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misscamFic commentary for Song For Rose.
As per request. Doctor Who fandom, Nine/Rose, vaguely mature rating.
Part one of the commentary
Welcome to this DVD-style commentary of "Song For Rose". This is your host and author, Camilla Sandman. We hope you find this at least slightly entertaining.
A-ha is one of my favourite Norwegian bands. I listen to them quite a lot. This song is from their reunion CD, "Minor Earth, Major Sky".
"Your mother's not cooking, is she?" he asks as they walk up the familiar steps to her home. It's August in London, a light drizzle of rain and grey skies.
"Nah," she says. "Don't think so, at least."
"If there's cooking, I'm waiting in the TARDIS."
Doctor's aversion to domestics again, though one supposes that in a relationship with Rose, she's managed to press certain domestics on him.
"It's just a quick pop-by."
"Nothing is ever 'just' with you," he replies. "'Just a quick trip home, Doctor. Just a quick change of clothes, Doctor. Just let me try steering the TARDIS once, I promise I won't crash, Doctor. Just let me buy an alien artifact, I'm sure there won't be any curses attached to it, Doctor. Just a quick shag, Doctor.'"
This is meant to allude to them having lots of adventures off-fic, so to speak, to make it feel like they're really having a life in this moment of the TARDIS giving. I could've written some of these out - and did consider it - but in the end, the story didn't really need them. Also would have made it a heck of a lot longer.
"Oi! You didn't mind the last one," she counters, planting a finger on his chest. But he's not looking at her, he's looking at the open door and her mother, who is not looking particular amused.
As the saying goes, whoops.
"I'm not having alien grandchildren," her mother says, crossing her arms. Rose can already tell the Doctor is ready to turn and head for the TARDIS, so she yanks hold of his hand.
"Mum!"
"I'm not! It's had enough you running off with that... Cradle snatcher!"
It was Saz who insisted on the "cradle snatcher" line, which I thank her for, since it then made me think of the bed reply of the Doctor.
"Mum!"
"I don't snatch cradles, thanks for asking," the Doctor says calmly. "Stole a bed once from William Shakespeare, though. Nice pillows, shame about the ink spots."
Rose laughs slightly before she can stop herself, and her mother gives her a glare. "How've ya been, mum?"
Yay, mum. I can't tell you how many times betas for my CSI fics have had to correct my "mum" to "mom". Here I can finally use the version I'm used to.
"Worrying about my daughter who hardly ever calls, thank you," her mother snaps. "Oh, and trying to get our new neighbour to turn down the music at three a.m. Had my knickers stolen by a stray dog. Listened to endless calls from your ex-boyfriend."
Life going on in Rose's abscene, as demonstrated in "Aliens of London".
"How's Mickey?"
Her mother looks slightly softened, but her tone is still steel. "Knocked up his girlfriend. And don't you dare follow his example!" she directs at the Doctor, who looks slightly horrified.
I decided early on this wouldn't be a Rose pregnancy story, perhaps mainly because I was considering that for another fic. Soon to come to an archive near you, perhaps.
And somewhere in the pit of her stomach, Rose can feel something break.
The rain is still falling, and she sits in it, watching London spread out beneath her. Her home. And somehow it still feels wrong that it should change, even as she did. With a time machine, perhaps she's forgotten that for everyone else, time only goes one way.
The fact that it's raining should actually be made note of if one is to get a later implication. The life going on and changing in your abscene is something I felt was very odd when coming back to Norway after years in Australia. Just seems like it's not supposed to, you know?
She doesn't look up as she hears steps, and a moment later, the Doctor stands beside her. It reminds her of another scene on this rooftop in what feels an age ago, but wasn't really. Life had moved on without her then too. And it wasn't raining then.
The last line is just to reinforce the rain bit. It feels a bit tacked on, but ah well. Not all paragraphs can be a work of art.
"I can't believe your mother just gave me a lecture on safe sex," he says and she's torn between laughing and being horrified. "She even had a book!"
