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fannishlisstitle: Needing Her
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fannishliss
pairing: Nine/Rose/Ten
rating: PG13
warnings: none
spoilers: AU take on the Doctor’s regeneration after Parting of the Ways.
length: 3300 words
Author’s Note:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
doctor_rose_fix Summer '11 Fixathon, prompt from phoenikxs for Nine/Ten/Rose: “Preferably as smutty as possible including jealous, possessive Nine. Because the world needs more OT3 fics featuring these three!” This is take one, the less smutty version.
Summary: The Ninth Doctor loves Rose too much to let go, giving Ten a rocky start with his regeneration.
~*?*~
Rose looked on, terrified, as the Doctor exploded. She’d been alarmed when he’d started glowing, golden particles trickling off him like fairy dust, frightened when he shouted that she had to stay back, and terrified when he sadly, bravely told her to have a fantastic life, clearly meant to be his famous last words.
Then beams of golden light shot out of his face and hands, obscuring him completely and burning Rose’s eyes.
After a heart stopping eternity, somehow, he was still standing, still alive!
Blinking away tears, Rose peered at him through the spots. Where he stood was someone different. Someone who smiled at her cheerfully, said, “Hello!” and fainted dead away.
Rose rushed to the crumpled heap, familiar clothes and an unfamiliar face, hands fluttering helplessly, afraid to touch.
Can I touch him? she thought, panicked. Can I help him? How can I help him if I can’t touch him?
As she knelt beside him, his eyes flew open-- gone a rich, hazel brown! Deep still, full of fire, but the ice blue glare she’d learned to love was gone. She drew back in shock.
His hand reached out to lock around her wrist. “He can’t have you!” he shouted.
“What? Who can’t?” Rose responded. His grip was like iron, unwavering.
“Bloody right who can’t,” he said, and passed out again, but his grip remained viselike around her wrist.
She peered down at him. His eyes were darting rapidly behind the lids. His eyes snapped open again.
“No no no! He won’t -- I won’t let him!” He sat up. He was just slightly taller than her Doctor, and skinny. “No, Rose! He mustn’t! You’re -- he’s -- I’m --" He slapped himself on the forehead repeatedly with the heel of his other hand.
“Doctor?” Rose said. He didn’t seem like her Doctor, didn’t look like him, didn’t sound like him, but the possessive way he looked at her was familiar, and his grip on her wrist still wasn’t getting any looser.
“Rose, it’s me -- but don’t let -- I want --” The Doctor looked at her in a panic.
Rose looked deep into his eyes. Brown from blue, she couldn’t imagine eyes more different. But the way they fixed on her, the intensity and power of the man behind them, she recognized.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Rose asked, trying to at least get him calmed a little. She hadn't really been able to process what the Doctor had told her earlier; her rising panic had muddled everything.
“Regenerated. Cellular damage too great, so I -- died -- and -- and now I -- no! No!” He’d calmed for a second just long to spit out the first few words, but now he was pounding his head again with his free hand.
“Doctor! You have to calm down!” He kept pummeling his forehead, and the skin had already turned bright red. She tried to stop him, but he was too strong.
“Fine, then, if you’re so keen on slapping --” Rose hauled off with her right hand and gave him a massive stinging slap to the side of his face.
“You -- you hit me. Ow!” The new face was just as mobile and transparent as the old one. He crumpled up into a furious pout, dark eyes glaring at her out from under lowering brows. It was so child-like an expression that Rose was immediately sympathetic.
“You’re hurting yourself. Now can’t we get you a little calmed down?” Rose finally captured his offending hand, and he was still tightly gripping her wrist with the other, so at least they were even, and he wasn’t pounding himself.
“You hit me. You never hit -- me --” He went tense again and the panic began to grow in his eyes.
Rose realized that this regeneration thing was confusing him as much as it did her.
“I'm sorry, Doctor. You’ll be fine, won’t you? I’m here to help,” she said, as soothingly as possible.
His stomach gave a loud gurgle and he burped, a golden bubble floating off into the air. “Excuse me!” he said, embarrassed.
“What was that?” Rose asked, to distract him. The Doctor loved to explain things.
“Regeneration energy, comes from the vortex, rather wild you know, dangerous, but we Time Lords, -- I -- Rose, look at me. Look at me! Who am I?” All too soon, the panic was back.
“You’re the Doctor,” Rose said, but she must’ve sounded even more uncertain than she felt.
“Am I? These new selves, you can’t trust ‘em! Listen to me! I’m not even Northern any more!” He sounded ready to cry.
