Title: Her Name Was Rose
Author: Mary (
stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Rebekah (
bekkis)
Rating: G
Genre: Introspective (I guess, if anybody has a better idea, then by all means, tell me... hah)
Word Count: 483
Characters: The Doctor (implied Doctor/Rose)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: Some fairytales are true.
A/N: Written for Challenge 2, "Fairytales", at
then_theres_us There is a story he tells to those who travel in the TARDIS. Some believe he has embroidered details along the way, as is the case with all legends and fairytales, but he assures them every detail is true.
It is a story about a girl, a girl with golden hair and warm brown eyes. A girl who can bring a solar system into existence with the rich sound of her laugh and light it with one of her gorgeous smiles.
A girl who fought some of the most fearsome creatures in the universe, sometimes with a weapon and sometimes with only the sheer force of her compassion as her arsenal.
A girl who takes his hand on a quiet street in London and listens to him go on about the turn of the Earth. A girl he almost leaves behind but they both change their minds at the last second.
A girl who eventually holds the power of a god inside of her, burning like the sun, and scatters two words through time and space, two little words that bring her back to save his life. He returns the favor and he changes and she stays.
They run together and she loves him openly, offering him her heart and he holds it carefully until it breaks apart in his hands on a cold beach in Norway.
A girl he loses and then finds again, who finds him when the universe is at its most dire and she stands beside him when it all seems as though it is crashing down around him.
They save the universe once more and he has to lose her again. This time he gives her his heart to hold and she takes it, though her grasp is tentative because they both know it is different, no matter what he tries to tell her.
He leaves her and ends up alone, as he always does.
The first time he tells the story of the girl it is so hard to think of her hair and her eyes and her smile that he feels as though he cannot breathe.
The more he tells it, however, the easier it gets and he is finally able to think of her without pain in his chest.
His face changes and so does his audience but there is a question they all sometimes ask.
How does it end?
There is no end. Her story will never end, so long as she lives in his memory. As long as there is a possibility, however distinct and remote, that he may see her again.
There is one question they always ask, without fail.
What was her name?
He can smile now as he thinks of it, as it rises to the forefront of his memory, and he closes his eyes to hold it there for just a moment before he speaks.
Her name was Rose.