Doctor Who: Counting To Infinity

[papered.livejournal.com]

Made my first ever Doctor Who ficmix a little while ago, and just got it up this morning. The whole thing (with graphics and music) can be found on my graphics journal idylled on THIS POST.

This? This is just the fic part. :)

Title: Counting To Infinity
Author: papered
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Doctor, Rose, hints of Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 935
Summary: Doctor/Rose moments from seasons one and two of Doctor Who.



I.

"... you can come with me."

Some wild, untamed part of her reared its head at the words, and for one golden moment, she could see it happening. She’d never been particularly good at anything all her life – an average student with average looks and intelligence – but today, being with and helping the Doctor, she’d felt useful. For one shining second, she wanted to agree more than anything, never mind the consequences –

– and then she looked down at Mickey who was still clutching at her leg, and the moment was gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of disappointment. She couldn’t. Maybe if she was someone else, and this was some other time, she could’ve made that choice.

But not today. Not Rose Tyler.


As the blue box faded from sight, some part of her went with it.



II.

"Run, Rose Tyler! Run for your life!"

He grins at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her across the field, his enthusiasm obvious, as if there isn’t a seven feet monster right at their heels.

Her own hysteria turns into laughter, bubbling up her chest and escaping her mouth. Before she knows it, she’s running too – as fast as she can – and they’re running hand in hand, together, the wind blowing their hair out of place.



III.

His heart cold, he watches the city burn. The flames flicker across the grass, fuelled by the flammable dirt, rising in a roaring spiral and licking at the stars until the previously silver sky is barely visible.

Out of corner of his left eye, he sees a single Dalek roll out of the red horizon, smeared with soot and grime yet still moving. Features hardening, he raises his anti-matter gun and aims.

A hand stops him before he can fire, and he looks up into compassionate brown eyes.

An eternity latter, a lump in his throat, he lets himself be led back to a blue box.



IV.

Sometimes, curled up underneath a cupboard, fiddling with a piece of the controls, he forgets that he’s not alone. For too long, the Tardis had been empty – so empty that his own footsteps would echo as he walked.

But not anymore.

Poking his head out, he sees the subtle signs of her presence, even when she’s not there herself. Her jacket hangs from one of the numerous metal pieces attached to the interior, and against a wall sits a half-open backpack with jeans and tops spilling out of it.

Satisfied, he settles back in and continues to adjust the controls, a small smile on his face.



V.

"Once the breach collapses, that’s it. You will never be able to see her again. Your own mother."

He looks at her, his eyes pleading for her to listen, to heed his advice.

She’d been unsure of so many things, had the constants of her life crash down around her out here in the universe. She’d given in to the Doctor so many times, realizing that he knew so much more than her, understood the world that much better.

But not this time. Not on this.

"I made my choice a long time ago. And I’m never going to leave you."



VI.

Weeks pass, the days blurring into each other. Each tick of the second hand takes excruciatingly long, painful like the pulse of blood behind a bruise, and a part of her wonders how she’d managed for so long on her own before he’d shown up with his sonic screwdriver and beloved Tardis.

Her lungs hurt when she thinks about him.

Her mother tries to get her to leave the house, and if she was functioning properly, she might have appreciated Mickey’s attempts to cheer her up.

As it is, her constant mantra of Doctor is all she hears now.



VII.

Some mornings, she wakes up to the yellow rays streaming through her windows and needs a moment to remind herself that this is life now. This is life after the Doctor and the universe, where the sky is perpetually blue, not orange, and the grass holds no lingering fragrance of green apples or dried mangos.

On those days, just for a minute, it hurts to breathe.


Over the years, she’s learned to move on and live in this life that is and yet isn’t hers, accept this world she knows but doesn’t recognize anymore. Home will always be a little blue box now, and so she knows that no matter how long she’s here, that sense of detachment will never quite fade.

But that’s okay. Because she can do this. Day by day, she can move on. Because that’s what he would’ve wanted.

And if some mornings, it feels like someone’s thrust a hand into her chest and her heart is being cut in two, she can pretend just for a day longer that she’s perfectly fine.



VIII.

He walks in the land of perpetual snow, the wind whistling around him like the howling of huskies, cutting through his hair and stinging his eyes.

It’s funny how, just a year ago, so used to being alone, he would forget that she was there. Now though – how many times a day does he absentmindedly call out her name, or go on about some trivial matter, fully expecting her laughing response? Every answering silence is like another blow that threatens to push him over the edge of some unknown chasm.

He stays for a day and a minute. The falling snow quickly fills in his footprints as he walks back to the Tardis.

When he leaves, the world outside is an unbroken sweep of white.




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