This is my second attempt at this fanfic. I did a version of this some time ago-a couple of years ago, in fact, when Series 3 was still new or had not even aired yet. I wanted to deal with it then, yeah. And I guess you can say this is my way of revising/editing what I did in the past, but I want to try and take it in a new direction-or at least mess with it a little bit before I delete the old version.
And so-here it is: the first chapter, or Prologue, 'Stand' resurrected in its new form-slightly more in-depth with Bad Wolf Bay...next section will deal with the rest, or what comes after that. I might view Runaway Bride again to get in touch with that. Anyway, thanks for reading-been awhile since I've done anything with fanfic. (Well, unless you count RP stuff.)
Stand
"Rose Tyler-"
And then he faded away.
The Doctor's words caught in his throat. The supernova had fizzled out—and the gap had closed; he had lost the connection. The TARDIS was just floating in the darkness of space once more; the only other lights came from distant stars thousands of light years away.
He was an idiot. How could he—how could they have wasted time like that, jabbering on without anything to say-except for what was most important being left unsaid? They wasted time, and the power of a supernova, just for-small talk. He was a Time Lord, and he was better than that-wasn't he?
Wondering where they were, what was going on, and telling her how she and the rest of them were dead back on their planet-small talk. Just small talk compared with-he almost considered going out to find another dying star, right then and there, in the hope that he could re-establish contact—just in case- but no; he couldn't do that. Wouldn't be right; wouldn't be fair; stupid responsibility. Too much risk involved when he would have collapsed both universes, wouldn't he?
Too much messing about changed things. If he played around too much—'boom' goes everything. Every once and awhile was all right, even 'healthy' for the universe, but if he changed things too much-one supernova might help the universe. Two supernovas, too close together—one supernova would clear out the old star, make way for another, and let its energy spread out into the universe-almost beautiful.
But a second one too fast, too soon—could wipe out the whole galaxy wherever it was, and that would be catastrophic. Not to mention that 'universes-collapsing' deal...
It wasn't worth blowing up a whole other star, was it? Just to say-
The Doctor stood, the incandescence of the walls flickering slightly as he gasped-trembling slightly, with the time rotor's pumping paused. It was almost as bad as being cut off from Rose when the void closed. Except that—at least he had the chance to say something. Even if he had ruined it.
And at least she was still alive—and not really dead. He had seen her, standing there, and had spoken to her—he hadn't imagined that part where Pete had grabbed her just before the void swallowed them whole. They were still alive. And Rose would live-she would live without him. Wouldn't she?
He hated to think of her wasting her life. She was brave, and—intelligent, and—she had a decent life, Mickey, and her mum and dad, and the baby brother, and-Torchwood; he shuddered to think about that part, but at least 'Defender of the Earth' had a nice ring to it. She would live a nice long time, he hoped, and he-he would go on; as always.
He had been so grief-stricken to see her standing there in front of him, with hope in her heart yet pain as well at seeing him and not being able to touch him—and he couldn't feel her as well. He had a hard time just keeping it in, even smiling, when he felt like crying every time he spoke. They were just too far away-too disconnected. And they couldn't talk much, they tried, he knew, they tried to say things that mattered—even the small talk was just a way of holding out hope
And the moment she had said that-what he had most wanted to hear, in some way, and yet what he had not wanted to hear-he wanted...his heart broke then. He couldn't swallow. "Quite right, too," had been stupid to say, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Except—"And I suppose-if it's my last chance to say-Rose Tyler-"
And that was it—there wasn't anymore. He couldn't finish it. "And I suppose-if it's my last chance to say-"weren't very great starts, but not to say-it just ruined it. She just faded away from him, and he was standing there, alone in the console room, the words caught in his throat, and he was gasping, gaping, wanting to say it even now, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. And he throbbed, everything throbbed, it was just—empty and alone; the lack of Rose. His mouth opened and closed, lips trembling as a tear dripped down from his eye.
It was like-a loss that he couldn't even mourn properly, for she was still there-waiting for him to come back, perhaps, and-there wasn't a chance; was there? No, no chance, but he would always feel like waiting for her as well, knowing that-somehow he was still connected to her. And he would always feel like that.
He couldn't turn his back completely on her-no matter how hard he tried. She was his friend, but more than that-she was his companion; the first companion he had so soon after having lost everything on Gallifrey.
It seemed as if the whole TARDIS might collapse. He would float away, out into the universe, and-that was it; that was the show. And he had blown was the last 'big bang', and he had accidentally left before the final curtain call.
The Doctor lowered his head slightly, staring down at the metal floor-if he collapsed onto his knees, that would bruise his kneecaps. And the palms of his hands would be scratched by the grooves of the grating as he caught himself. Then his knuckles would be crushed as he pounded his fists again and again on that floor—what a fit.
The Doctor stood; even now, he would not give in to temptation-or grief.
Thanks for reading-more soon, I hope.
