Choices of Gods [Ten/Rose]
Jul. 17th, 2006 07:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misscamChoices of Gods
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: BBC's characters. My words.
Rating: PG
Summary: Rose Tyler, the power of gods and none of the wisdom. You need to learn, little girl. [Implied Ten/Rose]
Author's Note: Prompt 042 for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50lyricsfanfic. (the Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head; I've got the feeling someone's gonna be cutting the thread) Written on request for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
njelruch. Vague hints to the events in "Doomsday", nothing exactly spoilerish. Much thanks to lotus79 for beta. (Now you write :P)
Table of Prompts
II
Rose dreams of power. God power, her power, light and life and death in her mind. The Universe is so small, and every little speck of dust of it so grand she feels devoid of breath and filled with wonder.
She can dance among the stars and make the stars dance between her fingers, crush planets to dust and make life out of a grain of sand. She is.... She is, and everything else can be from her.
"Little girl," the voice says, wolf howling with it. "Little girl playing with her dolls and understanding nothing."
Jack. Jack with eyes like the darkness between stars and his heart in his hands, still beating. She shivers, cold for all the flames licking her skin. Jack, oh Jack.
"You killed," he says, voice so harsh and so Jack still. "As time does, ripping flesh from bones and neurons from atoms in the wave of a hand. Rose Tyler, murderer."
"I did it for him," she answers, and Jack nods.
"You did. He kills for you and you kill for him and the Universe is silent in your wake, a funeral hush. It should be silent, but no, little girl with her shiny dolls cannot let death remain death."
"Jack..."
"You made my heart beat again," he says, holding it out to her. The beating of it seems to thunder in her ears. "You healed flesh, you reassembled atoms, you brought me back. No silence for Jack Harkness. I hear and I remember and it hurts."
She is crying, but he shows no signs of sympathy, no signs of forgiveness.
"Rose Tyler, murderer," he says, dropping his heart and it spirals into space, no ground beneath them to halt its fall. "Rose Tyler, forcer of life. Rose Tyler, the power of gods and none of the wisdom. You need to learn, little girl."
He smiles, and it's a wolf's smile. "You will."
She wakes and thinks it just another dream.
She's just had it a few times in a row, is all.
II
"This time I'm sure I got it right," the Doctor says, as he did last time. She just nods good-naturedly, because with him, it's hard to feel anything but. (Apart from the bits where she's scared and running for her life, but those are just the bits in-between.)
They've been trying to land on the planet of Icarnia for a few days now, but this has proven harder than the Doctor assured her ('Just a quick pop-by, Rose! Or is that pop-along? Pop-extended visit? Pop-come for the fun, pop-stay for the party?') First landing almost had her step into the vacuum of space itself if not for a fast hand from the Doctor. The planet, it turns out, has some sort of force protecting it that not even the Doctor knows, but that's never stopped him before.
The TARDIS gives a shudder, and she falls with only a resigned sigh. The TARDIS does this so often she wonders why the Doctor hasn't put pillows around, but maybe that would mess with his Time Lord image or some such.
"You all right?" he asks, still on his feet of course, and she gives him A Look.
"Splendid. Thought you promised last time you'd always warn me about that."
"I did? I did. Um, yes, well, unfortunately, she doesn't always warn me. But never mind that, we're here!"
"Never mind my sore bum," she mutters darkly, and he gives her a smile that half makes her wonder if he'll offer to rub it better. But instead he offers a hand and she takes it, letting him yank her to her feet. The force of it propels her into him, and looking into his face, she's so close she can feel his breath.
"Ready?" he asks, eyes burning with stars and excitement.
"I was born ready."
"That must've been very uncomfortable for your mother."
She pokes him in his rib, and he steers her to the door with a hand on her back. She wonders briefly if all these personal space violations mean something, or if he just likes to break any rule he can find, but he cuts such wonderings short by pushing the door open and her out through.
They are 'here' this time - ground under her feet and sky over her head, but her smile fades as she takes a breathful of air and wishes she hadn't. It tastes of ashes and burns and something metallic, and she splutters a little.
"This isn't right," the Doctor says, smile gone from his face. "They're supposed to be at the height of their civilization. They're supposed to be making chocolate to drive a whole Universe mad with envy."
"Doesn't smell like chocolate."
"No," he agrees. "Smells like death."
