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misscamAn Adventure in Norway 1/?
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: BBC's characters. My words. Norway belongs to itself.
Rating: Mature. Language, later adult situations and themes.
Summary: The one adventure I can never have - what if you could have it, Doctor? Have sixty years with Rose Tyler? What then? [Ten/Rose, Others] AU.
Author's Note: Spoilers for "Doomsday" and set after it. Prompt 031 for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50lyricsfanfic. (you knocked me out, I can never be the same; I pushed you over, but here we still remain) Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sc_angel72 for looking it over :) This part is about 5000 words.
Table of Prompts
One.
II
Space.
Any time.
The Doctor is thinking about adventures again.
He's had them, lived them, died by them, been regenerated into them, become them. They've formed him, and he's formed the Universe through them. A fair sort of trade, perhaps, as fair as anything in the Universe could ever be.
There's one adventure he hasn't had, can't have. He told Rose that, the Rose the Universe has taken from him as he always knew it would. That doesn't feel fair at all, not to him. Certainly not to him. Fair is giving him what he wants.
He still has the arrogance to not feel ashamed at thinking that. Still a Time Lord, even if he is the last. So many adventures, and they'll all come to silence when he dies. No remembrance for Gallifrey. No remembrance for the Doctor.
One adventure he hasn't had. Can't have, but can fake.
Rose is twenty. She might live to eighty - that is the average for her time and her kind. Sixty years of life, day by day. Long time for one single adventure. Bit longer than he's used to. He might go a little mad. Wouldn't be the first time, but might be the last. But still, he's never rushed into adventures expecting no dangers. He'll just have to think of normal life as a Dalek and duck a lot.
Sixty years.
One adventure he hasn't had.
He's always enjoyed leaving no spot undiscovered.
Maybe, maybe, maybe...
Oh, why the fuck not?
The Doctor is thinking about adventures again, and that is always, always a bad idea.
II
London and Bergen, Norway.
June. Year one.
Rose gets a funny feeling in her stomach one morning in June, one year on, when she reads a Norwegian news site in English. It's become a habit of hers, like having a suitcase packed and a pair of new running shoes in the closet, just in case of the impossible. There is no hope attached to it, just... No harm being prepared, like having fire drills for fires that never happen.
An English tourist has been fished out of the sea and taken to a hospital in Bergen for observation, she reads. They think he's English because of his accent, but apart from that, they're not quite sure about much at all. Apparently, he's not very communicative, and anyone who might have information is urged to contact the Bergen police department or the Norwegian embassy.
A non-communicative assumed Englishman. It could be just a tourist, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach doesn't go away. It never quite does. It's too fond of impossible hope.
It's a warm June morning, simmering with heat that even winds seem to give up at and just die away. It shouldn't be this hot even in this England, but the planet is still recovering from overheating. It takes time to cool down again, but Torchwood has several ideas on how to speed it along. It isn't really Rose's department, but she keeps an eye on it still. It's just the kind of thing that would go wrong if the Doctor was here, and would have a little adventure sorting out. She is prepared to have a little adventure sorting it out herself. Defending the Earth and all. It's a hard habit to kick.
"You all right, love?" Jackie calls in from the kitchen. Rose hardly looks up, eyes still glued to the screen. "You're going to be late."
"Mum, I am the boss. I decide what late is now. You look after Graham. Don't worry about me."
"You're still my daughter, you know," Jackie says, sounding a little insulted, but already moving away. The latest addition to the Tyler family is often impatient and loud and demanding, and Rose knows her mother is secretly thrilled by all of it. Not just because it's the bond to the Pete Tyler of this world Rose isn't, but also because Rose hasn't quite returned to her. She can't, even if she wants to.
She isn't quite that Rose Tyler any more.
She sits and stares at the screen for a while, before making a call to a friend in the Norwegian Special Disturbance Unit (or Norsk Spesial Uro Enhet, which she can never wrap her tongue around), who officially doesn't know Torchwood exists, just like she doesn't officially know about it or the French Department for Alien Aliens (as it more or less translates to) or the US Bureau for Space Threats or all the politics in-between. She hates politics. That's why she has friends instead. Friends who can find out when a tourist is just a tourist, or when he's a stranger.
She almost hopes he's a tourist. That won't allow any speculation.
"Your tea is cold," Pete says behind her, and hands her a new mug, and she wonders if it's his or a new one he's made for her and which one would delight her the most. He looks a little guarded, but he always does, and it almost doesn't hurt any more. "Will you be making another trip to Norway soon?"
"Maybe. I have to know."
"You always do."
"Don't tell mum."
He laughs a little, but without any real humour. "She'd have my head if I did for not stopping you. When you come back, you're always... She can tell, you know. She is your mum."
"I know," she says quietly. "Thanks for helping her."
"I love her," he says sharply and abruptly, and walks away. Pete loves Jackie and Jackie loves Rose, and as family goes, it sort of works.
Even so, she lets the mug of tea stand untouched until it too is cold, and she can hear the distant sounds of Jackie making noises to her son and Pete joining in. Only then does she leave quietly, taking her laptop with her.
She drives to work in the heat, and thinks about getting her own place again. She always does, and Jackie always talks her out of it, playing on the bit of guilt Rose still feels for going with the Doctor in the first place. It isn't playing fair, but fairness is for those who can afford it, as Mickey puts it.
Fighting Cybermen for years can change anyone's perception of fair. Can change anyone, and has certainly changed Mickey. She appreciates it. She admires it. A few years back, she would've fallen madly for it.
A few years ago, her heart hadn't been ripped out of her chest and left in an alternate universe. It'll heal, is healing, but Mickey reminds her and Mickey doesn't want to be second best, settled for, and Mickey, Mickey has other ideas.
She doesn't quite understand why he likes Paris so much, though.
Traffic is light, perhaps because most are on holiday and following the World Cup. In her world, it would be football, in this it is ballkick, a fairly similar sport, only it also involves the use of tennis rackets. Pete owns his own team, and she's let him take her to games if only to feel something like a fatherly connection.
It's been a strange year. She's almost become used to it, even to the fake calls and the resulting heartbreak. They're expected, routine, part of her new life.
She's beginning to understand Sarah Jane a lot more, and she can't even take her up on the offer of contact. The Sarah Jane of this world is married and runs The London Gazette, and probably thinks Rose Tyler rather mad from the encounter they had. This Sarah Jane doesn't understand.
Rose is longing for someone who does. Mickey gets parts of it, Jackie gets other parts and even Pete some, but no one understands everything. Just her, and that is kind of lonely.
She's just reached the underground car park when her phone calls, and she answers it with all the indifferent air she can imagine.
"Tyler."
"He's a stranger. Definitely alien," Petter tells her without any preamble. "You coming up to have a look?"
