Beta: Miral-Romanov
Prompter: Genesis Chi, who is an absolute darlin' :3
From Our Forever
He frowned at the otherwise lovely sight— the sky had clouds of fuchsia, lavender and turquoise patterned in an erratic fluffy blossom, an asteroid belt orbiting so closely it seemed like he could reach up with one hand and pluck them into his palm, and stars visible even through the purple haze, and the ground had tall, dark indigo grass that hummed when the breeze rippled through it, and smelled delicious. Like the air after a rainstorm in a flower garden, or a forest in autumn. But why was he here?
Then he remembered with a nod to himself and a sigh. He'd come here to die.
Well, the Doctor thought with a hum as he settled down in the grass comfortably, it was time. He was well over two thousand now (though he'd never admit it) and though the Time Lords had granted him an extra body last time, they wouldn't do it again. Couldn't do it again. They were still in whichever universe he'd sent them to. Ah well, he supposed, they'd figure out a way back eventually— it just wouldn't be with his help. He remembered picking the spot now, remembered giving his battered old, equally sick TARDIS a grateful pat in parting before stumbling into the field and making it a few metres before his knees gave out. He couldn't remember where he was, but it didn't matter— it was pretty and he was quite content dying here, whether or not he knew the name of it.
A small whooshing noise followed by what sounded like something heavy collapsing into the grass some few yards away from him met his ears. He tried to sit up to investigate, but a sharp pain shot from his abdomen up his spine and he whimpered, lying back down at once. He craned his neck, trying to see through the foliage to see what was there to no avail, though the rustling sounds stopped and were replaced by what sounded like a woman's laboured breathing. "Hello?" he croaked out, throat dry as parchment.
Whoever it was dissolved into a coughing fit, which was followed by more rustling noises that seemed to grow closer to him. He felt a spark of fear despite having come here for the purpose of death, wishing he had something to defend himself— and the strength to do it in the first place. A curtain of pale blonde hair with severely dark roots stumbled through the grass, and horror washed his insides when the woman lifted her head.
"Rose?"
Even with his tired eyes, it was clearly her— she looked nearly identical to the time he left her on Bad Wolf Bay snogging the metacrisis version of him, save for the lines of age that were unnoticeable to a human and the fact that her hair had grown to waist-length and her roots had been left untreated. When her eyes (still brown like cocoa, though significantly less young and innocent) met his own, recognition flared in them despite him looking significantly different than she'd last seen him. To his utter horror, what looked suspiciously like blood was streaked across her chin and her lower lip, as though it had spilled from her mouth and she'd tried to hastily wipe it away. He spared a moment of logical thinking to glance down at the back of her hands, and lo and behold one was stained red as well.
She dragged herself over to him, collapsing by his side only inches from touching him on her stomach. "Doc—" she coughed into the grass, "Doctor."
"What—? How are you—?" he spluttered, trying to heave himself up a second time and failing again. Her breathing was frightening him— every inhale seemed like a struggle and she kept making a wheezing noise.
"You don't remember," she said as though to remind herself, pushing herself up on shaking elbows to look down at him.
"Wh-what?" he stammered, unable to take his eyes off her.
She carefully dragged herself closer, pausing once to cough again into her arm, before reaching over with one hand and placing two fingers on his temple. "Can I?"
He didn't know how she could possibly do what she was asking his permission for, but he nodded nonetheless. The Doctor inhaled sharply when he felt her mind brush against his, a beautiful flare of gold in his cavernous, empty head, before his vision dissolved into black and he gasped out as memories flooded before his eyes.
He was in his first body, a downcast, lonely old man sitting by himself on a park bench. His head was hung and his hands rested on his knees, looking starkly out of place in contrast to the sunny park and happy patrons. Unnoticed by everyone because of the bright light, a flash of gold momentarily lit up the ground before a woman staggered out from behind three thick trees, hand on her abdomen. Despite clearly being in pain, she zeroed in on him, lost in his own world of despondence; a gentle smile grew on her face and she straightened up, trying to walk towards him without stumbling too much.
"Hello," she said quietly, sitting down on the bench next to him.
He scowled at her for interrupting his brooding moment. "Can I help you, young lady?"