He lifts his eyes to the sky and she follows the direction of his gaze to see the faint smoke in the air. It isn't too thick, and she wonders if that is because most of what could burn have already turned to ashes.
She feels a little cold at that.
"I have to..." the Doctor traces off, body already springing into actions and leaving the words trailing behind. He bolts back into the TARDIS, and he's punching away at the console when she follows a little more slowly. Excitement has turned to energy in him, and she knows whatever is wrong, he's not going to leave until he finds out.
No chocolate for a while, then.
"This is all wrong," the Doctor says, probably more to himself than her. "This is all turned inside-out, stitched up the wrong seam, barfed out the wrong head, a fly in your chips kind of wrong. I think I've..."
He trails off, and she grabs the nearest column as the TARDIS moves, jolts a little, and lands again. He doesn't waste any time and bolts for the door, but this time, she manages to be as fast as him. They exit more or less at the same time, and stop at more or less the same time as well.
This was once a city, Rose can tell. It's not anymore. Blackened walls have toppled over, ash covers the streets almost like snow. Here and there smoke still rises, but without any vengeance, almost lazily. Just embers now, but still bearing witness that something terrible has happened.
The Doctor looks grim, but when she turns to look at him, he still manages to give her a half grin.
"Bad?" she asks.
"Father of bad," he confirms. "Maybe even grandfather of bad?"
"Rose?" a voice asks, and she turns, half expecting a ghost, but it isn't, it's really him. It's Jack. Jack, beaming at her. Jack, alive, as she's always known he is.
"Oh yeah," the Doctor says distantly, and she can hardly hear his words from the pounding in her ears. "Grandfather of bad."
"Jack," she says, and takes a step forward, but the Doctor's hand on her arm is a steel grip, holding her back.
"That's not Jack," he says. His voice is strangely bitter. "That's the God of Icarnia. The God they made. The God who has killed them before their time."
"I didn't kill them," Jack says. He looks sad, and Rose is itching to run over and hug him, touch him, pretend he is real even if he isn't. "They killed themselves with my power. All the power of a God and none of the wisdom. Now I have no purpose."
"What is it?" Rose whispers to the Doctor in a low voice. He lowers his head down to hers, his breath tickling her skin as he speaks.
"The people here had a certain power of will, to form the world around them. Alone, they could not do much, but together... So they found a way to give will, to gather it, combine it. A splendidly bad idea splendidly well done. It became a separate being made of their will, alive,and they called it God for what it could do. So much power. All will, but no intention except for what they gave it." He laughs a little, without any humour. "Good intentions didn't last. There was a terrible war until a little child found a way to put the God to sleep so no one could abuse it. And Icarnia was peaceful. Should still be peaceful. Why are you awake?"
He directs the last at Jack, who seems to have heard every word and looks sad at them.
"There was a terrible roar across the Universe, a war being fought all through time. How could I sleep through that?"
"The Time War," the Doctor says, and closes his eyes. His grip on her arm is for a moment so hard she thinks it must leave bruises. "Let me guess, you awoke and the first person whose intention you found was a mass murdering maniac who desired the death of everything?"
Jack merely lowers his head.
"It's always one of those," the Doctor mutters. "Why can't nice Janie Jones from the local pub ever get the power of a God and fill the planet with coasters?"
"But she can," Jack says, and now he beams. "Nice Rose Tyler. She's touched the power before. I can teach her. We can rebuild. We can be good. My power, her intentions. Life for Jack Harkness, life for everyone."
"Oh no you don't," the Doctor says, before Rose can even speak. "You're just looking for an easy target. You can manipulate her more easily than me. No offense, Rose."
"Offense still taken," she says, and he smiles apologetically. "But um, yeah, mostly what he said. Minus the 'easy' bit. I'm hard and kicking, me. Rose Hard Tyler."
"Rose Tyler," Jack says, and his voice is echoing with memories in her mind. "I've already touched you. I've readied you. You need to learn, little girl."
His image wavers, and she falters and falls, and she learns...
... There is an eternity between her heartbeats, time to hold a whole Universe in.
... There is a burn at the core of the planet and she can hold the flames in her hand.
... There is the Universe, so small, and every little speck of dust of it so grand she feels devoid of breath and filled with wonder.
... There is death, and there can be life.
... There is power, God power, her power, light and life and death in her mind.
