Doctor Who Fic: Different Views
Title: Different Views
Author: silverlunarstar
Characters/Pairings: 9/Rose
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst/Romance/Comfort
Warnings/Spoilers: Post-The Unquiet Dead
Words: 1,152
Series: None
Status: Completed
Summary: One-shot. Rose has nightmares and the Doctor learns something new about her. Rose wants to go back to London. What does the Doctor want?
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.
Author's Note: For
then_theres_us, challenge 86. It was slightly inspired by pic prompt #4. Don't know how I feel about this one as my muse refused to cooperate until later. I wanted to write something great for TUD ‘cause this is the one that converted me completely. Alas, it was not meant to be. Anyway, I think it came out okay, at least. Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Plastic men reached for her, ready to take her out.
No.
A plastic hand was suffocating her.
No.
Hooded figures approached her and knocked her down.
No.
She was trapped in an oven; the glass was cracking and the whole place was on fire.
No.
Someone grabbed her from behind as she tried to save someone, someone who was already dead.
No.
She was trapped in a cold cellar, all alone, as the dead reached for her.
No.
Gas creatures, disguised as angels, surrounded her as she choked.
No.
Skulls crunched beneath her feet as she ran.
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
--
Rose awoke in cold sweat. After breaking deeply a few times, she tried to recall what she'd dreamt about, but her mind drew a blank. It wasn't unusual; plenty of people tended to forget their dreams once they awoke. Although she was usually one of the spare few who actually remembered most of what she dreamt about, so this was quite unusual for her. She chalked it up to exhaustion. On her first ‘night’ here, right after she and the Doctor had seen the Earth end five billion years in her future, she was sure she hadn't dreamt at all. She tried to go back to sleep but, after half an hour, she gave up. Shoving the sheets away, she got up, grabbed a borrowed dressing gown, slipped her shoes on, and slipped out of the plain bedroom.
She had only been wandering around for a few minutes when she found a familiar door. Swearing this place had been further down, she pushed the door open and found herself in one of the TARDIS' libraries; the Doctor had led her here after their second adventure together. She hadn't let it show how much this gorgeous room enthralled her. Even though she had hated school, she loved to read. Since there wasn't much space in her room, or the flat for that matter, she would go to the library to check out a few books a week, and simply gobbled them up.
Her friends had never understood her obsession with books, but she would read just about anything that caught her fancy. If she'd taken her A-Levels in English Language and Literature, she knew she would have passed it with flying colors.
When she had been going through the whole Charles Dickens collection, Shireen had teased, "Have a date with Charlie?" whenever she'd excuse herself from hanging out.
Speaking of which… Before she knew it, she'd found a thick, leather-bound book entitled, “Short Stories by Charles Dickens (1836-1868)”. If it weren't for its crisp pages, she would have thought it was decades old, err, by her time, that was. Skimming through the table of contents, she found one of her favorites and, soon, she was engrossed within the pages of ‘The Signal-Man.’ She didn't know how much time had gone by, but quite suddenly, the book was removed from her drooping form. That snapped her out of her lethargic state.
"Catching up on some reading?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Just rereading a favorite." She covered her mouth as she yawned, before stretching.
His other eyebrow was raised.
"What, you think I've never read Charles Dickens?" Instead of the teasing tone she'd intended for, it came out bitingly.
"You alright?" He put down the book and sat down on the leather couch that was next to the chaise she was on, his voice full of concern.
"Had a bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep," she admitted.
"So you decided to read up on ghost stories?"
"I haven't done much reading in a few months; I get home from work exhausted most of the time. When I was younger, I used to love going down to the library. It was a distraction from the world; ever book was another adventure," she said enthusiastically.
He grinned at her, his hearts swelling. This girl was so full of life; she took what was handed to her and went with it. If things weren't to her liking, she tried her damned hardest to make things better. "So what else have you read?"
For over an hour, they spoke about all that she'd read and he was amazed at how much she'd fit into her small life. He noticed her drooping again and he was about to suggest she get to bed when, quite suddenly, she spoke, "Do you think we could go back to London? 2005, I mean."