"It can't be worse than the one she gave me at thirteen."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"She made illustrated drawings."
Slightly inspired here by the fact that I once drew stick-men to illustrate how a foursome would work for a fanfic. Horrifying thing, really.
He groans and she laughs, and then she leans against him, feeling the soft wool of his jumper against her cheek. He holds her gently and the rain falls on, the water against roofs like drums of a funeral march. Her old life died a long time ago, but it still feels like a loss. So much she might've had. So much she wouldn't have to endure. The loss of Jack. Thousands dying, a planet turned to dust and rocks, the metallic voice of Daleks ready to kill.
So much she wouldn't have had, too. The chance to make a difference. A thousand wonders, a planet being saved, the soft hum of the Doctor and the TARDIS both as he tinker about the console room.
It's one of my philosophies of life that everything has a price. And this is really Rose summing up the price of her choice both ways. What it would have cost her to stay and what it cost her to go. And basically making up her mind on which she'd prefer paying.
And not this.
"You all right?" he asks, pressing a kiss against her forehead.
"Yeah."
It's a lie that will be truth some day, she thinks.
You do sort of reconcile your losses in the end, but it takes time, which is what this line is meant to imply.
She awakes to the dark. It takes her a while to realise she even is awake, and it's the pain edging itself stronger and stronger into her mind that finally convinces her she's not just sleeping. She can feel rock under her fingers, cold and freezing. As she lifts her head, she feels something sticky on her head too. It's warm, and she can only think of one thing it can be.
So, she's been knocked over the head and has a bleeding wound, is somewhere dark unless she's gone blind and how the hell did she get into this mess?
Hooo, run-on sentence. But meant to reflect how she's thinking then and there.
The TARDIS had left her, she remembers with a sense of horror. This is sunny Canberra, Australia and the Doctor had taken care of an shape-shifting alien masquerading as an Australian politician. She had just left to look at a swimsuit sale... And no TARDIS when she came. No calls on her phone. She'd waited until it got dark, and still nothing. And then...
In my mind, the Australian politician is John Howard. Because I am petty and vengeful and he insulted my country. But it's deliberately left open so readers can just imagine whoever, someone fictional or not.
She grits her teeth. She's in an alley in Canberra, it's the middle of the night and a bastard knocked her down and took her phone, money and no-longer-cursed alien artifact.
Refering back to some adventure they've had off-fic again.
This is really starting to piss her off.
Bully turns out to be Daniel, Rose discovers after a lovely chat with a shop-owner. And no one messes with Daniel because his father is a police chief. No one that doesn't want trouble, at least.
There was - and slightly is - trouble with police corruption in Australia, I know from my days there. So it's vaguely based on reality, you might say.
Fortunately, she's dying to have some. She even makes a mental list over all the trouble's going to get into and have.
1. Find bully and get phone back.
2. Make sure bully doesn't bully ever again.
3. Do something about the police chief
4. Leave cranky voicemail until the Doctor damn well calls and picks her up.
5. Smack him.
6. Kiss it better.
7. Shag it better.
Right. Good plan.
I just realised that last line sounds a lot like Bridget Jones. Both British females who get themselves some hunks. Hmmm-hmmm.
When the TARDIS materialises into view, Rose is leaning against a wall and trying on her smug smile. She can't really tell how it looks without a mirror, but it feels damn good at least.
Again, skipping a lot of action. I could have written it all out, but I like letting people imagine how Rose went about it themselves. And I'm sure without the Doctor, you readers would feel it less fun, just like Rose. The point is to show Rose has grown enough to manage quite well on her own and that she doesn't neccessarily need the Doctor to hold her hand, but she likes it with him. It's also to keep a certain balance of power. He doesn't always need to save her.
The Doctor looks worried as he sticks his head out, and upon spotting her, he beams.
"Rose! So sorry! Alien bugger dropped a time distortion grenade in the TARDIS. Has taken me weeks to repair and it's still being wobbly. I was afraid I'd miss you by years!"
