Prompt: Eight x Rose, Alien Planet, Midnight, Fireworks
This is my first attempt at writing Eight, and I'm still getting to know him, but I've fallen for him already.
Beta'd by ScullyWolf.
Rose Tyler sat in the grass in a large field. Around her, spread out to allow plenty of room and some semblance of privacy, were groups of locals. Though they looked very different from humans, the Gandibarians seemed to have familiar social constructs, and Rose could easily pick out families, couples, and friends, all gathered together in their own parties to enjoy the night's festivities.
It was nearing midnight, and the light was minimal where she sat, most of the light emanating from lanterns and torches held by the tentacled locals. She looked around, searching for the Doctor. When Mickey had eaten something that made him sick, the Doctor had taken him back to the TARDIS. Rose had started to go with them, but Mickey had argued.
"You wanted to watch the celebration," he'd told her. "I'm just gonna be at the toilet all night. Don't want company for that."
"Besides," the Doctor had added, "the TARDIS has a brilliant remedy that will make Mickey feel good as new, but first it's going to make him sleep for, oh, about twelve hours."
Though she was still a bit reluctant to leave Mickey, Rose had agreed to pick a spot to watch the fireworks, and the Doctor would join her as soon as Mickey was asleep and safe on the TARDIS.
Occupied with keeping a look out for the Time Lord, Rose was startled when someone suddenly sat down next to her, in the shadows to her left.
"Who're you, then?" she asked, turning to look at the man who'd sat much too close for a stranger, wondering whether he was from a time or place that had fewer requirements for personal boundaries. In the dim light, she could make out a dark velvet trenchcoat, glimpses of brown and white underneath, with something dark at his throat, the ensemble finished off by brown trousers and boots. His chestnut hair was wavy, his eyes tired.
"Do you know the history of the display that's starting soon?" he asked instead of answering her question. His voice was as smooth as the velvet he wore, and he continued speaking without waiting for a response. "There was a war that spanned generations. The casualties were unimaginable, families ripped apart, the countryside torn. Finally, a group of civilians gathered together. They collected all of the weapons they could and put them in one place, surrounded them with explosives, and lit the whole thing up. The display was magnificent and effective. Few enough combatants remained in the devastated population that the destruction of the weaponry, so long after the war had started, long after anyone even remembered why the war had started, was enough to bring an end to the fighting. Now, the explosion is recreated yearly, in a less dramatic fashion, of course. It's now quite similar to Earth's version of fireworks."
Rose watched the stranger while he spoke. There was something familiar about him in the odd outfit, the posture, the assuredness covering insecurity, even a bit in the way he spoke. It wasn't a ramble, more of her first Doctor's deliberate speech, but with a touch of her pinstriped Doctor's sense of whimsy.
As he finished speaking, the display started as if on cue. The first explosion lit up the night sky, and something in the man's eyes made her certain enough to venture a guess.
"Doctor?" she said, hesitantly.
Instead of responding, he studied her intently. Rose felt as if he could see right through her, and she resisted a shiver.
"Who are you?" he asked, pausing as another blast flashed on display. "Our timelines are so closely connected that I can't see anything about who you are."
"They are?" she asked, hugging her knees to her chest and turning her attention to the fireworks. "Doesn't feel like it right now. You've been… It feels like we're falling apart, like you're pulling away."
"How clueless is the regeneration you're traveling with?" asked the wavy-haired Time Lord. "What would make me fight what I must see is inevitable?"
Rose thought for a moment, not wanting to share anything she shouldn't, not wanting to risk meddling with timelines. Then again, he was the one who'd sought her out, and he knew the rules better than she did, theoretically.
"I'm human," she said, turning to look at him. "The closest you've come to… You said you couldn't spend the rest of your life with me. I'll die, and you'll have to watch."
The sky lit again, and she saw pain, sadness, and loss clearly in his eyes before they softened again and the light faded.
"I'll figure it out eventually," he said, "that I can't escape it. I am a genius, after all. Our futures are intertwined." He reached for her hand, taking it and lacing their fingers together as if to illustrate his point. He again paused for a firework, and Rose saw curiosity in his eyes as he watched her. "You never did tell me your name."
She looked down at their interlocked fingers and then back up at him, watching the light play over his features.
"It's Rose," she said. "Rose Tyler."
"Well then, Rose Tyler," he said, leaning towards her and pressing his lips softly against hers before pulling back and smiling softly, nothing like her current Doctor's manic grin. "I look forward to meeting you."
He stood quickly, gracefully, dropping her hand and walking away. She stared after him until she heard footsteps behind her. She turned in time to see her Doctor approach and sprawl in the grass next to her.
"Mickey's fine," said the Doctor. "The TARDIS got him all tucked in for the night." He looked around, frowning as if he were trying to remember something, then shrugged.
Rose studied the Doctor for a moment, emotions churning, before turning her attention to the next burst of color, light, and sound.
"Did I tell you yet what the fireworks are for?" the Doctor asked, cheerfully, and Rose nodded. His grin slipped some as he watched her. "Everything all right, Rose?"
Rose breathed deeply as she thought about her night, about how the Doctor had been acting, about his younger self's assurance that he'd have to let his guard down eventually, about the hope it gave her that they'd soon return to normal, maybe even better than normal, instead of dancing around each other and making excuses.
"Yeah," she answered finally, turning to him and smiling. "Everything is just fine."