Rose sat helplessly, not knowing what to say. This was mad, mercurial even for him. Was he cracking up?
“Do you like -- me?” the Doctor asked, high and pitiful.
Rose’s Doctor had never sounded so unsure of himself. She frowned a bit, thrown off by his weird behavior, and he started violently, tearing his hand from her grasp.
“You don’t! I knew it! This -- daft --” He seemed furious again, but it was all directed inward.
Grabbing for his hand, Rose tried to keep him from starting up again with the slapping. “No! Of course I do! I love you!” She’d never have imagined the Doctor falling apart like this. It was scary.
The Doctor froze. “What did you say?” he whispered, staring. His new eyes were wide, dark and intense even in his confusion.
Rose tried to see deep into those eyes, to recognize the man she'd fallen in love with. “I love you. You know that?” Rose whispered back.
His gaze bore back at her, crazy, desperate, but focused. “Do you? Enough to --”
Rose tried to stay calm, to think of what she needed to do or say to help him stabilize after this disturbing and tumultuous change. “Doctor, I'll do whatever I can, whatever you need, to help you.”
“Help me? Or - or him?” He still sounded so muddled.
“You,” Rose insisted, trying to be confident.
“Well, then! Thank goodness we’re still in the vortex,” the Doctor exclaimed, springing up so fast he made Rose think of Tigger from her old story books.
Rose scrambled to her feet, trying to keep up with his moods as they flip-flopped from defensive to angry, hurt to manic.
“No telling what would’ve happened if I’d tried to land her like this. Now listen you,” the Doctor shook a threatening finger at the time rotor. “Stay in the vortex. No materializing for the fun of it!”
The Tardis hummed on, rotor pumping serenely.
The Doctor hiccuped again, and the golden energy swirled around the rotor and vanished down under the grating. Rose wondered wildly if the Tardis had a sewer for used vortex.
He took her by the hand. Rose stared at their linked hands for a second, feeling his strength, his coolness. There in the palm, sometimes, when things got particularly chancy, she’d felt his double pulse, badadadum, badadadum. She felt it now. Her eyes flew up to meet his, brown, mad, and deep as the starry expanses he traversed.
“Come with me, Rose. I need you.” It was the most coherent thing he’d said yet. She wouldn't dream of not following.
The Tardis peeled back what Rose thought of as “the secret door.” Her Doctor had claimed it was “a security measure,” but Rose couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly get into the Tardis who'd need to be kept away from the wonders that lay beyond the console room.
It was always a little disconcerting not knowing which corridor would be on the other side of the door. Usually it was a few steps to the galley or the library, or the long curving corridor to the baths, bedrooms, and wardrobe. Once, on an unusually calm day when the Doctor was engrossed in tinkering, Rose had followed a corridor that had gradually given way to stone under her feet, and the walls around her had gone from coral to twisted white wood. She’d emerged in a garden under a pale orange sky, crimson grass waving gently in a hot, dry breeze. Tall, slender trees with delicate, tinkling silver leaves filled the air with music. The Tardis hadn't led her there since, a dream-like garden for a restful afternoon.
The Doctor pulled Rose down the curving corridor, past her room and on toward his. She’d seen his quarters once or twice -- an ordinary looking bed, always smoothly made up, two upholstered chairs, an old-fashioned standing secretary covered with notes and jots on random slips of paper, and a bureau littered with the contents of his trans-dimensional pockets.
“Do you need a lie down, Doctor? Would you like me to sit with you?” Rose offered.
The Doctor sat her down with him on the bed. The coverlet was made of raw silk, a beautiful dusky crimson.
“Look at me, Rose,” the Doctor said, desperate.
“Okay,” Rose said. It was certainly no hardship to look at him, even though he’d changed so much. His new hair was smashing.
“This is so rude,” he said, blushing and ducking his chin, but still looking her right in the eye. “I need... to see who you see. “
“It’s okay, Doctor. Whatever you need,” Rose said honestly.
“Is it, really?” the Doctor asked, reaching hesitantly toward her temple.
“Yes, really,” Rose said. "I know what I said about things getting in my head, but it's different if it's you."
His eyes filled with so much gratitude that Rose's heart felt like it would burst.
"Thank you," he whispered, lifting his hands. The coolness of his fingers was familiar, soothing. Her eyes fluttered closed. It was brighter than usual behind her eyelids, as if lit by a golden glow.
“Look at me!” the Doctor said. “Who am I?”