Totally made up time distortion grenade, but it sounded like something Doctor Who might have. You got time agents, after all.
"No, just a week," she replies, crossing her arms.
"Sorry. Did you keep yourself entertained?"
"Yeah," she says calmly. "Made my journalist debut, got an inquiry started on police corruption, got one police chief fired, got a bully named Daniel community service. Got my phone back, too."
There has actually been such inquiries in Australia. /random fact
The Doctor looks impressed, she notes and this time, she's sure the smirk is perfect.
"I was all ready to save you from trouble," he says, and shakes his head, sounding a little deflated. "Sounds like you did it all on your own."
"Yeah," she agrees, and walks over to him. "But it was less fun."
The essence of this particular bit, I suppose.
"Really?"
"Really," she assures him.
He grins wildly before lifting her up, spinning her around, kissing her, dancing with her to a song she can almost hear in the beats of his hearts.
Music theme again...
"Rose Tyler, you're bloody brilliant!" he declares and she nods, because when he says she is, she believes him.
And in the end, she does nearly everything on her list.
You can decide for youself which one she didn't do.
Sammie pointed me to this song. Thank you, Sammie.
Time sings.
She can feel it as she's clinging to him, skin to skin, his eyes closed and time almost still around them. Between heartbeats, there's a song.
"Rose," he whispers, and that's a song too.
Implied: They're shagging and he's doing his time slowing trick again. Implied the second: He seems to be fond of doing it during shagging.
One of my favourite songs of all time. And just fitted here. Both with the sense of loss and a slight promise for the future.
In the end, she supposes she should have suspected it couldn't be forever. But it had been such a lovely life, years passing in a mad dash. Sometimes, he'd still time when holding her, but even then, it did pass.
Implied here that quite a lot of time has passed. Again, I could have written more of it, but the story works without it, too. And I can't write forever.
And she's always known somehow that it's meant to be like this. She's always meant to take the burn for him. One hurled ball of energy, one Rose Tyler in the way. One Doctor living.
The burn also refering back to having the time vortex in her to save him.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
Slight reference to "Dalek".
"Rose," he whispers, staring at her, face so still and horrified it cuts to her heart even more than the pain of dying.
I was imagining his face when he sees her die (he thinks) in "Bad Wolf" here, I admit.
"I'm sorry," she whispers back. She tries to smile, but her is burning with pain and she can barely even think. "My head..."
"Come here," the Doctor says and she can feel time slow down as he cradles her gently, each heartbeat longer and longer. The pain in fading in the stillness, but she can feel everything else fading too.
Time slowing trick again. And starting to repeat the dialogue from the beginning, sign something isn't right #5.
"... it's killing me..."
"I think you need a Doctor."
And he's kissing her, softly, so softly, like a first kiss, a last kiss. She can taste the salt of tears and thinks them his until she realises they're hers. She's crying and she's dying and living, dying and living and the TARDIS is singing...
Again, reflecting the beginning.
She knows this song.
Sign something isn't right #6
Rose.
What's he doing?
He's taking me away from you, Rose.
I dreamt.
No. You lived. What might have been. What was, somewhere within me. I hold all that is, all that was, all that will be, all that can be.
Will I remember?
No. You'll have another life with him now, another life with another skin of his. You cannot live it knowing what could have been different. You're not made for it. He was.
I'll forget it all?
I'll keep it for you, Rose. I'll keep it for you and sing it sometimes in the dark of night. And when time ends, I'll give it back to you. My gift to you, twice beloved.
And here is the reveal of what was rather hinted at and I think most caught up on. However, it is vaguely hinted that perhaps, in some universe, it did happen. "Twice beloved" can referred to her being beloved by both Nine and Ten if you're of that shippy calibre, or by Nine and the TARDIS. Also note that the TARDIS tells Rose it's taking her memory of events, but doesn't say the same of the Doctor. And then goes on to say Rose wasn't meant to have memories of what might've been - but the Doctor is.
