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Abandoned Doctor Who fanfiction that I will never get around to finishing, but may one day steal bits and pieces from.
01. The Doctor seduces rose, with the written word. Abandoned because, eh, I fell out of love with the idea.
It takes Rose three months - linear Earth time - to realize she’s being seduced with literature. It’s not just the novels the Doctor hands her, with a delighted smile and a promise that she’ll love it, but the authors he takes her to visit.
-
On one occasion, they find themselves in South America during the mid twenties. The Doctor is a bundle of excitement, introduces Rose to the local cuisine. He buys her a dress with a neckline considered daring for the time period, tuck the stem of a flower behind her ear. The petals are soft, curl against her cheek.
They end the night at a party. The Doctor insists - seriously, he insists - that she dance with a good looking bloke by the bar. Rose obliges with a roll of her eyes, lets the stranger twirl her across the dance floor.
“That man,” he says “he is your husband?”
“Oh. No.” Rose laughs, glancing at the Doctor leaning against the bar with a satisfied grin on his face. “No, he’s…he’s not that.”
“Ah. Then perhaps he wouldn’t mind if I…?” Rose narrows her eyes; the boy laughs. He shakes his head, leans close to whisper in her ear. “Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?”
Rose pulls back, levels him with a suspicious gaze. “What?”
The stranger disentangles himself from her, kisses the back of her hand. “Thank you for the dance.”
Rose watches him fade into the drunken masses. The Doctor bounds up beside her, nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, how was it?”
“I’m not - ” Rose pauses to bite her lip, eyebrows furrowing. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Across the crowd, the stranger stands upon a table. He smiles down at the people watching him, spreads his arms wide and orders them to “Love! Love until the night collapses!”
(When they return to the TARDIS, the Doctor hands her Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. She devours the slim book whole.)
-
They save a Sufi mystic from being devoured by a pack of ravenous Welixixi.
The village throws a party in celebration, offers Rose and the Doctor gifts of gold and silver. They bestow upon their feet jewels and reams of the most exquisite fabrics, beautifully crafted pottery and solemnly recited epics.
“Oh, no,” Rose protests. “We couldn’t possibly take this. Honestly, saving people is kind of our - ”
The mystic takes both of Rose’s hands in his and says “This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”
“Um, right. Thanks. I think.”
(Before they leave, the man introduces himself as Rumi, informs the pair that he will watch for them in the stars.)
-
D.H. Lawrence is a shameless flirt.
(They stay long enough for him to make Rose blush before the Doctor whisks her away with a scowl.)
02. My original attempt for challenge 45 at then_theres_us
“You believe the man will come for you?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt about it,” Rose flippantly replies, scratching at her ankle. The thin, silver chain around it catches in her fingers. She gently tugs at the braided metal, but it is as steadfast as ever. With a sigh, she glances around the large cave she’s currently being held prisoner it. “Nice digs.”
The alien holding her hostage tilts his monstrous face. His features are lit by the blue light emitting from an underground spring, exaggerated into grotesque angles. “I’m afraid that is an Earth colloquialism I am unfamiliar with.”
“Sorry,” Rose mumbles, tracing the grooves of the fat column beside her. “I meant nice place you’ve got here.” She squints out at the darker edges of the large cavern. “Very…cozy.”
The alien laughs, the sound echoing off rock walls. “Yes. I can see why he’d come for you.”
Rose tries not to shake under the alien’s stare. His four milky eyes blink her in with an intensity that makes her stomach shift. Unable to hold his gaze much longer, she turns away.
This is mostly her fault. Maybe. The Doctor had told her not to wander off, that ancient Greece wasn’t the most hospitable place. Of course she gone off without him, sure that the olive grove nearby had something to do with the string of disappearances taking place in the local village. Turns out she’d been right. Now she’s miles bellow the Earth’s surface, praying silently that the Doctor will be swift in his rescue.
She doesn’t see the triumphant grin that spreads across the alien’s features as she shivers, sharp teeth gleaming in the pale light. His feet make no noise as he moves close, nails brushing Rose’s neck. There is only a brief stab of shock before she slumps against the hard floor, mind lost in the dream world.
When she wakes, she’s alone. Or, almost alone. Occasionally Rose will spy movement along the grey areas - where the light from the pool of water meets the encroaching blackness - and try to convince herself that the tensing of muscles is not from fear. Then she will hear the soulless moans coming from deep within the shadows and shake in terror.
This goes on for quite some time - and she’s nearly blind with panic and dread - when she hears a low murmuring from somewhere to her left. She turns her head, spots something warm and orange far off. It moves unsteadily closer, grows larger. Shapes form within the flickering yellow-orange, meld into hideous beings.
“Who…Who’s there?” She calls, voice quivering.
“Rose?”
The relief is astonishing, flowing through her like a flash flood. She rises to her feet, tries to walk forward. Her right leg catches, and she makes a helpless sort of noise as she recalls the chain around her ankle. “Doctor? I can’t - He’s got me tied up.”
Torch light, Rose realizes as the Doctor forms from the back of an imagined beast. She staggers unsteadily, clings to the Doctor when he runs to her. His arms are a vice around her body, face pressed against the flesh of her exposed shoulder.
“How long?” She asks. Her hands slip into his hair, tug at it. It’s a stupid, human gesture of possession. The Doctor doesn’t seem to mind.
