Show/ Ship= Doctor Who. Ten/Rose
Disclamier- I own this...and pretty much everything else.
Summary- Is it really a game and exactly mwany players are there?
A/N- For some reason this is speaking to me, so two updates rather quick. Yay me.
Rose leaned against the console and stared at the flickering lights on the monitor.
It had become something of a game to watch them blink in sequence; red, green, blue, mauve. Red, green, yellow, mauve. Red, green, blue, mauve. It was almost hypnotic the way they started in the far corner and slowly slid down the screen.
Once Rose had asked the Doctor what the lights meant, what pattern they were spelling out and he had given her that look, the one which implied that she needed a bib.
“This frankly magnificent non-sequential formation serves the dual purpose of entertainment and to prevent phosphor burn-in on the mainframe of the CRT interface.”
Rose had put this through her 'Doctor filter'.
She'd blinked at him. “It's a screen saver?”
“No,” he'd scratched his ear, “well, yes.”
And that had been that.
Still, it was very pretty and kept her occupied whilst the Doctor completed his very important errand that he'd just had to run while she waited in the console room.
Twenty minutes ago.
Twenty long minutes ago.
And frankly she was bored of waiting; of course that was nothing new.
Rose was fed up of waiting for some many things.
Fed up of waiting for the invention of the calorie free chocolate bar. Fed up of waiting for the TARDIS to land them on Erat Bulova with its rainbow aardvarks and snow that smelled of lemon. Fed up of tripping over spare parts of toasters whenever she went to make breakfast, oh,
and she was FED UP of waiting for the Doctor to make a move.
Seriously, she had to have had more cold showers in the past few months than Mickey had ever had in his life. She was in severe danger of getting hyperthermia.. or was it hypothermia... whichever meant that she would be frozen to death before the unresolved sexual tension drove her completely insane.
She needed distraction, damn it or she was going to cave and for the good of women everywhere and, basically because he'd be impossible to live with if she did, she had to hold herself back.
No matter how much she wanted to just say 'screw it' and grab him by the tie and yank him into her bedroom for the next two years.
The thought made her hands curl and she slammed them against the console, making the TARDIS hum in protest.
Rose immediately felt guilty. It wasn't the TARDIS's fault that the Doctor was a stupid male. Girls had to stick together.
She rubbed her hand over the control she had just smacked and the TARDIS hummed softly, telling her that she was forgiven.
Rose smiled. “Sorry, girl.”
She massaged the back of her neck and groaned.
“This,” she declared, “is killing me. I'm gonna go get his Lordship and we are gonna go save some planet or something, because if we don't, I'm gonna kill him... or maul him.”
She glanced down at the console. “You ain't exactly helping. Can't you, I dunno, land us on one of the shag-or-die cliché planets? Or how about telepathically telling him to jump me.”
The TARDIS gave a very low whine and Rose sagged. “Fine, but if you don't get us to a planet soon, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions!”
Rose turned on her heel and went to find the Doctor. If she couldn't jump him then she was going to make damn sure that they landed on a planet and were running for their lives.
She was going to get her frustrations out one way or another.
The TARDIS had been planted from a particle of space coral millennia ago. She had grown happily in a cerulean blue field with red grass and amber sky along with millions of other coral shards, some of who would grow up to become TARDIS's, other would become columns or integral parts to translation filters. Some would even one day become planets themselves, holding the whole of a civilization and history within their sacred spheres.
Then, with a flash and scream it had all gone, all of them burned and locked away tighter than a memory and the emptiness she felt was acute.
Her Doctor, the one who had taken her from that field and danced her across the universe, sliding in and out of trouble easier than she could navigate the vortex, was suddenly alone and in their telepathic link she could feel the hole where his soul used to be. His blackened and tortured psyche had warped and twisted the soft-hearted child that he had once been and the romantic dreamer he had remained and shattered him into pieces.
The final act of the Time War had been death. His Eighth reincarnation had been unable to handle the weight of two genocides and he had ripped himself, screaming and bleeding, into the war-hardened soldier that wore a leather jacket like a suit of armor.
Before the war they sailed through the universe, now they stormed it, leaving devastation in their wake.
Non-intervention had gone the way of Gallifrey and her Doctor, her once sweet, naive Doctor, ruthlessly squashed any hint of insurrection with the force of a dictator. His way was right and anyone who disagreed had just better get out of the way.
Civilizations could fall and he wouldn't blink, people could die and he looked the other way.
His heart formed a layer of ice and she was beginning to fear that nothing could break the shell.
Then along came the golden child. Oh, at first she had been all pink and yellow, another one in a long line of traveling companions that might distract the Doctor from himself.
But the pink one proved more than that, within hours she had made the dark Doctor smile. Within days she made him laugh, really laugh and that was when the TARDIS took a closer look at this mortal child.
She liked what she saw.
The pink one was sincere in her affections and delighted in her surroundings and the opportunity to grow so much more than other people from her time.
Her dedication to the Doctor had cemented her place both with in the ship and within his life.
He changed before their eyes, softening, the ice melting until his eyes once again shone with joy when he looked at his pink one and his two hearts sang.
The TARDIS and her Doctor loved their little pink one.
Which was why she let the pink child see into her heart. The pink one swallowed the whole of time and became more. She was the savior, the destroyer, the Bad Wolf and the golden child.
She took in the entire universe and saved him.
She saved him from the madness, from the darkness and from himself.
But she couldn't save his body and he regenerated.
His dying thoughts had been of her, hoping against hope that he would stay someone she could be with even though he derided himself for his folly.
The Doctor was always one for great passions: the Old Lords blamed it on his half-human heritage, but the truth is that deep emotions lay at the heart of all Time Lords but they feared to access it.
It was their downfall.
He burned with rebellion. He burned with justice. With indignation. With compassion.
But now he burns for her.
The golden child.
His hearts pound, his soul sings and he burns.
Yet fear lurks- as it always has- the consequence of childhood taunting.
Not Gallifreyan enough.
Not detached enough.
Not smart enough.
Not brave enough.
And now, not human enough.
More than her, less than her. Not what she wants, not what she needs.
His circular thoughts echo around the room whilst she sleeps, a spiral of self-recrimination and doubt getting louder and louder, undermining his desire until his hands clench at the controls and his breath is ragged and it is all he can do not to crawl into her bed and beg her to allow him to be enough.
He fears rejection.
He fears himself.
The golden child wants and needs with such intensity and also fears his rejection.
Yet to protect her heart she believes this to be a game.
Maybe it is a game; a game in which the wrong outcome will be disaster. The wrong outcome will destroy not just three hearts but possibly two lives which would spiral out into the cosmos. They stop holding hands, the stop running, they stop saving lives. He drowns in his loneliness and the stars weep.
They do not know that their little game could cause the end of the universe.
The TARDIS will not allow that.
The Doctor and the golden child will be one. They have had time to start their little game and make their moves but the game drags on and all are tired of the play.
No one knows that there is another player.
And the TARDIS plays to win.