"Yes," she says, no hesitation. "I'm coming up. I'll bring you a treat."
"See you then, Tyler," the Norwegian replies, and hangs up. She stares at the phone for a moment, feeling something almost like anger. Why couldn't it be just a tourist? Why did it have to be hope again?
Still, time to go to Norway once more and have hopes dashed and heart broken. Routine.
Even so, she has a funny feeling in her stomach, and it's not going away.
II
Rose arrives in Bergen on July 27th, embarking from her zeppelin with the same headache she always gets. Maybe she shouldn't attempt reading briefs while in transit, but her desk is full of them and the pile never seems to shrink. Sometimes, she's half tempted to just torch the thing, as if there can be no more paperwork without a desk to put it on. She can work without a desk. She certainly has before.
Petter greets her, and is properly appreciative of her treat, as he tends to be. Torchwood has more resources than his little unit, which faces trouble all the same. Perhaps because his country is where the breach between dimensions last closed, a lot of trouble seems to be attracted there.
He's going to offer her a job again, she has a feeling.
"You sure he's alien?" she asks as they drive through traffic, sun bouncing off the car and back into space.
"I wouldn't bring you up here if we didn't. We did some tests and scans. He's got two hearts."
"What?" she says sharply, and the second before he replies again is all pain.
"Two hearts. Definitely alien. You wouldn't believe what we found in his blood..."
"I would," she replies, digging nails into her palms. "Has he spoken at all?"
"Just mutterings about falling through hell. He's a bit insane, I should warn you."
"Oh, I bet he is," she laughs, and wants to cry. It has to be. It can't be. It has to be. It can't be. Might be other Time Lords in this world. Might be a whole Universe full of them.
Might not be. Might be him.
Hope hurts.
It feels like an eternity and probably is one before Petter pulls over in front of the hospital, and she wonders why they haven't closed the whole area off. But then, Norwegians are different and have different ideas about secrecy and public access and their Prime Minister even has a Cyberman's head in his office. Hunting trophy, allegedly. She'd believe that better if it hadn't been a head she'd brought as a treat.
She might need bigger treats to trade if this truly is the Doctor.
It can't be.
It has to be.
It can't be.
It has to be.
It is.
II
The Doctor is dreaming about hell again. Falling through it, screaming in it, navigating through it. So much hell and so little him and just one anchor to where he's going.
Rose.
He's going to have an adventure with Rose.
The void is an adventure too, but he can't say he likes it. Doesn't like death, and it's full of it, Cybermen and Daleks at eternal war, only pausing to hunt him.
And there are other things, shadows and whispers and nightmares, and he screams quite a lot all the way through his fall.
So little him and so much void and he falls and falls and falls out and the water is cold and he misses the TARDIS, but the TARDIS would die here and he's parked it on the other side so it can live till he returns.
He dreams a lot about how lonely he is without it still. Muddled memories without her, muddled sense of self too. So much hurt, clouding everything.
He also dreams about Rose. Rose, Rose, who should smile and looks angry instead.
"You complete bastard," she says, and he wonders why dreams need to be rude. "I was growing used to false hope. I made a life of it, a stupid, silly, worthwhile life without you. How dare you change it? How dare you come back now? You're such a fucking wanker I could kiss you."
"He slips in and out of consciousness," a doctor-y voice says, and he feels a bit upstaged. He's supposed to be the one with the answers, but right now he can't even think of many questions. "Been like that since we found him. You ask me, he's had a nasty shock."
"Good," Rose says harshly. "Then he'll know how I feel."
But her hand is very soft stroking his and he thinks she's a little bit happy still. He likes her happy. He's going to make her happy again. He remembers that.
"Rose Tyler," he says, and everyone looks at him with surprise. "Marry me for sixty years?"
His last thought before slipping into nightmares again is that if they all look at him as if he's rather loony, he rather has to be too.
Yeah.
That feels about right.
II
It is nighttime when he wakes again, he knows instinctively, even if streams of sunlight are crawling across the floor. He knows time, he knows, a sort of instinct in his mind. If he focuses on it, he can almost feel something between the tick of seconds, like a stream he can tap into.
He balls his hand a little and wonders if he could hold time in his hand. Somehow, he thinks it would tickle.
He looks up to see a shadow in the window on the other side of his room, back to him. Rose, he knows. Rose Tyler.
He's beginning to think he knows a lot of things.
"You've had some head trauma," Rose says tonelessly, and he wishes he could see her face. "You might have some memory loss, at least the specialist here thinks so. But he's never treated a Time Lord before, so you might surprise him."
"You're Rose," he says, and she inhales sharply. "I'm the Doctor."
"Yes."
"I came to find you."
"Got that impression, yeah. With the marriage proposal and all."
She doesn't sound overjoyed with, well, joy, he notes. She sighs, and finally turns to look at him, and he can see the tears clinging to her lashes.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispers, desperation clinging to every word. "So how can you be here?"
"I fell," he replies, and remembers. It's enough to make him wince, and she is by his side in seconds, grabbing his hand anxiously. "I landed. Hurt a bit. Service on dimensional travel really is terrible."
"Oh, shut up," she says, but he remembers that tone and beams at it. She just shakes her head at him, and then she is kissing him harshly, a sort of punishment and reassurance that he's real also. He lets her, and wonders why her kiss feels so familiar.
"If you're here to say goodbye or some such shit and leave me again, I'm going to kill you," she whispers against his lips, and the bitterness he hears in her voice he's pretty sure isn't familiar at all. She's changed. Perhaps he has too. He can't quite remember, but there is a sense that he's used to change. Very used to it.
"I'm here to stay for sixty years," he says, which must be true, because he can't remember how to lie right now.
"Sixty years? What happens after sixty years?"
"You die."
Her eyes widen a little, then she just kisses him again, as if she can't think of any words at all. He responds a little this time, because it feels rude not to, and quite good to. Her lips taste of sun, and her breath of coffee, and he knows she hasn't slept while he has. Herkeeps his eyes open and watches hers close, lashes dark against pale skin.
"You need to sleep," he says to her, and she lowers her head to the pillow next to his, even if that mean she's craning her neck in a way that looks uncomfortable. He doesn't like that, doesn't like her hurting at all, so he yanks her fully up into the bed. She doesn't protest, just curls herself up against him. It's a little unfamiliar, but comfortable, so he puts his arms around her and feels a bit adventurous.
"Kept thinking if I slept, I'd wake up too, and this would be another dream," she mutters, voice thick.
"Do I feel like one?"
"Yeah. You didn't usually ask me to marry you as a way of greeting."
"It's a very friendly way of saying hi."
"And divorce a very unfriendly way of saying goodbye, I suppose," she replies softly, eyes still closed. A heartbeat passes, and she sighs. "I missed you."
"Quite right, too," he agrees. "Rose?"