“Too long.” He answers, a hitch in his throat.
“Touching,” a bored voice mocks. The Doctor whirls from Rose’s grasp to face the alien whole stole her.
“Haedoustus,” the Doctor says. “Of course.”
The alien inclines his head, clawed hands spread wide. “It appears you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same where you’re concerned.” The Doctor levels the Haedoustus with a glare. “I take it you’re not going to tell me then. Very well. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Rose takes hold of the Doctor’s elbow. She tries to keep the worry from her tone as she asks quietly “What’s he talking about?”
The Doctor pivots to face her, fingers coming up to stroke her jaw line in a touch so light it’s nearly nonexistent. “It’s a sport, back on Olem. They steal away something you treasure, keep hold of it until you’re able to find a way to retrieve it. Then they bargain. Sometimes it’s simple things - beads, cloths, little favors. Other times it’s impossible tasks - things that would make anyone’s skin crawl.”
“Doctor - ”
He moves abruptly, arms swinging enthusiastically at his sides as he crosses the uneven terrain to stand before the Haedoustus. “Right! What’ll it be then? Wait! No, no. Don’t tell me. Water from the seas of Faloof? The Shroud of the Nexil Galaxy? Or, yes! The seed of Eagleberry, still wet with juice?”
The alien laughs, shakes his massive head from side to side. “No. Nothing so simple.”
The Doctor’s eyes narrow. “What then?”
“Take her.” The Haedoustus gives a sinister smile. “But you will travel in darkness. And you mustn’t gaze upon her or touch her flesh until you are both bathed in the light of sun.”
“Fine,” the Doctor snaps. “Rose, let’s go.”
“Doctor, what’s…?” Rose follows a pace behind him, the silver around her ankle falling away.
“Just follow my voice,” he answers. She can just make out the tense line of his back in the dim light provided.
Softly, she says “Okay.”
“We’ll be watching you.” The Haedoustus’s threat reaches them just as they enter the grey area. “If you should falter, Doctor, I will know of it.”
Rose casts one last glance over her shoulder at the alien before scampering after the Doctor. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they climb their way through the dark. She trips over unseen rocks on more than one occasions, hears the Doctor’s sharp intake of breath every time. She is always quick to reassure him, mindful of the ghostly eyes on her.
It’s a long journey, climbing up from what feels like the center of the Earth. Her hands skim over slick walls, catch in thin crags. Time seems suspended in the underground, and her legs quake with exhaustion. Up ahead, a pinprick of light becomes visible.
“Almost there,” the Doctor says. Rose can feel him hovering nearby, just out of reach.
“Good. I’m bloody tired of walking. You owe me a spa date after this, you do.”
The Doctor’s laughter starts a flurry of movement in her midsection. The excitement of being nearly done causes Rose to step forward with little caution. The ground gives way beneath her, and she falls heavily onto the floor.
“Rose,” the Doctor says. “Rose, are you..?”
She doesn’t respond, clings to her side and hisses in pain. Tears trail down her cheeks and she whimpers when she attempts to sit up. The Doctor’s hand finds hers.
“No!” Rose screams, voice ragged and raw as foreign arms snatch her away. She tries to fight, kicks and shoves at those holding her. She catches sight of the Doctor’s face just before everything goes black, pale and desperate, colored only with a deep shade of terror.
“ROSE!”
03. Attempt at a weird mashup with Disney's Robin Hood for then_theres_us.
“It’s weird,” Rose says, taking the Doctor’s hand in hers and tugging him toward a row of food stalls. Something sweet is wafting through the air, making her stomach roll with hunger. “Like being in a zoo where all the animals talk.”
The Doctor laughs, uses his free hand to rummage though his suit pockets. “Remember the cat nuns? It’s a bit like that. Sherwood’s full of evolved species.”
Rose considers this a moment then shrugs. “Still weird.”
“Ah-ha!” The Doctor pulls his hand out from the inside of his jacket, palm closed. He holds the hand up for Rose to inspect, fingers unfurling on a few gold coins.
She strokes the shinning faces. “Oh, Mum would murder for these.”
“Best to keep this a secret, hm? I don’t particularly feel up to going through another regeneration.”
“I won’t tell.” Rose grins, running her forefinger over her chest in an exaggerated ‘x’ shape. “Cross my heart.”
Smiling, the Doctor pulls Rose toward a table laden with sweets. “Anything you want, Rose Tyler. My treat.”
She bites her lip, gaze flitting over sticky buns and gooey tarts. “Oh, I can’t possibly pick.” She nudges the Doctor’s side. “Go on, tell us which one’s best.”
The Doctor picks a pastry stuffed with cheese and berries. He deposits money into the paw of the stall vendor, a fat grey bear with a gravely voice.
“Excellent choice,” the bear says, handing the treat over. Rose takes it in hand, offers her thanks. She and the Doctor make their way toward the stands overlooking the archery field. They settle onto a wooden bench between a fox and a preening rooster.
The Doctor studies the line of archers. “Suppose they’d let me join?”
“Dunno,“ Rose shrugs. She bites into her pastry, eyes falling shut as the dessert nearly melts on her tongue. She can’t help the sound of appreciation that escapes her lips. “Oh, that’s gorgeous.”
