Watson's Ghost. Part Four, Ten/Rose.
May. 28th, 2006 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misscamWatson's Ghost 4/?
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: Just written for my own and other's amusement, BBC. Please not be suing me.
Rating: Mature, eventually.
Summary: Wherein the Doctor and Rose face a murder charge, Rose walks with ghosts, the Doctor tries for life and an alliance changes its nature. [Ten/Rose]
Author's Note: Prompt 029 for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50lyricsfanfic (just give me one more moment, another walk out in the sun; one more day to find some justice with your shadow by my side - As One - Dropkick Murphys). Written for an anon request in my LJ. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lotus79 for beta-ing and being awesome. Love ya, darling.
Table of Prompts
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
II
A Dream: Wherein Berho explores his new home
A dream, it is known, can tell you much of the dreamer. Perhaps that is why they are guarded so, freed only at night, and then still leashed to the mind. Private, personal, yours.
At least until your mind is not alone.
Rose dreams, and Berho dreams with her, dancing with the thoughts and fantasies in her mind. She's seen so much, and he sees it too, bright skies and distant stars and people dying and people living, and ever in the centre, the Doctor. The Doctor smiles at her, the Doctor changes her and everyone, the Doctor holds her hand and the Doctor holds her breath and the Doctor dances with her through time, making up the steps as they go and Rose loves it and loves the Doctor too, loves, loves, loves.
Rose loves the Doctor. Now Berho does too.
II
Part Four: Wherein hats are discussed, Rose has company, a history is told and much is explained, kissing brings more trouble and feelings are mirrored
Rose awakes to a pounding headache, and for a moment, she keeps her eyes closed, trying to sort out her own mind. She can remember so much that isn't hers, so much she thinks isn't hers, and so much that must be. Rose Tyler. Yes. She is at least Rose.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she sees is the Doctor, sitting on the edge of her bed, legs tucked under him. He's back in his usual clothes, and it feels like a comfort. A sign of normalcy, almost. He smiles at her, and she wonders how long he's been there. She can vaguely remembering having a warm drink pressed on her, and the softness of a bed after, and sleep, and dreams.
"Hey," she says cheerfully, wincing a little at the sweetness of her own voice. Sitting up, she takes in her surroundings quickly. "This is posh."
"We're honoured guests now," he replies, watching her intently, and she wonders what he's looking for. "Cleared of all charges, their sincerest apologies. Stay as long as we like, all expenses covered, no worries."
"So I solved it?"
"You did," he says, and she thinks maybe he sounds a little bit proud after all. "Quite the Miss Marple."
"Did Miss Marple wear hats too?" she asks, smiling at him. He feels a strange desire to just grin at him, and have him grin back.
"Oh yeah," he says fiercly. "She was a great hat champion. I'll find you one of hers."
"I'd like that."
"Me too," he declares, swinging off the bed with force, changing direction again. "Does your head hurt?"
"Um..."
He doesn't wait for her answer, already walking over and bringing his fingers to her temples, rubbing lightly. It tingles oddly, and he sighs, dropping his fingers to rest in her lap.
"You have company," he says simply.
"I know," she mutters, staring at his fingers and bringing her own to meet them. "He's in my head. He keeps humming lullabies I know."
"He's trying to comfort you," the Doctor says softly. "He doesn't want you to fear him. They're not a malicious people. In their own ways, they're quite kind."
"They just... Invade minds for shits and giggles?"
He sighs, and shifts onto the bed next to her, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "It's not that simple, Rose..."
And he explains, and she listens, and Berho nods along, and she starts to understand, starts to know.
A long time ago, the people of Nattdvalve just died, and the living mourned them, and started to think it a good thing if the dead could linger. Some much left unsaid by unexpected death, so many goodbyes not said. Maybe it would be a good thing to linger a few breaths still. Maybe they needn't let go. And so, the dead started not to. Their last breath, never exhaled, was carried by the wind to where winds died. There, the dead waited. And the brave of the living would go and find their loved ones, and allow them to share breath. The dead needn't die, if you loved them enough. Sometimes, those who killed would be judged to live for their victims, and that was justice.
But there were never enough willing, and always more dead, and those who walked with ghosts and came back were never the same and slowly, slowly, the people of Nattdvalve started to grow afraid...