Immediately his face flashed before her eyes. The stunning intensity of his clear blue eyes, his sweet smile, his strong, masculine features, so changeable according to his passions.
“But, that’s ... is that me?” the Doctor asked.
“I don’t know,” Rose answered. Her eyes flickered open. His face was wracked by emotion, his eyes tightly closed.
“Can I -- please? -- look deeper?” the Doctor pled.
“Yes,” Rose answered, and felt the room fall away.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s all in your head, like a dream, only we’re sharing,” the Doctor said. She felt his strong hand wrapped around hers, and looking up, she saw him, her Doctor.
His face was kind and serious and he looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe left to look at.
“Doctor,” Rose said.
“Rose,” he answered, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his own. He was so gentle, Rose felt like a treasure.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, his Northern accent lilting through the gruffness in his voice.
“Probably about as long as I’ve been wanting you to,” she answered.
His smile broke over his face like a sunrise. “I’m so glad, Rose,” he said, and swooped down on her again, kissing her much more thoroughly and holding her so tightly in his arms she could feel both his hearts pounding.
The kiss deepened. Here, in the dreamlike world of Rose’s mind, there was no hiding the connection they had forged, no more dancing around it. She gave herself up to his kiss, to his claim. She could feel the depth of his need for her, and she poured herself into him like water. It was dizzying and delicious. Her face stretched into a grin and she laughed in delight, pulling back to stare up at him, smiling in pure happiness.
He smiled down at her, joyful and open. Then, like a stormcloud had blocked out the sun, his face darkened, his eyes went flat and angry.
“You. What do you want?” he said harshly.
“Same as you. I want my Rose.” It was his new voice, with a London accent like a slightly dressier version of her own. Rose turned, and the other Doctor, the new one, was standing there, lost and forlorn. If her Doctor had been glowing with all the light of a sunny day, this one was like a man caught out in a cold winter’s rain, pale, dejected.
Her heart went out to him, but before she could speak, her Doctor spoke again.
“You want to take her from me,” he spat, his arms around her tightening protectively.
“You can’t keep her!” the new one said. “You’re meant to be gone. I’m me, now.”
“Are you, now? Well then, why am I still here?” her Doctor said, his voice loud and full of swagger.
Rose watched in astonishment. Two Doctors were fighting over her-- in her head!
“Hey, now. I’m not some prize for the two of you to scrap over!” Rose said.
Her Doctor simply drew her more closely against himself. “I need you, Rose,” he said. “It’s too dark, without you, for me to go on,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’ll never leave you, Doctor,” she said. “Never ever.”
“Never say never ever,” the other one said. His eyes were so full of sorrow that Rose wanted to cry along with him.
“I would’ve died today, Rose, if it hadn’t been for you,” her Doctor said. He held her tightly against him, rocking her a little. She could feel his hearts beating rapid and strong with emotion.
“You did die. That’s the point,” the new one said, spitting his Ts.
“Do I feel dead to you, Rose?” her Doctor asked, capturing her gaze again with his, all ice and fire.
“No,” she cried. She didn’t understand how he felt so real if this was all in her head, but understanding didn’t matter. She could feel the soft wool of his jumper, the eerie coolness of his torso, contrasting sharply with his tension and pounding heartbeats. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder, to forget about all the crazy things that were happening; she longed to console her senses with the the sweet honey smell wafting off his skin. His hands on her were possessive, gripping her just shy of bruising. His embrace was everything she'd always imagined it would be.
“I need her,” the new one insisted, interrupting their embrace.
“So do I!” her Doctor retorted.
“I’m right here!” Rose said. Screwing up her courage, she pulled away from her Doctor, standing back to see the two men side by side.
Both Doctors were tall and well-built, her familiar Doctor a little more powerful looking, the other slightly taller and skinnier. Both had the same air of power and determination, and both looked ready to fight.
“No good will come of the two of you fighting,” Rose said. “You’re the same person, aren’t you? It’s not good for your mental health. I’m not going to choose just one of you.”
“You’re a ghost,” she said gently, turning to the sweet, familiar face she’d seen destroyed by golden light. “I’ll love you forever, but aren’t you a part of him now?”
“I don’t know,” her Doctor said helplessly, his voice soft and vulnerable. This was a side of him she was sure only she would ever see. She longed to comfort him, but this crazy situation had to be resolved.
“And you,” she said, turning to the dark-eyed man. “Has this happened before? Do you always lose it like this?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Well, I wouldn’t say always... I mean, there must’ve been at least one smooth regeneration, right? It can’t always be motorbikes in San Francisco, can it?”