She knows this song. And even as she's grasping to understand the words, it's fading, fading - no, it's her fading, falling until something catches her and the last tone dies.
And she wakes.
I start way too many sentences with "and". Not supposed to do that according to grammar rules, but I like to defend it as a style choice. I'm stubborn that way.
Another song a friend passed on to me when I was hunting appropriate lyrics for this story. Lovely song.
There is a room in the TARDIS that reminds her of rooftops in London and always rains and she sits there now, listening to the water fall. It sounds almost like drums of a funeral march and she is almost mourning. The TARDIS hums around her, and that too almost feels like a song.
Mirroring quite a lot her. The scene in London, of course, and hinting at the promise of the TARDIS to sing her song sometimes.
Maybe it's mourning him too.
"Bit like the rooftop in London that one time, this," the Doctor says and she looks up to see him, this new him, standing in the doorway.
"Except it wasn't raining," she replies, tilting her head as she looks at him. Suit and coat and tie. New skin and new clothes. She's not sure just how much of everything else is new too. Part of her doesn't even want to find out.
I don't know what Ten will be like yet, so I'm just doing a lot of guesswork here. Promo pics shows his attire, so I've put that in and invented the rest. (This was written before the Children in Need special and all.)
"Wasn't it?" he says, then smiles faintly. The smile is new too, but she still returns it, hesitantly. "Come on."
And here is the very, very vague hint that the Doctor do remember this life they shared - if you look back at the raining bit earlier in the fic. It's not meant to be super-obvious or even conclusive, but the hint is there, anyway. In the moment of the kiss, the TARDIS was in both of them, thus making it possible the TARDIS shared this life with them both.
He's holding out a hand and she looks at it and at him and at change. She could ask him to take her home, and he would and she could always remember him as he was, build a shrine to him of her life and make it a fantastic one. And she'll never know what might've happened had she stayed.
I've even heard Holocaust survivors say they clung onto life to find out what would happen. Human curiosity. Strong force.
She wants to find out.
"I know just where to take you," he says and she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. "It's got the most beautiful rain in the Universe."
This is meant to imply they'll have a diffent life now, going other places, doing other things.
They walk out, leaving the rain behind. But the TARDIS sings on around them, holding time within its tune. It's almost beautiful, Rose thinks, almost familiar, as if she's known it all her life.
It almost sounds like it's for her.
Mirroring the title, this last line. I don't actually use the exact phrase of the title anywhere in this fic (which I usually do in fics), but this is as close as it gets. Which makes it fitting for the end, I suppose, though I think I've written better ending lines. I was never completely happy with it, but I didn't hate it either, so it stayed.
FIN
Still to come: Commentary on an OFUM chapter, an OFUM2 chapter, "Butterflies Mate In Spring" (possibly). If you have a wish for a commentary, feel free to make one.
As per request. Doctor Who fandom, Nine/Rose, vaguely mature rating.
Part one of the commentary
Welcome to this DVD-style commentary of "Song For Rose". This is your host and author, Camilla Sandman. We hope you find this at least slightly entertaining.
II
lament
Remember me / You know my name / I'm still the same / But not for you / That's not enough / You wanted more
- A-ha, "You Wanted More"
II
lament
Remember me / You know my name / I'm still the same / But not for you / That's not enough / You wanted more
- A-ha, "You Wanted More"
II
A-ha is one of my favourite Norwegian bands. I listen to them quite a lot. This song is from their reunion CD, "Minor Earth, Major Sky".
"Your mother's not cooking, is she?" he asks as they walk up the familiar steps to her home. It's August in London, a light drizzle of rain and grey skies.
"Nah," she says. "Don't think so, at least."
"If there's cooking, I'm waiting in the TARDIS."
Doctor's aversion to domestics again, though one supposes that in a relationship with Rose, she's managed to press certain domestics on him.
"It's just a quick pop-by."