"Mmmm?"
"I am a complete bastard, aren't I?"
"Yes," she says effortlessly, but smiles a little.
"Thought so."
"I still love you."
"Thought so again," he replies, because it isn't very hard to tell. He just has to look at her, and he knows, even with fuzzy memories, confused emotions and a pounding headache.
"Think less, shut up more."
"Okay," he readily agrees, even if he seems quite fond of talking. That can wait till later. He's got sixty years now to talk to her. That should be plenty. Might even be overkill. Might run out of things to say.
Nah. That'll never happen with him.
She sleeps, and he watches her, and somehow, that feels rather familiar too, like something returned to him. Rose Tyler, his.
Yeah.
That feels about right.
II
It rains on July 29th, and Rose finally dares leaving the Doctor's side to go find Petter. She feels heavy as she walks, as if a burden has been laid on her rather than lifted from her, and all the pain of losing him seems to have been relived in getting him back. Strange, that.
But it is him. Her Doctor. He mutters enough of the past that she knows no one else would know, and his hand is his hand. She can't mistake that. He is her Doctor, and now she has to stake her claim.
"He's mine," she tells Petter, marching into his office and planting her hands on his desk. He looks like he's been expecting her. He probably has been every hour since they moved the Doctor from the hospital and into the smaller building of Petter's unit, but she's been putting it off, spending so many hours just assuring herself the Doctor isn't a dream.
"Old friend?" Petter asks, crossing his arms. He looks like he hasn't slept much either, his blond hair rather ruffled and shirt crumpled. Overworked is not just a British phenomena, it seems.
"You could say that."
"He is alien, and technically under our jurisdiction. But there is a way he could be released into your care."
She sighs. Everything costs in this world. There's always a price to be paid when you can't just leave any time before the check arrives. "Which is?"
"You work for us. Your friend isn't the only one who landed on that beach. There is something killing my people. Stop it, and your friend won't have any troubles with us." He looks at her, blue eyes apologetic. "I'm desperate, Tyler."
"Didn't take long for trouble to follow him," she mutters, and remembers she always thought the Doctor was worth the monsters. He'll have to be again. "All right, Petter. I'll stop it."
He nods slowly, looking relieved and a little ashamed too. Perhaps at having to bargain for help. Unasked for, it's always easier to accept. "I'll get you an office and all the information we have. Maybe you can find a weak spot we haven't."
"Yeah," she mutters, feeling drained of energy and just wanting to crawl back into bed and listen to the Doctor breathe. "I'll need some tea. The Doctor will want some too."
She walks out, and leans against the wall in the hallway, hardly noticing the people moving around her. Her fingers feel stiff as she finds her cell phone, and feels only a little guilty at all the missed calls. She wasn't quite ready to take them yet.
Pete answers on the third ring, voice anxious. "Rose?"
"Dad," she whispers, even if she knows he feels uncomfortable when she does and she's tried so very hard to do what he wants. But right now, she needs him to be her dad. "It's him."
"What?"
"It's the Doctor," she says, and her voice sounds hysterical even to her. "Dad, it's him. Don't tell anyone else yet."
He breathes, and she listens to it, something ordinary and reassuring. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she says, and and a strange calm falls over her. She is sure. The Doctor has come back to her. He's swept into her life again like the whirlwind he's always been, and it's all she can do to hang on. Everything else is everything else. "Yeah, I'm sure."
II
Somewhere in the third file on mysterious going-ons near Bergen, she falls asleep and dreams of people dying, people screaming and sharp, metallic voices shrieking in rage. It's a familiar dream, but it's been a while since she had it in this world.
She awakes sharply to see the Doctor looking at her from the doorway. Her neck aches, as it always does when she falls asleep at a desk, and her mouth tastes of paper and dust. She isn't sure what time it is, but the dark sky she can see from the window tells her it has to be one of the few hours of the night when there is no sun.
The Doctor is looking so much like himself that her heart skips a beat. Suit back on, not the hospital gear she's grown a bit used to. His hair is sticking everywhere, but his smile is full of energy.
"How did you get out of...?" she starts, and he waves his sonic screwdriver at her. "Ah."
"You said you'd be right back. Everyone there kept poking me when you're not there," he says, slightly accusing. She makes a grimace. "All work, no play, Rose Tyler?"
"You want to play?"
"I love to play!" he beams. "I think I do. Don't I?"
She can't help but smile, and he seems to take that as confirmation enough. Walking into the room, he picks up a few papers and looks at them, a frown forming on his forehead.
"I don't understand this," he says, and she knows then he's left the TARDIS behind. "I'm meant to... Oh. The TARDIS. Not here."
"Yeah," she agrees. "Was a bit of a bother having to learn languages again. Norwegian can be a right bugger to master. So how did you get here?"
He seems to look beyond her. "I made a hole. I fell. I landed. Does it matter, Rose?"
"It matters if something fell with you," she says tiredly. "Something's killing people near the beach where I last saw you. Judging by all this... I think it's a Dalek."
His smile falls. His eyes narrow, and she remembers he was always a fighter too, just using people as his weapons when he had to.
"I hate Daleks," he says after a moment. "So rude, never stopping to see the sights on their genocidal killing sprees."
She nods, and then she can't stand it anymore, getting up and walking to him until his arms are warm and safe and reassuring around her. He puts a warm hand on her neck, pressing his head into her shoulder, his breath hot even through her shirt.
"Rose," he murmurs a little brokenly, and she knows he's missed her too and she hurts a little for him and with him.
"I'm here," she assures him, and herself too. "You found me."
"How long has it been for you?"
"Bit over a year. You?"
He breathes a little, perhaps trying to remember. "Not that long. Had a bit of a bride situation to sort out."
Might explain what triggered the random proposal, she figures, but decides not to ask at all. Without explanations from him, it can just be what it is and nothing more. And either way, he's come here, without the TARDIS and with only himself. That's enough.
"Did you..." he trails off. "I mean, is there anyone in your life that..."
Her phone rings, and the Doctor must feel her tense, for he reaches into her pocket before she can and fishes it out.
"Rose Tyler's phone," he says professionally, and she puts her head on his chest as he talks, listening to the words rumble. "Oh, Jackie! Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, how I haven't missed your voice at all."
He winces a bit as the reply from the other end reaches him, and pulls the phone slightly away from his ear. "Your mum still loves me like her own, doesn't she? I can tell."
She plucks the phone from him with a slight head shake, but can't quite manage to make it stern. "Mum, calm down. Yeah, he's here. I'll explain later. Yeah, I promise. Yeah. Yeah... Love you too, mum."
"Love you too, Rose," the Doctor says as she hangs up, a slight mimic of Jackie's voice, the tone just a little too forced casual. She lets that mean what she wants it to.
