Fic: Like This (Barbara/Ian, Barbara/Ten, PG)
Title: Like This
Author: livii
Pairings: Barbara/Ian, Barbara/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,020 words
Summary: They made it home.
Notes: This was a holiday gift fic for jeanne_dark, who asked to see Barbara and a Doctor other than One, and graciously allowed me to post it here as well.
It went like this -
They made it home. She never thought she'd be so happy to see a bus, the school, pigeons and Westminster Bridge and grey English skies.
Travelling the universe was something she'd hold to her heart forever, tucked away, a special secret to be shared only with Ian, who had been there too. But home - she understood that word. It was where the rest of the words made sense, too.
She didn't see it as settling down; more like putting down roots, claiming a small patch of one insignificant little planet as her own. She married Ian - oh Ian, her darling Ian - and raised children and put up bright, welcoming curtains over the kitchen sink. She didn't see it as closing herself off; more like choosing to be the one who stayed in place, and let others come to her door, for a change.
But it also went like this -
It's Christmas, forty-odd years later. There's a wreath on the front door and the children are all coming over with their children later, and it's home.
She's happy and she knows she made the right choice. She still feels itchy in her skin, like the boundaries are pressing in and she's getting old, old, old.
She goes for a walk; around the corner, up through the streets, a far cry from Skaro and Aztec gods, but it's her territory now, it's what she has. She counts her steps and traces routes as if to mark them off, mark their importance, and her mastery over them.
She counts four hundred and eight and comes right up to the train tracks at the edge of the park. There's a man standing there, shivering in the cold night air in a too-thin coat and no hat or gloves.
"Hello, Barbara," he says, "it's good to see you," and for someone as strong-willed as she is (a spitfire, Ian liked to call her, laughing at the old-fashioned expression, admiration in his eyes) she can't think of a single thing to say in response.
She knew the Doctor had tricks up his sleeves, aces hidden away, but this was beyond anything she'd imagined. And yet his eyes - staring at her now, crinkling up with a little bit of amusement and so much hope - this man can see inside her soul, her head, knows her inside and out and there's no one else it can be at all.
"How?" she asks, nervously reaching out to brush his hair from his eyes.
"Oh Barbara," he says, sighing, "forget the whys and wherefores. Come on, let's have some of that old magic, that old mystery."
She smiles, the lines on her face creasing and she's shy about how old she's grown, and she bows her head.
"None of that now," he says, cupping her chin and tipping her face up into the pale moonlight. He looks so very, very young, all sharp angles and floppy hair and he gives her a smile that's so lopsided she can't help but laugh.
He laughs along with her, and it sounds like a weight is being lifted from his chest. It makes her heart shudder, and she longs to comfort him. He is such a different man.
"No one with you, Doctor?" she asks, trying to probe him lightly. "Not kidnapping schoolteachers anymore?"
"I'm alone right now," he says simply, "but there'll be someone else in the end. They come and go, Barbara. An old police box is no one's idea of a home."
He stresses the last word, home, and she knows there's something more that he's holding back from her. She decides, for once, to let sleeping dogs lie.
"I never did get a chance to thank you for getting us home," she says. "We missed by two years, but what's two years between friends?"
He smiles, and she goes on. "And things have been fine - more than fine, wonderful really - Ian and I got married and had three children, we bought a little house, we have grandchildren now. It's everything I could have hoped for."
She realizes she's babbling, and as if he realizes it too, he takes her face in his hands again, and leans down slowly. She has time to push him away, but doesn't. His lips are soft and warm, not at all alien; his tongue is wet and insistent, and she lets him kiss her thoroughly, hands on her face, stroking her gently.
She pulls away first; she gets the impression that he has no reason to stop.
He shuffles his feet, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up in all directions. She giggles, and the sound makes him smile.
"You didn't forget me," he says, sheepishly, and she feels her heart expand, full of joy and sadness.
"I never could, Doctor," she says gently, and pats his hand. "Should I say hello to Ian for you?"
"Best we leave Chesterfield out of this," he says, tapping his nose with his finger. She shakes her head, smiling, and he's off, striding away across the frozen grass, towards the faint outline of a blue police box.
He turns at the last moment, almost out of her range of hearing. He shouts something to her, but she can only pick out a few words. Thank you, she hears, always and adventure and home.
And in the end, it really went like this -
She goes home. Ian fusses after her when she gets in; her fingers are frozen and he kisses her cheeks to warm them up. She laughs and kisses him soundly, twirling him around in the warm kitchen. He tastes like gingerbread and she teases him about eating all the cookies before the children get there.
She has a new secret to keep, something to fold up in her heart and keep safe. She knows Ian would understand, but she does not tell him. She still has her mysteries, she still has her adventures.