... There is everywhere she can go, and she does, leaving the Doctor in a gust of wind.
Rose dies. Something else lives.
II
The girl that was Rose sits on a waterfall and feels life regrow. She feels a little annoyed when the Doctor sits down next to her, but the part that is memories feels only glad.
"Bit rude, disappearing like that, even if you are a God," the Doctor says conversationally, but his voice has an edge of steel.
"How did you find me?"
"You're not the only one with power."
The girl that was Rose thinks about that, feeling water slam onto the rocks below, shaping them by force. A God and a godlike rebel, having a silence, the Universe waiting to be shaped.
"Will you kiss away my power again?" she asks. "Will you die to take it from me?"
"If I have to."
"You're rude."
"So are you. Rose didn't give you permission to make her a god."
"She wanted it. I saw her dreams. I saw her mind. Now you're equal."
"Now she isn't Rose."
She looks at him, but doesn't protest it. Not when it's true.
"Being a god is overrated," she tells him bitterly. "You grow up thinking having god-powers, that'll be great. It'll let you to whatever you want, you think, but it doesn't. Not really. It lets you do whatever falls into your head, and that's horrifying."
"Killing your people," the Doctor says, and she knows the sympathy she hears in his voice is real. "They did you no favours, did they? All their will, yes, but none of it free. They didn't trust a God with free will, so they made you need someone's mind to use your power. They shouldn't have trusted themselves. They made you kill. At least my choices are mine."
She cries, and doesn't fight the Doctor's arms around her, doesn't fight when he tilts her head up with a finger on her chin and his eyes are steel and sadness both.
"I'm sorry," he says, and kisses her, water on his lips and knowledge in his mind and suddenly, he's hers and his power too. His will. The will to get Rose back, and time to be right and life to live as much as it can, even if someone has to die.
The waterfall fades and becomes space. Jack is watching them, and she steps next to him to watch too, the Doctor's head so dark next to Rose's, a little bit beautiful.
"He is too dangerous," Jack says. "I didn't want his mind and my power together. He would burn the world and shape the ashes. He would manipulate me. Is that a choice, Rose Tyler? Is it free will that I sought you instead?"
"Maybe. I think it is," she says softly. "I think maybe you're learning too."
"There will come a time you'll wish to have the power of a God."
"Perhaps. But that doesn't mean I should have it."
"They didn't give me a choice," Jack says. He looks at her, blood on his hands and stars in his eyes. "What was Rose Tyler's?"
"To stay with him," she replies, and remembers. "Forever."
"Not even Gods can give forever. But I can give now."
Jack stops being Jack, and for a moment, she can see what he really is, light and power and will, burning so brightly it will leave scars in her mind. The God of Icarnia, and not a god still.
"Be Rose, then," it says, and ripples back into Jack. "Be free."
Space falters. She falters, and crashes into awareness and Rose Tyler and the Doctor's lips. Rose Tyler lives. Something else dies.
"Hey," he manages, smiling.
Then they fall down the waterfall and everything is very, very wet.
II
She awakes to being naked, or almost, a sheet draped around her and the Doctor's voice humming in the distance. She listens to it a little, wondering if she is supposed to understand it when it has no words.
"Doctor?" she calls out after a moment, and he appears so quickly behind her she could almost suspect he had God-like sneaking-up on powers.
"Rose!" he says, and she tries to calm her leaping heart. "Feeling all right?"
"Feeling naked," she replies, and he doesn't even look awkward. Then again, he's also draped in a sheet, and she can see his suit hanging dripping wet over some weird alien device.
"You told me you'd steal all my jam jars if I ever went through your clothes again," he reminds her. "Thought you better find something dry to wear yourself. We did fall down a waterfall, in case you've forgotten."
She makes a grimace. "Wish I could. Do I really have a lump the size of a football on my head, or does it just feel like it?
"Just feels like it," he reassures her. "It's more the shape of a rugby ball."
She pushes herself off the couch he's put her on and heads a little unsteadily in the direction of her room, pausing in the hallway. "Did I really turn down the power of a God?"
"Sort of. Or he turned down you and me."
"You and me?"
"Of course!" he beams. "We come in a pair, like Batman and Robin. Piglet and Winnie the Pooh. Superman and his tights."
