Everything Has Its Time ~ A Doctor Who, Rose/ten, Fan Fiction (5/8)

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Title: Everything has it’s Time (5/8)
Pairing: Rose/Ten
Spoilers: Set after ‘Age of Steel’
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery
Rating: Teen for mature writing style
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and make no financial profit from this writing, just other kinds of profit!

Summary: Rose realises that it isn’t the loss of Mickey that’s hurting her but the feeling that she’s lost the Doctor.  One random morning on board the good ship T.A.R.D.I.S., Rose says the one thing she never thought she would ever say.

Chapter 4.

He seemed a little manic and cheerful even for him when, not half and hour prior to this outburst, he looked woefully downtrodden and the picture of misery.

He was all bubbly business as he scanned her properly and patched her up whilst rambling a mile a minute about the origins of weird twentieth century idiomatic phrases. “…and why are you sick as a dog?  Are dogs particularly noted for being sick a lot?”

Rose would have said that this was some predictable, denial phase as researched in some psychological journal expect he was a Time Lord and never adhered to convention especially not psychological trends.  He could only be categorised by the rules insofar as he was always the exception to them.

However, he threw himself into dismantling and modifying the room while giving, Rose a running commentary to try to keep her conscious.  It was like he couldn’t stop, had to do, to accomplish something or maybe just expend so much energy that when he finally did stop all he could do was sleep and not think.  I mean he actually resorted to using the sonic screwdriver as a screwdriver.  This was bad.  Rose knew that this was very bad.

She tried any number of, ‘Doctors?  Come sit downs.’ or, ‘I’m not feeling too goods’ and even, ‘My head hurts and this noise is making it worses’.  It wasn’t until, Rose streaked past him to hurl in the bathroom that he properly registered her presence.

He came up behind her and leaned against the door frame looking guilty.

“I’m sorry.  You’re…that could’ve…you’re deathly pale and bleeding and humans are so silly, so fragile and there’s nothing I can do.  I can’t take you back to the T.A.R.D.I.S.; the med bay has post power.  If something bad happens to you I can’t save you and I can’t even take you home.  I can’t look at you, your eyes, still so full of trust.  I don’t want to see myself reflected in them…what I’ve done.”

He was crying now, really crying and slipping into a puddle down the wall, hiding his face.

Alarmed and filled with concern and empathy, Rose crawled toward him and tried to get him to move his hands away from the death grip on his head.

“And you’re sick.  You don’t need this.  Don’t need me like this.  You could be dying, Rose…?”  He looked at her then, eyes puffy, red giants on the brink of a supernova.

He looked so shocked and lost but then he swallowed, rubbed his eyes on his jacket sleeve and made to stand.

“And you shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“It’s ok.”


“Because it’s you.”

He sniffed, bringing himself under control and gently stroked her cheek before letting his hand fall, like a dead weight, back to his side.  He turned to go but, Rose grabbed him and enveloped him in a tight embrace, planting kisses in his ruffled hair and softly rocking him when he fell pliant in her arms.

“The last thing you need is to worry about me.  I’m fine.  I’m always fine.  You’ve taught me to be strong and live life no matter what it throws at you.”  Rose encouraged.

He pulled back to stare at her.  “Oh Rose, what have I done to you?”

Some latest revelation inside his own mind seemed to hurt him more than anything else.

“You made me better.”  She tired, as she felt salty wells fill to breach the dam.

“You were so perfect all on your own.”  He traced the lines of her cheek bones, one hand craving intimacy as the other held her shoulder width apart.

“But I was all on my own.  I had no chance to be me, the me you showed me I could be.”

“You had Mickey, your mum and…and now.  Oh I’m so sorry, Rose.”

For the first time, Rose actually processed the situation.  What it meant for her and for the Doctor.  His home, the last link to his people, his means of escape that allowed him to run across the stars fixing civilisations and saving lives and being brilliant was, was…  She could barely think but she needed to know, to protect him, to help.

“She’s really dying?”

The Doctor flopped down on the forgotten bed; the dejected look once again firmly in place and what’s worse there was an acceptance there that she never thought she’d see from him.  He’d given up.


She saw that look last night as well.  Was it only last night?  She tugged him down beside her and held him loosely, as he gazed resolutely at the ceiling, refusing to meet her eyes. 

It was gone 2am.  She was exhausted but too scared and emotional to sleep.  Eventually he rolled unto his side away form her.  She thought she heard him mumble something like, ‘I’ve lost you both.’ but she was too tired to really process anything.

She wrapped her arm around his middle and whispered into his feather hair.  “I’m still here.”  It wasn’t until she eventually succumbed to sleep that he replied.

“Now.  But I’ve already lost you.  Maybe that’s how it should be, out of Time and alone.  Maybe that’s what I deserve but somehow Rose, I promise, I promise I’ll get you home.”


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