The Only Thing To Fear: Prologue (1/4)
Title: The Only Thing To Fear: Prologue
Author: achuislemochroi
Characters: Rose Tyler, The Doctor
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: 12A
Timeline: Late Season Two
Disclaimer: Characters you recognise belong to the BBC.
Beta: The marvellous glory_jean
A/N: Written for the Time in Flux ficathon at doctor_rose_fic. My episode was Fear Her; thanks to lorelaisquared for the extension; it’s a shame the Muse decided not to play ball in the end but I can't have everything. The chapters are comparatively short but cut for dramatic effect, so I hope you enjoy; parts will be posted daily until I have them all up.
Summary: If the only thing he has to fear is fear itself, will the Doctor be brave enough to go for what he’s wanted for so long?
“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself”
Franklin Delano Roosevelt's first Inaugural Address, 4 March 1933.
He is being clingy, and he knows he is.
But he tells himself over and over again that it's entirely justified in order to keep her safe - and to keep that prediction of the Beast's, the one that chills him to his marrow because of the sheer likelihood of its occurrence (given the way of life she leads because of him), from ever coming true.
He cannot tell her how it frightens him, because he doesn't want to frighten her. But one of these days, either someday soon or years from now, he will not be quick enough. Will not reach her in time. Will not be able to sweet talk his way out of whatever situation they have themselves entangled in.
He'll be all right. Isn't he always? He can regenerate after almost anything that happens to him, after all - but she won't. And, every time he lets himself think about it, the fear and the guilt and everything else mushrooms around him until it feels as if they're going to choke him. He's lost count of the number of times he's dreamt that he's lost her through his own fault. The dreams come so often now and each time they happen he finds it harder and harder to let her out of his sight.
She hasn't commented on it. Yet. Well, barring the occasional odd look in his direction when he's being particularly unreasonable. But he knows that it can't stay how it is for very much longer; she's too much her mother's daughter for him to hope for that. The fact he is in love with her doesn't help in the slightest; especially now that he suspects she may well have guessed how he feels about her.
Rose shifts slightly in her sleep, and he cuts off his melancholy train of thought and turns instead to the array of bleeping machines that tell him she's recovering from the 'adventure' they'd had on Rekpar a day or so ago. That had been his fault, too, in a manner of speaking: he'd been so busy flirting heatedly with Rose that he simply hadn't noticed that the console was flashing a mauve warning at him. And look where that has got them. Still, he reasons, dragging his eyes off Rose's sleeping form and shaking himself out of his melancholy long enough to concentrate on what he is supposed to be doing, there's no point in his crying about it now. He'll just have to be more careful next time, that's all.
He smoothes her hair back from her forehead, ignoring the way his hands are shaking slightly. Before moving away, he drops a gentle kiss where his hands have been. He'll make it up to her, he promises himself, frowning as his gaze clocks a monitor reading that isn't giving him the results he's looking for. When she's well again he'll take her somewhere special as a treat. Somewhere where he - they - can relax a little. Somewhere they can watch other people running for a change.
An Olympics would suit, wouldn't it? One in Rose's time period too. Oh! Of course; London, 2012.
Perfect.