“Yeah, it can. I’m rubbish at it,” her old Doctor said, quirking his mouth in that funny way that always gave her butterflies.
Rose smiled back, and she realized both Doctors were smiling. Their hearts were in their eyes and their eyes told only one story. The Doctor was in love with her, a single-minded, passionate love that couldn’t stand the thought of sharing.
“It’s not sharing,” she said, “if you’re both the same man.”
Rose made her choice. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and reached out for the Doctor. It was the new one, taller, skinnier, who stepped into her embrace. She tried to get the feel of him. He leaned down to take his first kiss, lips brushing hers softly at first, then more demanding as she let him take the lead. Their first kiss, and it was only a dream of some kind -- it didn't seem fair.
Dream or not, he kissed with enthusiasm, confidence and skill. He didn’t hold her as tightly as her Doctor had, but his arms were just as strong, his hands just as masterful. He kissed into her mouth like he was delving for ambrosia, savoring her. His helpless little whimpers made Rose moan in response.
“Don’t forget me,” said a soft, Northern voice.
“Never,” Rose promised, and she turned to him, hoping he would kiss her too.
He did, and Rose found herself enveloped by the Doctor, behind her, in front of her, all around. The dark-eyed Doctor kissed her like he wanted to devour her, like she was a peach and he wanted every succulent drop, while her blue-eyed one kissed like a thunderstorm, power and lightning, buffeting her till she couldn’t breathe.
“Shall we go -- a little bit deeper?” the Doctor asked her.
“Yes,” she said, breathless with anticipation.
She was enveloped in a maelstrom of color and light. Fire blossomed all around her, but she wasn’t burned. She felt boundless, she felt explosive, every particle of her being rushing away from her endlessly.
This is me, she heard. This is who I am.
She saw an endless plain, a dry savannah, pounded by heat, yearning upward toward a red sun hanging in an orange sky, while another sun and moon hung near the horizon.
She saw an empty meadow near a cliffside, and higher up the mountain, hundreds of musical silver-leaved trees, blazing at the red sun’s dawn so that the mountain looked like it was made of fire.
And somehow, she felt as though she were that crimson savannah, that tree-bedecked cliffside, ready to catch fire from the light of that sun.
My home, she heard. You’re my home, you, more than any I’ve ever known.
She reached out with everything she had and pulled him in, making him part of her, cleaving to him. She was like gravity, inexorable, impossible to resist. She felt him, all of him, falling inside her, and she caught him, and held him, and they were one.
She opened her eyes.
The Doctor dropped his hand.
“Hello,” he said, grinning, his rich brown eyes sparkling like she knew her own must be.
“Hello,” she grinned back. “How are you feeling?” she asked, a bit stupidly.
“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” he said, with lighthearted formality.
“I’m glad,” she laughed. She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Is he in there?”
“Old big ears? Yup, and feeling pretty good about it,” the Doctor said, showing his pretty new teeth.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Rose laughed again.
“Now then. Look where we are.” The Doctor widened his eyes comically and gestured at the bed they were still sitting on.
“It’s very nice,” Rose said.
“Do you want to do that again -- but properly this time?” the Doctor suggested. His face scrunched up as though he were shy, but Rose knew he was sure of her answer, or he wouldn’t think of asking.
“Yes,” she said, and he reached out with eager hands to help her remove her clothes.
“But Doctor,” she said.
“Hm?” he answered.
“Don’t be gentle!” Rose whispered.
With a growl, he pounced, and he wasn’t.
author:
fannishliss pairing: Nine/Rose/Ten
rating: PG13
warnings: none
spoilers: AU take on the Doctor’s regeneration after Parting of the Ways.
length: 3300 words
Author’s Note:
doctor_rose_fix Summer '11 Fixathon, prompt from phoenikxs for Nine/Ten/Rose: “Preferably as smutty as possible including jealous, possessive Nine. Because the world needs more OT3 fics featuring these three!” This is take one, the less smutty version.Summary: The Ninth Doctor loves Rose too much to let go, giving Ten a rocky start with his regeneration.
~*?*~
Rose looked on, terrified, as the Doctor exploded. She’d been alarmed when he’d started glowing, golden particles trickling off him like fairy dust, frightened when he shouted that she had to stay back, and terrified when he sadly, bravely told her to have a fantastic life, clearly meant to be his famous last words.
Then beams of golden light shot out of his face and hands, obscuring him completely and burning Rose’s eyes.