When her lids flutter open she finds the Doctor watching her, a small wrinkle on his forehead. It quickly disappears when his mouth spreads in a fantastic grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of his joy.
Out on the field a stork readies his bow.
-
Rose likes these adventures best. Slow, lazy days spent in far off galaxies. A week on a backwater planet, where the local cuisine leaves much to be desired. But the bootlegged liquor more than makes up for it. It leaves her insides warm and heady, makes her head swim.
She rolls onto her side, takes in the Doctor seated at the vanity table. His suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair, his shirt folded neatly over it. She thinks it’s odd, how often she’s seen him in various states of undress in this new body. Briefly, she recalls kneecaps under a toga in ancient Rome, wiry thighs made visible inch by inch as she undressed him in her mum’s flat. And, now, his pale chest on display.
“I think I’m drunk” she says, the words heavy on her tongue. The Doctor doesn’t answer, merely turns the page of the book he’s reading. Rose’s vision is a bit fuzzy from drink, but she’s able to read the title just fine. Marc Twane: The Incomplete Works. “You’re insides feel all tingly?”
“Nope. Time Lord, remember? Shook it out.”
“Hm. ‘s a shame. Feels nice.”
The Doctor glances her way, amusement clear in the tilt of his brow. “Does it, now?”
“Oh, yes,” Rose says, rolling on her back and stretching. She sighs at the pull of muscles. When she turns back to the Doctor, his eyes are fixed on a hipbone made newly visible by her shirt riding up. It’s a rare thing, watching this new body of his be so still. Rose realizes she kind of likes it, her ability to make him take pause.
He clears his throat, methodically folds down the corner of the page he’s on. He sets the book on the vanity, next to Rose’s tube of mascara. “Rose, perhaps you should sleep it off.”
She sighs, turns her face into the mattress. “I guess.” Patting the space beside her she gently teases “C’mon, you need a bit of a kip too.”
Rose isn’t sure who’s more surprised, herself or the Doctor, when he lies down beside her. Possibly her. She lets out a nervous giggle as the Doctor pulls the covers over their heads.
“Go to bed, Rose.”
“M’kay,” she answers, voice a pitch higher than normal. Mortified, she buries her face into the Doctor’s cool shoulder and hopes he can‘t feel her inflamed cheeks. She manages to squeak out a quick “Night.”
-
It’s cold when she wakes.
It takes her a moment to realize she’s alone. She sits up, a twinge running the length of her body, and take in her surroundings. The Doctor is standing before an open window, a frigid breeze blowing in. He turns to her as she climbs off the bed.
“You hear that?”
Rose tilts her head, listens. There is nothing but morning sounds, the call of birds and rumblings of a town rousing from a long night. Then, faintly a first, something like singing and laughter. It grows louder, the words mocking.
Incredible as he is inept, wherever the history books are kept, they’ll call him the phony king of England!
Rose shuffles quickly to the window, watches as a band of animals pass by on the street below. They hold bottles of whiskey in hand, sway this way and that over the cobblestone. Beside her, the Doctor joins in the singing. “A pox on the phony king of England.”
“Wait. This planets got an England?”
The Doctor shrugs, and Rose notices that he is still shirtless. “Lots of planets have got an England. Jed, Fantalixia, Dort, Hariri, Mock Jay: Thirty-Two, Austen, Stahlberg…to name a few.”
Rose gapes a him. (It’s a rather unattractive looks, but the Doctor finds it terribly endearing.)
Catching herself, Rose snaps her mouth shut, says “Oh! I love this. Traveling with you. I just - I love it.”
“Me too.”
They grin widely a one another for a moment before Rose wraps her arms around the Doctor’s lean frame. He returns the gesture, his two hearts beating reassuringly against Rose’s one.
-
“He’s a handsome man,” Maid Marion says, tail playfully twitching behind her.
Rose follows the fox’s gaze to where the Doctor is chatting happily with a young rabbit. He is wearing clothes provided by the villagers, and Rose admits the color and cut is flattering on him.
“He watches you,” the woman fox continues.
Rose turns sharply, heart fluttering anxiously. “Really?”
Marion laughs. “Oh yes! Don’t you notice?”
Shaking her head, Rose gives a small frown. “No. I’ve always figured he’s…Not that I didn’t hope, but - ”
“Pardon me, Ladies.” Robin gives a deep bow. “But I was hoping for a chance to dance with my wife. If you don’t mind, Rose.”
Rose waves them away. “Go, go.”
The couple quickly joins in a lively jig with a hen and lion. The dance involves a lot of clapping and twirling, and Rose envies the way Marion’s skirt flares out as she spins beneath Robin’s arm.
“Happy endings.” The Doctor bumps his shoulder to Rose’s as he takes the seat beside her. “Don’t you love happy endings?”
“More than anything,” she answers. Rose jumps when his hand finds hers, fingers knotting together. His thumb strokes a wide arc across her flesh. Rose feels her chest fill with heat, it spreads tingling down all her limbs.
04. Another attempt at a Disney inspired fic that I gave up on.
They defeat the bad guys.
That should be the end of it. Really, it should be. But there’s Rose standing before him, mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. She’s lovely, he thinks; only the sentiment gets lost in the panic that overtakes him. Her eyes blink slowly against the sharp pain trickling down her back, and she speaks his name before her body gives out.