"Nothing is ever 'just' with you," he replies. "'Just a quick trip home, Doctor. Just a quick change of clothes, Doctor. Just let me try steering the TARDIS once, I promise I won't crash, Doctor. Just let me buy an alien artifact, I'm sure there won't be any curses attached to it, Doctor. Just a quick shag, Doctor.'"
This is meant to allude to them having lots of adventures off-fic, so to speak, to make it feel like they're really having a life in this moment of the TARDIS giving. I could've written some of these out - and did consider it - but in the end, the story didn't really need them. Also would have made it a heck of a lot longer.
"Oi! You didn't mind the last one," she counters, planting a finger on his chest. But he's not looking at her, he's looking at the open door and her mother, who is not looking particular amused.
As the saying goes, whoops.
"I'm not having alien grandchildren," her mother says, crossing her arms. Rose can already tell the Doctor is ready to turn and head for the TARDIS, so she yanks hold of his hand.
"Mum!"
"I'm not! It's had enough you running off with that... Cradle snatcher!"
It was Saz who insisted on the "cradle snatcher" line, which I thank her for, since it then made me think of the bed reply of the Doctor.
"Mum!"
"I don't snatch cradles, thanks for asking," the Doctor says calmly. "Stole a bed once from William Shakespeare, though. Nice pillows, shame about the ink spots."
Rose laughs slightly before she can stop herself, and her mother gives her a glare. "How've ya been, mum?"
Yay, mum. I can't tell you how many times betas for my CSI fics have had to correct my "mum" to "mom". Here I can finally use the version I'm used to.
"Worrying about my daughter who hardly ever calls, thank you," her mother snaps. "Oh, and trying to get our new neighbour to turn down the music at three a.m. Had my knickers stolen by a stray dog. Listened to endless calls from your ex-boyfriend."
Life going on in Rose's abscene, as demonstrated in "Aliens of London".
"How's Mickey?"
Her mother looks slightly softened, but her tone is still steel. "Knocked up his girlfriend. And don't you dare follow his example!" she directs at the Doctor, who looks slightly horrified.
I decided early on this wouldn't be a Rose pregnancy story, perhaps mainly because I was considering that for another fic. Soon to come to an archive near you, perhaps.
And somewhere in the pit of her stomach, Rose can feel something break.
II
The rain is still falling, and she sits in it, watching London spread out beneath her. Her home. And somehow it still feels wrong that it should change, even as she did. With a time machine, perhaps she's forgotten that for everyone else, time only goes one way.
The fact that it's raining should actually be made note of if one is to get a later implication. The life going on and changing in your abscene is something I felt was very odd when coming back to Norway after years in Australia. Just seems like it's not supposed to, you know?
She doesn't look up as she hears steps, and a moment later, the Doctor stands beside her. It reminds her of another scene on this rooftop in what feels an age ago, but wasn't really. Life had moved on without her then too. And it wasn't raining then.
The last line is just to reinforce the rain bit. It feels a bit tacked on, but ah well. Not all paragraphs can be a work of art.
"I can't believe your mother just gave me a lecture on safe sex," he says and she's torn between laughing and being horrified. "She even had a book!"
"It can't be worse than the one she gave me at thirteen."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"She made illustrated drawings."
Slightly inspired here by the fact that I once drew stick-men to illustrate how a foursome would work for a fanfic. Horrifying thing, really.
He groans and she laughs, and then she leans against him, feeling the soft wool of his jumper against her cheek. He holds her gently and the rain falls on, the water against roofs like drums of a funeral march. Her old life died a long time ago, but it still feels like a loss. So much she might've had. So much she wouldn't have to endure. The loss of Jack. Thousands dying, a planet turned to dust and rocks, the metallic voice of Daleks ready to kill.
So much she wouldn't have had, too. The chance to make a difference. A thousand wonders, a planet being saved, the soft hum of the Doctor and the TARDIS both as he tinker about the console room.