"Not really, no," she said brightly, giving him a brilliant smile.
"Then why are you here?" he said rudely, looking down over his nose at her.
Her smile never wavered for a moment, only growing into something decidedly kind, stunning him for a moment. "You looked kinda sad." His scowl deepened and his eyes swivelled away from her to glare at his knees. "What happened?"
He stayed quiet for the longest time, but she waited patiently. "What's your name?" he asked instead, scrutinising her.
"Rose," she said gently.
"Rose," he repeated, head hanging as he thought of his lost granddaughter. That had been her name too, in a sense. All the fight drained out of him at once, and he sighed with defeat. "I just said goodbye to my granddaughter."
"Granddaughter?" she echoed, smile dropping off of her face in astonishment.
He didn't register her look of shock, only mentally remarking his curious flicker of disappointment that her smile was gone. "Yes. Susan."
She seemed to recover, smile returning although looking a little bit more sombre than before. "Why did she leave?"
"She fell in love," he said shortly, looking bitter about the very thought. "With a human boy."
"That's sweet," Rose replied, grin widening again. It didn't register until later that she hadn't commented on his use of the word 'human'. "You'll see her again, though, won't you?"
"Yes," he supplied grudgingly.
"Then you ought to be happy for her," she chirped, pausing for a moment to cough discreetly into her hand. "She may not be travellin' with you anymore, but at least she's with someone who'll take care of her, yeah? An' it's not like she's, oh, trapped in a parallel universe or anythin'."
He nodded, frowning at her odd example. Then something hit him and he whipped his head around. "How did you know we were travelling?"
She sent him a coy tongue-touched smile, hopping off the bench and saying cheerily, "Bye Doctor," before striding back towards the trees, giggling.
He scrambled off the bench as well, heading in her direction when she disappeared behind the trunks. "Hold on!" he shouted, circling the trees and gaping when he found no trace of her.
The Doctor gasped when he returned to the present, the violet sky and her strained smile returning. "That was you!"
She nodded happily. "Yep! You were a grump back then."
Despite their conditions they both laughed, prompting a coughing fit from her and a wince of pain from him, silencing them both. When Rose straightened up again, she spotted the terrified look he was sending her. "Why are you coughing?"
She smiled sadly. "You'll remember," she said, and he gasped again when more memories flooded in.
He was now curly-haired and wearing a cape, though still scowling with as much distaste as the previous time, although this time he was lounging on the stone step outside of the UNIT building. Liz was most likely still in there, conked out in the TARDIS after the Auton invasion— well, he surmised, he had kept her up for days.
"What're you mopin' about now?" said a teasing female voice behind him, making him turn his head and causing his frown to deepen.
"Not moping," he muttered, before properly taking in the blonde-haired woman striding towards him with a discreet stumble to her gait. He gaped in astonishment. "You're Rose!"
"Last time I checked," she grinned, tongue between her teeth.
"No, but you're the Rose from ages ago!" he spluttered, actually looking alarmed when she plopped down next to him again.
"Last time I checked," Rose repeated, giggling. Before he could open his mouth again, no doubt to splutter out more nonsense about how very 'Rose' she was, she added quickly, "So, why are you mopin'?"
"I'm not moping," he groused, scowl returning.
"Yes you are," Rose said matter-of-factly. "Now, are you gonna tell me or am I gonna have to guess?"
"They've exiled me!" he burst out at once, suddenly righteously furious. Jumping off his spot on the step and leaving Rose's amused look unnoticed as he began to pace, the Doctor ranted angrily, "Exile! That's a bit much, don't you think? Stuffy old codgers, the lot of them… they don't realise that they're 'watch and don't interfere' rule isn't always the best thing to do. It needed fixing, so it was hardly something to exile me over… and Zoe! And Jamie! They didn't deserve to have their memories erased; they were just doing as I told them! They—" He stopped himself for a moment, looking her over with enquiry. "Who are you?"
"Thought we established twice that I was Rose," she said with another tongue-touched grin.
"Yes, but who are you?" he said, crossing his arms. "You disappeared last time, without a trace, I don't know what your last name is or where you're from, let alone when you're from, and you somehow seem to know me well even though you didn't know I had a granddaughter." When her eyebrows rose, he said grudgingly, "I… reflected a lot on that day."
