Fic: Adventus
Title: Adventus
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Rating: K+
Summary: The Doctor regains his hope.
Author's Note: The priest quotes a highly recognizable passage of Scripture. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
This fic was written for the time_and_chips Advent Calendar 2008.
Adventus
For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.
Romans 8:24-25
Love is never defeated.
Pope John Paul II
The church is empty as the Doctor steps inside - all of the members have gone home from the Midnight Mass service. Just hours ago, the building rang with the joy of trumpets and singers enthusiastically belting out Handel's Messiah. One of the singers had been a little sharp - he can feel the echoes of it, but all in all it had been a beautiful service. The church is lit with candles, and the Doctor takes a deep breath as he passes a statue of Jesus.
“Merry Christmas to you, friend!” The Doctor jumps a little, whirling around to face a short priest, dressed in a simple brown robe with sandals and a coarse rope wrapped around his waist. A long rosary hangs from the knot and swings back and forth as the heavyset man comes to a stop. “Don't think I've seen you here before!”
The Doctor smirks. “Well, you wouldn't, normally.”
“Ah, I see. Well, we offer sanctuary to those who believe and those who don't. Do you need someone to talk to?” the priest sat himself down in one of the pews and gestured to one across the aisle. “I've got all night.”
The Doctor doesn't sit down, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Don't you have a family gathering of some sort? Christmas ham, turkey, maybe? Silly hats and crackers and presents?”
“Vow of poverty. I'll have a simple meal with my brother priests tomorrow afternoon. If you'd rather be left alone, I can leave you to reflect alone. You just looked like you needed an open ear.”
The Doctor shrugs, taking off his long coat and tossing it over the pew and sitting down. “You're going to think I'm crazy - humans always do.”
“I believe in a God you can't see, hear, touch, or smell. There's no conclusive evidence as to whether She exists or not. Furthermore, I believe this God had only one child: a Son, whom He sent to save the world, redeeming us from ourselves. That's all a bit much to swallow, don't you think?”
The Doctor coughs. “You said it, not me.”
“So,” the priest leans forward. “If I can buy all of that, and sell it too... what makes you think I'm not going to believe you?”
The Doctor laughs disbelieving but doesn't say anything.
“Why is it so important that I believe you, anyway?”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “I don't know.”
“Whatever it is,” the priest says, thumbing the beads on his rosary, “you have to know that all things pass with time.”
The Doctor scoffed. “It doesn't stop the fact that it's painful now. And what do you know of time, anyway?”
The priest narrows his eyes. “Perhaps not as much as you.”
“Few people know as much about time as I do,” the Doctor says to himself.
The priest closes his eyes. “What are you here for?”
“Pretty church, Christmas Eve...”
“Where's your family?”
“Dead. A long time ago. I... I was in London. I had a friend here. She... she left.”
“What was her name?”
The Doctor looked pained, and closed his eyes. “Rose.” He pushed himself to his feet and crossed his arms. “There was another woman... I asked her to come with me and she wouldn't. I think I would have liked her to. Donna.”
“No one expects you to go through life alone, you know.” The priest continued to move the beads on his rosary. “No one is doomed to a life of loneliness forever. Sometimes we just have endure periods of pain. Your friend, Rose?”
“Yes.”
“I have this feeling about her. The way you said her name. You loved her?”
The Doctor swallowed. “I... never told her. I tried, but the window closed and...”
“Love is patient, love is kind.... It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” The priest waved a hand. “It always hopes. Advent's not over, Doctor. It's never over. Wait. Hope. Good things come.”
The Doctor grabs his coat. “It's impossible.”
“No such thing, Doctor. And you ought to know that better than anyone.” The priest rises to his feet, and places his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. “It's okay to miss her, you know. It's not okay to give up on her.”
The Doctor looks at the ground. “I... would never give up on Rose. I believe in her.”
When he raises his eyes, the priest is gone. The church is empty, and the candles still flicker. The Doctor slips his coat on, and pulls open the ancient door, which creaks in protest, as he looks over his shoulder.
“Hope,” he says, and straightens his shoulder. “Well, it's worth a try.”