It's one of my philosophies of life that everything has a price. And this is really Rose summing up the price of her choice both ways. What it would have cost her to stay and what it cost her to go. And basically making up her mind on which she'd prefer paying.
And not this.
"You all right?" he asks, pressing a kiss against her forehead.
"Yeah."
It's a lie that will be truth some day, she thinks.
You do sort of reconcile your losses in the end, but it takes time, which is what this line is meant to imply.
II
solo
This is your life, are you who you want to be? / This is your life, are you who you want to be? / This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be? / When the world was younger and you had everything to lose?
Don’t close your eyes
- Switchfoot, This Is Your Life
II
solo
This is your life, are you who you want to be? / This is your life, are you who you want to be? / This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be? / When the world was younger and you had everything to lose?
Don’t close your eyes
- Switchfoot, This Is Your Life
II
She awakes to the dark. It takes her a while to realise she even is awake, and it's the pain edging itself stronger and stronger into her mind that finally convinces her she's not just sleeping. She can feel rock under her fingers, cold and freezing. As she lifts her head, she feels something sticky on her head too. It's warm, and she can only think of one thing it can be.
So, she's been knocked over the head and has a bleeding wound, is somewhere dark unless she's gone blind and how the hell did she get into this mess?
Hooo, run-on sentence. But meant to reflect how she's thinking then and there.
The TARDIS had left her, she remembers with a sense of horror. This is sunny Canberra, Australia and the Doctor had taken care of an shape-shifting alien masquerading as an Australian politician. She had just left to look at a swimsuit sale... And no TARDIS when she came. No calls on her phone. She'd waited until it got dark, and still nothing. And then...
In my mind, the Australian politician is John Howard. Because I am petty and vengeful and he insulted my country. But it's deliberately left open so readers can just imagine whoever, someone fictional or not.
She grits her teeth. She's in an alley in Canberra, it's the middle of the night and a bastard knocked her down and took her phone, money and no-longer-cursed alien artifact.
Refering back to some adventure they've had off-fic again.
This is really starting to piss her off.
II
Bully turns out to be Daniel, Rose discovers after a lovely chat with a shop-owner. And no one messes with Daniel because his father is a police chief. No one that doesn't want trouble, at least.
There was - and slightly is - trouble with police corruption in Australia, I know from my days there. So it's vaguely based on reality, you might say.
Fortunately, she's dying to have some. She even makes a mental list over all the trouble's going to get into and have.
1. Find bully and get phone back.
2. Make sure bully doesn't bully ever again.
3. Do something about the police chief
4. Leave cranky voicemail until the Doctor damn well calls and picks her up.
5. Smack him.
6. Kiss it better.
7. Shag it better.
Right. Good plan.
I just realised that last line sounds a lot like Bridget Jones. Both British females who get themselves some hunks. Hmmm-hmmm.
II
When the TARDIS materialises into view, Rose is leaning against a wall and trying on her smug smile. She can't really tell how it looks without a mirror, but it feels damn good at least.
Again, skipping a lot of action. I could have written it all out, but I like letting people imagine how Rose went about it themselves. And I'm sure without the Doctor, you readers would feel it less fun, just like Rose. The point is to show Rose has grown enough to manage quite well on her own and that she doesn't neccessarily need the Doctor to hold her hand, but she likes it with him. It's also to keep a certain balance of power. He doesn't always need to save her.
The Doctor looks worried as he sticks his head out, and upon spotting her, he beams.
"Rose! So sorry! Alien bugger dropped a time distortion grenade in the TARDIS. Has taken me weeks to repair and it's still being wobbly. I was afraid I'd miss you by years!"
Totally made up time distortion grenade, but it sounded like something Doctor Who might have. You got time agents, after all.
"No, just a week," she replies, crossing her arms.
"Sorry. Did you keep yourself entertained?"
"Yeah," she says calmly. "Made my journalist debut, got an inquiry started on police corruption, got one police chief fired, got a bully named Daniel community service. Got my phone back, too."
