespassing, by their law, was punishable only by death.
The leader pressed a trigger of a blue gun and out shot a bullet laced with fire and acid.
The first went into Rose's chest, propelling her body backward into his waiting arms.
The second went into his stomach, barely missing Rose. He fell back with a grunt, taking her with him as he fell into the cold, hard sand. He clutched her hard, pressing her back against his chest, as if he was trying to protect her, to hold her tight as the wind rushed over them.
The third grazed his temple and sent searing pain through his head. Strangely it was then that he knew, beyond a doubt, that they would die here, on this beach.
It's always the third.
For a moment, as the leader looked down at them, his gun still smoking, he thought that those corrosive bullets would be fired into his and Rose's heads. Instead, the leader grunted, satisfied with his justice. The leader gave a good spit, the bile liquid falling onto his hair, before turning around and spoke in an odd tongue. Then, with steps heavy on the beach, the group of them marched off, their heads held high and guns now safely holstered.
And with a fourth, silent shot, the new TARDIS groaned. It had felt his pain like any good relation between a Time Lord and his machine, and although they were different, although they were grown in unconventional ways, they still felt each other like a true Time Lord felt two hearts. And they would all die: him, Rose, and the new TARDIS. Together.
For a while, all he could do was choke out blood and feel the pain that leapt from his midsection, blinding him with a whiteness that only came when he, or the real he, would regenerate. Not this time, he reminded himself, not today, not now, not ever.
And oh how it hurt! It had never hurt this much when he was wounded before. Never this much, never this blistering-
He suddenly felt Rose moan and he berated himself for not thinking of her, for not checking in with her, for not recognizing her pain. Oh, but what was the point? They were all doomed to die this day, right here, right now, and her feeble attempts to hide her agony from him would do nothing. He saw right past her.
He used his hands to feel her wound, grazing the corrosive substance that had laced each bullet, feeling the sweet sting of it on his fingers. He knew the acid, and if his mind weren't concentrating so hard on Rose he would have recalled the name, yet still he knew that it would act quickly. It would gather momentum in the blood that was rapidly flowing out of her, push its way into her heart, and stop it cold. It certainly was an immoral way to kill someone but incredibly effective. He was reminded, once more, of how much he hated guns.
They only had seconds left and he needed to make sure that he got it right this time. No more second chances.
“Rose,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and dry, tongue sticking to the top of his mouth as if he had attached it to a cold pole.
With a struggle, she looked up, opening her eyes with a flutter, eyelashes glued together with blood, tears, and sweat, and the only thing he could see was his own reflection smiling sadly back at him.
“Doc-” she began, before wincing. A cough sprang from her lips, wracking her whole body, and he felt tears spring eternal from his eyes. He had tried so hard to spare her from pain and yet, in the end, it would always, could only be him that made her feel this anguish, this horror. She always claimed she followed him through love. It took him years to see that she loved him and not the man that had left her, not just once, but twice on a beach they had never visited again.
Yet, here they were, on another bloody beach. Where they began and where they would end. A story come full circle.
He forced his eyes open, looking at Rose with a fiery passion that burned hotter than the pain in his stomach.
“Rose,” he began again, tears mixing with the blood flowing down from his temple. It felt right. “I love you.”
And, when his world went black, all he could remember, all he could see, was his own reflection, his own words, shimmering back in her teary love-filled eyes.