A shadow crossed the Doctor's face. "You ready to go home, then?" He thought they'd been getting on so well. Apparently, he was wrong.
"No!" she said quickly, a bit too loudly. Her mind struggled to remember her dream again, but she dismissed it. Whatever she'd experienced the last couple of days, this was worth it. "I mean, not, to stay or anything. I just…" She looked down and started fiddling with the dressing gown's tie. "I need my own stuff," she blurted out.
"What?" He was slightly baffled.
"I can't keep wearing the same thing all the time." The ‘duh’ resonated silently.
He looked down at his own kit before looking back at her. "Why not?" and before she could say anything, he rolled his eyes. "Humans, always worried about small stuff. You did notice how big the wardrobe room is, right? You can use anything there." He tried to keep the desperate tone out of his voice; if he took her back and she decided she wanted to stay…
"I'd just feel more comfortable in my own clothes," Rose argued.
He sighed and was ready to give in, when he suddenly pulled a one-eighty on her. "There are plenty of skeletons in my closet, Rose Tyler. Are you sure you want to keep going around with an old man like me?" He didn't know why he said this when, more than anything, he wanted her to stay. She had to understand that he was dangerous, though. If she truly wanted to stay…but then, why was she so insistent on going back home? It couldn't just be because of her clothes, could it? Perhaps it was too much and she wanted to be home safely before coming up with vapid excuses such as having to stay with her mother or, worse, Rickey.
"You're not that old," she defended. "It's hard," she admitted. Remembering what had only occurred a few hours ago, "We have such different ways of thinking, but…" she trailed off, thinking about their lovely discussion on literature.
He held his breath, unable to keep that spark of hope from coming forth. "But?" he said after forty-three seconds of silence.
"I'd like to see more, experience more. See what you see."
He grinned at her. "You will and it's going to be fantastic."
What he didn't tell her was that he wanted to learn to see the universe again, this time through her eyes.
Author: silverlunarstar
Characters/Pairings: 9/Rose
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst/Romance/Comfort
Warnings/Spoilers: Post-The Unquiet Dead
Words: 1,152
Series: None
Status: Completed
Summary: One-shot. Rose has nightmares and the Doctor learns something new about her. Rose wants to go back to London. What does the Doctor want?
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.
Author's Note: For
then_theres_us, challenge 86. It was slightly inspired by pic prompt #4. Don't know how I feel about this one as my muse refused to cooperate until later. I wanted to write something great for TUD ‘cause this is the one that converted me completely. Alas, it was not meant to be. Anyway, I think it came out okay, at least. Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Plastic men reached for her, ready to take her out.
No.
A plastic hand was suffocating her.
No.
Hooded figures approached her and knocked her down.
No.
She was trapped in an oven; the glass was cracking and the whole place was on fire.
No.
Someone grabbed her from behind as she tried to save someone, someone who was already dead.
No.
She was trapped in a cold cellar, all alone, as the dead reached for her.
No.
Gas creatures, disguised as angels, surrounded her as she choked.
No.
Skulls crunched beneath her feet as she ran.
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
--
Rose awoke in cold sweat. After breaking deeply a few times, she tried to recall what she'd dreamt about, but her mind drew a blank. It wasn't unusual; plenty of people tended to forget their dreams once they awoke. Although she was usually one of the spare few who actually remembered most of what she dreamt about, so this was quite unusual for her. She chalked it up to exhaustion. On her first ‘night’ here, right after she and the Doctor had seen the Earth end five billion years in her future, she was sure she hadn't dreamt at all. She tried to go back to sleep but, after half an hour, she gave up. Shoving the sheets away, she got up, grabbed a borrowed dressing gown, slipped her shoes on, and slipped out of the plain bedroom.