She was beaming now, stunning him like she had all those centuries ago. "Well, I can't really answer all of your questions, but let's just say I'm Rose Tyler, I'm from a lot of places and times and I do know you well. You just don't talk about yourself much."
She looked put out, and despite himself he felt a bit guilty. He frowned, uncrossing his arms and sitting back down beside her. "How do you know me?"
"Can't tell you that either," she said teasingly, nudging his shoulder with hers. When he scowled petulantly, she laughed and patted his arm fondly. "You'll find out eventually."
"When is eventually?" he whined.
"Depends— how old are you now?"
"I am thousands of years old," the Doctor sniffed, frown deepening when she laughed again.
"Liar," she taunted.
Before he could argue, she turned away from him abruptly, covering her mouth with her hand and starting to cough violently. His frown hit rock bottom, eyebrows drawing together as she started to convulse from the force of her coughing, and he reached up with one hand and patted her back awkwardly. When she stopped, breathing heavily, he asked with concern, "Are you ill?"
"S'nothin'," she said dismissively, standing up abruptly. This time the Doctor spotted the way she favoured her side. "I have to go."
"What?" he said in alarm, jumping onto his feet and hurrying after her when she started to stumble away. "Why?"
"'Cos I do," she said vaguely. When he reached out to grab her arm and stop her, she whirled around before he could touch her, hurling her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He stayed rigid, stunned at the sudden contact. "You'll be travellin' again soon. I'll see you later, yeah?"
Before the Doctor could open his mouth to respond, or reciprocate her hug, she pulled away quickly and disappeared behind the corner of the building.
When he returned to actuality, it took him a while to realise Rose was now slumped halfway on top of him, gasping for breath into his chest. "You are sick," he whimpered, reaching up with one shaking, wrinkled hand and slipping his fingers into her hair. "You're so young."
She chuckled weakly into his chest, the fingers on his temple trembling slightly. Once again a scene different from where he was bloomed in front of his eyes.
He was blonde and young this time, lying down on his back on the plains of the Eye of Orion, the shards of a gold star clutched in his palm. The breeze rustled the grass, which along with his own melancholy was probably why he didn't register the slight whooshing noise from behind him, nor the footsteps that came closer towards him. He jumped when he finally noticed her, now sitting next to him in the grass.
"You came!" he gasped, sitting up and all but tackling her in a gigantic hug.
She sighed, running her hands over his back comfortingly and smiling into his neck despite herself. "Expectin' me?"
"Hoping," he whispered, sounding slightly ashamed of himself.
"Good," she hummed. "Now, what happened?"
"Don't want to talk about it," the Doctor mumbled, allowing her to lower him back down onto the grass so that they were lying down, Rose draped over his chest. Even though he barely knew her, he asked, "How long can you stay?"
"Not very long," she admitted, much to his despair. "Few minutes." As he nudged closer to her for comfort, mentally remarking how everybody had to leave him, Rose reached for his hand only to frown when her fingers met the object in his palm. "What's that?"
It was a while before he answered, despite knowing how little precious time he had with her. "It belonged to Adric," he admitted quietly.
"A companion?" When he nodded, she asked, "What happened to him?"
"He died."
Rose nudged her head into the crook of his neck, and for a moment he felt even a little bit at peace. "'M sorry."
He gave her hand a grateful squeeze, before blurting out, "Are you going to die?"
"We all die," Rose pointed out. "Even you."
"The last time I saw you, you were sick," he said bitterly. "And you're wearing the same clothes as before. How long ago was that for you?"
She fiddled with her earring before mumbling dismissively, "'Bout fifteen minutes."
"How old are you?"
A tired smile appeared on her face— she'd known it was only a matter of time before that question came up in conversation. "'Bout a hundred." Before he could question her further, she turned her head to face him — even in this moment of seriousness he couldn't help but flush at how close her mouth was to his — and said earnestly, "I can't tell you anythin' more. Soon you're going to have to forget ever meeting me."
"Why?"
"'Cos I have to meet you first," she said, her tongue-touched grin looking somewhat weak.