"Quite right too," she says briskly, kissing him hard until he's breathless and she's feeling a little in control. "Want to help me sort out a Dalek?"
"Thought you'd never ask, Rose Tyler," he replies, eyes so very bright when looking at her.
II
Summer is the season of midnight sun in Norway, the Doctor learns, when the sun rises early and sets late, and in some parts, never leaves the sky at all. It's a little unsettling at first, and explains why he's on a hill with Rose Tyler in almost daylight during almost midnight, looking down at a Dalek that looks almost like a shadow with all the light around it.
"Petter's guys have been avoiding provoking it," Rose says in a low voice. "It's killed anyone who's come near, but it appears to be a little confused and dazed still."
"Know how it feels," he replies lightly, and feels quite dark. Even here, the Daleks come. They never die, and for once, he'd quite like some death. "I think I'll go have a chat."
"What?" Rose says, and the Norwegian friend she has looks at him like he's completely bonkers. Which he is, but he's not going to take that from some silly human.
"You want to talk to a - what was it? Dalek?"
"Yep!" he replies, and Rose just looks at him, eyes dark and angry.
"It's killed everyone who's approached it!" the Norwegian protests. "We had to do all our scanning from a distance and evacuate tourists from the area."
"Oh, we go ways back, me and the Daleks," the Doctor reassures him. "It's come all this way to say hello, how can I deny it? Be rude and inhospitable, and isn't this supposed to be a friendly country?"
"You're not going to dare getting yourself killed, are you?" Rose breaks in, wind ripping at her hair. He steadies it without thinking, letting a hand stay on her cheek.
"After I've come all this way? Hardly," he replies, and knows he's remembered how to lie. "Be back before you've had time to miss me."
He feels her gaze on his back all the way as he walks down down, the stare of the black Dalek on his front as he approaches. It isn't killing him on sight, as he's gambled on, looking like it's thinking instead. Waves are crashing in the distance, but almost lazily, like the sea is waiting for something too.
"Hello!" he says cheerfully when he is close enough. "Come to see the midnight sun? Or the fjords? Take a little postcard with you back to hell?"
"You-are-the-Doc-tor," the Dalek says, voice like destruction, as always. "You-will-free-the-Da-leks-from-the-void."
"What, not enjoying the stay in hell?" he asks, grinning a little madly. "That's a shame. I so enjoyed sending you there."
"You-will-obey."
"I will not," he says cheerfully. "Free will is such a pain, isn't it?"
"You-will-obey-or-die! You-will-obey-or-everyone-will-be-ex-termi-nated!"
"Oh, I think not," he says casually. "See, this world has Rose Tyler now. And she's..."
He lifts his gaze and trails off for a moment, looking a bit perplexed. "... standing behind you with a very large gun, in fact."
"Duck, you idiot!" Rose calls, and he does. There is what sounds like a very loud bang, and his vision turns terribly white. He can only vaguely make out some shadows, and one looming stronger and stronger until he can make out the Dalek again, it's head-piece blown open, and the eyestalk half turned towards Rose. There is a rather sickening smell of burning flesh, and he wipes his nose a little as he fights back onto his feet.
The whiff of dead Dalek is never going to be a hit perfume, he reckons.
Rose is looking at him, her weapon lowered, but none of the tension gone from her stance.
"You haven't befriended someone calling herself 'Ace' here, have you?" he asks suspiciously.
She shakes her head. "Mickey made it. Said he wouldn't put it past you to come crashing back into our lives with company, Dalek or otherwise. I always bring his little helpers when I come here. Just in case. Mickey's real smart, you know. He's made me one especially for Cybermen too."
"Mickey the hero," he says, and actually means it.
"Doctor the idiot," she shoots back. "You were going to play distraction or die trying, weren't you?"
He scratches the base of his neck slightly. "Wasn't a plan, as such. Just... It was my fault it came here."
"Maybe. Maybe it would've fallen in anyway. But you're not going to break my heart just because you're a thoughtless bastard of a Time Lord with delusions of self-sacrifice." She pauses slightly. "Thanks for ducking."
"You're welcome," he says, feeling a little dazed still. In the distance, he can already hear the running steps of the approaching Norwegians, but he keeps his eyes at Rose. "I don't have a time machine to invite you into this time."
"I have a car," she counters. "Well, I'm going to have one as soon as I ask for it."
He makes a slightly sceptical face.
"Did I mention it travels on roads? Away from poking people? It might go anywhere."
He grins, and she grins and he thinks maybe it'll turn out to be okay after all. He can have this adventure with her, a little life day by day. It'll work. It'll do better than work. "Anywhere sounds brilliant."
He was always a master at anywhere, he thinks.
Two
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: BBC's characters. My words. Norway belongs to itself.
Rating: Mature. Language, later adult situations and themes.
Summary: The one adventure I can never have - what if you could have it, Doctor? Have sixty years with Rose Tyler? What then? [Ten/Rose, Others] AU.
Author's Note: Spoilers for "Doomsday" and set after it. Prompt 031 for
50lyricsfanfic. (you knocked me out, I can never be the same; I pushed you over, but here we still remain) Thanks to sc_angel72 for looking it over :) This part is about 5000 words.Table of Prompts
One.
II
Space.
Any time.
The Doctor is thinking about adventures again.
He's had them, lived them, died by them, been regenerated into them, become them. They've formed him, and he's formed the Universe through them. A fair sort of trade, perhaps, as fair as anything in the Universe could ever be.
There's one adventure he hasn't had, can't have. He told Rose that, the Rose the Universe has taken from him as he always knew it would. That doesn't feel fair at all, not to him. Certainly not to him. Fair is giving him what he wants.
He still has the arrogance to not feel ashamed at thinking that. Still a Time Lord, even if he is the last. So many adventures, and they'll all come to silence when he dies. No remembrance for Gallifrey. No remembrance for the Doctor.
One adventure he hasn't had. Can't have, but can fake.
Rose is twenty. She might live to eighty - that is the average for her time and her kind. Sixty years of life, day by day. Long time for one single adventure. Bit longer than he's used to. He might go a little mad. Wouldn't be the first time, but might be the last. But still, he's never rushed into adventures expecting no dangers. He'll just have to think of normal life as a Dalek and duck a lot.
Sixty years.
One adventure he hasn't had.
He's always enjoyed leaving no spot undiscovered.
Maybe, maybe, maybe...
Oh, why the fuck not?
The Doctor is thinking about adventures again, and that is always, always a bad idea.
II
London and Bergen, Norway.
June. Year one.
Rose gets a funny feeling in her stomach one morning in June, one year on, when she reads a Norwegian news site in English. It's become a habit of hers, like having a suitcase packed and a pair of new running shoes in the closet, just in case of the impossible. There is no hope attached to it, just... No harm being prepared, like having fire drills for fires that never happen.