He is there to catch her, having rushed across the snow covered lane the moment her confused face had registered to shock. She is soft in his arms, warm. He brushes hair from her cheek, trails over jaw, slips his fingers to the back of her neck. He finds the dart lodged there, just above the collar of her winter coat. It is tipped in the red feather of a Hart Bird - found four galaxies over from the planet they’re on.
He carefully pulls the dart from her flesh, brings it up to eyelevel in order to inspect it properly. Around them a crowd has gathered, alien beings watching as he sniffs the pointed tip. His body goes cold at the scent, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
“Help,” he finally manages to say, the plea strangled and lost in the windswept snow. He tries again. “Help!”
Townspeople move to take Rose from him, but he refuses to let her limp form go. He shakes his head. “No. I’ve got her. It’s’ fine. I’ve got her. A room. That’s - I need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”
A thin woman with an elongated jaw pushes though the crowd. She wears the pale yellow robes of the local priory. “If you’d follow me - “ her webbed hand rests on his shoulder - “There should be an available room at the hospital.”
05. I don't even know. I just really like lighthouses, okay. Lost steam pretty quickly.
In 1880, they keep watch over a lighthouse.
They park the TARDIS along the shore’s edge, live out of the tiny house provided for them. Rose tends the vegetable garden while the Doctor tinkers at the highest point of the lighthouse. He spends most hours of the day fiddling with his sonic screwdriver and trying to boost out a signal to the deepest parts of the ocean - where he is positive a gaggle of Gargelites are hidden.
Mostly, the Doctor is distracted from his task by the sight of Rose far bellow. His eyes trail her patch over the rocky crag, narrow when she disappears behind the TARDIS doors. She emerges minutes later with a bicycle, rides it straight into the waves. Her cries up to the sky rival those of the seagulls flying overhead, make him smile.
He drops an antenna when Rose sunbathes on the roof of their small abode - in a rather fetching swimsuit from the fifties. A portable radio plays jazz. The Doctor nearly takes out his own eye in his haste to catch the tumbling antenna. From below comes the sound of Rose’s laughter. She pushes her heart shaped shades atop her head, asks “You alright?”
“Just dandy!” He calls down.
She cooks him a roast that night, pins a dull medal of valor (from the planet Nona) to his chest. She tells him how she found it wedged beneath the floor of the TARDIS and the jump-seat, thought he deserved for the bravery he displayed while constructing the ‘big transmitter what’s-it with all the knobby bits and stuff.’ He wears it for a week straight.
On one occasion, they receive a surprise visit from two men who live in the town twenty miles away. Both strangers are pleasantly delighted and scandalized by Rose’s state of dress. The Doctor doesn’t know whether to be amused at their blushing cheeks or to feel hostile at the liberties their eyes are taking upon Rose’s figure. (The same liberties he took earlier, when she sashayed in and asked if her outfit was a bit much. No, he’d told her.)
06. I wanted to write Doctor/Rose from an outside POV. Lost interest in that quick.
Rose Tyler moves in one month after the stars begin to blink out.
Lucy watches from the lawn, keeping a very lax eye on her younger brother, as the Vitex heiress scowls into the mouthpiece of her phone.
“ - said I’m overworking myself and needed a break. So I said, alright, I’ll take the day off. But Dad had me drugged and carted off to…I’m not sure where I am, Mickey. And he’s said - we’re so close. The dimension cannon is only in prototype but we’re…Oh, Mick.”
Lucy makes an appalled squeak as Thaddeus chooses that moment to rush upon Rose (with arms flailing, a high pitched squawk coming from somewhere deep within his belly). Lucy quickly stands to follow him, apologies tumbling out as she tries to get a hold of her brother’s cart wheeling limbs.
“Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry. He thinks he’s one of those dinosaur birds. The…the what’s-it, yeah? With bat-like wings and the - ”
Rose smiles. “Pterodactyl?”
“Yes!”
“Ah.” Amusement shines clearly from Rose’s eyes as she ends her call and squats before Thaddeus. “You know, I’ve seen real dinosaurs before. I had this…friend. He used to get me into all sorts of trouble. And this one time, right, we had to run from some very angry velociraptors.”
Rose invites them in for tea, and Lucy is torn. On the one hand, Rose is a complete nutter. On the other, she’s, well, Rose Tyler.
“We’d love tea.”
-
It quickly becomes routine, tea with Rose.
After school, Lucy takes Thaddeus’s hand in hers and walks up the front steps to Rose’s home. She serves them tea and lemonade, biscuits and scones. On one occasion she serves them ice cream in crystal dishes, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a handful of candied cherries on the side.
“Your parents,” Rose says, on an afternoon when they’re seated on her tiny front porch. “they don’t mind you spending so much time over here?”
Thaddeus shakes his head, says with childhood certainty “We haven’t got parents.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, runs an affectionate hand over her brothers blonde curls. “Honestly, Thad.” She turns toward Rose to clarify. “Mum died giving birth and Dad left when Thaddeus was three. We live with Gran, and, well. She’s not exactly all there in the head, you know. She says the stars going out is the work of aliens. But everyone knows it’s the world ending. What do you think?”
“Aliens.”
Lucy blinks, thinks her Gran and Rose would get on just fine. Two peas in a pod, them.