After a heart stopping eternity, somehow, he was still standing, still alive!
Blinking away tears, Rose peered at him through the spots. Where he stood was someone different. Someone who smiled at her cheerfully, said, “Hello!” and fainted dead away.
Rose rushed to the crumpled heap, familiar clothes and an unfamiliar face, hands fluttering helplessly, afraid to touch.
Can I touch him? she thought, panicked. Can I help him? How can I help him if I can’t touch him?
As she knelt beside him, his eyes flew open-- gone a rich, hazel brown! Deep still, full of fire, but the ice blue glare she’d learned to love was gone. She drew back in shock.
His hand reached out to lock around her wrist. “He can’t have you!” he shouted.
“What? Who can’t?” Rose responded. His grip was like iron, unwavering.
“Bloody right who can’t,” he said, and passed out again, but his grip remained viselike around her wrist.
She peered down at him. His eyes were darting rapidly behind the lids. His eyes snapped open again.
“No no no! He won’t -- I won’t let him!” He sat up. He was just slightly taller than her Doctor, and skinny. “No, Rose! He mustn’t! You’re -- he’s -- I’m --" He slapped himself on the forehead repeatedly with the heel of his other hand.
“Doctor?” Rose said. He didn’t seem like her Doctor, didn’t look like him, didn’t sound like him, but the possessive way he looked at her was familiar, and his grip on her wrist still wasn’t getting any looser.
“Rose, it’s me -- but don’t let -- I want --” The Doctor looked at her in a panic.
Rose looked deep into his eyes. Brown from blue, she couldn’t imagine eyes more different. But the way they fixed on her, the intensity and power of the man behind them, she recognized.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Rose asked, trying to at least get him calmed a little. She hadn't really been able to process what the Doctor had told her earlier; her rising panic had muddled everything.
“Regenerated. Cellular damage too great, so I -- died -- and -- and now I -- no! No!” He’d calmed for a second just long to spit out the first few words, but now he was pounding his head again with his free hand.
“Doctor! You have to calm down!” He kept pummeling his forehead, and the skin had already turned bright red. She tried to stop him, but he was too strong.
“Fine, then, if you’re so keen on slapping --” Rose hauled off with her right hand and gave him a massive stinging slap to the side of his face.
“You -- you hit me. Ow!” The new face was just as mobile and transparent as the old one. He crumpled up into a furious pout, dark eyes glaring at her out from under lowering brows. It was so child-like an expression that Rose was immediately sympathetic.
“You’re hurting yourself. Now can’t we get you a little calmed down?” Rose finally captured his offending hand, and he was still tightly gripping her wrist with the other, so at least they were even, and he wasn’t pounding himself.
“You hit me. You never hit -- me --” He went tense again and the panic began to grow in his eyes.
Rose realized that this regeneration thing was confusing him as much as it did her.
“I'm sorry, Doctor. You’ll be fine, won’t you? I’m here to help,” she said, as soothingly as possible.
His stomach gave a loud gurgle and he burped, a golden bubble floating off into the air. “Excuse me!” he said, embarrassed.
“What was that?” Rose asked, to distract him. The Doctor loved to explain things.
“Regeneration energy, comes from the vortex, rather wild you know, dangerous, but we Time Lords, -- I -- Rose, look at me. Look at me! Who am I?” All too soon, the panic was back.
“You’re the Doctor,” Rose said, but she must’ve sounded even more uncertain than she felt.
“Am I? These new selves, you can’t trust ‘em! Listen to me! I’m not even Northern any more!” He sounded ready to cry.
Rose sat helplessly, not knowing what to say. This was mad, mercurial even for him. Was he cracking up?
“Do you like -- me?” the Doctor asked, high and pitiful.
Rose’s Doctor had never sounded so unsure of himself. She frowned a bit, thrown off by his weird behavior, and he started violently, tearing his hand from her grasp.
“You don’t! I knew it! This -- daft --” He seemed furious again, but it was all directed inward.
Grabbing for his hand, Rose tried to keep him from starting up again with the slapping. “No! Of course I do! I love you!” She’d never have imagined the Doctor falling apart like this. It was scary.
The Doctor froze. “What did you say?” he whispered, staring. His new eyes were wide, dark and intense even in his confusion.
Rose tried to see deep into those eyes, to recognize the man she'd fallen in love with. “I love you. You know that?” Rose whispered back.