An English tourist has been fished out of the sea and taken to a hospital in Bergen for observation, she reads. They think he's English because of his accent, but apart from that, they're not quite sure about much at all. Apparently, he's not very communicative, and anyone who might have information is urged to contact the Bergen police department or the Norwegian embassy.
A non-communicative assumed Englishman. It could be just a tourist, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach doesn't go away. It never quite does. It's too fond of impossible hope.
It's a warm June morning, simmering with heat that even winds seem to give up at and just die away. It shouldn't be this hot even in this England, but the planet is still recovering from overheating. It takes time to cool down again, but Torchwood has several ideas on how to speed it along. It isn't really Rose's department, but she keeps an eye on it still. It's just the kind of thing that would go wrong if the Doctor was here, and would have a little adventure sorting out. She is prepared to have a little adventure sorting it out herself. Defending the Earth and all. It's a hard habit to kick.
"You all right, love?" Jackie calls in from the kitchen. Rose hardly looks up, eyes still glued to the screen. "You're going to be late."
"Mum, I am the boss. I decide what late is now. You look after Graham. Don't worry about me."
"You're still my daughter, you know," Jackie says, sounding a little insulted, but already moving away. The latest addition to the Tyler family is often impatient and loud and demanding, and Rose knows her mother is secretly thrilled by all of it. Not just because it's the bond to the Pete Tyler of this world Rose isn't, but also because Rose hasn't quite returned to her. She can't, even if she wants to.
She isn't quite that Rose Tyler any more.
She sits and stares at the screen for a while, before making a call to a friend in the Norwegian Special Disturbance Unit (or Norsk Spesial Uro Enhet, which she can never wrap her tongue around), who officially doesn't know Torchwood exists, just like she doesn't officially know about it or the French Department for Alien Aliens (as it more or less translates to) or the US Bureau for Space Threats or all the politics in-between. She hates politics. That's why she has friends instead. Friends who can find out when a tourist is just a tourist, or when he's a stranger.
She almost hopes he's a tourist. That won't allow any speculation.
"Your tea is cold," Pete says behind her, and hands her a new mug, and she wonders if it's his or a new one he's made for her and which one would delight her the most. He looks a little guarded, but he always does, and it almost doesn't hurt any more. "Will you be making another trip to Norway soon?"
"Maybe. I have to know."
"You always do."
"Don't tell mum."
He laughs a little, but without any real humour. "She'd have my head if I did for not stopping you. When you come back, you're always... She can tell, you know. She is your mum."
"I know," she says quietly. "Thanks for helping her."
"I love her," he says sharply and abruptly, and walks away. Pete loves Jackie and Jackie loves Rose, and as family goes, it sort of works.
Even so, she lets the mug of tea stand untouched until it too is cold, and she can hear the distant sounds of Jackie making noises to her son and Pete joining in. Only then does she leave quietly, taking her laptop with her.
She drives to work in the heat, and thinks about getting her own place again. She always does, and Jackie always talks her out of it, playing on the bit of guilt Rose still feels for going with the Doctor in the first place. It isn't playing fair, but fairness is for those who can afford it, as Mickey puts it.
Fighting Cybermen for years can change anyone's perception of fair. Can change anyone, and has certainly changed Mickey. She appreciates it. She admires it. A few years back, she would've fallen madly for it.
A few years ago, her heart hadn't been ripped out of her chest and left in an alternate universe. It'll heal, is healing, but Mickey reminds her and Mickey doesn't want to be second best, settled for, and Mickey, Mickey has other ideas.
She doesn't quite understand why he likes Paris so much, though.
Traffic is light, perhaps because most are on holiday and following the World Cup. In her world, it would be football, in this it is ballkick, a fairly similar sport, only it also involves the use of tennis rackets. Pete owns his own team, and she's let him take her to games if only to feel something like a fatherly connection.
It's been a strange year. She's almost become used to it, even to the fake calls and the resulting heartbreak. They're expected, routine, part of her new life.
She's beginning to understand Sarah Jane a lot more, and she can't even take her up on the offer of contact. The Sarah Jane of this world is married and runs The London Gazette, and probably thinks Rose Tyler rather mad from the encounter they had. This Sarah Jane doesn't understand.
Rose is longing for someone who does. Mickey gets parts of it, Jackie gets other parts and even Pete some, but no one understands everything. Just her, and that is kind of lonely.
She's just reached the underground car park when her phone calls, and she answers it with all the indifferent air she can imagine.
"Tyler."
"He's a stranger. Definitely alien," Petter tells her without any preamble. "You coming up to have a look?"
"Yes," she says, no hesitation. "I'm coming up. I'll bring you a treat."
"See you then, Tyler," the Norwegian replies, and hangs up. She stares at the phone for a moment, feeling something almost like anger. Why couldn't it be just a tourist? Why did it have to be hope again?
Still, time to go to Norway once more and have hopes dashed and heart broken. Routine.
Even so, she has a funny feeling in her stomach, and it's not going away.
II
Rose arrives in Bergen on July 27th, embarking from her zeppelin with the same headache she always gets. Maybe she shouldn't attempt reading briefs while in transit, but her desk is full of them and the pile never seems to shrink. Sometimes, she's half tempted to just torch the thing, as if there can be no more paperwork without a desk to put it on. She can work without a desk. She certainly has before.
Petter greets her, and is properly appreciative of her treat, as he tends to be. Torchwood has more resources than his little unit, which faces trouble all the same. Perhaps because his country is where the breach between dimensions last closed, a lot of trouble seems to be attracted there.
He's going to offer her a job again, she has a feeling.
"You sure he's alien?" she asks as they drive through traffic, sun bouncing off the car and back into space.
"I wouldn't bring you up here if we didn't. We did some tests and scans. He's got two hearts."
"What?" she says sharply, and the second before he replies again is all pain.
"Two hearts. Definitely alien. You wouldn't believe what we found in his blood..."
"I would," she replies, digging nails into her palms. "Has he spoken at all?"
"Just mutterings about falling through hell. He's a bit insane, I should warn you."
"Oh, I bet he is," she laughs, and wants to cry. It has to be. It can't be. It has to be. It can't be. Might be other Time Lords in this world. Might be a whole Universe full of them.
Might not be. Might be him.
Hope hurts.
It feels like an eternity and probably is one before Petter pulls over in front of the hospital, and she wonders why they haven't closed the whole area off. But then, Norwegians are different and have different ideas about secrecy and public access and their Prime Minister even has a Cyberman's head in his office. Hunting trophy, allegedly. She'd believe that better if it hadn't been a head she'd brought as a treat.
She might need bigger treats to trade if this truly is the Doctor.
It can't be.
It has to be.
It can't be.
It has to be.
It is.
