Note: This was actually inspired by the very short exchange between Father Octavian and the Doctor in "Flesh and Stone". The demented thing that is my brain decided to warp that exchange and this is what came of it! I like that the Eleventh Doctor has a temper on him, so I wanted to play with it a little bit in here. Oh, and all mistakes are my own (I notice even with obsessive proofing I still miss things). Enjoy the angst! ^_^
The Doctor felt cold. Cold and hollow. He always felt like that when he caused a death. Well, not always. Sometimes he felt like he was burning from the inside out. He'd felt that way when he destroyed his home and when he'd drained the Thames to drown out the Racnoss. Now, he just felt empty and frozen as he looked upon the girl pinned to a concrete wall by an SUV.
He couldn't believe he hadn't heard the vehicle as it sped towards him, driven by a deranged man who'd been manipulated by some telepathic race of extraterrestrials into trying to kill the Doctor. Apparently, the Time Lord had done something to enrage the aliens, but he didn't know what. The poor man they'd chosen as their unknowing assassin had died instantly when the SUV hit the wall, but Rachel, the cheeky young woman he'd met just recently and taken quite a liking to, lay trapped. She'd pushed him out of the way just as the vehicle hurtled towards them, but she hadn't been quick enough to move herself. She was still alive, though. So that was something…wasn't it?
The Doctor bounded around the front of the mangled wreckage, trying desperately to assess the damage done to his new friend while simultaneously hoping against hope that he could pull her out unscathed. But the more he examined, the more he realized that he couldn't save her. He absolutely hated that knowledge.
"Rachel," he said gently, attempting to keep his voice calm so as not to frighten her more to collapse himself in despair. "Rachel, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."
"What is it, Doctor?" She gasped as a wave of pain flooded her body, originating from her waist where the hood of the car kept her pinned. In that instant, she knew. She smiled to keep herself from sobbing. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
The Doctor's hearts broke when he saw the tears starting to flow down her cheeks. He drew in an unsteady breath before he trusted himself to speak. "Rachel, the short of it is…" He couldn't say it. Not yet. Not as bluntly as he needed to, at least. "The short of it is if I try to move you or the car…you'll die."
She forced out a short chuckle at the irony of her situation. "You mean I'm already dead, my body's just a little slow on the uptake."
He screwed his eyes shut tightly against the harsh reality. "You're basically cut in half, Rachel. The car is the only thing holding you together. If I move it…"
"I'll just die quicker, right?" Her smile was still there, but her eyes revealed how terrified she truly was. Another spasm ripped through her, every tremor making her hurt more. When it finally passed, she made a rather disturbing discovery. "I can't feel my legs. I guess I really am cut in half."
More tears cascaded down her face as the gravity of her impending death weighed down on her. She'd never see her family or friends again, never tell them about her wonderful new friend or how much she loved them all, never the new Hobbit movie being made, never hear that whole song or eat that red velvet cake or read that book. So many 'nevers' went through her mind in such a brief moment, Well, this is depressing, she thought, grinning at the irony once again. She started to think of all the good things in her life: how much her friends and family loved her, the stunning films and operas and concerts she'd seen, the pretty clothes she'd sometimes gotten to wear, the delicious meals her mother had cooked for her every day, how much laughter there had been.
The Doctor observed the emotions on her face with the same intensity as if he were witnessing the birth of an entire star system. Humans always fascinated him, especially when they face and accepted something as monumental as their own mortality. This one, though. Rachel. She had just met him a couple hours ago and she was now dying for him. Why? How could she give her life to save someone she didn't know, someone like him? He doubted he would lay down his life for himself, all the blood on his hands, the darkness that lurked in his soul. And yet here she was: sweet, innocent, funny, cheek y Rachel slowly breathing her last in agony so wouldn't have to.
He hated not being able to say anything of comfort, not even to hold her close until death finally took her. He hated feeling so utterly useless. Glancing at the car hood, he noticed her hands trembling against the metal. He took one gently in his own shaking hands, his fingers wrapping around hers as if cradling a baby bird. It was the very least he could do for her now. "I'm so, so sorry, Rachel." He knew he was saying her name more often than necessary. It made him think, just for a moment, if he said it enough everything would be okay. She would push the SUV away, brush herself off, and they'd continue their stroll. Irrational, yes, but he wasn't exactly in a state to be thinking clearly. "I'm so sorry!" His voice cracked on the last word.