There has actually been such inquiries in Australia. /random fact
The Doctor looks impressed, she notes and this time, she's sure the smirk is perfect.
"I was all ready to save you from trouble," he says, and shakes his head, sounding a little deflated. "Sounds like you did it all on your own."
"Yeah," she agrees, and walks over to him. "But it was less fun."
The essence of this particular bit, I suppose.
"Really?"
"Really," she assures him.
He grins wildly before lifting her up, spinning her around, kissing her, dancing with her to a song she can almost hear in the beats of his hearts.
Music theme again...
"Rose Tyler, you're bloody brilliant!" he declares and she nods, because when he says she is, she believes him.
And in the end, she does nearly everything on her list.
You can decide for youself which one she didn't do.
II
recapitulation
Time is gonna take my mind / and carry it far away where I can fly
- Eliza, "Dancing"
II
recapitulation
Time is gonna take my mind / and carry it far away where I can fly
- Eliza, "Dancing"
II
Sammie pointed me to this song. Thank you, Sammie.
Time sings.
She can feel it as she's clinging to him, skin to skin, his eyes closed and time almost still around them. Between heartbeats, there's a song.
"Rose," he whispers, and that's a song too.
Implied: They're shagging and he's doing his time slowing trick again. Implied the second: He seems to be fond of doing it during shagging.
II
finale
Faith has been broken / Tears must be cried / Let’s do some living / After we die
Wild horses / Couldn’t drag me away / Wild, wild horses / We'll ride them someday
- Rolling Stones, "Wild Horses"
II
finale
Faith has been broken / Tears must be cried / Let’s do some living / After we die
Wild horses / Couldn’t drag me away / Wild, wild horses / We'll ride them someday
- Rolling Stones, "Wild Horses"
II
One of my favourite songs of all time. And just fitted here. Both with the sense of loss and a slight promise for the future.
In the end, she supposes she should have suspected it couldn't be forever. But it had been such a lovely life, years passing in a mad dash. Sometimes, he'd still time when holding her, but even then, it did pass.
Implied here that quite a lot of time has passed. Again, I could have written more of it, but the story works without it, too. And I can't write forever.
And she's always known somehow that it's meant to be like this. She's always meant to take the burn for him. One hurled ball of energy, one Rose Tyler in the way. One Doctor living.
The burn also refering back to having the time vortex in her to save him.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
Slight reference to "Dalek".
"Rose," he whispers, staring at her, face so still and horrified it cuts to her heart even more than the pain of dying.
I was imagining his face when he sees her die (he thinks) in "Bad Wolf" here, I admit.
"I'm sorry," she whispers back. She tries to smile, but her is burning with pain and she can barely even think. "My head..."
"Come here," the Doctor says and she can feel time slow down as he cradles her gently, each heartbeat longer and longer. The pain in fading in the stillness, but she can feel everything else fading too.
Time slowing trick again. And starting to repeat the dialogue from the beginning, sign something isn't right #5.
"... it's killing me..."
"I think you need a Doctor."
And he's kissing her, softly, so softly, like a first kiss, a last kiss. She can taste the salt of tears and thinks them his until she realises they're hers. She's crying and she's dying and living, dying and living and the TARDIS is singing...
Again, reflecting the beginning.
She knows this song.
Sign something isn't right #6
II
Rose.
What's he doing?
He's taking me away from you, Rose.
I dreamt.
No. You lived. What might have been. What was, somewhere within me. I hold all that is, all that was, all that will be, all that can be.
Will I remember?
No. You'll have another life with him now, another life with another skin of his. You cannot live it knowing what could have been different. You're not made for it. He was.
I'll forget it all?
I'll keep it for you, Rose. I'll keep it for you and sing it sometimes in the dark of night. And when time ends, I'll give it back to you. My gift to you, twice beloved.