"And they're afraid," the Doctor says, and she shivers. "The living, the dead. The ghosts wait for people who will never dare, because very few do."
"I did," she says, and he looks at her. "I didn't know what it would mean. You did."
"I know everything," he replies, but without his usual energy.
He would've gone to find her, she knows, and Berho nods at that, because that's the Doctor they both know.
"So what happens now?"
"First, we find Virgot. While you slept, the Council of Justice judged that he is to carry Berho's ghost. They respectfully request that you carry his ghost meanwhile," the Doctor mutters, and it's not quite a sneer, but close. "As if it's just handing over a message... They pretend to be stupid, but I am not."
She feels the shape of something he's not saying, and it worries her. Is she going to have to spend the rest of her life with a ghost in her head?
Would that really be so bad?
The Doctor notices her looking at him, and pats her arm a little and she almost wants to punch him. "Don't worry about it, Rose. I used to out-think even Poirot; this should be easy in comparison."
"You did not out-think Poirot," she replies, because otherwise she might say something very stupid about how she does worry, and it's easy for him to say she shouldn't when he's not the one having company in his mind.
"Did too!" he replies, and reaches under the bed to bring up a hat that looks so silly she guesses it has to have been Poirot's. He puts it on with a proud smile, and his glasses too, and she gapes a little at him.
"Arsenal for the brain," he declares. "I come well armed."
"Did you go back to the TARDIS just to get that silly hat?"
"You humans sleep a lot," he complains, and she just shakes her head at him until he laughs, and then she has to laugh a little too. He's just being so randomly Doctorish, and she can't predict him. Can't even know him, really.
He can still be hers, Berho feels, and love shouldn't just be wasted. Not when he knows what it's like to die without love, and he shows her...
... alone oh alone not loved and Virgot hates him and he dies unloved alone oh alone...
"Rose?" the Doctor asks, and she lets go of the memory and focuses on him again.
He's still wearing the silly Poirot hat and the glasses and the goofy, goofy smile and watching her with expectations she almost knows she can never quite live up to, but will keep trying until he tires of it, and she should just walk away. Go home before the addiction to star dancing becomes unbreakable, embrace normality while she still remembers it. But she doesn't.
She just kisses him, forcing him to part his lips before the force of hers, her mind distantly entertaining the idea that a girlfriend is a stronger part than the sidekick. He lets her for a moment, but only a moment.
"Rose," he says urgently, grabbing her forearms and pushing her away. "You're not thinking clearly."
"You know the ghosts of Nattdvalve don't possess," she says, knowledge that isn't quite hers, but close enough. "They just linger, sharing breath."
"Nothing's that simple," he replies, shaking his head. "Rose, he's in your head. He breathes everything you breathe. He sees everything you see. He feels everything you feel."
"I feel," she mutters, straining to reach his lips again and succeeding for a few seconds before he twists away and stands up.
"You're not thinking straight," he says again, swallowing slightly. "Everything in your mind is being felt two-fold. It's like mirrors reflecting light. It grows more focused. Everything, do you understand? Fear, happiness, hurt, hatred... Love."
"Love," she repeats, looking at him, feeling her heart ache slightly. "Lust too?"
"Oh yeah," the Doctor replies, and he looks a little relieved that she's understanding him. "It's why the people here thought letting the killers carry the ghosts of the murdered was such a splendid idea. The killer understands the horror of his action, and his victim understands him, and with understanding often comes forgiveness. And then they'll live happily ever after as one."
She clears her throat, trying to clear images of just leaping on him then and there from her mind. "What happened when it didn't work like that?"
"Insanity," he says sharply. "Splendid ideas always have splendid breakdowns."
"So why do they still do it?"
"They don't know any other way," he says, and looks determined. "I'll have to find them one."
Rose nods, because he will. There'll be a way. He'll find it. Oh, he will.
She trusts him.
Twice over.
(To be continued...)
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: Just written for my own and other's amusement, BBC. Please not be suing me.
Rating: Mature, eventually.