She had only been wandering around for a few minutes when she found a familiar door. Swearing this place had been further down, she pushed the door open and found herself in one of the TARDIS' libraries; the Doctor had led her here after their second adventure together. She hadn't let it show how much this gorgeous room enthralled her. Even though she had hated school, she loved to read. Since there wasn't much space in her room, or the flat for that matter, she would go to the library to check out a few books a week, and simply gobbled them up.
Her friends had never understood her obsession with books, but she would read just about anything that caught her fancy. If she'd taken her A-Levels in English Language and Literature, she knew she would have passed it with flying colors.
When she had been going through the whole Charles Dickens collection, Shireen had teased, "Have a date with Charlie?" whenever she'd excuse herself from hanging out.
Speaking of which… Before she knew it, she'd found a thick, leather-bound book entitled, “Short Stories by Charles Dickens (1836-1868)”. If it weren't for its crisp pages, she would have thought it was decades old, err, by her time, that was. Skimming through the table of contents, she found one of her favorites and, soon, she was engrossed within the pages of ‘The Signal-Man.’ She didn't know how much time had gone by, but quite suddenly, the book was removed from her drooping form. That snapped her out of her lethargic state.
"Catching up on some reading?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Just rereading a favorite." She covered her mouth as she yawned, before stretching.
His other eyebrow was raised.
"What, you think I've never read Charles Dickens?" Instead of the teasing tone she'd intended for, it came out bitingly.
"You alright?" He put down the book and sat down on the leather couch that was next to the chaise she was on, his voice full of concern.
"Had a bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep," she admitted.
"So you decided to read up on ghost stories?"
"I haven't done much reading in a few months; I get home from work exhausted most of the time. When I was younger, I used to love going down to the library. It was a distraction from the world; ever book was another adventure," she said enthusiastically.
He grinned at her, his hearts swelling. This girl was so full of life; she took what was handed to her and went with it. If things weren't to her liking, she tried her damned hardest to make things better. "So what else have you read?"
For over an hour, they spoke about all that she'd read and he was amazed at how much she'd fit into her small life. He noticed her drooping again and he was about to suggest she get to bed when, quite suddenly, she spoke, "Do you think we could go back to London? 2005, I mean."
A shadow crossed the Doctor's face. "You ready to go home, then?" He thought they'd been getting on so well. Apparently, he was wrong.
"No!" she said quickly, a bit too loudly. Her mind struggled to remember her dream again, but she dismissed it. Whatever she'd experienced the last couple of days, this was worth it. "I mean, not, to stay or anything. I just…" She looked down and started fiddling with the dressing gown's tie. "I need my own stuff," she blurted out.
"What?" He was slightly baffled.
"I can't keep wearing the same thing all the time." The ‘duh’ resonated silently.
He looked down at his own kit before looking back at her. "Why not?" and before she could say anything, he rolled his eyes. "Humans, always worried about small stuff. You did notice how big the wardrobe room is, right? You can use anything there." He tried to keep the desperate tone out of his voice; if he took her back and she decided she wanted to stay…
"I'd just feel more comfortable in my own clothes," Rose argued.
He sighed and was ready to give in, when he suddenly pulled a one-eighty on her. "There are plenty of skeletons in my closet, Rose Tyler. Are you sure you want to keep going around with an old man like me?" He didn't know why he said this when, more than anything, he wanted her to stay. She had to understand that he was dangerous, though. If she truly wanted to stay…but then, why was she so insistent on going back home? It couldn't just be because of her clothes, could it? Perhaps it was too much and she wanted to be home safely before coming up with vapid excuses such as having to stay with her mother or, worse, Rickey.
"You're not that old," she defended. "It's hard," she admitted. Remembering what had only occurred a few hours ago, "We have such different ways of thinking, but…" she trailed off, thinking about their lovely discussion on literature.
He held his breath, unable to keep that spark of hope from coming forth. "But?" he said after forty-three seconds of silence.
"I'd like to see more, experience more. See what you see."
He grinned at her. "You will and it's going to be fantastic."
What he didn't tell her was that he wanted to learn to see the universe again, this time through her eyes.