"Maybe I should put that on my CV," she reflects. "'Worked as Superman's tights.' So what happened to the God?"
"It's still there, on the planet. It's taken the intentions of the Universe," the Doctor says, and beams. "It's rebuilding life. Not forcing it, just... Helping it. Making choices. Free will. Maybe it'll do better with it than without it. Maybe not. But it deserves the choice."
"I don't think it ever meant any harm."
"I don't think it ever meant anything. They made it like a child, just with certain toys. Maybe it's growing up."
"Everyone has to sooner or later," she says softly. She looks at him, his face so earnest and so full of secrets still. Wisdom comes with a price, but she made her choice to stay with him, and she is paying it. "One of these days you will tell me what happened to Jack."
It's not a request, and she doesn't pause to let him protest it, walking out, not even stopping when she thinks of one last thing to call over her shoulder.
"Maybe one of these days you can kiss me without it being a matter of life and death too."
She thinks she might hear his sharp intake of breath and the sheet he's wearing falling to the floor.
Maybe.
II
Rose dreams of forever. Time tamed and held to will, so much space between each second it fills her with wonder. She stands in it, feeling the centuries dance around her like rain. Time is, and everything else can be from it.
"Little girl," Jack says, and she turns to beam at him. "Do you understand?"
"Do I have to?"
"Not yet."
She nods, and they sit, watching ashes turn to earth and grass grow in time's passing. Time is forever, Rose knows, and thus nothing else is.
"Yes," Jack agrees, and it's the Doctor's voice he uses. She can see the Doctor's time, stretched out further than she can see, and she can make out shapes and people, some she knows, and some she doesn't. There's Jack, the real Jack, and K-9, and she think Jack might even be making a pass. There's Sarah Jane, and herself, and beyond that - there is beyond that, beyond her.
"Yes," Jack says, a promise in his voice. "You'll understand. There will come a time you'll wish to have the power of a God. Be glad you don't. Be glad for the choices you won't make."
She wakes, and thinks it just another dream. It just feels like more, is all.
She still goes to find the Doctor and do something she really wants. Just in case. Just because. Just her choice, a weak defence against the strength of time.
She doesn't understand yet, and in the part of her that knows she doesn't, she hopes it stays that way.
Forever.
FIN
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: BBC's characters. My words.
Rating: PG
Summary: Rose Tyler, the power of gods and none of the wisdom. You need to learn, little girl. [Implied Ten/Rose]
Author's Note: Prompt 042 for
50lyricsfanfic. (the Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head; I've got the feeling someone's gonna be cutting the thread) Written on request for njelruch. Vague hints to the events in "Doomsday", nothing exactly spoilerish. Much thanks to lotus79 for beta. (Now you write :P)Table of Prompts
II
Rose dreams of power. God power, her power, light and life and death in her mind. The Universe is so small, and every little speck of dust of it so grand she feels devoid of breath and filled with wonder.
She can dance among the stars and make the stars dance between her fingers, crush planets to dust and make life out of a grain of sand. She is.... She is, and everything else can be from her.
"Little girl," the voice says, wolf howling with it. "Little girl playing with her dolls and understanding nothing."
Jack. Jack with eyes like the darkness between stars and his heart in his hands, still beating. She shivers, cold for all the flames licking her skin. Jack, oh Jack.
"You killed," he says, voice so harsh and so Jack still. "As time does, ripping flesh from bones and neurons from atoms in the wave of a hand. Rose Tyler, murderer."
"I did it for him," she answers, and Jack nods.
"You did. He kills for you and you kill for him and the Universe is silent in your wake, a funeral hush. It should be silent, but no, little girl with her shiny dolls cannot let death remain death."
"Jack..."
"You made my heart beat again," he says, holding it out to her. The beating of it seems to thunder in her ears. "You healed flesh, you reassembled atoms, you brought me back. No silence for Jack Harkness. I hear and I remember and it hurts."
She is crying, but he shows no signs of sympathy, no signs of forgiveness.
"Rose Tyler, murderer," he says, dropping his heart and it spirals into space, no ground beneath them to halt its fall. "Rose Tyler, forcer of life. Rose Tyler, the power of gods and none of the wisdom. You need to learn, little girl."
He smiles, and it's a wolf's smile. "You will."
She wakes and thinks it just another dream.
She's just had it a few times in a row, is all.