“Oh.”
01. The Doctor seduces rose, with the written word. Abandoned because, eh, I fell out of love with the idea.
It takes Rose three months - linear Earth time - to realize she’s being seduced with literature. It’s not just the novels the Doctor hands her, with a delighted smile and a promise that she’ll love it, but the authors he takes her to visit.
-
On one occasion, they find themselves in South America during the mid twenties. The Doctor is a bundle of excitement, introduces Rose to the local cuisine. He buys her a dress with a neckline considered daring for the time period, tuck the stem of a flower behind her ear. The petals are soft, curl against her cheek.
They end the night at a party. The Doctor insists - seriously, he insists - that she dance with a good looking bloke by the bar. Rose obliges with a roll of her eyes, lets the stranger twirl her across the dance floor.
“That man,” he says “he is your husband?”
“Oh. No.” Rose laughs, glancing at the Doctor leaning against the bar with a satisfied grin on his face. “No, he’s…he’s not that.”
“Ah. Then perhaps he wouldn’t mind if I…?” Rose narrows her eyes; the boy laughs. He shakes his head, leans close to whisper in her ear. “Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?”
Rose pulls back, levels him with a suspicious gaze. “What?”
The stranger disentangles himself from her, kisses the back of her hand. “Thank you for the dance.”
Rose watches him fade into the drunken masses. The Doctor bounds up beside her, nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, how was it?”
“I’m not - ” Rose pauses to bite her lip, eyebrows furrowing. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Across the crowd, the stranger stands upon a table. He smiles down at the people watching him, spreads his arms wide and orders them to “Love! Love until the night collapses!”
(When they return to the TARDIS, the Doctor hands her Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. She devours the slim book whole.)
-
They save a Sufi mystic from being devoured by a pack of ravenous Welixixi.
The village throws a party in celebration, offers Rose and the Doctor gifts of gold and silver. They bestow upon their feet jewels and reams of the most exquisite fabrics, beautifully crafted pottery and solemnly recited epics.
“Oh, no,” Rose protests. “We couldn’t possibly take this. Honestly, saving people is kind of our - ”
The mystic takes both of Rose’s hands in his and says “This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”
“Um, right. Thanks. I think.”
(Before they leave, the man introduces himself as Rumi, informs the pair that he will watch for them in the stars.)
-
D.H. Lawrence is a shameless flirt.
(They stay long enough for him to make Rose blush before the Doctor whisks her away with a scowl.)
02. My original attempt for challenge 45 at then_theres_us
“You believe the man will come for you?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt about it,” Rose flippantly replies, scratching at her ankle. The thin, silver chain around it catches in her fingers. She gently tugs at the braided metal, but it is as steadfast as ever. With a sigh, she glances around the large cave she’s currently being held prisoner it. “Nice digs.”
The alien holding her hostage tilts his monstrous face. His features are lit by the blue light emitting from an underground spring, exaggerated into grotesque angles. “I’m afraid that is an Earth colloquialism I am unfamiliar with.”
“Sorry,” Rose mumbles, tracing the grooves of the fat column beside her. “I meant nice place you’ve got here.” She squints out at the darker edges of the large cavern. “Very…cozy.”
The alien laughs, the sound echoing off rock walls. “Yes. I can see why he’d come for you.”
Rose tries not to shake under the alien’s stare. His four milky eyes blink her in with an intensity that makes her stomach shift. Unable to hold his gaze much longer, she turns away.
This is mostly her fault. Maybe. The Doctor had told her not to wander off, that ancient Greece wasn’t the most hospitable place. Of course she gone off without him, sure that the olive grove nearby had something to do with the string of disappearances taking place in the local village. Turns out she’d been right. Now she’s miles bellow the Earth’s surface, praying silently that the Doctor will be swift in his rescue.
She doesn’t see the triumphant grin that spreads across the alien’s features as she shivers, sharp teeth gleaming in the pale light. His feet make no noise as he moves close, nails brushing Rose’s neck. There is only a brief stab of shock before she slumps against the hard floor, mind lost in the dream world.
When she wakes, she’s alone. Or, almost alone. Occasionally Rose will spy movement along the grey areas - where the light from the pool of water meets the encroaching blackness - and try to convince herself that the tensing of muscles is not from fear. Then she will hear the soulless moans coming from deep within the shadows and shake in terror.
This goes on for quite some time - and she’s nearly blind with panic and dread - when she hears a low murmuring from somewhere to her left. She turns her head, spots something warm and orange far off. It moves unsteadily closer, grows larger. Shapes form within the flickering yellow-orange, meld into hideous beings.
“Who…Who’s there?” She calls, voice quivering.
“Rose?”
The relief is astonishing, flowing through her like a flash flood. She rises to her feet, tries to walk forward. Her right leg catches, and she makes a helpless sort of noise as she recalls the chain around her ankle. “Doctor? I can’t - He’s got me tied up.”
Torch light, Rose realizes as the Doctor forms from the back of an imagined beast. She staggers unsteadily, clings to the Doctor when he runs to her. His arms are a vice around her body, face pressed against the flesh of her exposed shoulder.
“How long?” She asks. Her hands slip into his hair, tug at it. It’s a stupid, human gesture of possession. The Doctor doesn’t seem to mind.