Rachel chuckled again, more naturally this time. "Why are you apologizing, Doctor?" She gripped his hand as a third wave swept over her, the pain more acute this time around. "You didn't push me in front of the car or drive it into me. I'm just glad I managed to shove you in time."
He lowered his head the car hood until his forehead touched their joined hands. "I shouldn't have let you talk to me. I should've ignored you. At least then you'd still be alive." He was going to cry. He knew by the sudden tightening of his throat and his quick, deep breaths. He'd shed many tears for humanity as a whole throughout his long life, but only very rarely had he cried for one person. He was about to add Rachel to that list.
They stood in agonizing silence, neither knowing what else to say or do at this point. Rachel was surprisingly calm as she looked into the face of death itself. She supposed it was only because the Doctor was with her, holding her hand. If he wasn't she probably would have broken down into a sobbing mess. And that wasn't a very dignified way to go.
A though suddenly popped into her head, the one thing she hadn't experienced even though she was well past the age when everyone else had done it several times over. Well, hell. I guess it can't hurt to ask. She looked down at the man who was still beating himself up over her death. So much sadness and kindness in this man, whoever he was. And he wasn't half bad-looking either.
"Doctor," she whispered. He didn't raise his head. "Doctor, look at me, please." She saw him stiffen momentarily before his eyes met hers. She marveled at how those beautiful green eyes seemed at once both so young and so incredibly ancient. She nearly decided to forego her request when he was looking right at her, but she steeled herself with the thought that this was her only chance. "Seeing as how I'll be dead at any moment, I was wondering if you'd help me with my last request."
He held her hand a little bit tighter. "Anything, Rachel."
"I don't have many regrets, but there is one thing I've always regretted not doing." She was surprised at how easily she could talk about something like this. Death had a funny way of putting things into perspective, she supposed. "Would you do me the honor of giving me my first, and last, kiss?"
The Doctor froze. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say certainly hadn't been that. His first instinct was to do one of two things: say 'okay' and kiss her cheek of forehead, or refuse her flat-out. But looking at her, at this girl who was giving her life for his, he couldn't do either. They were far too cruel. He reflected on how something as simple as a kiss could complicate everything; it was silly, really. And yet, Rachel was dying, would be dead in moments regardless. How complicated could things get when the other person wouldn't be around much longer? He winced inwardly at how horrible that sounded.
His apprehension was soon overshadowed by a curiosity. "You're twenty-four years old and not exactly ugly, so why haven't you had your first kiss yet?"
Rachel laughed quietly. Today was just one big celebration for irony. "I guess I was just waiting for the right bloke. It never seemed appropriate before."
"And it seems appropriate now? Oh, you are one twisted individual, Rachel. Absolutely warped." Despite the sternness of his words, the Doctor was smiling at her. He was relieved to see her smile back.
"I've always a weirdo, Doctor. I make no apologies for that." She cried out in earnest as her body was subjected to yet another flash of agony. She held onto the Doctor's hand as if he were a lifeline, which he probably was at this point. It passed quickly, but still left her gasping for breath. "So, what's it to be Doctor? If you're worried about someone finding out, your secrets are safe with a dead girl." She forced a small laugh through her tears and her terror before sobering again. "I understand if you don't want to. Just thought it couldn't hurt to ask."
The Doctor knew then and there he couldn't refuse her. He couldn't let her final thought be such a sad one. One kiss was such a small thing to give the person who had saved his life. He made sure she was looking at him, that she could see the sincerity and the gratitude in his eyes. He raised his right hand to cup her cheek while keeping the left wrapped around her own. "Rachel," he began softly. "I won't insult you by lying. I won't say it's going to be okay or the afterlife is going to be a beautiful, wonderful place because I simply don't know. But I do want you to know that you are magnificent. Wonderful, mad, beautiful, and worth every bit of love you've been given. I only wish you could have lived longer so you would know that. I suppose this will have to be enough, though."