When she sat up and started to raise herself, he immediately grabbed hold of her sleeve like a child. "Don't leave."
"I have to." She sank back down onto her knees and gave him another hug. "You'll see me again."
As his fifth self watched her dissolve into golden light with a heavy heart, he gasped out in reality, feeling acid-like tears burning the corners of his eyes. "You're—?" he started to say, but she didn't give him a chance to finish before another memory crashed on his mind like a tidal wave.
The scene changed at once from the Eye of Orion to the brilliant, blossoming flora of Fidelius, where his eighth self sat forlornly at a circular table in the town square, watching a trio of enthusiastic violinists play an upbeat melody. Rose immediately sank down into the seat next to him, one hand on her abdomen again.
"S'nice," she supplied, nodding towards the trio. "Would prefer somethin' a little slower." He turned to her, a scowl evident on his face like he was about to chastise her for daring to approach him, but when the Doctor saw it was her he launched himself out of his chair, scooping her into his hold and hugging her so tightly he lifted her off of her chair as well. "Hopin' I'd come again?" she teased, smiling into his chestnut hair as he lowered her back onto the ground.
"Always," he whispered.
She hummed, warmth bubbling in her stomach. He quickly pulled away, took her hand and dragged her out of the square, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons behind a particularly large bit of foliage. As Rose sank down at the base of a tree a bit too gingerly to be normal, pulling him down with her onto the grass, he abandoned any pretext of keeping a respectful distance and sat down next to her, dragging her into his lap and pressing his face into her neck. She let out a sigh, the sound cheering him up slightly, and she laced their fingers together.
"What's the matter now?" she asked gently.
"How long can you stay?" he said instead.
"You know how long."
He sighed forlornly into her neck, tightening his grip on her. "Will I see you again after this?"
She frowned. "'Course you will. Why would you ask…?" She trailed off, bowing her head in realisation. "The Time War's about to start, isn't it?"
"Is that what it is?" He exhaled loudly, retracting one hand from her waist to run it through his unruly curls. "All I know is that something's about to happen." She stayed silent. "It's going to be bad, isn't it?"
"Is war ever good?" Rose said vaguely, trailing her thumb over the back of his hand in an effort to comfort him.
"This is different."
"Yeah it is."
"How different?"
"I can't tell you," she said, not sharply but not gently either. "You know that."
He scowled, and in any other situation he'd push her away to go and brood somewhere by himself, but because his time with her was thin as it was he merely tightened his grip into something near punishing. She winced as the change in pressure pushed against her chest, and, sensing her distress and feeling slightly guilty about it, he loosened grip a little, but not before she started to cough. The Doctor lifted one hand up and placed it on her back, sadly waiting out the coughing fit as he had the last couple of times, but when she continued to cough for several minutes to the point where she was forced to stumble out of his embrace, crouching onto the grass and making slight wheezing noises as though she couldn't properly take in breath, he sat up and frowned at her.
"Rose?" She was unable to answer, merely shifting a bit to try and take in air. Her change in angle gave him the opportunity to see blood spilling from her mouth down her chin, spraying the grass. His hearts lodged in his throat at once, and he cried out her name again in utter terror when she finished with a strangled inhale, falling back against him again as though she'd fallen unconscious. "Rose!"
With trembling limbs he started to gather her up, intent on taking her back to the TARDIS – he had to save her; she couldn't die. She couldn't — but her hand gripped his sleeve and tugged with the same amount of strength as an afternoon breeze. "You—" She coughed once more, letting go of his sleeve to wipe away the blood from her chin before trying again. "You can't s-save me."
"You can't die!" he cried, and despite her insistence he stood up with her cradled in his arms and started stumbling towards his ship.
"You can't save me," Rose repeated, drawing in a rattling breath.
"I have to try. I can't lose you, not you too…" He stopped his frantic pace, bowing his head over hers and sinking to his knees in the grass, not ten metres from the TARDIS's position.
"You'll see me again," she promised, giving him a gentle smile, starkly in contrast to the blood on her mouth. Reaching up with one hand, she cupped the side of his face with her clean hand, and he tilted his head into her palm for comfort. The look on his face was devastation incarnate, but she swallowed down the crying fit it almost brought on. "An' everything'll be better then."