“Too long.” He answers, a hitch in his throat.
“Touching,” a bored voice mocks. The Doctor whirls from Rose’s grasp to face the alien whole stole her.
“Haedoustus,” the Doctor says. “Of course.”
The alien inclines his head, clawed hands spread wide. “It appears you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same where you’re concerned.” The Doctor levels the Haedoustus with a glare. “I take it you’re not going to tell me then. Very well. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Rose takes hold of the Doctor’s elbow. She tries to keep the worry from her tone as she asks quietly “What’s he talking about?”
The Doctor pivots to face her, fingers coming up to stroke her jaw line in a touch so light it’s nearly nonexistent. “It’s a sport, back on Olem. They steal away something you treasure, keep hold of it until you’re able to find a way to retrieve it. Then they bargain. Sometimes it’s simple things - beads, cloths, little favors. Other times it’s impossible tasks - things that would make anyone’s skin crawl.”
“Doctor - ”
He moves abruptly, arms swinging enthusiastically at his sides as he crosses the uneven terrain to stand before the Haedoustus. “Right! What’ll it be then? Wait! No, no. Don’t tell me. Water from the seas of Faloof? The Shroud of the Nexil Galaxy? Or, yes! The seed of Eagleberry, still wet with juice?”
The alien laughs, shakes his massive head from side to side. “No. Nothing so simple.”
The Doctor’s eyes narrow. “What then?”
“Take her.” The Haedoustus gives a sinister smile. “But you will travel in darkness. And you mustn’t gaze upon her or touch her flesh until you are both bathed in the light of sun.”
“Fine,” the Doctor snaps. “Rose, let’s go.”
“Doctor, what’s…?” Rose follows a pace behind him, the silver around her ankle falling away.
“Just follow my voice,” he answers. She can just make out the tense line of his back in the dim light provided.
Softly, she says “Okay.”
“We’ll be watching you.” The Haedoustus’s threat reaches them just as they enter the grey area. “If you should falter, Doctor, I will know of it.”
Rose casts one last glance over her shoulder at the alien before scampering after the Doctor. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they climb their way through the dark. She trips over unseen rocks on more than one occasions, hears the Doctor’s sharp intake of breath every time. She is always quick to reassure him, mindful of the ghostly eyes on her.
It’s a long journey, climbing up from what feels like the center of the Earth. Her hands skim over slick walls, catch in thin crags. Time seems suspended in the underground, and her legs quake with exhaustion. Up ahead, a pinprick of light becomes visible.
“Almost there,” the Doctor says. Rose can feel him hovering nearby, just out of reach.
“Good. I’m bloody tired of walking. You owe me a spa date after this, you do.”
The Doctor’s laughter starts a flurry of movement in her midsection. The excitement of being nearly done causes Rose to step forward with little caution. The ground gives way beneath her, and she falls heavily onto the floor.
“Rose,” the Doctor says. “Rose, are you..?”
She doesn’t respond, clings to her side and hisses in pain. Tears trail down her cheeks and she whimpers when she attempts to sit up. The Doctor’s hand finds hers.
“No!” Rose screams, voice ragged and raw as foreign arms snatch her away. She tries to fight, kicks and shoves at those holding her. She catches sight of the Doctor’s face just before everything goes black, pale and desperate, colored only with a deep shade of terror.
“ROSE!”
03. Attempt at a weird mashup with Disney's Robin Hood for then_theres_us.
“It’s weird,” Rose says, taking the Doctor’s hand in hers and tugging him toward a row of food stalls. Something sweet is wafting through the air, making her stomach roll with hunger. “Like being in a zoo where all the animals talk.”
The Doctor laughs, uses his free hand to rummage though his suit pockets. “Remember the cat nuns? It’s a bit like that. Sherwood’s full of evolved species.”
Rose considers this a moment then shrugs. “Still weird.”
“Ah-ha!” The Doctor pulls his hand out from the inside of his jacket, palm closed. He holds the hand up for Rose to inspect, fingers unfurling on a few gold coins.
She strokes the shinning faces. “Oh, Mum would murder for these.”
“Best to keep this a secret, hm? I don’t particularly feel up to going through another regeneration.”
“I won’t tell.” Rose grins, running her forefinger over her chest in an exaggerated ‘x’ shape. “Cross my heart.”
Smiling, the Doctor pulls Rose toward a table laden with sweets. “Anything you want, Rose Tyler. My treat.”
She bites her lip, gaze flitting over sticky buns and gooey tarts. “Oh, I can’t possibly pick.” She nudges the Doctor’s side. “Go on, tell us which one’s best.”
The Doctor picks a pastry stuffed with cheese and berries. He deposits money into the paw of the stall vendor, a fat grey bear with a gravely voice.
“Excellent choice,” the bear says, handing the treat over. Rose takes it in hand, offers her thanks. She and the Doctor make their way toward the stands overlooking the archery field. They settle onto a wooden bench between a fox and a preening rooster.
The Doctor studies the line of archers. “Suppose they’d let me join?”
“Dunno,“ Rose shrugs. She bites into her pastry, eyes falling shut as the dessert nearly melts on her tongue. She can’t help the sound of appreciation that escapes her lips. “Oh, that’s gorgeous.”