II
"This time I'm sure I got it right," the Doctor says, as he did last time. She just nods good-naturedly, because with him, it's hard to feel anything but. (Apart from the bits where she's scared and running for her life, but those are just the bits in-between.)
They've been trying to land on the planet of Icarnia for a few days now, but this has proven harder than the Doctor assured her ('Just a quick pop-by, Rose! Or is that pop-along? Pop-extended visit? Pop-come for the fun, pop-stay for the party?') First landing almost had her step into the vacuum of space itself if not for a fast hand from the Doctor. The planet, it turns out, has some sort of force protecting it that not even the Doctor knows, but that's never stopped him before.
The TARDIS gives a shudder, and she falls with only a resigned sigh. The TARDIS does this so often she wonders why the Doctor hasn't put pillows around, but maybe that would mess with his Time Lord image or some such.
"You all right?" he asks, still on his feet of course, and she gives him A Look.
"Splendid. Thought you promised last time you'd always warn me about that."
"I did? I did. Um, yes, well, unfortunately, she doesn't always warn me. But never mind that, we're here!"
"Never mind my sore bum," she mutters darkly, and he gives her a smile that half makes her wonder if he'll offer to rub it better. But instead he offers a hand and she takes it, letting him yank her to her feet. The force of it propels her into him, and looking into his face, she's so close she can feel his breath.
"Ready?" he asks, eyes burning with stars and excitement.
"I was born ready."
"That must've been very uncomfortable for your mother."
She pokes him in his rib, and he steers her to the door with a hand on her back. She wonders briefly if all these personal space violations mean something, or if he just likes to break any rule he can find, but he cuts such wonderings short by pushing the door open and her out through.
They are 'here' this time - ground under her feet and sky over her head, but her smile fades as she takes a breathful of air and wishes she hadn't. It tastes of ashes and burns and something metallic, and she splutters a little.
"This isn't right," the Doctor says, smile gone from his face. "They're supposed to be at the height of their civilization. They're supposed to be making chocolate to drive a whole Universe mad with envy."
"Doesn't smell like chocolate."
"No," he agrees. "Smells like death."
He lifts his eyes to the sky and she follows the direction of his gaze to see the faint smoke in the air. It isn't too thick, and she wonders if that is because most of what could burn have already turned to ashes.
She feels a little cold at that.
"I have to..." the Doctor traces off, body already springing into actions and leaving the words trailing behind. He bolts back into the TARDIS, and he's punching away at the console when she follows a little more slowly. Excitement has turned to energy in him, and she knows whatever is wrong, he's not going to leave until he finds out.
No chocolate for a while, then.
"This is all wrong," the Doctor says, probably more to himself than her. "This is all turned inside-out, stitched up the wrong seam, barfed out the wrong head, a fly in your chips kind of wrong. I think I've..."
He trails off, and she grabs the nearest column as the TARDIS moves, jolts a little, and lands again. He doesn't waste any time and bolts for the door, but this time, she manages to be as fast as him. They exit more or less at the same time, and stop at more or less the same time as well.
This was once a city, Rose can tell. It's not anymore. Blackened walls have toppled over, ash covers the streets almost like snow. Here and there smoke still rises, but without any vengeance, almost lazily. Just embers now, but still bearing witness that something terrible has happened.
The Doctor looks grim, but when she turns to look at him, he still manages to give her a half grin.
"Bad?" she asks.
"Father of bad," he confirms. "Maybe even grandfather of bad?"
"Rose?" a voice asks, and she turns, half expecting a ghost, but it isn't, it's really him. It's Jack. Jack, beaming at her. Jack, alive, as she's always known he is.
"Oh yeah," the Doctor says distantly, and she can hardly hear his words from the pounding in her ears. "Grandfather of bad."
"Jack," she says, and takes a step forward, but the Doctor's hand on her arm is a steel grip, holding her back.
"That's not Jack," he says. His voice is strangely bitter. "That's the God of Icarnia. The God they made. The God who has killed them before their time."
"I didn't kill them," Jack says. He looks sad, and Rose is itching to run over and hug him, touch him, pretend he is real even if he isn't. "They killed themselves with my power. All the power of a God and none of the wisdom. Now I have no purpose."
"What is it?" Rose whispers to the Doctor in a low voice. He lowers his head down to hers, his breath tickling her skin as he speaks.
