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So, watching 'Forest of the Dead' reawakened the plotbunnies. I'm not going to write seriously until after finals (because they are trying to kill me dead) but this little bit would not go away, so I wrote it out (in 15 minutes) and here it is. It's near the end of the Ten-Rose-Ace fic I've been slowly chipping away at for the last two years, and of course after all of the, you know, plot that goes in between what I have now and what is here. Argh. Anyway.
“Come with us.” He said, and he means it, she can tell. She could always tell when he was being truthful, and when he was just babbling as a way to distract the unwary, or those rare times he made a stab at social niceties. She looks to the current companion, to gauge her reaction. Rose looks less than enthused about this plan, but not outright rebellious. Like the rest of them, Rose would do anything for the Doctor. After all, he’d do just about anything for them. Loyalty begets loyalty, and so on and so forth. He obviously hasn’t lost his touch in that respect.
She looks back at him, and he smiles. It’s both familiar and utterly alien at the same time – she can see a friend in that smile – rolled ‘r’s and brollys and all of the places they always meant to go but never quite made it to, jazz bands and explosions and pushing her far beyond her comfort zone to become something better than she was previously destined to be. But it’s so different now as well. So much loss, so much pain, his old confidence taken away and shattered into a million sparkling pieces that reflect oddly in his eyes. He’s no longer Time’s Champion.
She is. Promoted from pawn to queen, now back down to white knight, tilting crazily across the board. The game hasn’t stopped, it has just taken on new players.
“I can’t.” Ace replies, not meaning to sound quite so lost, feeling deeply guilty when the loss in his eyes multiplies. “I want to, I’m sorry. But I can’t, Professor. I…” She doesn’t get any further, unable to face his grief. She forgot how easily he could reduce her to mouse-size, when he stopped trying to appear human and let the full weight of years and knowledge peer out from those eyes. That hasn’t changed one little bit, no. She used to imagine, ages and ages ago, that he could see her thoughts trickling through her brain when he started looking like that.
“It’s alright, you know, we have room…” Rose interjects, confused by the sudden shift in mood and trying to set things right again. “I don’t mind, really.” Ace gives her a wry grin – she can see Rose does, a bit, and doesn’t blame her. Who wants to share the Doctor? It’s so easy to be selfish.
“You’re right.” The Doctor says – to Ace, and she hazards a look up at him. There is still grief, still that aching loss she thinks she might understand but will never ever ask about, and…
Pride?
Yeah.
She smiles at him suddenly, and is rewarded with an answering grin, and for a second, it feels like old times, like home.
“Come with us.” He said, and he means it, she can tell. She could always tell when he was being truthful, and when he was just babbling as a way to distract the unwary, or those rare times he made a stab at social niceties. She looks to the current companion, to gauge her reaction. Rose looks less than enthused about this plan, but not outright rebellious. Like the rest of them, Rose would do anything for the Doctor. After all, he’d do just about anything for them. Loyalty begets loyalty, and so on and so forth. He obviously hasn’t lost his touch in that respect.
She looks back at him, and he smiles. It’s both familiar and utterly alien at the same time – she can see a friend in that smile – rolled ‘r’s and brollys and all of the places they always meant to go but never quite made it to, jazz bands and explosions and pushing her far beyond her comfort zone to become something better than she was previously destined to be. But it’s so different now as well. So much loss, so much pain, his old confidence taken away and shattered into a million sparkling pieces that reflect oddly in his eyes. He’s no longer Time’s Champion.
She is. Promoted from pawn to queen, now back down to white knight, tilting crazily across the board. The game hasn’t stopped, it has just taken on new players.
“I can’t.” Ace replies, not meaning to sound quite so lost, feeling deeply guilty when the loss in his eyes multiplies. “I want to, I’m sorry. But I can’t, Professor. I…” She doesn’t get any further, unable to face his grief. She forgot how easily he could reduce her to mouse-size, when he stopped trying to appear human and let the full weight of years and knowledge peer out from those eyes. That hasn’t changed one little bit, no. She used to imagine, ages and ages ago, that he could see her thoughts trickling through her brain when he started looking like that.
“It’s alright, you know, we have room…” Rose interjects, confused by the sudden shift in mood and trying to set things right again. “I don’t mind, really.” Ace gives her a wry grin – she can see Rose does, a bit, and doesn’t blame her. Who wants to share the Doctor? It’s so easy to be selfish.
“You’re right.” The Doctor says – to Ace, and she hazards a look up at him. There is still grief, still that aching loss she thinks she might understand but will never ever ask about, and…
Pride?
Yeah.
She smiles at him suddenly, and is rewarded with an answering grin, and for a second, it feels like old times, like home.
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*loves them, and this*