His gaze bore back at her, crazy, desperate, but focused. “Do you? Enough to --”
Rose tried to stay calm, to think of what she needed to do or say to help him stabilize after this disturbing and tumultuous change. “Doctor, I'll do whatever I can, whatever you need, to help you.”
“Help me? Or - or him?” He still sounded so muddled.
“You,” Rose insisted, trying to be confident.
“Well, then! Thank goodness we’re still in the vortex,” the Doctor exclaimed, springing up so fast he made Rose think of Tigger from her old story books.
Rose scrambled to her feet, trying to keep up with his moods as they flip-flopped from defensive to angry, hurt to manic.
“No telling what would’ve happened if I’d tried to land her like this. Now listen you,” the Doctor shook a threatening finger at the time rotor. “Stay in the vortex. No materializing for the fun of it!”
The Tardis hummed on, rotor pumping serenely.
The Doctor hiccuped again, and the golden energy swirled around the rotor and vanished down under the grating. Rose wondered wildly if the Tardis had a sewer for used vortex.
He took her by the hand. Rose stared at their linked hands for a second, feeling his strength, his coolness. There in the palm, sometimes, when things got particularly chancy, she’d felt his double pulse, badadadum, badadadum. She felt it now. Her eyes flew up to meet his, brown, mad, and deep as the starry expanses he traversed.
“Come with me, Rose. I need you.” It was the most coherent thing he’d said yet. She wouldn't dream of not following.
The Tardis peeled back what Rose thought of as “the secret door.” Her Doctor had claimed it was “a security measure,” but Rose couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly get into the Tardis who'd need to be kept away from the wonders that lay beyond the console room.
It was always a little disconcerting not knowing which corridor would be on the other side of the door. Usually it was a few steps to the galley or the library, or the long curving corridor to the baths, bedrooms, and wardrobe. Once, on an unusually calm day when the Doctor was engrossed in tinkering, Rose had followed a corridor that had gradually given way to stone under her feet, and the walls around her had gone from coral to twisted white wood. She’d emerged in a garden under a pale orange sky, crimson grass waving gently in a hot, dry breeze. Tall, slender trees with delicate, tinkling silver leaves filled the air with music. The Tardis hadn't led her there since, a dream-like garden for a restful afternoon.
The Doctor pulled Rose down the curving corridor, past her room and on toward his. She’d seen his quarters once or twice -- an ordinary looking bed, always smoothly made up, two upholstered chairs, an old-fashioned standing secretary covered with notes and jots on random slips of paper, and a bureau littered with the contents of his trans-dimensional pockets.
“Do you need a lie down, Doctor? Would you like me to sit with you?” Rose offered.
The Doctor sat her down with him on the bed. The coverlet was made of raw silk, a beautiful dusky crimson.
“Look at me, Rose,” the Doctor said, desperate.
“Okay,” Rose said. It was certainly no hardship to look at him, even though he’d changed so much. His new hair was smashing.
“This is so rude,” he said, blushing and ducking his chin, but still looking her right in the eye. “I need... to see who you see. “
“It’s okay, Doctor. Whatever you need,” Rose said honestly.
“Is it, really?” the Doctor asked, reaching hesitantly toward her temple.
“Yes, really,” Rose said. "I know what I said about things getting in my head, but it's different if it's you."
His eyes filled with so much gratitude that Rose's heart felt like it would burst.
"Thank you," he whispered, lifting his hands. The coolness of his fingers was familiar, soothing. Her eyes fluttered closed. It was brighter than usual behind her eyelids, as if lit by a golden glow.
“Look at me!” the Doctor said. “Who am I?”
Immediately his face flashed before her eyes. The stunning intensity of his clear blue eyes, his sweet smile, his strong, masculine features, so changeable according to his passions.
“But, that’s ... is that me?” the Doctor asked.
“I don’t know,” Rose answered. Her eyes flickered open. His face was wracked by emotion, his eyes tightly closed.
“Can I -- please? -- look deeper?” the Doctor pled.
“Yes,” Rose answered, and felt the room fall away.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s all in your head, like a dream, only we’re sharing,” the Doctor said. She felt his strong hand wrapped around hers, and looking up, she saw him, her Doctor.
His face was kind and serious and he looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe left to look at.
“Doctor,” Rose said.
“Rose,” he answered, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his own. He was so gentle, Rose felt like a treasure.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, his Northern accent lilting through the gruffness in his voice.
“Probably about as long as I’ve been wanting you to,” she answered.
