Glimpse of Truth (22/?) Different Kind of Selfishness
Title: Glimpse of Truth (22/?) Different Kind of Selfishness
Author: sinecure - My master fic list
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: All ages
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Summary: The Doctor doesn't want to be selfish, but he wants Rose.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Thanks: to momdaegmorgan for the beta.
A/N: I'm sorry for this being so late. *hangs head* I fail. Also, there's been a lot of talking lately in this fic, and I promise that'll end very soon. More adventure and doing things in the next chapters. *crosses heart*
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (all ages version). Chapter 4 (adult version), Chapter 5,
Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13,
Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21
The Doctor halted just outside the kitchen door, seeing Rose. Just seeing her. It'd been nearly 10 hours since she'd left him alone with the sonogram picture. 10 hours since he'd gone over it all in his head and come to the one conclusion that'd help him get her back.
10 hours since he'd rejected all of those conclusions because the Universe needed him.
Now, 10 hours and 2 minutes later, he was finally done avoiding her.
Entering the room, he strode to the table and sat across from her. "I can stop." Gobsmacked at the words that'd just come out of his mouth, he sat back, snapping his jaw shut, teeth clacking loudly in the empty room.
Rose raised a brow at him. "That right?"
Shaking his head, feeling sadness deep in his bones, the Doctor sat forward, taking her hand. "Yes. I can. I can stop. Now if you want. Well, I've already stopped, haven't I? Haven't landed much recently." Eyes widening at the words pouring from his lips, he stopped the flow, but realized that he meant them.
He wanted to stop.
For her. For the baby. For the man who'd come from him and lived such a short time.
He wanted to stop.
"Doesn't look like you do," Rose told him, sad smile hovering on her lips before fading away completely. "And I'm not here to make you either. Gotta be your decision." Pushing to her feet, she stood looking down at him and he felt her fingers brush lightly, so lightly, along his forehead.
She hadn't touched him freely like that in months, maybe longer.
"Told you I was tired of being lonely."
Scraping his chair back, the Doctor got to his feet and closed the distance between them. His hands reached out to her, shaking because he was afraid she'd shrink away again, but she didn't. He was free to touch her for no reason at all other than that he wanted to.
"I don't like being the Lonely God, Rose. I don't-- I don't like it."
She didn't reply, just stood still, watching him decide where to put his hands and when he finally settled them on her belly, she released a breath that matched his own.
"Then don't do it anymore. Stop for a while."
Resting his forehead against hers, he slipped his arms around her waist, holding her loosely in a hug that he'd been craving since she left him. One that wasn't filled with sadness and the loss of Donna. One that wasn't about the other him.
One that was just him and Rose.
"I stopped once, just before I met you."
She pulled back, staring at him. "You did?"
Nodding, he rested his chin on the top of her head, staring at the old blue and stainless steel refrigerator he'd picked up from Earth when he worked for--with--the Brigadier. 60s? 70s? He'd modified it a dozen times since then, changed it, made it better, the way he tended to change planets and people to try to make them better.
The Lonely God, he'd been called, and he hated that title, though it definitely fit.
"After the war, after I regenerated, I... stopped. Didn't wanna go on anymore like I'd been." Closing his eyes against the fridge, he sighed and tightened his arms around Rose. "Didn't he tell you? The other me?"
He felt her head shake a little under his chin. "No. Should he have?"
Considering her question, he stayed silent. He wasn't sure if she should know, if the other him had had a right to tell her. He was glad the other Doctor hadn't brought it up because he felt like it was his failing, his choice.
His selfishness.
"What happened?" Her arms slid around his back and gripped his shoulders from beneath his arms. When he stayed silent, she dug her fingers in. "Doctor?"
"The war ended, and so did I. For a few months anyway. Didn't travel much."
"You were grieving--"
"I was selfish," he retorted, self-loathing welling up in him. "I left them all, Rose, with barely a backward glance. I left my people because I felt they were pompous and unwilling to get involved in matters that concerned the Universe. Oh, they actually were, selfish and pompous and frightened of outsiders by that point. And I couldn't stand being there any longer. I wanted to see the Universe. So, I left them without a thought, took off with no one but a TARDIS and my granddaughter."
He felt her go still, knew he was telling her things she'd never heard before, from either him or the other him. It wasn't how he'd wanted to tell her these details, with pain in his hearts and such fierce a determination not to lose her again eating away at him.
His life was hard and it was lonely; companions made it less so. Rose made it less so.
"You had a granddaughter," she marveled, arms sliding around his waist, fingers clutching his jacket. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and he felt her breath ghost across his shirt.