And here is the reveal of what was rather hinted at and I think most caught up on. However, it is vaguely hinted that perhaps, in some universe, it did happen. "Twice beloved" can referred to her being beloved by both Nine and Ten if you're of that shippy calibre, or by Nine and the TARDIS. Also note that the TARDIS tells Rose it's taking her memory of events, but doesn't say the same of the Doctor. And then goes on to say Rose wasn't meant to have memories of what might've been - but the Doctor is.
II
She knows this song. And even as she's grasping to understand the words, it's fading, fading - no, it's her fading, falling until something catches her and the last tone dies.
And she wakes.
I start way too many sentences with "and". Not supposed to do that according to grammar rules, but I like to defend it as a style choice. I'm stubborn that way.
II
coda
We're glad for what we've got / Done with what we've lost / Our whole lives laid out / Right in front of us
Sing like you think no one's listening / You would kill for this / Just a little bit, just a little bit / You would...
Sing like you think no one's listening
Straylight Run, "Existentialism on Prom Night"
II
coda
We're glad for what we've got / Done with what we've lost / Our whole lives laid out / Right in front of us
Sing like you think no one's listening / You would kill for this / Just a little bit, just a little bit / You would...
Sing like you think no one's listening
Straylight Run, "Existentialism on Prom Night"
II
Another song a friend passed on to me when I was hunting appropriate lyrics for this story. Lovely song.
There is a room in the TARDIS that reminds her of rooftops in London and always rains and she sits there now, listening to the water fall. It sounds almost like drums of a funeral march and she is almost mourning. The TARDIS hums around her, and that too almost feels like a song.
Mirroring quite a lot her. The scene in London, of course, and hinting at the promise of the TARDIS to sing her song sometimes.
Maybe it's mourning him too.
"Bit like the rooftop in London that one time, this," the Doctor says and she looks up to see him, this new him, standing in the doorway.
"Except it wasn't raining," she replies, tilting her head as she looks at him. Suit and coat and tie. New skin and new clothes. She's not sure just how much of everything else is new too. Part of her doesn't even want to find out.
I don't know what Ten will be like yet, so I'm just doing a lot of guesswork here. Promo pics shows his attire, so I've put that in and invented the rest. (This was written before the Children in Need special and all.)
"Wasn't it?" he says, then smiles faintly. The smile is new too, but she still returns it, hesitantly. "Come on."
And here is the very, very vague hint that the Doctor do remember this life they shared - if you look back at the raining bit earlier in the fic. It's not meant to be super-obvious or even conclusive, but the hint is there, anyway. In the moment of the kiss, the TARDIS was in both of them, thus making it possible the TARDIS shared this life with them both.
He's holding out a hand and she looks at it and at him and at change. She could ask him to take her home, and he would and she could always remember him as he was, build a shrine to him of her life and make it a fantastic one. And she'll never know what might've happened had she stayed.
I've even heard Holocaust survivors say they clung onto life to find out what would happen. Human curiosity. Strong force.
She wants to find out.
"I know just where to take you," he says and she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. "It's got the most beautiful rain in the Universe."
This is meant to imply they'll have a diffent life now, going other places, doing other things.
They walk out, leaving the rain behind. But the TARDIS sings on around them, holding time within its tune. It's almost beautiful, Rose thinks, almost familiar, as if she's known it all her life.
It almost sounds like it's for her.
Mirroring the title, this last line. I don't actually use the exact phrase of the title anywhere in this fic (which I usually do in fics), but this is as close as it gets. Which makes it fitting for the end, I suppose, though I think I've written better ending lines. I was never completely happy with it, but I didn't hate it either, so it stayed.
FIN
Still to come: Commentary on an OFUM chapter, an OFUM2 chapter, "Butterflies Mate In Spring" (possibly). If you have a wish for a commentary, feel free to make one.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 08:32 pm (UTC)But I can't quite imagine Mark Darcy hopping around the TARDIS, waving a sonic screwdriver...
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Date: 2007-02-21 03:53 am (UTC)The commentary was really good - pointing out bits where I thought it was meant to mean something and then getting it confirmed is lovely.
Thank you.