Title: Bittersweet Rose
Chapter: 1/1
Author: VeiledShadow
Rating: K
Featuring: Doctor, Martha, mentions of Rose Spoilers: Doomsday, Season 3
Summary: 'The Doctor stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves breaking like shattered dreams on the sand'
A/N: Post-Doomsday short fic that just popped into my head. My first fiction in this fandom, so reviews much appreciated
Bittersweet Rose
Here is a looking glass what do you see?
There is nothing there but me
There was a wishing well I jumped into
Nothing came true
Lyrics from 'Fire Sign' - David Berkeley
The Doctor stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves breaking like shattered dreams on the sand. The grass bowed and swayed its long, green tips as a breeze flittered across the land, soaring higher and higher into a whispering wind of lost tales and forgotten memories.
He sighed softly, vision blurring as he became lost in bittersweet thoughts, the pain slowly swimming to the surface of his mind. Swallowing hard he squeezed his eyes shut to the engulfing panorama from where he stood, wishing almost, that if he closed them for long enough, a hand might slip into his and Rose's voice would lull him back to the present.
Sometimes he felt as if the hurt was gone, but the cruel reality always came crashing back down in the end. It was then he realised it had just numbed as an undercurrent, hiding like a cobweb beneath the knowledge, the emotion and the adventures.
He heard the sound of soft footsteps treading through the grass and then a hand gently slipped into his. But it didn't fit quite right, the fingers too slender and cold to be Rose's. Sadly, the Doctor opened his eyes to look down at his new companion.
'Are you okay?' she asked quietly, looking at him concernedly.
The Doctor forced a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.
'I'm fine,' he nodded. 'Be back in a minute.'
He watched her disappear and then turned back to the forever stretching horizon, fist clenching tightly around the red rose that was clutched in his hand.
The Doctor stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves breaking like shattered dreams on the sand. He extended his arm and dropped the rose, watching it with sad eyes as it twisted and turned until it met the water.
I'll find you, he promised silently, watching it float away until it blended with the red, yellow and orange firearms emitted from the sun as it dipped low over the horizon.
And then he turned. He walked away.