When her lids flutter open she finds the Doctor watching her, a small wrinkle on his forehead. It quickly disappears when his mouth spreads in a fantastic grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of his joy.
Out on the field a stork readies his bow.
-
Rose likes these adventures best. Slow, lazy days spent in far off galaxies. A week on a backwater planet, where the local cuisine leaves much to be desired. But the bootlegged liquor more than makes up for it. It leaves her insides warm and heady, makes her head swim.
She rolls onto her side, takes in the Doctor seated at the vanity table. His suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair, his shirt folded neatly over it. She thinks it’s odd, how often she’s seen him in various states of undress in this new body. Briefly, she recalls kneecaps under a toga in ancient Rome, wiry thighs made visible inch by inch as she undressed him in her mum’s flat. And, now, his pale chest on display.
“I think I’m drunk” she says, the words heavy on her tongue. The Doctor doesn’t answer, merely turns the page of the book he’s reading. Rose’s vision is a bit fuzzy from drink, but she’s able to read the title just fine. Marc Twane: The Incomplete Works. “You’re insides feel all tingly?”
“Nope. Time Lord, remember? Shook it out.”
“Hm. ‘s a shame. Feels nice.”
The Doctor glances her way, amusement clear in the tilt of his brow. “Does it, now?”
“Oh, yes,” Rose says, rolling on her back and stretching. She sighs at the pull of muscles. When she turns back to the Doctor, his eyes are fixed on a hipbone made newly visible by her shirt riding up. It’s a rare thing, watching this new body of his be so still. Rose realizes she kind of likes it, her ability to make him take pause.
He clears his throat, methodically folds down the corner of the page he’s on. He sets the book on the vanity, next to Rose’s tube of mascara. “Rose, perhaps you should sleep it off.”
She sighs, turns her face into the mattress. “I guess.” Patting the space beside her she gently teases “C’mon, you need a bit of a kip too.”
Rose isn’t sure who’s more surprised, herself or the Doctor, when he lies down beside her. Possibly her. She lets out a nervous giggle as the Doctor pulls the covers over their heads.
“Go to bed, Rose.”
“M’kay,” she answers, voice a pitch higher than normal. Mortified, she buries her face into the Doctor’s cool shoulder and hopes he can‘t feel her inflamed cheeks. She manages to squeak out a quick “Night.”
-
It’s cold when she wakes.
It takes her a moment to realize she’s alone. She sits up, a twinge running the length of her body, and take in her surroundings. The Doctor is standing before an open window, a frigid breeze blowing in. He turns to her as she climbs off the bed.
“You hear that?”
Rose tilts her head, listens. There is nothing but morning sounds, the call of birds and rumblings of a town rousing from a long night. Then, faintly a first, something like singing and laughter. It grows louder, the words mocking.
Incredible as he is inept, wherever the history books are kept, they’ll call him the phony king of England!
Rose shuffles quickly to the window, watches as a band of animals pass by on the street below. They hold bottles of whiskey in hand, sway this way and that over the cobblestone. Beside her, the Doctor joins in the singing. “A pox on the phony king of England.”
“Wait. This planets got an England?”
The Doctor shrugs, and Rose notices that he is still shirtless. “Lots of planets have got an England. Jed, Fantalixia, Dort, Hariri, Mock Jay: Thirty-Two, Austen, Stahlberg…to name a few.”
Rose gapes a him. (It’s a rather unattractive looks, but the Doctor finds it terribly endearing.)
Catching herself, Rose snaps her mouth shut, says “Oh! I love this. Traveling with you. I just - I love it.”
“Me too.”
They grin widely a one another for a moment before Rose wraps her arms around the Doctor’s lean frame. He returns the gesture, his two hearts beating reassuringly against Rose’s one.
-
“He’s a handsome man,” Maid Marion says, tail playfully twitching behind her.
Rose follows the fox’s gaze to where the Doctor is chatting happily with a young rabbit. He is wearing clothes provided by the villagers, and Rose admits the color and cut is flattering on him.
“He watches you,” the woman fox continues.
Rose turns sharply, heart fluttering anxiously. “Really?”
Marion laughs. “Oh yes! Don’t you notice?”
Shaking her head, Rose gives a small frown. “No. I’ve always figured he’s…Not that I didn’t hope, but - ”
“Pardon me, Ladies.” Robin gives a deep bow. “But I was hoping for a chance to dance with my wife. If you don’t mind, Rose.”
Rose waves them away. “Go, go.”
The couple quickly joins in a lively jig with a hen and lion. The dance involves a lot of clapping and twirling, and Rose envies the way Marion’s skirt flares out as she spins beneath Robin’s arm.
“Happy endings.” The Doctor bumps his shoulder to Rose’s as he takes the seat beside her. “Don’t you love happy endings?”
“More than anything,” she answers. Rose jumps when his hand finds hers, fingers knotting together. His thumb strokes a wide arc across her flesh. Rose feels her chest fill with heat, it spreads tingling down all her limbs.
04. Another attempt at a Disney inspired fic that I gave up on.
They defeat the bad guys.
That should be the end of it. Really, it should be. But there’s Rose standing before him, mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. She’s lovely, he thinks; only the sentiment gets lost in the panic that overtakes him. Her eyes blink slowly against the sharp pain trickling down her back, and she speaks his name before her body gives out.