Rachel almost stopped breathing when the Doctor leaned in, his eyes so full of sadness they made her question all the times she had been sad. How could those moments compare to the grief she saw now in this man's eyes? He carried it with him everywhere, and yet he was here with her now in her last moments, giving her comfort and one tiny act of compassion that meant the world to her. She bit down the laugh that threatened to burst from her lips at the absurdity of it all; whatever this was, she didn't want to ruin it.
The kiss began with the barest touch of lips, as if he weren't entirely sure if he were doing it right. It was only when she let out the breath she was holding that he dared to be more firm. Tears leaked from Rachel's closed eyes as she pushed aside all thought of death and pain and fear. She forced herself to focus only on the feel of another's lips moving slowly, gingerly against hers.
If she'd ever had any thought about what a kiss would be like, the reality of it blew any and all preconceived notions clear out of the water. The Doctor had called himself a Time Lord when he'd properly introduced himself (to which she'd replied with a smart-alecky "I'm Rachel, queen of the pygmies. Nice to meet ya!"), and she swore she could taste time itself on his lips. A fuzzy kind of warmth spread through her body, fanning out from where she ended and he began. His kiss (he was the one doing the work while she savored it) was far from sexual, but it wasn't exactly chaste either. His lips were insistent yet gentle, his breath wafting across her face, his fingertips pressing tenderly into the flesh just behind her ear. Every now and then the tip of his tongue would timidly touch her lips, not enough to tell her to let him in, but enough to let her know that could if she wanted.
Remembering that she wouldn't get another chance after this, she parted her lips and would have collapsed if the SUV hadn't been holding her up. The difference in sensations was incredible, especially now that she could taste him properly. If starlight and space had flavors, they would taste like the Doctor. A surge of greed overtook her and she swept her tongue through his mouth. She wanted more of that taste. It made her feel the vastness of the universe and eternity, the infinite possibilities and combinations of events. It made her feel like everything was going to be alright. Until tears that weren't her own invaded her senses.
The Doctor was taken aback by her boldness, but he didn't dare pull away just in case she left him before he could say goodbye. She wasn't experienced (of course), and yet that innocence paired with her fear and urgency endeared her to him all the more. There was so much life in this human, this girl…and it was about to end all because of him. His tears surprised him, but not as much as they would have in any other situation. Probably. The contrast between their saltiness and the taste of her, like the air after a thunderstorm, was an unforgiving reminder that she would be forever lost to the world in due time. There was a time that he would have tried to alter her timeline, gone back and saved her. But that was him in another life, another body, in fact. And he'd paid the price for his arrogance then. No matter how much power he held in truth or in theory he was not a god. If he tried now to hop back even just five minutes into the past to save one girl, she would suffer in an even worse way then she was now. Either way, he would lose her. At least this way he could let her die somewhat happily.
The Doctor slowly pulled himself away from Rachel, reluctant to let her go but knowing he had to in order to spare her further pain. She gripped his hand tighter in response and that made his hearts shatter for her even more. Without a single word being spoken, they both knew her time was up. They had to let go.
He released her hands to cradle her head, their foreheads touching tenderly. "Doctor," she whimpered helplessly, "can I go home now?" His eyes closed against the grief in a futile attempt to keep it at bay.
"Yes," he choked out. "Yes, you can go home now. I just have to move the car, okay?"
"Okay." She lifted a shaking hand to his cheek then, a feather-light caress against his skin. "Thank you, Doctor."
He took one more moment to burn the feel of her hair on his fingertips into his memory. How did this girl manage to work her way into his soft side so quickly anyway? Because you love them all, his inner voice reminded him. You hate seeing any of them in pain, and you blame yourself for this one. Always blaming yourself for their suffering. He had to stop thinking. Stop thinking right now.
One deep breath, one more second to memorize everything about her before he launched himself back. He let his anger take over for the briefest instant as he ripped open the SUV's door and pulled the dead driver out and onto the ground. He practically jumped into the seat while his sonic screwdriver started up the engine. And then he remembered. He need to know something before he put the vehicle in reverse. He gazed through the smashed windshield at Rachel, her eyes closed in preparation for what was to come. "Rachel," he called. "What's your last name?"