He wanted to feel that for the rest of his lives.
"Susan." The name sounded foreign to him now. He hadn't allowed himself to think it, let alone speak it. Not since the war. "She went by the name Susan Foreman. She loved Earth as much as I do. Particularly the 60s, though she eventually ended up in the 22nd century fighting a war. Fighting the good fight. Until the Time War."
Rose's eyelashes fluttered closed. "She's gone?"
"Oh, yes. They all are, no matter where they were in space or time. All of them but me. My family is-- do you know that I never visited them? Never went back to see them. Even Susan. She was... she left me, and I was bitter. I let a few years and a few regenerations go by and then decided she didn't need to see me anymore. Though I saw her once years later by someone else's hand." He snickered and breathed in deep. That was a tale for another time.
"Your... wife?" she asked, and he heard the hesitation in her voice, felt her fingers loosen minutely. Knew she didn't want to know, but couldn't help asking.
So, he brushed it aside. Another day.
"I lost them all in the war, and the moment they were gone, Rose, the very moment they no longer existed, when they were unreachable... I missed them." The Doctor was tired. Beyond tired. Remembering that day, that night, that period of time, the moment they were gone, he felt the sudden loss of billions of lives connected to him just--
Not there anymore.
It hit him again, overwhelming him in its enormity and his knees went weak.
"I miss them," he whispered, gripping her tighter to him as she struggled to pull away. "And that-- that is beyond selfish."
Rose managed to draw back to glare at him. "That's not selfish it's hum-- well, it's normal. I'd call you selfish if you didn't miss them, you bloody pillock."
A grin slid up his lips completely without his consent. "That's why I love you." Then it disappeared again at the thought of her not being there like his people. "I don't want to do that with you, Rose. I don't want you to not be around and then miss you when it's too late. I want to be a different kind of selfish." He kissed her lips lightly, barely realizing he was going to do it until he did. "I want you with me forever."
Taking her face in his hands, feeling her hair brush against his fingers, he drew back and saw tears in her eyes.
His hearts beat faster and her single one did as well, beating against his mind.
"I want that too," she finally whispered and kissed him. No tender, sweet kiss, this, but a full, open-mouthed kiss full of desperation and hunger and love. Her hand raised to the back of his head to hold him there and he silently vowed it was unnecessary; he wasn't going to leave her ever again.
Not even to death.
Chapter 23
Author: sinecure - My master fic list
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: All ages
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Summary: The Doctor doesn't want to be selfish, but he wants Rose.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Thanks: to momdaegmorgan for the beta.
A/N: I'm sorry for this being so late. *hangs head* I fail. Also, there's been a lot of talking lately in this fic, and I promise that'll end very soon. More adventure and doing things in the next chapters. *crosses heart*
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (all ages version). Chapter 4 (adult version), Chapter 5,
Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13,
Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21
The Doctor halted just outside the kitchen door, seeing Rose. Just seeing her. It'd been nearly 10 hours since she'd left him alone with the sonogram picture. 10 hours since he'd gone over it all in his head and come to the one conclusion that'd help him get her back.
10 hours since he'd rejected all of those conclusions because the Universe needed him.
Now, 10 hours and 2 minutes later, he was finally done avoiding her.
Entering the room, he strode to the table and sat across from her. "I can stop." Gobsmacked at the words that'd just come out of his mouth, he sat back, snapping his jaw shut, teeth clacking loudly in the empty room.
Rose raised a brow at him. "That right?"
Shaking his head, feeling sadness deep in his bones, the Doctor sat forward, taking her hand. "Yes. I can. I can stop. Now if you want. Well, I've already stopped, haven't I? Haven't landed much recently." Eyes widening at the words pouring from his lips, he stopped the flow, but realized that he meant them.
He wanted to stop.
For her. For the baby. For the man who'd come from him and lived such a short time.
He wanted to stop.
"Doesn't look like you do," Rose told him, sad smile hovering on her lips before fading away completely. "And I'm not here to make you either. Gotta be your decision." Pushing to her feet, she stood looking down at him and he felt her fingers brush lightly, so lightly, along his forehead.
She hadn't touched him freely like that in months, maybe longer.
"Told you I was tired of being lonely."
Scraping his chair back, the Doctor got to his feet and closed the distance between them. His hands reached out to her, shaking because he was afraid she'd shrink away again, but she didn't. He was free to touch her for no reason at all other than that he wanted to.
"I don't like being the Lonely God, Rose. I don't-- I don't like it."
She didn't reply, just stood still, watching him decide where to put his hands and when he finally settled them on her belly, she released a breath that matched his own.