The doorbell rings and she goes to answer it. They made it home.
Author: livii
Pairings: Barbara/Ian, Barbara/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,020 words
Summary: They made it home.
Notes: This was a holiday gift fic for jeanne_dark, who asked to see Barbara and a Doctor other than One, and graciously allowed me to post it here as well.
It went like this -
They made it home. She never thought she'd be so happy to see a bus, the school, pigeons and Westminster Bridge and grey English skies.
Travelling the universe was something she'd hold to her heart forever, tucked away, a special secret to be shared only with Ian, who had been there too. But home - she understood that word. It was where the rest of the words made sense, too.
She didn't see it as settling down; more like putting down roots, claiming a small patch of one insignificant little planet as her own. She married Ian - oh Ian, her darling Ian - and raised children and put up bright, welcoming curtains over the kitchen sink. She didn't see it as closing herself off; more like choosing to be the one who stayed in place, and let others come to her door, for a change.
But it also went like this -
It's Christmas, forty-odd years later. There's a wreath on the front door and the children are all coming over with their children later, and it's home.
She's happy and she knows she made the right choice. She still feels itchy in her skin, like the boundaries are pressing in and she's getting old, old, old.
She goes for a walk; around the corner, up through the streets, a far cry from Skaro and Aztec gods, but it's her territory now, it's what she has. She counts her steps and traces routes as if to mark them off, mark their importance, and her mastery over them.
She counts four hundred and eight and comes right up to the train tracks at the edge of the park. There's a man standing there, shivering in the cold night air in a too-thin coat and no hat or gloves.
"Hello, Barbara," he says, "it's good to see you," and for someone as strong-willed as she is (a spitfire, Ian liked to call her, laughing at the old-fashioned expression, admiration in his eyes) she can't think of a single thing to say in response.
She knew the Doctor had tricks up his sleeves, aces hidden away, but this was beyond anything she'd imagined. And yet his eyes - staring at her now, crinkling up with a little bit of amusement and so much hope - this man can see inside her soul, her head, knows her inside and out and there's no one else it can be at all.
"How?" she asks, nervously reaching out to brush his hair from his eyes.
"Oh Barbara," he says, sighing, "forget the whys and wherefores. Come on, let's have some of that old magic, that old mystery."
She smiles, the lines on her face creasing and she's shy about how old she's grown, and she bows her head.
"None of that now," he says, cupping her chin and tipping her face up into the pale moonlight. He looks so very, very young, all sharp angles and floppy hair and he gives her a smile that's so lopsided she can't help but laugh.
He laughs along with her, and it sounds like a weight is being lifted from his chest. It makes her heart shudder, and she longs to comfort him. He is such a different man.
"No one with you, Doctor?" she asks, trying to probe him lightly. "Not kidnapping schoolteachers anymore?"
"I'm alone right now," he says simply, "but there'll be someone else in the end. They come and go, Barbara. An old police box is no one's idea of a home."
He stresses the last word, home, and she knows there's something more that he's holding back from her. She decides, for once, to let sleeping dogs lie.
"I never did get a chance to thank you for getting us home," she says. "We missed by two years, but what's two years between friends?"
He smiles, and she goes on. "And things have been fine - more than fine, wonderful really - Ian and I got married and had three children, we bought a little house, we have grandchildren now. It's everything I could have hoped for."
She realizes she's babbling, and as if he realizes it too, he takes her face in his hands again, and leans down slowly. She has time to push him away, but doesn't. His lips are soft and warm, not at all alien; his tongue is wet and insistent, and she lets him kiss her thoroughly, hands on her face, stroking her gently.
She pulls away first; she gets the impression that he has no reason to stop.
He shuffles his feet, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up in all directions. She giggles, and the sound makes him smile.
"You didn't forget me," he says, sheepishly, and she feels her heart expand, full of joy and sadness.
"I never could, Doctor," she says gently, and pats his hand. "Should I say hello to Ian for you?"
"Best we leave Chesterfield out of this," he says, tapping his nose with his finger. She shakes her head, smiling, and he's off, striding away across the frozen grass, towards the faint outline of a blue police box.
He turns at the last moment, almost out of her range of hearing. He shouts something to her, but she can only pick out a few words. Thank you, she hears, always and adventure and home.
And in the end, it really went like this -
She goes home. Ian fusses after her when she gets in; her fingers are frozen and he kisses her cheeks to warm them up. She laughs and kisses him soundly, twirling him around in the warm kitchen. He tastes like gingerbread and she teases him about eating all the cookies before the children get there.
She has a new secret to keep, something to fold up in her heart and keep safe. She knows Ian would understand, but she does not tell him. She still has her mysteries, she still has her adventures.
The doorbell rings and she goes to answer it. They made it home.