II
The Doctor is dreaming about hell again. Falling through it, screaming in it, navigating through it. So much hell and so little him and just one anchor to where he's going.
Rose.
He's going to have an adventure with Rose.
The void is an adventure too, but he can't say he likes it. Doesn't like death, and it's full of it, Cybermen and Daleks at eternal war, only pausing to hunt him.
And there are other things, shadows and whispers and nightmares, and he screams quite a lot all the way through his fall.
So little him and so much void and he falls and falls and falls out and the water is cold and he misses the TARDIS, but the TARDIS would die here and he's parked it on the other side so it can live till he returns.
He dreams a lot about how lonely he is without it still. Muddled memories without her, muddled sense of self too. So much hurt, clouding everything.
He also dreams about Rose. Rose, Rose, who should smile and looks angry instead.
"You complete bastard," she says, and he wonders why dreams need to be rude. "I was growing used to false hope. I made a life of it, a stupid, silly, worthwhile life without you. How dare you change it? How dare you come back now? You're such a fucking wanker I could kiss you."
"He slips in and out of consciousness," a doctor-y voice says, and he feels a bit upstaged. He's supposed to be the one with the answers, but right now he can't even think of many questions. "Been like that since we found him. You ask me, he's had a nasty shock."
"Good," Rose says harshly. "Then he'll know how I feel."
But her hand is very soft stroking his and he thinks she's a little bit happy still. He likes her happy. He's going to make her happy again. He remembers that.
"Rose Tyler," he says, and everyone looks at him with surprise. "Marry me for sixty years?"
His last thought before slipping into nightmares again is that if they all look at him as if he's rather loony, he rather has to be too.
Yeah.
That feels about right.
II
It is nighttime when he wakes again, he knows instinctively, even if streams of sunlight are crawling across the floor. He knows time, he knows, a sort of instinct in his mind. If he focuses on it, he can almost feel something between the tick of seconds, like a stream he can tap into.
He balls his hand a little and wonders if he could hold time in his hand. Somehow, he thinks it would tickle.
He looks up to see a shadow in the window on the other side of his room, back to him. Rose, he knows. Rose Tyler.
He's beginning to think he knows a lot of things.
"You've had some head trauma," Rose says tonelessly, and he wishes he could see her face. "You might have some memory loss, at least the specialist here thinks so. But he's never treated a Time Lord before, so you might surprise him."
"You're Rose," he says, and she inhales sharply. "I'm the Doctor."
"Yes."
"I came to find you."
"Got that impression, yeah. With the marriage proposal and all."
She doesn't sound overjoyed with, well, joy, he notes. She sighs, and finally turns to look at him, and he can see the tears clinging to her lashes.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispers, desperation clinging to every word. "So how can you be here?"
"I fell," he replies, and remembers. It's enough to make him wince, and she is by his side in seconds, grabbing his hand anxiously. "I landed. Hurt a bit. Service on dimensional travel really is terrible."
"Oh, shut up," she says, but he remembers that tone and beams at it. She just shakes her head at him, and then she is kissing him harshly, a sort of punishment and reassurance that he's real also. He lets her, and wonders why her kiss feels so familiar.
"If you're here to say goodbye or some such shit and leave me again, I'm going to kill you," she whispers against his lips, and the bitterness he hears in her voice he's pretty sure isn't familiar at all. She's changed. Perhaps he has too. He can't quite remember, but there is a sense that he's used to change. Very used to it.
"I'm here to stay for sixty years," he says, which must be true, because he can't remember how to lie right now.
"Sixty years? What happens after sixty years?"
"You die."
Her eyes widen a little, then she just kisses him again, as if she can't think of any words at all. He responds a little this time, because it feels rude not to, and quite good to. Her lips taste of sun, and her breath of coffee, and he knows she hasn't slept while he has. Herkeeps his eyes open and watches hers close, lashes dark against pale skin.
"You need to sleep," he says to her, and she lowers her head to the pillow next to his, even if that mean she's craning her neck in a way that looks uncomfortable. He doesn't like that, doesn't like her hurting at all, so he yanks her fully up into the bed. She doesn't protest, just curls herself up against him. It's a little unfamiliar, but comfortable, so he puts his arms around her and feels a bit adventurous.
"Kept thinking if I slept, I'd wake up too, and this would be another dream," she mutters, voice thick.
"Do I feel like one?"
"Yeah. You didn't usually ask me to marry you as a way of greeting."
"It's a very friendly way of saying hi."
"And divorce a very unfriendly way of saying goodbye, I suppose," she replies softly, eyes still closed. A heartbeat passes, and she sighs. "I missed you."
"Quite right, too," he agrees. "Rose?"
"Mmmm?"
"I am a complete bastard, aren't I?"
"Yes," she says effortlessly, but smiles a little.
"Thought so."
"I still love you."
"Thought so again," he replies, because it isn't very hard to tell. He just has to look at her, and he knows, even with fuzzy memories, confused emotions and a pounding headache.
"Think less, shut up more."
"Okay," he readily agrees, even if he seems quite fond of talking. That can wait till later. He's got sixty years now to talk to her. That should be plenty. Might even be overkill. Might run out of things to say.
Nah. That'll never happen with him.
She sleeps, and he watches her, and somehow, that feels rather familiar too, like something returned to him. Rose Tyler, his.
Yeah.
That feels about right.
II
It rains on July 29th, and Rose finally dares leaving the Doctor's side to go find Petter. She feels heavy as she walks, as if a burden has been laid on her rather than lifted from her, and all the pain of losing him seems to have been relived in getting him back. Strange, that.
But it is him. Her Doctor. He mutters enough of the past that she knows no one else would know, and his hand is his hand. She can't mistake that. He is her Doctor, and now she has to stake her claim.
"He's mine," she tells Petter, marching into his office and planting her hands on his desk. He looks like he's been expecting her. He probably has been every hour since they moved the Doctor from the hospital and into the smaller building of Petter's unit, but she's been putting it off, spending so many hours just assuring herself the Doctor isn't a dream.
"Old friend?" Petter asks, crossing his arms. He looks like he hasn't slept much either, his blond hair rather ruffled and shirt crumpled. Overworked is not just a British phenomena, it seems.
"You could say that."
"He is alien, and technically under our jurisdiction. But there is a way he could be released into your care."
She sighs. Everything costs in this world. There's always a price to be paid when you can't just leave any time before the check arrives. "Which is?"
"You work for us. Your friend isn't the only one who landed on that beach. There is something killing my people. Stop it, and your friend won't have any troubles with us." He looks at her, blue eyes apologetic. "I'm desperate, Tyler."
"Didn't take long for trouble to follow him," she mutters, and remembers she always thought the Doctor was worth the monsters. He'll have to be again. "All right, Petter. I'll stop it."
