(no subject)
the pathos of forgiveness, Ten/Rose & Eleven/Rose, PG
It is a relief to see the grand and impossible through the small and lonely; it makes everything easier and greater, makes him learn how it feels to be breathless., 973
A/N: Sorry about disappearing on you guys - my love for ttu and Doctor/Rose hasn't faded in the slightest, though my meager grasp on writing is probably far rustier for the disuse. And yes, that is Ten. I am more shocked than any that I wrote Ten.
2O.
Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you
and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break
He heads straight for the controls, the thud of his feet unchanging as he crashes into the coral panels. He can hear her stumbling through the doors, the heave of her chest and the cry of her lungs. Human Rose does not have the advantage Time Lord biology so only her gasps stir the air between them. For a too long moment he doesn't catch the hitch of oxygen passing her lips and he glances up, long fingers wrapped around a lever.
"Told you we'd make it," he quips, merry and flushed with the adrenaline of triumph and simply being right.
"Yeah? They almost got me that last wave - Look! My jacket is ruined."
One more button and the TARDIS hums to life, whirring like a soundless hurricane in their bones. Rose half-laughs as she combs a hand through her hair, picking at the remnants of ash and supernovas on her collar. Now he can turn his full attention to her and he wishes he couldn't. She has the tragic gift of enchanting him, of drawing him into the gravity of a single human life and weaving him into it. It is a relief to see the grand and impossible through the small and lonely; it makes everything easier and greater, makes him learn how it feels to be breathless.
She flashes a smile that warms him to his toes, curling them into waterlogged trainers.
"It's just a jacket, Rose. The TARDIS has plenty of those." ( Somewhere in a corner lies an old leather jacket that smells of discovery and rebellion. Maybe one day she will find it. Maybe one day she will stop looking for it from the corner of her eyes. )
He crosses over from the controls, reaching for her pink cheeks and pink lips, her warmth and her glow. "`m sure I'll find something," she says against the skin by his ear, his head bowed over her in the shape of a prayer.
"How long are you going to stay with me?"
The brush of his fingers over her scratches sends lightning singing up the path of ivory vertebrae. A fine tremble marks the lines of her body and the tilt of her jaw. "Forever," she promises and her voice trembles not at all. He asks her this question more than once, each time more afraid and each time more broken when she gives her benediction and threatens to burst the dam in his hearts with hope.
His thumb presses urgently into her hip. Rose anchors him in his temporary harbors. "Oh Rose, the places we will go. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon are just brilliant - the stuff you humans can do."
This time she wants something in return because she is human and humans love both selfishly and selflessly at once, a paradox of rain and sunlight. "Can you promise?"
Rose has a warm voice, he thinks, a voice that would taste like saffron, fragrant and distinct, chased by a frail bitterness that rises from the earth. He wishes it would spill into him and ward off the chill that answers her words. He wants to tell her. He wants to promise her forever, wants to say it with the conviction only she gives him, but his throat closes painfully around the syllables. Instead he gathers her face in his hands, palms curving tenderly like he is holding together his dreams by the silk of spiderwebs. The flutter of her lashes tickles the tips of his fingers.
This is Rose. This is the girl who breaks every rule of the universe, who sins without sinning and kills without killing. She shines with a capacity to love and he recalls the impossibility of all she has done with a sort of awe.
She deserves so much and he has so little. He will have centuries to forgive himself this taboo.
"Yes."
Rose doesn't wait because she knows he won't say the words. This is already more than she could have wished for so she lingers a little longer and before he can pull away, she slips from his grasp dripping wet, the imprint of his hand on her side red and flaming in her mind's eye.
"Better change 'fore I catch something horrible."
I promise, he chants silently, I promise, I promise, I promise.
It is practice for a time that will never come.
Before he knows it, she has done more than slip away. He is filling the empty spaces where she once stood with new companions and new blondes, but never on purpose and never with absolution. Sometimes they are more magnificent than he expects and sometimes they are more fantastic, but they never light the same dark corners that Rose did.
With River on the horizon and Ponds in his TARDIS, the Doctor comes to the realization that he still has time. He has a score of these universe collapsing mistakes already and time enough to forgive himself one more. One night he rewires the phone and waits for it to ring, lunging for it when it finally does.
"Doctor? Do we have any jam left in the pantry?"
Her voice is the same, husky like the touch of crushed velvet. Fish and pudding suddenly pales in comparison. "Rose," he sighs, feeling time twist underneath his skin. "Rose Tyler."
"Doctor, are you sick? You sound off - want me to swing by Mum's and have her make you some tea? Tannings and all that."
"Free-radicals and tannin, Rose," he corrects absentmindedly, missing the phantom kiss of her skin, the slide of her fingers against his. She would love his new hair.
"Right, free-radicals and tannin," she echoes indulgently. "You sure you're okay Doctor?"
"Yes. I promise."
"I'll be home soon Doctor. Please don't burn your hair tinkering with the TARDIS again."