His smile broke over his face like a sunrise. “I’m so glad, Rose,” he said, and swooped down on her again, kissing her much more thoroughly and holding her so tightly in his arms she could feel both his hearts pounding.
The kiss deepened. Here, in the dreamlike world of Rose’s mind, there was no hiding the connection they had forged, no more dancing around it. She gave herself up to his kiss, to his claim. She could feel the depth of his need for her, and she poured herself into him like water. It was dizzying and delicious. Her face stretched into a grin and she laughed in delight, pulling back to stare up at him, smiling in pure happiness.
He smiled down at her, joyful and open. Then, like a stormcloud had blocked out the sun, his face darkened, his eyes went flat and angry.
“You. What do you want?” he said harshly.
“Same as you. I want my Rose.” It was his new voice, with a London accent like a slightly dressier version of her own. Rose turned, and the other Doctor, the new one, was standing there, lost and forlorn. If her Doctor had been glowing with all the light of a sunny day, this one was like a man caught out in a cold winter’s rain, pale, dejected.
Her heart went out to him, but before she could speak, her Doctor spoke again.
“You want to take her from me,” he spat, his arms around her tightening protectively.
“You can’t keep her!” the new one said. “You’re meant to be gone. I’m me, now.”
“Are you, now? Well then, why am I still here?” her Doctor said, his voice loud and full of swagger.
Rose watched in astonishment. Two Doctors were fighting over her-- in her head!
“Hey, now. I’m not some prize for the two of you to scrap over!” Rose said.
Her Doctor simply drew her more closely against himself. “I need you, Rose,” he said. “It’s too dark, without you, for me to go on,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’ll never leave you, Doctor,” she said. “Never ever.”
“Never say never ever,” the other one said. His eyes were so full of sorrow that Rose wanted to cry along with him.
“I would’ve died today, Rose, if it hadn’t been for you,” her Doctor said. He held her tightly against him, rocking her a little. She could feel his hearts beating rapid and strong with emotion.
“You did die. That’s the point,” the new one said, spitting his Ts.
“Do I feel dead to you, Rose?” her Doctor asked, capturing her gaze again with his, all ice and fire.
“No,” she cried. She didn’t understand how he felt so real if this was all in her head, but understanding didn’t matter. She could feel the soft wool of his jumper, the eerie coolness of his torso, contrasting sharply with his tension and pounding heartbeats. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder, to forget about all the crazy things that were happening; she longed to console her senses with the the sweet honey smell wafting off his skin. His hands on her were possessive, gripping her just shy of bruising. His embrace was everything she'd always imagined it would be.
“I need her,” the new one insisted, interrupting their embrace.
“So do I!” her Doctor retorted.
“I’m right here!” Rose said. Screwing up her courage, she pulled away from her Doctor, standing back to see the two men side by side.
Both Doctors were tall and well-built, her familiar Doctor a little more powerful looking, the other slightly taller and skinnier. Both had the same air of power and determination, and both looked ready to fight.
“No good will come of the two of you fighting,” Rose said. “You’re the same person, aren’t you? It’s not good for your mental health. I’m not going to choose just one of you.”
“You’re a ghost,” she said gently, turning to the sweet, familiar face she’d seen destroyed by golden light. “I’ll love you forever, but aren’t you a part of him now?”
“I don’t know,” her Doctor said helplessly, his voice soft and vulnerable. This was a side of him she was sure only she would ever see. She longed to comfort him, but this crazy situation had to be resolved.
“And you,” she said, turning to the dark-eyed man. “Has this happened before? Do you always lose it like this?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Well, I wouldn’t say always... I mean, there must’ve been at least one smooth regeneration, right? It can’t always be motorbikes in San Francisco, can it?”
“Yeah, it can. I’m rubbish at it,” her old Doctor said, quirking his mouth in that funny way that always gave her butterflies.
Rose smiled back, and she realized both Doctors were smiling. Their hearts were in their eyes and their eyes told only one story. The Doctor was in love with her, a single-minded, passionate love that couldn’t stand the thought of sharing.
“It’s not sharing,” she said, “if you’re both the same man.”
Rose made her choice. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and reached out for the Doctor. It was the new one, taller, skinnier, who stepped into her embrace. She tried to get the feel of him. He leaned down to take his first kiss, lips brushing hers softly at first, then more demanding as she let him take the lead. Their first kiss, and it was only a dream of some kind -- it didn't seem fair.
Dream or not, he kissed with enthusiasm, confidence and skill. He didn’t hold her as tightly as her Doctor had, but his arms were just as strong, his hands just as masterful. He kissed into her mouth like he was delving for ambrosia, savoring her. His helpless little whimpers made Rose moan in response.