He is there to catch her, having rushed across the snow covered lane the moment her confused face had registered to shock. She is soft in his arms, warm. He brushes hair from her cheek, trails over jaw, slips his fingers to the back of her neck. He finds the dart lodged there, just above the collar of her winter coat. It is tipped in the red feather of a Hart Bird - found four galaxies over from the planet they’re on.
He carefully pulls the dart from her flesh, brings it up to eyelevel in order to inspect it properly. Around them a crowd has gathered, alien beings watching as he sniffs the pointed tip. His body goes cold at the scent, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
“Help,” he finally manages to say, the plea strangled and lost in the windswept snow. He tries again. “Help!”
Townspeople move to take Rose from him, but he refuses to let her limp form go. He shakes his head. “No. I’ve got her. It’s’ fine. I’ve got her. A room. That’s - I need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”
A thin woman with an elongated jaw pushes though the crowd. She wears the pale yellow robes of the local priory. “If you’d follow me - “ her webbed hand rests on his shoulder - “There should be an available room at the hospital.”
05. I don't even know. I just really like lighthouses, okay. Lost steam pretty quickly.
In 1880, they keep watch over a lighthouse.
They park the TARDIS along the shore’s edge, live out of the tiny house provided for them. Rose tends the vegetable garden while the Doctor tinkers at the highest point of the lighthouse. He spends most hours of the day fiddling with his sonic screwdriver and trying to boost out a signal to the deepest parts of the ocean - where he is positive a gaggle of Gargelites are hidden.
Mostly, the Doctor is distracted from his task by the sight of Rose far bellow. His eyes trail her patch over the rocky crag, narrow when she disappears behind the TARDIS doors. She emerges minutes later with a bicycle, rides it straight into the waves. Her cries up to the sky rival those of the seagulls flying overhead, make him smile.
He drops an antenna when Rose sunbathes on the roof of their small abode - in a rather fetching swimsuit from the fifties. A portable radio plays jazz. The Doctor nearly takes out his own eye in his haste to catch the tumbling antenna. From below comes the sound of Rose’s laughter. She pushes her heart shaped shades atop her head, asks “You alright?”
“Just dandy!” He calls down.
She cooks him a roast that night, pins a dull medal of valor (from the planet Nona) to his chest. She tells him how she found it wedged beneath the floor of the TARDIS and the jump-seat, thought he deserved for the bravery he displayed while constructing the ‘big transmitter what’s-it with all the knobby bits and stuff.’ He wears it for a week straight.
On one occasion, they receive a surprise visit from two men who live in the town twenty miles away. Both strangers are pleasantly delighted and scandalized by Rose’s state of dress. The Doctor doesn’t know whether to be amused at their blushing cheeks or to feel hostile at the liberties their eyes are taking upon Rose’s figure. (The same liberties he took earlier, when she sashayed in and asked if her outfit was a bit much. No, he’d told her.)
06. I wanted to write Doctor/Rose from an outside POV. Lost interest in that quick.
Rose Tyler moves in one month after the stars begin to blink out.
Lucy watches from the lawn, keeping a very lax eye on her younger brother, as the Vitex heiress scowls into the mouthpiece of her phone.
“ - said I’m overworking myself and needed a break. So I said, alright, I’ll take the day off. But Dad had me drugged and carted off to…I’m not sure where I am, Mickey. And he’s said - we’re so close. The dimension cannon is only in prototype but we’re…Oh, Mick.”
Lucy makes an appalled squeak as Thaddeus chooses that moment to rush upon Rose (with arms flailing, a high pitched squawk coming from somewhere deep within his belly). Lucy quickly stands to follow him, apologies tumbling out as she tries to get a hold of her brother’s cart wheeling limbs.
“Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry. He thinks he’s one of those dinosaur birds. The…the what’s-it, yeah? With bat-like wings and the - ”
Rose smiles. “Pterodactyl?”
“Yes!”
“Ah.” Amusement shines clearly from Rose’s eyes as she ends her call and squats before Thaddeus. “You know, I’ve seen real dinosaurs before. I had this…friend. He used to get me into all sorts of trouble. And this one time, right, we had to run from some very angry velociraptors.”
Rose invites them in for tea, and Lucy is torn. On the one hand, Rose is a complete nutter. On the other, she’s, well, Rose Tyler.
“We’d love tea.”
-
It quickly becomes routine, tea with Rose.
After school, Lucy takes Thaddeus’s hand in hers and walks up the front steps to Rose’s home. She serves them tea and lemonade, biscuits and scones. On one occasion she serves them ice cream in crystal dishes, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a handful of candied cherries on the side.
“Your parents,” Rose says, on an afternoon when they’re seated on her tiny front porch. “they don’t mind you spending so much time over here?”
Thaddeus shakes his head, says with childhood certainty “We haven’t got parents.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, runs an affectionate hand over her brothers blonde curls. “Honestly, Thad.” She turns toward Rose to clarify. “Mum died giving birth and Dad left when Thaddeus was three. We live with Gran, and, well. She’s not exactly all there in the head, you know. She says the stars going out is the work of aliens. But everyone knows it’s the world ending. What do you think?”
“Aliens.”
Lucy blinks, thinks her Gran and Rose would get on just fine. Two peas in a pod, them.
“Oh.”