"The people here had a certain power of will, to form the world around them. Alone, they could not do much, but together... So they found a way to give will, to gather it, combine it. A splendidly bad idea splendidly well done. It became a separate being made of their will, alive,and they called it God for what it could do. So much power. All will, but no intention except for what they gave it." He laughs a little, without any humour. "Good intentions didn't last. There was a terrible war until a little child found a way to put the God to sleep so no one could abuse it. And Icarnia was peaceful. Should still be peaceful. Why are you awake?"
He directs the last at Jack, who seems to have heard every word and looks sad at them.
"There was a terrible roar across the Universe, a war being fought all through time. How could I sleep through that?"
"The Time War," the Doctor says, and closes his eyes. His grip on her arm is for a moment so hard she thinks it must leave bruises. "Let me guess, you awoke and the first person whose intention you found was a mass murdering maniac who desired the death of everything?"
Jack merely lowers his head.
"It's always one of those," the Doctor mutters. "Why can't nice Janie Jones from the local pub ever get the power of a God and fill the planet with coasters?"
"But she can," Jack says, and now he beams. "Nice Rose Tyler. She's touched the power before. I can teach her. We can rebuild. We can be good. My power, her intentions. Life for Jack Harkness, life for everyone."
"Oh no you don't," the Doctor says, before Rose can even speak. "You're just looking for an easy target. You can manipulate her more easily than me. No offense, Rose."
"Offense still taken," she says, and he smiles apologetically. "But um, yeah, mostly what he said. Minus the 'easy' bit. I'm hard and kicking, me. Rose Hard Tyler."
"Rose Tyler," Jack says, and his voice is echoing with memories in her mind. "I've already touched you. I've readied you. You need to learn, little girl."
His image wavers, and she falters and falls, and she learns...
... There is an eternity between her heartbeats, time to hold a whole Universe in.
... There is a burn at the core of the planet and she can hold the flames in her hand.
... There is the Universe, so small, and every little speck of dust of it so grand she feels devoid of breath and filled with wonder.
... There is death, and there can be life.
... There is power, God power, her power, light and life and death in her mind.
... There is everywhere she can go, and she does, leaving the Doctor in a gust of wind.
Rose dies. Something else lives.
II
The girl that was Rose sits on a waterfall and feels life regrow. She feels a little annoyed when the Doctor sits down next to her, but the part that is memories feels only glad.
"Bit rude, disappearing like that, even if you are a God," the Doctor says conversationally, but his voice has an edge of steel.
"How did you find me?"
"You're not the only one with power."
The girl that was Rose thinks about that, feeling water slam onto the rocks below, shaping them by force. A God and a godlike rebel, having a silence, the Universe waiting to be shaped.
"Will you kiss away my power again?" she asks. "Will you die to take it from me?"
"If I have to."
"You're rude."
"So are you. Rose didn't give you permission to make her a god."
"She wanted it. I saw her dreams. I saw her mind. Now you're equal."
"Now she isn't Rose."
She looks at him, but doesn't protest it. Not when it's true.
"Being a god is overrated," she tells him bitterly. "You grow up thinking having god-powers, that'll be great. It'll let you to whatever you want, you think, but it doesn't. Not really. It lets you do whatever falls into your head, and that's horrifying."
"Killing your people," the Doctor says, and she knows the sympathy she hears in his voice is real. "They did you no favours, did they? All their will, yes, but none of it free. They didn't trust a God with free will, so they made you need someone's mind to use your power. They shouldn't have trusted themselves. They made you kill. At least my choices are mine."
She cries, and doesn't fight the Doctor's arms around her, doesn't fight when he tilts her head up with a finger on her chin and his eyes are steel and sadness both.
"I'm sorry," he says, and kisses her, water on his lips and knowledge in his mind and suddenly, he's hers and his power too. His will. The will to get Rose back, and time to be right and life to live as much as it can, even if someone has to die.
The waterfall fades and becomes space. Jack is watching them, and she steps next to him to watch too, the Doctor's head so dark next to Rose's, a little bit beautiful.
"He is too dangerous," Jack says. "I didn't want his mind and my power together. He would burn the world and shape the ashes. He would manipulate me. Is that a choice, Rose Tyler? Is it free will that I sought you instead?"
"Maybe. I think it is," she says softly. "I think maybe you're learning too."