She opened her eyes to look at him in confusion, his question startling her with its causal simplicity at a time like this. She smiled when she realize she never did tell him her surname. "Hawke. Rachel Hawke."
The sadness in his eyes grew exponentially. "Rachel Hawke," he repeated. "It has truly been an honor to meet you. I wish I would have gotten to know you better."
Her smile at that statement could only be described as angelic. "Maybe in the next life, Doctor. I'm just happy to have met someone like you at all."
They shared one last look, a look that an outside observer would have thought could only belong to the closest and oldest of friends, not two people who had only met two hours previously. In his eyes was unspeakable grief, torment, guilt, pity, and the barest hint of barely-contained rage. In hers was sadness, pain (both physical and emotional), fear, and more than just a little happiness: she had made a friend, saved his life, and been kissed. It was just the dying part that sucked. But she felt it to be an even trade. "Doctor," she called as she saw him disengage the parking brake. "Would you let my family know what happened? I don't want them to worry."
Without even meaning to, she just kept twisting the knife in his chest. This girl who was about to die had a family. A mother and father she revered, two older brothers and a younger sister she adored, and a Jack Russell terrier she thought of as her baby. Why did people with good families and good lives always have to cut down so pitilessly? Why couldn't he have been walking with a serial-killing, puppy-kicking, skinhead rapist just this once? He'd wait until this was all over before he started cursing any and all deities who listened, even those who wouldn't. He'd wait until later to vent that it wasn't fair.
The Doctor nodded slowly, making sure he kept eye contact with her. "Of course." A long pause. "Goodbye, Rachel Hawke."
"Goodbye, Doctor." Another angelic smile from her and he put the car in reverse. He kept his foot on the brake for one moment more, trying to push down his own feelings to do what he needed. There was no way to prepare to let a friend die, no solace for the Time Lord as he quickly moved his foot to the gas pedal. He tried to close his ears to the sounds of squealing tires and a cry that was near-inhuman in its raw agony; he was shocked to discover that it in fact had not come from him.
When he dared to look up, Rachel wasn't there. He stepped out of the totaled SUV and walked to the front. She was on the ground in a pool of blood, her legs mangled almost beyond recognition. He crumpled to the ground by her head. He knew before he even touched her that she was dead. With as much tenderness as he could manage he pulled her head into his lap. His trembling fingers brushed away the dirt from her cheek and hair, lingering reverently on her skin. His tears fell onto her face like rain. He quietly grieved for her now, for everything she could have been. The last time he'd wept as openly as this had been when the Master died. Although the situations were completely different, the pain was no less now as it had been then.
He wasn't sure how long he'd knelt in that deserted alleyway. It could have been minutes or hours or days. Hell, it could have been weeks for all he knew or cared at this point. His eyes finally went dry, though he was far from over mourning the loss of his new friend. All that was left after the tears was a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was anger. Beings with a grudge against him had killed someone he liked along with someone he never met (the would-be puppet assassin). He still didn't know why they wanted him dead and he didn't care anymore. His fury was taking over. The wrath of a Time Lord was a terrible thing to behold, and he would make sure that whoever was responsible for Rachel's death would know just how horrific he could be. Fury was one thing, but partnered with anguish he was like the Four Horsemen wrapped into one. Yes, he would find those who hated him and give them reason to fear him instead.
The Doctor spared one more glance at Rachel's face, so peaceful in spite of her dreadful end. Although he knew she couldn't hear him, he leaned down and whispered his assurance that she would be avenged. Her death would not be taken lightly by either him or the aliens who caused it. He would make them fear every shadow, every sudden sound, every flash of light, thinking it was the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds back for further vengeance. Their stars would tremble in his wake until he was satisfied they had learned their lesson.
But before he did all that, he had a family to visit. He'd made a promise to let them know what happened to their daughter. He would do his best to console them, although he knew any kind of comfort would not come easily. Not for people who had known and loved Rachel Hawke for so long.
The Doctor would always remember this moment. Not only his silent promise to himself to never forget the girl in his arms, but the knowledge that he was not all-powerful. No matter how hard he tries, how little he gets involved in others' lives, they are always in danger. And he cannot save them all.