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Rating: K+
Summary: The Doctor regains his hope.
Author's Note: The priest quotes a highly recognizable passage of Scripture. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
This fic was written for the time_and_chips Advent Calendar 2008.
Adventus
For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.
Romans 8:24-25
Love is never defeated.
Pope John Paul II
The church is empty as the Doctor steps inside - all of the members have gone home from the Midnight Mass service. Just hours ago, the building rang with the joy of trumpets and singers enthusiastically belting out Handel's Messiah. One of the singers had been a little sharp - he can feel the echoes of it, but all in all it had been a beautiful service. The church is lit with candles, and the Doctor takes a deep breath as he passes a statue of Jesus.
“Merry Christmas to you, friend!” The Doctor jumps a little, whirling around to face a short priest, dressed in a simple brown robe with sandals and a coarse rope wrapped around his waist. A long rosary hangs from the knot and swings back and forth as the heavyset man comes to a stop. “Don't think I've seen you here before!”
The Doctor smirks. “Well, you wouldn't, normally.”
“Ah, I see. Well, we offer sanctuary to those who believe and those who don't. Do you need someone to talk to?” the priest sat himself down in one of the pews and gestured to one across the aisle. “I've got all night.”
The Doctor doesn't sit down, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Don't you have a family gathering of some sort? Christmas ham, turkey, maybe? Silly hats and crackers and presents?”
“Vow of poverty. I'll have a simple meal with my brother priests tomorrow afternoon. If you'd rather be left alone, I can leave you to reflect alone. You just looked like you needed an open ear.”
The Doctor shrugs, taking off his long coat and tossing it over the pew and sitting down. “You're going to think I'm crazy - humans always do.”
“I believe in a God you can't see, hear, touch, or smell. There's no conclusive evidence as to whether She exists or not. Furthermore, I believe this God had only one child: a Son, whom He sent to save the world, redeeming us from ourselves. That's all a bit much to swallow, don't you think?”
The Doctor coughs. “You said it, not me.”
“So,” the priest leans forward. “If I can buy all of that, and sell it too... what makes you think I'm not going to believe you?”
The Doctor laughs disbelieving but doesn't say anything.
“Why is it so important that I believe you, anyway?”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “I don't know.”
“Whatever it is,” the priest says, thumbing the beads on his rosary, “you have to know that all things pass with time.”
The Doctor scoffed. “It doesn't stop the fact that it's painful now. And what do you know of time, anyway?”
The priest narrows his eyes. “Perhaps not as much as you.”
“Few people know as much about time as I do,” the Doctor says to himself.
The priest closes his eyes. “What are you here for?”
“Pretty church, Christmas Eve...”
“Where's your family?”
“Dead. A long time ago. I... I was in London. I had a friend here. She... she left.”
“What was her name?”
The Doctor looked pained, and closed his eyes. “Rose.” He pushed himself to his feet and crossed his arms. “There was another woman... I asked her to come with me and she wouldn't. I think I would have liked her to. Donna.”
“No one expects you to go through life alone, you know.” The priest continued to move the beads on his rosary. “No one is doomed to a life of loneliness forever. Sometimes we just have endure periods of pain. Your friend, Rose?”
“Yes.”
“I have this feeling about her. The way you said her name. You loved her?”
The Doctor swallowed. “I... never told her. I tried, but the window closed and...”
“Love is patient, love is kind.... It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” The priest waved a hand. “It always hopes. Advent's not over, Doctor. It's never over. Wait. Hope. Good things come.”
The Doctor grabs his coat. “It's impossible.”
“No such thing, Doctor. And you ought to know that better than anyone.” The priest rises to his feet, and places his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. “It's okay to miss her, you know. It's not okay to give up on her.”
The Doctor looks at the ground. “I... would never give up on Rose. I believe in her.”
When he raises his eyes, the priest is gone. The church is empty, and the candles still flicker. The Doctor slips his coat on, and pulls open the ancient door, which creaks in protest, as he looks over his shoulder.
“Hope,” he says, and straightens his shoulder. “Well, it's worth a try.”