"There will come a time you'll wish to have the power of a God."
"Perhaps. But that doesn't mean I should have it."
"They didn't give me a choice," Jack says. He looks at her, blood on his hands and stars in his eyes. "What was Rose Tyler's?"
"To stay with him," she replies, and remembers. "Forever."
"Not even Gods can give forever. But I can give now."
Jack stops being Jack, and for a moment, she can see what he really is, light and power and will, burning so brightly it will leave scars in her mind. The God of Icarnia, and not a god still.
"Be Rose, then," it says, and ripples back into Jack. "Be free."
Space falters. She falters, and crashes into awareness and Rose Tyler and the Doctor's lips. Rose Tyler lives. Something else dies.
"Hey," he manages, smiling.
Then they fall down the waterfall and everything is very, very wet.
II
She awakes to being naked, or almost, a sheet draped around her and the Doctor's voice humming in the distance. She listens to it a little, wondering if she is supposed to understand it when it has no words.
"Doctor?" she calls out after a moment, and he appears so quickly behind her she could almost suspect he had God-like sneaking-up on powers.
"Rose!" he says, and she tries to calm her leaping heart. "Feeling all right?"
"Feeling naked," she replies, and he doesn't even look awkward. Then again, he's also draped in a sheet, and she can see his suit hanging dripping wet over some weird alien device.
"You told me you'd steal all my jam jars if I ever went through your clothes again," he reminds her. "Thought you better find something dry to wear yourself. We did fall down a waterfall, in case you've forgotten."
She makes a grimace. "Wish I could. Do I really have a lump the size of a football on my head, or does it just feel like it?
"Just feels like it," he reassures her. "It's more the shape of a rugby ball."
She pushes herself off the couch he's put her on and heads a little unsteadily in the direction of her room, pausing in the hallway. "Did I really turn down the power of a God?"
"Sort of. Or he turned down you and me."
"You and me?"
"Of course!" he beams. "We come in a pair, like Batman and Robin. Piglet and Winnie the Pooh. Superman and his tights."
"Maybe I should put that on my CV," she reflects. "'Worked as Superman's tights.' So what happened to the God?"
"It's still there, on the planet. It's taken the intentions of the Universe," the Doctor says, and beams. "It's rebuilding life. Not forcing it, just... Helping it. Making choices. Free will. Maybe it'll do better with it than without it. Maybe not. But it deserves the choice."
"I don't think it ever meant any harm."
"I don't think it ever meant anything. They made it like a child, just with certain toys. Maybe it's growing up."
"Everyone has to sooner or later," she says softly. She looks at him, his face so earnest and so full of secrets still. Wisdom comes with a price, but she made her choice to stay with him, and she is paying it. "One of these days you will tell me what happened to Jack."
It's not a request, and she doesn't pause to let him protest it, walking out, not even stopping when she thinks of one last thing to call over her shoulder.
"Maybe one of these days you can kiss me without it being a matter of life and death too."
She thinks she might hear his sharp intake of breath and the sheet he's wearing falling to the floor.
Maybe.
II
Rose dreams of forever. Time tamed and held to will, so much space between each second it fills her with wonder. She stands in it, feeling the centuries dance around her like rain. Time is, and everything else can be from it.
"Little girl," Jack says, and she turns to beam at him. "Do you understand?"
"Do I have to?"
"Not yet."
She nods, and they sit, watching ashes turn to earth and grass grow in time's passing. Time is forever, Rose knows, and thus nothing else is.
"Yes," Jack agrees, and it's the Doctor's voice he uses. She can see the Doctor's time, stretched out further than she can see, and she can make out shapes and people, some she knows, and some she doesn't. There's Jack, the real Jack, and K-9, and she think Jack might even be making a pass. There's Sarah Jane, and herself, and beyond that - there is beyond that, beyond her.
"Yes," Jack says, a promise in his voice. "You'll understand. There will come a time you'll wish to have the power of a God. Be glad you don't. Be glad for the choices you won't make."
She wakes, and thinks it just another dream. It just feels like more, is all.
She still goes to find the Doctor and do something she really wants. Just in case. Just because. Just her choice, a weak defence against the strength of time.
She doesn't understand yet, and in the part of her that knows she doesn't, she hopes it stays that way.
Forever.
FIN