He nods slowly, looking relieved and a little ashamed too. Perhaps at having to bargain for help. Unasked for, it's always easier to accept. "I'll get you an office and all the information we have. Maybe you can find a weak spot we haven't."
"Yeah," she mutters, feeling drained of energy and just wanting to crawl back into bed and listen to the Doctor breathe. "I'll need some tea. The Doctor will want some too."
She walks out, and leans against the wall in the hallway, hardly noticing the people moving around her. Her fingers feel stiff as she finds her cell phone, and feels only a little guilty at all the missed calls. She wasn't quite ready to take them yet.
Pete answers on the third ring, voice anxious. "Rose?"
"Dad," she whispers, even if she knows he feels uncomfortable when she does and she's tried so very hard to do what he wants. But right now, she needs him to be her dad. "It's him."
"What?"
"It's the Doctor," she says, and her voice sounds hysterical even to her. "Dad, it's him. Don't tell anyone else yet."
He breathes, and she listens to it, something ordinary and reassuring. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she says, and and a strange calm falls over her. She is sure. The Doctor has come back to her. He's swept into her life again like the whirlwind he's always been, and it's all she can do to hang on. Everything else is everything else. "Yeah, I'm sure."
II
Somewhere in the third file on mysterious going-ons near Bergen, she falls asleep and dreams of people dying, people screaming and sharp, metallic voices shrieking in rage. It's a familiar dream, but it's been a while since she had it in this world.
She awakes sharply to see the Doctor looking at her from the doorway. Her neck aches, as it always does when she falls asleep at a desk, and her mouth tastes of paper and dust. She isn't sure what time it is, but the dark sky she can see from the window tells her it has to be one of the few hours of the night when there is no sun.
The Doctor is looking so much like himself that her heart skips a beat. Suit back on, not the hospital gear she's grown a bit used to. His hair is sticking everywhere, but his smile is full of energy.
"How did you get out of...?" she starts, and he waves his sonic screwdriver at her. "Ah."
"You said you'd be right back. Everyone there kept poking me when you're not there," he says, slightly accusing. She makes a grimace. "All work, no play, Rose Tyler?"
"You want to play?"
"I love to play!" he beams. "I think I do. Don't I?"
She can't help but smile, and he seems to take that as confirmation enough. Walking into the room, he picks up a few papers and looks at them, a frown forming on his forehead.
"I don't understand this," he says, and she knows then he's left the TARDIS behind. "I'm meant to... Oh. The TARDIS. Not here."
"Yeah," she agrees. "Was a bit of a bother having to learn languages again. Norwegian can be a right bugger to master. So how did you get here?"
He seems to look beyond her. "I made a hole. I fell. I landed. Does it matter, Rose?"
"It matters if something fell with you," she says tiredly. "Something's killing people near the beach where I last saw you. Judging by all this... I think it's a Dalek."
His smile falls. His eyes narrow, and she remembers he was always a fighter too, just using people as his weapons when he had to.
"I hate Daleks," he says after a moment. "So rude, never stopping to see the sights on their genocidal killing sprees."
She nods, and then she can't stand it anymore, getting up and walking to him until his arms are warm and safe and reassuring around her. He puts a warm hand on her neck, pressing his head into her shoulder, his breath hot even through her shirt.
"Rose," he murmurs a little brokenly, and she knows he's missed her too and she hurts a little for him and with him.
"I'm here," she assures him, and herself too. "You found me."
"How long has it been for you?"
"Bit over a year. You?"
He breathes a little, perhaps trying to remember. "Not that long. Had a bit of a bride situation to sort out."
Might explain what triggered the random proposal, she figures, but decides not to ask at all. Without explanations from him, it can just be what it is and nothing more. And either way, he's come here, without the TARDIS and with only himself. That's enough.
"Did you..." he trails off. "I mean, is there anyone in your life that..."
Her phone rings, and the Doctor must feel her tense, for he reaches into her pocket before she can and fishes it out.
"Rose Tyler's phone," he says professionally, and she puts her head on his chest as he talks, listening to the words rumble. "Oh, Jackie! Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, how I haven't missed your voice at all."
He winces a bit as the reply from the other end reaches him, and pulls the phone slightly away from his ear. "Your mum still loves me like her own, doesn't she? I can tell."
She plucks the phone from him with a slight head shake, but can't quite manage to make it stern. "Mum, calm down. Yeah, he's here. I'll explain later. Yeah, I promise. Yeah. Yeah... Love you too, mum."
"Love you too, Rose," the Doctor says as she hangs up, a slight mimic of Jackie's voice, the tone just a little too forced casual. She lets that mean what she wants it to.
"Quite right too," she says briskly, kissing him hard until he's breathless and she's feeling a little in control. "Want to help me sort out a Dalek?"
"Thought you'd never ask, Rose Tyler," he replies, eyes so very bright when looking at her.
II
Summer is the season of midnight sun in Norway, the Doctor learns, when the sun rises early and sets late, and in some parts, never leaves the sky at all. It's a little unsettling at first, and explains why he's on a hill with Rose Tyler in almost daylight during almost midnight, looking down at a Dalek that looks almost like a shadow with all the light around it.
"Petter's guys have been avoiding provoking it," Rose says in a low voice. "It's killed anyone who's come near, but it appears to be a little confused and dazed still."
"Know how it feels," he replies lightly, and feels quite dark. Even here, the Daleks come. They never die, and for once, he'd quite like some death. "I think I'll go have a chat."
"What?" Rose says, and the Norwegian friend she has looks at him like he's completely bonkers. Which he is, but he's not going to take that from some silly human.
"You want to talk to a - what was it? Dalek?"
"Yep!" he replies, and Rose just looks at him, eyes dark and angry.
"It's killed everyone who's approached it!" the Norwegian protests. "We had to do all our scanning from a distance and evacuate tourists from the area."
"Oh, we go ways back, me and the Daleks," the Doctor reassures him. "It's come all this way to say hello, how can I deny it? Be rude and inhospitable, and isn't this supposed to be a friendly country?"
"You're not going to dare getting yourself killed, are you?" Rose breaks in, wind ripping at her hair. He steadies it without thinking, letting a hand stay on her cheek.
"After I've come all this way? Hardly," he replies, and knows he's remembered how to lie. "Be back before you've had time to miss me."
He feels her gaze on his back all the way as he walks down down, the stare of the black Dalek on his front as he approaches. It isn't killing him on sight, as he's gambled on, looking like it's thinking instead. Waves are crashing in the distance, but almost lazily, like the sea is waiting for something too.
"Hello!" he says cheerfully when he is close enough. "Come to see the midnight sun? Or the fjords? Take a little postcard with you back to hell?"
"You-are-the-Doc-tor," the Dalek says, voice like destruction, as always. "You-will-free-the-Da-leks-from-the-void."