Summary: Wherein the Doctor and Rose face a murder charge, Rose walks with ghosts, the Doctor tries for life and an alliance changes its nature. [Ten/Rose]
Author's Note: Prompt 029 for
50lyricsfanfic (just give me one more moment, another walk out in the sun; one more day to find some justice with your shadow by my side - As One - Dropkick Murphys). Written for an anon request in my LJ. Thanks to lotus79 for beta-ing and being awesome. Love ya, darling. Table of Prompts
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
II
A Dream: Wherein Berho explores his new home
A dream, it is known, can tell you much of the dreamer. Perhaps that is why they are guarded so, freed only at night, and then still leashed to the mind. Private, personal, yours.
At least until your mind is not alone.
Rose dreams, and Berho dreams with her, dancing with the thoughts and fantasies in her mind. She's seen so much, and he sees it too, bright skies and distant stars and people dying and people living, and ever in the centre, the Doctor. The Doctor smiles at her, the Doctor changes her and everyone, the Doctor holds her hand and the Doctor holds her breath and the Doctor dances with her through time, making up the steps as they go and Rose loves it and loves the Doctor too, loves, loves, loves.
Rose loves the Doctor. Now Berho does too.
II
Part Four: Wherein hats are discussed, Rose has company, a history is told and much is explained, kissing brings more trouble and feelings are mirrored
Rose awakes to a pounding headache, and for a moment, she keeps her eyes closed, trying to sort out her own mind. She can remember so much that isn't hers, so much she thinks isn't hers, and so much that must be. Rose Tyler. Yes. She is at least Rose.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she sees is the Doctor, sitting on the edge of her bed, legs tucked under him. He's back in his usual clothes, and it feels like a comfort. A sign of normalcy, almost. He smiles at her, and she wonders how long he's been there. She can vaguely remembering having a warm drink pressed on her, and the softness of a bed after, and sleep, and dreams.
"Hey," she says cheerfully, wincing a little at the sweetness of her own voice. Sitting up, she takes in her surroundings quickly. "This is posh."
"We're honoured guests now," he replies, watching her intently, and she wonders what he's looking for. "Cleared of all charges, their sincerest apologies. Stay as long as we like, all expenses covered, no worries."
"So I solved it?"
"You did," he says, and she thinks maybe he sounds a little bit proud after all. "Quite the Miss Marple."
"Did Miss Marple wear hats too?" she asks, smiling at him. He feels a strange desire to just grin at him, and have him grin back.
"Oh yeah," he says fiercly. "She was a great hat champion. I'll find you one of hers."
"I'd like that."
"Me too," he declares, swinging off the bed with force, changing direction again. "Does your head hurt?"
"Um..."
He doesn't wait for her answer, already walking over and bringing his fingers to her temples, rubbing lightly. It tingles oddly, and he sighs, dropping his fingers to rest in her lap.
"You have company," he says simply.
"I know," she mutters, staring at his fingers and bringing her own to meet them. "He's in my head. He keeps humming lullabies I know."
"He's trying to comfort you," the Doctor says softly. "He doesn't want you to fear him. They're not a malicious people. In their own ways, they're quite kind."
"They just... Invade minds for shits and giggles?"
He sighs, and shifts onto the bed next to her, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "It's not that simple, Rose..."
And he explains, and she listens, and Berho nods along, and she starts to understand, starts to know.
A long time ago, the people of Nattdvalve just died, and the living mourned them, and started to think it a good thing if the dead could linger. Some much left unsaid by unexpected death, so many goodbyes not said. Maybe it would be a good thing to linger a few breaths still. Maybe they needn't let go. And so, the dead started not to. Their last breath, never exhaled, was carried by the wind to where winds died. There, the dead waited. And the brave of the living would go and find their loved ones, and allow them to share breath. The dead needn't die, if you loved them enough. Sometimes, those who killed would be judged to live for their victims, and that was justice.
But there were never enough willing, and always more dead, and those who walked with ghosts and came back were never the same and slowly, slowly, the people of Nattdvalve started to grow afraid...
"And they're afraid," the Doctor says, and she shivers. "The living, the dead. The ghosts wait for people who will never dare, because very few do."
"I did," she says, and he looks at her. "I didn't know what it would mean. You did."
"I know everything," he replies, but without his usual energy.
He would've gone to find her, she knows, and Berho nods at that, because that's the Doctor they both know.
"So what happens now?"