“Don’t forget me,” said a soft, Northern voice.
“Never,” Rose promised, and she turned to him, hoping he would kiss her too.
He did, and Rose found herself enveloped by the Doctor, behind her, in front of her, all around. The dark-eyed Doctor kissed her like he wanted to devour her, like she was a peach and he wanted every succulent drop, while her blue-eyed one kissed like a thunderstorm, power and lightning, buffeting her till she couldn’t breathe.
“Shall we go -- a little bit deeper?” the Doctor asked her.
“Yes,” she said, breathless with anticipation.
She was enveloped in a maelstrom of color and light. Fire blossomed all around her, but she wasn’t burned. She felt boundless, she felt explosive, every particle of her being rushing away from her endlessly.
This is me, she heard. This is who I am.
She saw an endless plain, a dry savannah, pounded by heat, yearning upward toward a red sun hanging in an orange sky, while another sun and moon hung near the horizon.
She saw an empty meadow near a cliffside, and higher up the mountain, hundreds of musical silver-leaved trees, blazing at the red sun’s dawn so that the mountain looked like it was made of fire.
And somehow, she felt as though she were that crimson savannah, that tree-bedecked cliffside, ready to catch fire from the light of that sun.
My home, she heard. You’re my home, you, more than any I’ve ever known.
She reached out with everything she had and pulled him in, making him part of her, cleaving to him. She was like gravity, inexorable, impossible to resist. She felt him, all of him, falling inside her, and she caught him, and held him, and they were one.
She opened her eyes.
The Doctor dropped his hand.
“Hello,” he said, grinning, his rich brown eyes sparkling like she knew her own must be.
“Hello,” she grinned back. “How are you feeling?” she asked, a bit stupidly.
“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” he said, with lighthearted formality.
“I’m glad,” she laughed. She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Is he in there?”
“Old big ears? Yup, and feeling pretty good about it,” the Doctor said, showing his pretty new teeth.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Rose laughed again.
“Now then. Look where we are.” The Doctor widened his eyes comically and gestured at the bed they were still sitting on.
“It’s very nice,” Rose said.
“Do you want to do that again -- but properly this time?” the Doctor suggested. His face scrunched up as though he were shy, but Rose knew he was sure of her answer, or he wouldn’t think of asking.
“Yes,” she said, and he reached out with eager hands to help her remove her clothes.
“But Doctor,” she said.
“Hm?” he answered.
“Don’t be gentle!” Rose whispered.
With a growl, he pounced, and he wasn’t.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-07-09 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 02:39 pm (UTC)I just finished watching End of Time part 2, so I do get the impression that the Doctor's reluctance to regenerate can make things go a little haywire. He totally wrecked the Tardis! At least in my story, Rose was there to help. I can't imagine the horror of having to go through it alone -- but I guess, you know, he would remember his regeneration from Eight to Nine, which must have been even worse, but at least it resulted in the beautiful coral Tardis.
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Date: 2011-07-10 12:35 am (UTC)I figure that if the Doctor has to relearn who he is during that first segment of regeneration, there's still the possibility that his former personality might try to assert itself -- and if anyone could do it, it would be Nine. :D
I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!
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Date: 2011-07-11 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-11 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-12 06:45 am (UTC)My home, she heard. You’re my home, you, more than any I’ve ever known.
The idea of one person being "home" to another is a wonderfully romantic trope--but you took it to another level by literally (in the dreamscape, at least) turning Rose into the Doctor's homeworld, an embodiment of the actual landscape.
Just beautiful.
“Don’t be gentle!” Rose whispered.
With a growl, he pounced, and he wasn’t.
Hee! They are so cute together!
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Date: 2011-07-12 02:14 pm (UTC)I picture Ten like that. He amuses me. I enjoy the crazy, hyper boys, as well as the dark, broody ones. I find it so interesting the way that Nine becomes Ten, how they are different yet still the same.
i love the images we get of Gallifrey. It seems like it used to be so beautiful. My son and I are watching the Four series called The Key to Time, and the very first scene seems to show Gallifrey with its orange sky and silver singing trees. :D I also like that the Doctor's old School colors are Crimson and Orange... a nice contrast to Rose always being Pink and Yellow.... so it was nice to kind of mix that together. :)
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Date: 2011-12-12 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-12 03:50 pm (UTC):)
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Date: 2013-10-06 06:27 am (UTC)