FIC: Deep in a Dream (Doctor Who; Ten/Rose, Donna; G)
Title: Deep in a Dream
Fandom: Doctor Who
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Donna
Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor takes in a rare event.
Spoilers: Everything ever in the entire universe and everything.
“How many before me?” she asked as they gazed up at the lilac night sky of Untriennium 6.
They were lying on a hillside, the Doctor’s overcoat bunched beneath their heads, the TARDIS standing guard behind them.
“Oh, a great many,” he replied, still watching the planet’s nine moons move around each other in a precarious dance. “Sarah Jane, of course. And there was Nyssa, who was terribly clever. Ace--now, she was a pip. You’d have liked her, I think. Harry. Very buttoned up, Harry was. And poor Turlough, who never could figure out what he really wanted.
“Romana, but I’ve told you about her. Tegan, who could be a bit trying, and Adric, who never wanted to do the wrong thing, but was always doing it anyway. And Peri. She was American,” he said and frowned. “That’s all I can ever think of to say about her.”
Above them, the moons crawled, drifting lazily into place. Beneath them, the tartan rug was rather scratchy. The Doctor wriggled around a bit.
“And after me?” she asked.
He stilled and, with a hard swallow, said, “Not so many. Donna. She was an accident that time. And then Martha. Never meant for that to be a permanent arrangement, and then it wasn’t.” He quieted, lost in thought. It was a long moment before he twitched and continued. “And then Donna again. Another accident, but a happy one. She wanted to see everything.” He emphasized the last word, grinning at the sky.
A warm breeze brushed over them; it smelled like cypress and the color pink. Two moons crossed each other, one lost in the other’s light. The Doctor sighed.
“Not long now,” he said. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”
“And how many did you love?” she asked.
The Doctor considered the sky. The eclipsing moons had separated before he spoke.
“All of them. I’ve loved all of them,” he answered truthfully, and his voice became quiet and fierce. “But no one--not a single one--like I love you, Rose Tyler.”
She was quiet then, asking no more questions. He only knew she was still there by the warm pressure of her hand in his. The breeze shifted and calmed. Behind them, the TARDIS hummed her approval. The Doctor breathed in, watching the sky, clasping their linked hands together with enough strength to make it hurt. As he watched, the moons traveled with an aching slowness. Shifting and crossing, they moved into lines, until finally they were in place--all nine moons clustered together, forming a perfect five-point star.
“Once in a million years,” he said. “That’s how often this happens. That’s how often a moon can become a star. Once in a million, and here we are, you and me, watching it.”
The Doctor shut his eyes and bathed himself in the starlight.
When he opened them again, he was in a puddle of drool, his cheek sore from the patterned metal of the console.
“You have waffle-face,” Donna said, eyeing him dubiously. She shoved a last bite of toast into her mouth and handed him the napkin in which it had been wrapped. “And I thought you said you never slept.”
The Doctor mopped his chin and then the TARDIS before stuffing the napkin in his shirt pocket. He didn’t look at Donna when he replied, “I make every effort to avoid it.”
Fandom: Doctor Who
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Donna
Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor takes in a rare event.
Spoilers: Everything ever in the entire universe and everything.
“How many before me?” she asked as they gazed up at the lilac night sky of Untriennium 6.
They were lying on a hillside, the Doctor’s overcoat bunched beneath their heads, the TARDIS standing guard behind them.
“Oh, a great many,” he replied, still watching the planet’s nine moons move around each other in a precarious dance. “Sarah Jane, of course. And there was Nyssa, who was terribly clever. Ace--now, she was a pip. You’d have liked her, I think. Harry. Very buttoned up, Harry was. And poor Turlough, who never could figure out what he really wanted.
“Romana, but I’ve told you about her. Tegan, who could be a bit trying, and Adric, who never wanted to do the wrong thing, but was always doing it anyway. And Peri. She was American,” he said and frowned. “That’s all I can ever think of to say about her.”
Above them, the moons crawled, drifting lazily into place. Beneath them, the tartan rug was rather scratchy. The Doctor wriggled around a bit.
“And after me?” she asked.
He stilled and, with a hard swallow, said, “Not so many. Donna. She was an accident that time. And then Martha. Never meant for that to be a permanent arrangement, and then it wasn’t.” He quieted, lost in thought. It was a long moment before he twitched and continued. “And then Donna again. Another accident, but a happy one. She wanted to see everything.” He emphasized the last word, grinning at the sky.
A warm breeze brushed over them; it smelled like cypress and the color pink. Two moons crossed each other, one lost in the other’s light. The Doctor sighed.
“Not long now,” he said. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”
“And how many did you love?” she asked.
The Doctor considered the sky. The eclipsing moons had separated before he spoke.
“All of them. I’ve loved all of them,” he answered truthfully, and his voice became quiet and fierce. “But no one--not a single one--like I love you, Rose Tyler.”
She was quiet then, asking no more questions. He only knew she was still there by the warm pressure of her hand in his. The breeze shifted and calmed. Behind them, the TARDIS hummed her approval. The Doctor breathed in, watching the sky, clasping their linked hands together with enough strength to make it hurt. As he watched, the moons traveled with an aching slowness. Shifting and crossing, they moved into lines, until finally they were in place--all nine moons clustered together, forming a perfect five-point star.
“Once in a million years,” he said. “That’s how often this happens. That’s how often a moon can become a star. Once in a million, and here we are, you and me, watching it.”
The Doctor shut his eyes and bathed himself in the starlight.
When he opened them again, he was in a puddle of drool, his cheek sore from the patterned metal of the console.
“You have waffle-face,” Donna said, eyeing him dubiously. She shoved a last bite of toast into her mouth and handed him the napkin in which it had been wrapped. “And I thought you said you never slept.”
The Doctor mopped his chin and then the TARDIS before stuffing the napkin in his shirt pocket. He didn’t look at Donna when he replied, “I make every effort to avoid it.”