I'll be home soon.
It is a relief to see the grand and impossible through the small and lonely; it makes everything easier and greater, makes him learn how it feels to be breathless., 973
A/N: Sorry about disappearing on you guys - my love for ttu and Doctor/Rose hasn't faded in the slightest, though my meager grasp on writing is probably far rustier for the disuse. And yes, that is Ten. I am more shocked than any that I wrote Ten.
2O.
Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you
and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break
He heads straight for the controls, the thud of his feet unchanging as he crashes into the coral panels. He can hear her stumbling through the doors, the heave of her chest and the cry of her lungs. Human Rose does not have the advantage Time Lord biology so only her gasps stir the air between them. For a too long moment he doesn't catch the hitch of oxygen passing her lips and he glances up, long fingers wrapped around a lever.
"Told you we'd make it," he quips, merry and flushed with the adrenaline of triumph and simply being right.
"Yeah? They almost got me that last wave - Look! My jacket is ruined."
One more button and the TARDIS hums to life, whirring like a soundless hurricane in their bones. Rose half-laughs as she combs a hand through her hair, picking at the remnants of ash and supernovas on her collar. Now he can turn his full attention to her and he wishes he couldn't. She has the tragic gift of enchanting him, of drawing him into the gravity of a single human life and weaving him into it. It is a relief to see the grand and impossible through the small and lonely; it makes everything easier and greater, makes him learn how it feels to be breathless.
She flashes a smile that warms him to his toes, curling them into waterlogged trainers.
"It's just a jacket, Rose. The TARDIS has plenty of those." ( Somewhere in a corner lies an old leather jacket that smells of discovery and rebellion. Maybe one day she will find it. Maybe one day she will stop looking for it from the corner of her eyes. )
He crosses over from the controls, reaching for her pink cheeks and pink lips, her warmth and her glow. "`m sure I'll find something," she says against the skin by his ear, his head bowed over her in the shape of a prayer.
"How long are you going to stay with me?"
The brush of his fingers over her scratches sends lightning singing up the path of ivory vertebrae. A fine tremble marks the lines of her body and the tilt of her jaw. "Forever," she promises and her voice trembles not at all. He asks her this question more than once, each time more afraid and each time more broken when she gives her benediction and threatens to burst the dam in his hearts with hope.
His thumb presses urgently into her hip. Rose anchors him in his temporary harbors. "Oh Rose, the places we will go. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon are just brilliant - the stuff you humans can do."
This time she wants something in return because she is human and humans love both selfishly and selflessly at once, a paradox of rain and sunlight. "Can you promise?"
Rose has a warm voice, he thinks, a voice that would taste like saffron, fragrant and distinct, chased by a frail bitterness that rises from the earth. He wishes it would spill into him and ward off the chill that answers her words. He wants to tell her. He wants to promise her forever, wants to say it with the conviction only she gives him, but his throat closes painfully around the syllables. Instead he gathers her face in his hands, palms curving tenderly like he is holding together his dreams by the silk of spiderwebs. The flutter of her lashes tickles the tips of his fingers.
This is Rose. This is the girl who breaks every rule of the universe, who sins without sinning and kills without killing. She shines with a capacity to love and he recalls the impossibility of all she has done with a sort of awe.
She deserves so much and he has so little. He will have centuries to forgive himself this taboo.
"Yes."
Rose doesn't wait because she knows he won't say the words. This is already more than she could have wished for so she lingers a little longer and before he can pull away, she slips from his grasp dripping wet, the imprint of his hand on her side red and flaming in her mind's eye.
"Better change 'fore I catch something horrible."
I promise, he chants silently, I promise, I promise, I promise.
It is practice for a time that will never come.
Before he knows it, she has done more than slip away. He is filling the empty spaces where she once stood with new companions and new blondes, but never on purpose and never with absolution. Sometimes they are more magnificent than he expects and sometimes they are more fantastic, but they never light the same dark corners that Rose did.
With River on the horizon and Ponds in his TARDIS, the Doctor comes to the realization that he still has time. He has a score of these universe collapsing mistakes already and time enough to forgive himself one more. One night he rewires the phone and waits for it to ring, lunging for it when it finally does.
"Doctor? Do we have any jam left in the pantry?"
Her voice is the same, husky like the touch of crushed velvet. Fish and pudding suddenly pales in comparison. "Rose," he sighs, feeling time twist underneath his skin. "Rose Tyler."
"Doctor, are you sick? You sound off - want me to swing by Mum's and have her make you some tea? Tannings and all that."
"Free-radicals and tannin, Rose," he corrects absentmindedly, missing the phantom kiss of her skin, the slide of her fingers against his. She would love his new hair.
"Right, free-radicals and tannin," she echoes indulgently. "You sure you're okay Doctor?"
"Yes. I promise."
"I'll be home soon Doctor. Please don't burn your hair tinkering with the TARDIS again."
I'll be home soon.