A Million Miles Away.
Yes, another post-regen. fic. However, it's not really so concerned with Rose's Reactions To Ten as with grieving for Jack, and simply what they did next. I don't think this planet is Barcelona, though.
She opens the TARDIS door and slips out, a little ahead of him. She likes being the first to leave; something about that brief moment of not knowing, when anything could happen, thrills her. Until a tentative form of safety settles down around her and he steps out behind her with the screwdriver buzzing contentedly, and still anything could happen but it's a little more expected, a little more guarded.
But then, 'anything' covers a whole universe of adventures when you're with the Doctor.
And then again, that calmly unspoken silence that they always shared is now blatant in its absence. She can feel his presence behind her just as strong and heady as always, but he's different. He is quicksilver and light and starshine, not warmth and spice and mystery, and she can't grieve for him because the touch of his hand is still electricity.
She looks around wordlessly. A breeze that she does not feel ripples through the grass and everything looks slightly purple, the rich green of the grass tinted just so and the sky heavy and stormy with it. In the distance she can see a city glittering and shimmering under the evening suns but curiously, perversely, it fails to interest her.
He looks at her sideways, hands in pockets, clearly waiting for her next move, and she thinks maybe she should say something.
But she can't, so she turns away and starts walking. Not towards that dream city but away from the TARDIS, arms crossed around herself because that breeze that she can't feel is cold and invasive.
He follows, of course, and it feels okay when he stops quietly by her side, the back of his hand brushing hers. It feels okay and vaguely familiar and for a moment she thinks about taking his hand.
There are flowers here, half obscured by the long dark grass, and she stoops to pick one and inspect it further, because suddenly she needs a distraction from him and how close he's standing to her.
It's unlike any flower she's ever seen; a rich velvety purple with gold scattered over the petals as though someone has flicked gold paint at random across the vast field. When she touches it, stroking a finger lightly over the liquid gold, it seems to glow and some part of her mind notes that once upon a time this would have enchanted her. But not today.
"Rose…"
She's been expecting it, and she listens, but she doesn't look at him.
"We need to… I mean, we should talk." She doesn't trust her voice, so she says nothing. "What d'you want to do now?"
"Jack would've loved it here," she says pointlessly, still studying the flower intently.
There's a heavy pause.
"Would he?"
"No." She looks around at the still quietness of this world and shivers, and stands a little closer to him. The peace surrounding them is comforting to her in a way, but then that feels wrong because Jack would have hated it, would have been bored out of his mind, and that makes her smile, which only hurts more. She turns to the Doctor and looks at him finally.
"Are you sure?"
The deep, pure sadness in his eyes is enough of an answer for her. He takes her hand.
"I heard it, Rose." His voice comes out in little more than a whisper.
What else can be said? She leans in to him and lays her head on his shoulder, trying not to notice how different the rough wool of his coat feels against her cheek, how many millions of miles away from the smooth leather she is used to.
In her free hand the picked flower glows just a few more moments before fading and dropping to the ground, unnoticed.
FIN.
Thank you for reading :) As always, reviews and advice are treasured.