"What, not enjoying the stay in hell?" he asks, grinning a little madly. "That's a shame. I so enjoyed sending you there."
"You-will-obey."
"I will not," he says cheerfully. "Free will is such a pain, isn't it?"
"You-will-obey-or-die! You-will-obey-or-everyone-will-be-ex-termi-nated!"
"Oh, I think not," he says casually. "See, this world has Rose Tyler now. And she's..."
He lifts his gaze and trails off for a moment, looking a bit perplexed. "... standing behind you with a very large gun, in fact."
"Duck, you idiot!" Rose calls, and he does. There is what sounds like a very loud bang, and his vision turns terribly white. He can only vaguely make out some shadows, and one looming stronger and stronger until he can make out the Dalek again, it's head-piece blown open, and the eyestalk half turned towards Rose. There is a rather sickening smell of burning flesh, and he wipes his nose a little as he fights back onto his feet.
The whiff of dead Dalek is never going to be a hit perfume, he reckons.
Rose is looking at him, her weapon lowered, but none of the tension gone from her stance.
"You haven't befriended someone calling herself 'Ace' here, have you?" he asks suspiciously.
She shakes her head. "Mickey made it. Said he wouldn't put it past you to come crashing back into our lives with company, Dalek or otherwise. I always bring his little helpers when I come here. Just in case. Mickey's real smart, you know. He's made me one especially for Cybermen too."
"Mickey the hero," he says, and actually means it.
"Doctor the idiot," she shoots back. "You were going to play distraction or die trying, weren't you?"
He scratches the base of his neck slightly. "Wasn't a plan, as such. Just... It was my fault it came here."
"Maybe. Maybe it would've fallen in anyway. But you're not going to break my heart just because you're a thoughtless bastard of a Time Lord with delusions of self-sacrifice." She pauses slightly. "Thanks for ducking."
"You're welcome," he says, feeling a little dazed still. In the distance, he can already hear the running steps of the approaching Norwegians, but he keeps his eyes at Rose. "I don't have a time machine to invite you into this time."
"I have a car," she counters. "Well, I'm going to have one as soon as I ask for it."
He makes a slightly sceptical face.
"Did I mention it travels on roads? Away from poking people? It might go anywhere."
He grins, and she grins and he thinks maybe it'll turn out to be okay after all. He can have this adventure with her, a little life day by day. It'll work. It'll do better than work. "Anywhere sounds brilliant."
He was always a master at anywhere, he thinks.
Two
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-07-19 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:12 pm (UTC)Thanks, though :)
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Date: 2006-07-19 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:02 pm (UTC)But we'll see.
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Date: 2006-07-19 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:13 pm (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2006-07-19 08:19 pm (UTC)And that's exactly why I'm avoiding post-Doomsday fic by writers I don't know at the moment... ;)
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:14 pm (UTC)I still haven't quite sorted out my issues with the episode, so I don't need additional issues induced by some well-meaning fan's badfic. Or even mediocre fic.
Love your icon, by the way.
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Date: 2006-07-20 04:18 am (UTC)This icon and I were almost made for each other, I tell you.
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Date: 2006-07-19 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 08:58 pm (UTC)Oh and this-
He balls his hand a little and wonders if he could hold time in his hand. Somehow, he thinks it would tickle.
- is absolutely brilliant! I really love that line... do you mind if I friend you? :D
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:04 pm (UTC)And not at all. Friend away! This is an open sort of LJ, anyhoo.
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:00 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:09 pm (UTC)But thanks, still.
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Date: 2006-07-19 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 09:09 pm (UTC)This fic makes me very happy. (What happens if she lives to be a hundred though? :p)
So little him and so much void and he falls and falls and falls out and the water is cold and he misses the TARDIS, but the TARDIS would die here and he's parked it on the other side so it can live till he returns.
I love this line and its great tenderness. The TARDIS is not absent in this fic, and so the Doctor's still the Doctor.
"It's a very friendly way of saying hi."
Best way of saying it really, especially to Rose. And of course the Doctor says this.
Question about one thing though, does the Doctor know a billion languages or not? I know the TARDIS translates, but I thought Nine implies that he personally knows the tongues in his season finale...
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:12 pm (UTC)The way I interpreted it was that he knows quite a lot of languages, but not all, and Norwegian is so wee and obscure I figured that wouldn't be one of them. Course, I could be off on that.
Anyhoo, thanks :)
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Date: 2006-07-19 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 12:05 am (UTC)This is exactly what I wanted to read now, post-Doomsday. Because the Doctor, as we knew him, wouldn't want a domestic life with Rose, but I really do believe that his love for her, and losing her, has changed him (despite everyone's complaints that Rose shouldn't be special), and could have lead him to be more willing to get stuck in one time and place with her... And trust the Doctor to see a (slightly) domestic (okay, maybe landed then, if not domestic) life as an adventure. You just know he'll make it one too.
And only you could make the Doctor proposing to Rose seem even slightly in character. :)
Their pain, the not-quite-relief of it, and the changes it's wrought on them both is very much in evidence here. You have such an incredible way with words. I so wish I could write like you, even a little bit.
So, what does this mean? That he's stuck on earth with Rose for 60 years? Or can he go back through the void whenever he weants?
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Date: 2006-07-20 03:36 am (UTC)He can leave sooner if he wants, yes, though I wouldn't exactly say he can go whenever he wants. It has... Consequences. But yeah, sixty years is more tied to Rose than any sort of deadline.
Thanks!
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Date: 2006-07-20 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 12:30 am (UTC)That's enough to sweep any girl off her feet.
I love the story, I'm really curious to see where you're gonna go with it. :)
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Date: 2006-07-20 03:39 am (UTC)Anyhoo, thanks!
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Date: 2006-07-20 03:53 am (UTC)And sixty years is a lot more than most people, so Rose better count herself lucky. ;)
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Date: 2006-07-20 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 01:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-20 03:40 am (UTC)Thanks :)
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Date: 2006-07-20 02:17 am (UTC)That's all I can say.
*is happy*
Can't wait for more :)
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Date: 2006-07-20 03:41 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2006-07-21 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-21 11:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-22 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-22 06:12 am (UTC)I often reference you as one of the best Doctor Who writers :)
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Date: 2006-10-18 08:58 am (UTC)"You complete bastard," she says, and he wonders why dreams need to be rude. "I was growing used to false hope. I made a life of it, a stupid, silly, worthwhile life without you. How dare you change it? How dare you come back now? You're such a fucking wanker I could kiss you."
I like.......lots of things. Like the way he came back sort of on a whim, or at least that's what he told himself. The way she actually kills the Dalek whilst he's doing his usual hero thing. Rose's reactions as rumour coalesces into fact - it's really him. The way you bring Norway to life (I have been there). And lots more.
But I'll be fascinated to see how he gets on without his Tardis.