"First, we find Virgot. While you slept, the Council of Justice judged that he is to carry Berho's ghost. They respectfully request that you carry his ghost meanwhile," the Doctor mutters, and it's not quite a sneer, but close. "As if it's just handing over a message... They pretend to be stupid, but I am not."
She feels the shape of something he's not saying, and it worries her. Is she going to have to spend the rest of her life with a ghost in her head?
Would that really be so bad?
The Doctor notices her looking at him, and pats her arm a little and she almost wants to punch him. "Don't worry about it, Rose. I used to out-think even Poirot; this should be easy in comparison."
"You did not out-think Poirot," she replies, because otherwise she might say something very stupid about how she does worry, and it's easy for him to say she shouldn't when he's not the one having company in his mind.
"Did too!" he replies, and reaches under the bed to bring up a hat that looks so silly she guesses it has to have been Poirot's. He puts it on with a proud smile, and his glasses too, and she gapes a little at him.
"Arsenal for the brain," he declares. "I come well armed."
"Did you go back to the TARDIS just to get that silly hat?"
"You humans sleep a lot," he complains, and she just shakes her head at him until he laughs, and then she has to laugh a little too. He's just being so randomly Doctorish, and she can't predict him. Can't even know him, really.
He can still be hers, Berho feels, and love shouldn't just be wasted. Not when he knows what it's like to die without love, and he shows her...
... alone oh alone not loved and Virgot hates him and he dies unloved alone oh alone...
"Rose?" the Doctor asks, and she lets go of the memory and focuses on him again.
He's still wearing the silly Poirot hat and the glasses and the goofy, goofy smile and watching her with expectations she almost knows she can never quite live up to, but will keep trying until he tires of it, and she should just walk away. Go home before the addiction to star dancing becomes unbreakable, embrace normality while she still remembers it. But she doesn't.
She just kisses him, forcing him to part his lips before the force of hers, her mind distantly entertaining the idea that a girlfriend is a stronger part than the sidekick. He lets her for a moment, but only a moment.
"Rose," he says urgently, grabbing her forearms and pushing her away. "You're not thinking clearly."
"You know the ghosts of Nattdvalve don't possess," she says, knowledge that isn't quite hers, but close enough. "They just linger, sharing breath."
"Nothing's that simple," he replies, shaking his head. "Rose, he's in your head. He breathes everything you breathe. He sees everything you see. He feels everything you feel."
"I feel," she mutters, straining to reach his lips again and succeeding for a few seconds before he twists away and stands up.
"You're not thinking straight," he says again, swallowing slightly. "Everything in your mind is being felt two-fold. It's like mirrors reflecting light. It grows more focused. Everything, do you understand? Fear, happiness, hurt, hatred... Love."
"Love," she repeats, looking at him, feeling her heart ache slightly. "Lust too?"
"Oh yeah," the Doctor replies, and he looks a little relieved that she's understanding him. "It's why the people here thought letting the killers carry the ghosts of the murdered was such a splendid idea. The killer understands the horror of his action, and his victim understands him, and with understanding often comes forgiveness. And then they'll live happily ever after as one."
She clears her throat, trying to clear images of just leaping on him then and there from her mind. "What happened when it didn't work like that?"
"Insanity," he says sharply. "Splendid ideas always have splendid breakdowns."
"So why do they still do it?"
"They don't know any other way," he says, and looks determined. "I'll have to find them one."
Rose nods, because he will. There'll be a way. He'll find it. Oh, he will.
She trusts him.
Twice over.
(To be continued...)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 04:24 pm (UTC)Very nice. I like how ghosts and the living interact, the whole 'Experiencing things twice over'-deal.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 04:40 pm (UTC)Fabulous! More! Now! If not sooner! *bounces*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 05:05 pm (UTC)Yeah, grest idea.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 05:36 pm (UTC)I'm speculating now on just why the Doctor took her breath before she went but, as I told you yesterday, I'm enjoying it more by waiting until you explain it :)
So, all ready for the next part now.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 06:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 07:33 pm (UTC)"Insanity," he says sharply. "Splendid ideas always have splendid breakdowns."
That's my favorite line of the chapter. Very Doctor-ish.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 11:02 pm (UTC)I had to save up the first four chapters until I had time to read them, and now that I have...wow.
You're really good at this.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 12:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 06:49 am (UTC)*picks self up off floor*
That was fantastic. Looking forward to more :)