Fic: Retroactive Continuity
Title: Retroactive Continuity
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13 maybe? Mostly for the squick-factor.
Warning: Incest
Notes: Oh, come on, our boy's half-human and we're not supposed to write crazy space incest?
One single piece of home, and knowing is not enough to stop him.
--
He doesn't know how it can work, how the timelines will manage to twist enough to make it happen all over again, but it clicks, finally, and he knows why her smile always reminds him of mortality.
He's already seen her die.
"If you had children," he says, casual and somehow calm, "what would you call them?" What would she name her only son?
She tells him, and even when he knows the name before it leaves her lips, it's still not enough to stop him.
--
He knows he's not his own father, but sometimes he wonders why she married a man who never loved her as much as he should have. He wonders what she was looking for, and worries that he has broken her heart.
(Just the one heart, beating against his ear as she holds him to her. So strange, and he lets the sound drown the sadness she whispers.)
He can't warn her, can't tell her not to latch onto the alien. He kisses her again, because some things are more important than love.
--
"I love you," he says, because it's safe now. Everyone expects a boy to love his mother.
Perhaps not like this, though.
Rose, unknowing, pulls him inside her and he has to keep his mother happy. Won't say no, whatever she asks. He justifies it all as love, which no one ever claimed to understand.
It's just different now, as so many things are. It's not the same as before. Before, he never called her Rose, and she always pronounced the name she gave him.
But she always loved him, before.
--
"Rose," he murmurs, lips against her skin. Such a common name, yet only one of her. He slips fingers inside her and kisses her breasts, anything to make her say she loves him. Loves him, she promises, with all her heart.
(Just the one heart, beating against his ear, not loud enough to cover her gasps and moans.)
Love is not a simple thing.
--
He gets careless, assuming she's immortal (she must be, or wouldn't be here to get into danger). And he can't tell her why. Can't tell her why he risks her life sometimes, when other things need protecting and people's futures aren't secure.
He can't tell her that it doesn't mean he doesn't love her.
"I have to go," she says, "before something happens to me."
"You wouldn't leave me if you really loved me," he says, the same words she ignored the last (first) time.
This time she is young and strong and yet still she tells him "Everything ends."
Everything ends.
And starts all over again.
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13 maybe? Mostly for the squick-factor.
Warning: Incest
Notes: Oh, come on, our boy's half-human and we're not supposed to write crazy space incest?
One single piece of home, and knowing is not enough to stop him.
--
He doesn't know how it can work, how the timelines will manage to twist enough to make it happen all over again, but it clicks, finally, and he knows why her smile always reminds him of mortality.
He's already seen her die.
"If you had children," he says, casual and somehow calm, "what would you call them?" What would she name her only son?
She tells him, and even when he knows the name before it leaves her lips, it's still not enough to stop him.
--
He knows he's not his own father, but sometimes he wonders why she married a man who never loved her as much as he should have. He wonders what she was looking for, and worries that he has broken her heart.
(Just the one heart, beating against his ear as she holds him to her. So strange, and he lets the sound drown the sadness she whispers.)
He can't warn her, can't tell her not to latch onto the alien. He kisses her again, because some things are more important than love.
--
"I love you," he says, because it's safe now. Everyone expects a boy to love his mother.
Perhaps not like this, though.
Rose, unknowing, pulls him inside her and he has to keep his mother happy. Won't say no, whatever she asks. He justifies it all as love, which no one ever claimed to understand.
It's just different now, as so many things are. It's not the same as before. Before, he never called her Rose, and she always pronounced the name she gave him.
But she always loved him, before.
--
"Rose," he murmurs, lips against her skin. Such a common name, yet only one of her. He slips fingers inside her and kisses her breasts, anything to make her say she loves him. Loves him, she promises, with all her heart.
(Just the one heart, beating against his ear, not loud enough to cover her gasps and moans.)
Love is not a simple thing.
--
He gets careless, assuming she's immortal (she must be, or wouldn't be here to get into danger). And he can't tell her why. Can't tell her why he risks her life sometimes, when other things need protecting and people's futures aren't secure.
He can't tell her that it doesn't mean he doesn't love her.
"I have to go," she says, "before something happens to me."
"You wouldn't leave me if you really loved me," he says, the same words she ignored the last (first) time.
This time she is young and strong and yet still she tells him "Everything ends."
Everything ends.
And starts all over again.