(no subject)
Just Run, TenII/Rose, PG
Cursing his mortal life, the Doctor heard a noise behind him that he instinctively knew did not belong to a Torchwood Land Rover or an extraction helicopter. He couldn't even turn around to see what was bearing down on him. 643 w.
A/N: Special wet smoochies to zazie11 who served as beta, filling in whilst my regular BetaBabe was en route from Europe! XOXO! ♥
Crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch…
Leaves, twigs and bits of gravel sang as the Doctor’s legs pumped his body down the country lane, at top speed. Crisp night air assaulted his lungs before it was expelled as a fine silvery mist with his desperate exhales. A little bit panicked, his eyes scanned the rural lane ahead, lit up in the glow of the dappled moonlight.
But, dammit! Where was Rose?
Somehow, they'd been separated at some point-why the Hell was she always going off by herself? After all these years, hadn't she learned anything?
Cursing his mortal life, the Doctor heard a noise behind him that he instinctively knew did not belong to a Torchwood Land Rover or an extraction helicopter. He couldn't even turn around to see what was bearing down on him.
Whatever it was, it had his scent.
Whatever it was, it was not human.
Whatever it was, it was going to get him.
He made a sudden, sharp turn to the right, spraying gravel like slush off a shovel as he pushed into a lunge-arms flailing, lungs bursting, and feet punishing the ground.
Ahead, the whitewashed walls of a tiny village loomed in the moonlight. Thank Rassilon!
But the creature was still right on him!
Sweat beaded on the Doctor’s forehead, matting his fringe to his face-but still he raced on, toward the nest of houses and quaint businesses in the village.
He thought of Rose: How her wet hair smelled of mango shampoo in the morning; how her hands were always ice cold before bedtime in the winter, and how she could never seem to cook beans on toast without burning something.
He had loved every second of it.
The Doctor’s hands slapped the outer wall of the empty pub for balance as he skittered down an alley.
The thing behind him snarled and snorted, but continued to close the gap.
The Doctor knocked over some rubbish bins to slow the thing down.
At least this is better than tripping over a brick, he thought.
But still IT came…
Frantically turning another blind corner, his eyes widened to take in every bit of light-to see all his options, every possibility for escape.
Basically, slim to none.
The Doctor wondered if Rose would forgive him. Would she power up the Dimension Cannon again? He knew he should have married her. He should have told her he loved her more-should have ended every sentence with it, if only he'd known...
He just thought he would have had more time.
His hands already ached to touch her. Panting, he made another desperate sharp turn. The Doctor willed his feet to deliver him to safety. The stitch in his side finally burned into his consciousness. It would be the only part of him to burn tonight; there would be no more regenerations
The sinews in his legs played an arpeggio of fear in tune with the pounding of his single heart. He gulped in the damp night air and tasted pine and primrose, danger and death.
Wouldn’t be long now.
He saw Rose's tear-stained face and the pile of neglected mail in their flat as she wore his favourite sweatshirt. He silently wished the universe to end.
He hated to leave her so alone.
Reaching the end of the tangle of little alleyways, the creature's breath rustled his hair.
Goodbye, my Rose...
In a last burst of courage, the Doctor spun to face his attacker.
Rose…
Her hands…
It was over…
It was Rose!
“Wotcha, Doctor!” she cried into his hair. Her lips, her hands-her teeth-were on him, hungrily pawing and nipping at him. “I thought you’d never let me catch up to you!”
Shuddering with relief, he braced himself against the wall of the alley, allowing his wolf to strike.
So much better than tripping over a brick, really...