"Promise?" he whispered.
The smile on her face immediately turned sad, and before it registered in his mind two fingers on the hand covering his cheek slipped towards his temple. The Doctor's eyes rolled back, his grip on her going lax as he slumped into the grass. With great difficulty she sat up, breathing shallowly, head dizzy from lack of oxygen, and stared down at him with regret. Soon the Time War would end for this beautiful, Mr. Darcy-esque Doctor, in the inevitable way of pain and fire and loss, and he'd find the young, naïve her that'd promise him forever without knowing how long (or how short) forever would be.
And she pressed the button on her Vortex Manipulator for the last time.
He only barely managed to drift back into reality, enough to realise tears were pouring down his face, before new memories formed. Except these ones were hasty, flying by like a film on fast-forward, and they were hers.
He saw through Rose's eyes, felt her pain at losing him the first time she got trapped in the parallel universe, her determination to get back to him no matter what. She'd been having mild headaches for weeks, ever since starting to build the dimension cannon— she attributed it to lack of sleep and stress. Years later, she found her way back after sifting through several different times and places in the original universe, only to be left behind on that god-damned beach again by him. It still hurt, so much, regardless of his intention, regardless of the identical Doctor holding her hand and whispering his love for her in her ear, and his promise of forever with her.
He saw just how long their forever was— three and a half months, of the metacrisis' inexplicable exhaustion, horrible migraines and constant tremors, of going to Torchwood multiple times for tests, of their utter horror when they realised there was no Doctor in this universe, and there never had meant to be. The universe was killing him; had killed him to right itself.
He saw her cry for weeks, mourn her Doctor yet again, pound on the duvet and scream at the universe for taking everything away, wondering why it didn't just kill her too. The universe lived up to that expectation— after her symptoms were masked by months of barely eating, over-sleeping and constant headaches, assumingly from depression, it finally occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, there wasn't meant to be a Rose Tyler in this universe either. Well, not a human one anyway.
He saw more tests at Torchwood, of countless nights spent hooked up to machines like she was some kind of experiment. A nurse at Torchwood told her that her symptoms would only get worse, and for a moment Rose was relieved— until they told her that she also had mutated cells that would otherwise ensure a lifespan ten times that of a human's, at least. The universe would kill her, but it would do so slowly.
And he saw her sneak into Torchwood late one night, decades in the future, decades of pain and discomfort and mental training to be strong enough for her future goal. She fired up the dimension cannon, stole a vortex manipulator and, whispering to the TARDIS for guidance to help find him, she launched herself into oblivion. Forever, she'd promised, and she intended to keep it.
The scene dissolved again, and this time reality stayed put. Her pain from her memories made way for his own horrible, chest-wrenching guilt. Rose slumped against his chest, spooning him horizontally and running a comforting hand over his pectorals when he started to sob. "S'okay," she mumbled, breathing shallowly into his vest.
"No it's not," he whimpered, using whatever strength he had left to pull her closer, burying his face into her hair.
"Yes it is. S'okay 'cos we're t'gether now…" Her words were starting to slur together, and he tried to lift his head to look at her but found himself too exhausted to move.
"T'gether," he agreed, frowning when his words blended together too.
"From our forever…"
"— to our eternity," he finished for her, trying to lift his hand to comb it through her hair but finding he had no energy to move at all anymore.
"My Doctor…" she whispered, trembling breath ghosting over his neck before it stopped completely.
As her weight pressed down on his chest, his last fleeting thought before letting the tide sweep him into darkness was that he was finally happy. He was finally at peace.
A/N: Based off of a prompt by Genesis Chi over at tumblr: 'Rose contracts some kind of terminal illness in the other universe, or separation from the TARDIS/correct Vortex/etc is killing her. She uses the time she has left to visit the Doctor whenever he's lost/losing hope for whatever reason over his regenerations. Eventually, she'll get to the time when he's run out of lives and is dying, they'll die together after she says "From our forever to our eternity, my Doctor."' I will most certainly do a sad one :3 Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Please keep the prompts coming; I love them!