"Then don't do it anymore. Stop for a while."
Resting his forehead against hers, he slipped his arms around her waist, holding her loosely in a hug that he'd been craving since she left him. One that wasn't filled with sadness and the loss of Donna. One that wasn't about the other him.
One that was just him and Rose.
"I stopped once, just before I met you."
She pulled back, staring at him. "You did?"
Nodding, he rested his chin on the top of her head, staring at the old blue and stainless steel refrigerator he'd picked up from Earth when he worked for--with--the Brigadier. 60s? 70s? He'd modified it a dozen times since then, changed it, made it better, the way he tended to change planets and people to try to make them better.
The Lonely God, he'd been called, and he hated that title, though it definitely fit.
"After the war, after I regenerated, I... stopped. Didn't wanna go on anymore like I'd been." Closing his eyes against the fridge, he sighed and tightened his arms around Rose. "Didn't he tell you? The other me?"
He felt her head shake a little under his chin. "No. Should he have?"
Considering her question, he stayed silent. He wasn't sure if she should know, if the other him had had a right to tell her. He was glad the other Doctor hadn't brought it up because he felt like it was his failing, his choice.
His selfishness.
"What happened?" Her arms slid around his back and gripped his shoulders from beneath his arms. When he stayed silent, she dug her fingers in. "Doctor?"
"The war ended, and so did I. For a few months anyway. Didn't travel much."
"You were grieving--"
"I was selfish," he retorted, self-loathing welling up in him. "I left them all, Rose, with barely a backward glance. I left my people because I felt they were pompous and unwilling to get involved in matters that concerned the Universe. Oh, they actually were, selfish and pompous and frightened of outsiders by that point. And I couldn't stand being there any longer. I wanted to see the Universe. So, I left them without a thought, took off with no one but a TARDIS and my granddaughter."
He felt her go still, knew he was telling her things she'd never heard before, from either him or the other him. It wasn't how he'd wanted to tell her these details, with pain in his hearts and such fierce a determination not to lose her again eating away at him.
His life was hard and it was lonely; companions made it less so. Rose made it less so.
"You had a granddaughter," she marveled, arms sliding around his waist, fingers clutching his jacket. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and he felt her breath ghost across his shirt.
He wanted to feel that for the rest of his lives.
"Susan." The name sounded foreign to him now. He hadn't allowed himself to think it, let alone speak it. Not since the war. "She went by the name Susan Foreman. She loved Earth as much as I do. Particularly the 60s, though she eventually ended up in the 22nd century fighting a war. Fighting the good fight. Until the Time War."
Rose's eyelashes fluttered closed. "She's gone?"
"Oh, yes. They all are, no matter where they were in space or time. All of them but me. My family is-- do you know that I never visited them? Never went back to see them. Even Susan. She was... she left me, and I was bitter. I let a few years and a few regenerations go by and then decided she didn't need to see me anymore. Though I saw her once years later by someone else's hand." He snickered and breathed in deep. That was a tale for another time.
"Your... wife?" she asked, and he heard the hesitation in her voice, felt her fingers loosen minutely. Knew she didn't want to know, but couldn't help asking.
So, he brushed it aside. Another day.
"I lost them all in the war, and the moment they were gone, Rose, the very moment they no longer existed, when they were unreachable... I missed them." The Doctor was tired. Beyond tired. Remembering that day, that night, that period of time, the moment they were gone, he felt the sudden loss of billions of lives connected to him just--
Not there anymore.
It hit him again, overwhelming him in its enormity and his knees went weak.
"I miss them," he whispered, gripping her tighter to him as she struggled to pull away. "And that-- that is beyond selfish."
Rose managed to draw back to glare at him. "That's not selfish it's hum-- well, it's normal. I'd call you selfish if you didn't miss them, you bloody pillock."
A grin slid up his lips completely without his consent. "That's why I love you." Then it disappeared again at the thought of her not being there like his people. "I don't want to do that with you, Rose. I don't want you to not be around and then miss you when it's too late. I want to be a different kind of selfish." He kissed her lips lightly, barely realizing he was going to do it until he did. "I want you with me forever."
Taking her face in his hands, feeling her hair brush against his fingers, he drew back and saw tears in her eyes.
His hearts beat faster and her single one did as well, beating against his mind.
"I want that too," she finally whispered and kissed him. No tender, sweet kiss, this, but a full, open-mouthed kiss full of desperation and hunger and love. Her hand raised to the back of his head to hold him there and he silently vowed it was unnecessary; he wasn't going to leave her ever again.
Not even to death.
Chapter 23