Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue.
Hey, me again. Sorry for the delay, I had exams and then I went Youth Hostelling at the weekend, missed 'The Satan Pit' and had to watch a crappy quality video of it the next day… Generally annoying.
Anyway. Hope you like, and my massive thanks to you wonderful people who reviewed. You make my day! Enjoy!
Breath of Life
5 - Thinking
Rose's fingers traced their unruly way through the Doctor's hair, leaving chasms in the sweat-soaked strands. She hadn't been imagining it earlier after all; there was a faint golden tinge to his white skin, and now she knew what it was.
It was the TARDIS again. She had healed Rose, linking to her through the spark of the Bad Wolf clinging to her soul, and now Rose had transferred that ember to the Doctor. And now a golden glow surrounded his face and hair, and he was healing.
Or at least, she hoped so.
She sighed. Her fingers continued their worn paths through his hair; she knew that her touch was in part helping him piece himself together. And she trusted him to do as much; to not leave her here.
She should trust him as implicitly as she did, that was something she knew. But she couldn't help it; she did. After all her had done; broken her heart and healed it again; abandoned her without a second thought; she would still put her life in his hands any day, and do it with a smile and laugh.
She supposed that was what love really was; she'd never felt this before. Not like this anyway, not this all-consuming fire burning through her every nerve and cell every second of every day she travelled with him.
Of course there had been others she'd been with, like Jimmy Stone, but that had been an obsession; a childhood fantasy. Mickey, good old reliable Mickey, but recently he'd become more of a best friend than a boyfriend. And he was gone now anyway.
She realised suddenly, with just a twinge of guilt, that she could now think easily about Mickey leaving permanently without being overwhelmed by tears. He had left them barely ten days ago, but she knew that she'd been over him for a long time before that. Probably ever since the Doctor had grabbed her hand and told her, for the first time of many, to Run!
And if Mickey had hurt her even half as much as the Doctor had then he'd have been out on his rear within the hour. As it was, only some cataclysmic disaster that would make her separate herself from the Doctor.
He was different now, rasher, more impulsive. Before he'd been dark and brooding, turned constantly inward, battling his inner demons. Now he was light, chirpy, extrovert, swinging from one thing to the next with nary a care. But she'd seen that the demons were still there; still lurked within his mind, just repressed by his powerful psyche. Usually at least.
He had grabbed frantically at her, still locked in the throes of vicious battle with himself, and he had accidentally linked them together, for an indeterminable instant. She had seen things among the corruption and darkness, amazing things, beautiful things. And of course, dark things, evil things.
The Big Bad Wolf. Gwyneth had been right. Exactly how right the Welsh-servant-girl-who-had-saved-the-world had never known. Would never know.
And as she had seen those things, she had felt something, another touch on his mind, a fading imprint of another woman who had seen it too, but to a lesser degree. He had hidden things from the other; he couldn't from her. And for an instant she had felt a pang of jealously. But it had vanished just as fast.
Rose didn't hate Reinette, or Sarah-Jane for that matter. She couldn't. All they had done was fall in love with the Doctor, and she could hardly hate them for that. Reinette had just had the bravery to act on her passions in the short span with him, and Sarah-Jane had managed to put him behind her. Maybe if Reinette had come with them into the TARDIS Rose would have come to hate her, but as it was she had no right.
Not only did Rose trust the Doctor with her life, she trusted him with her heart. And, being the impulsive male he was, he'd broken it several times. By accident, without even realising it, but he had none-the-less.
But she knew it wouldn't break any more, because she had seen the truth. Deep inside his mind, hidden by layers of darkness and insanity and corruption had been a tiny spark, not gold, not blue, red, yellow, green, orange, purple or any other colour in existence, but so beautiful that colours were too small to describe it, shining bright inside him. And she'd know instantly what that spark was, and who it was for. And that knowledge only fuelled the insane fire inside her. And boosted the trust.
But still, trust was supposed to be earned, and to trust him from the first second she met him and to still trust him after everything he'd done to her, even indirectly… That wasn't supposed to happen, right?
Back to the love argument. The true love argument.
She sounded so cliché, even inside her own head, but she just couldn't help it; couldn't help herself.
Sometimes the clichés were right.
>>>>>>>>>
The battle was above his head now; raging everywhere and yet only inside his mind. The gold kept him safe, held in a cocoon of glowing silk as the black went insane trying to get to him He could see it all, but his eyes were shut. He was soaking wet and bone dry, terrified and deathly calm, light and dark, hot and cold. He was the battle ground for a fight to the bloody end, a war between the evil in everyone and the good that must prevail.
It was both ripping him apart and sealing the last weeping wounds.
There was just one constant. And that was the feel of a hand wrapped around his long fingers; a thumb tracing circles on his skin.
He smiled amidst the madness.
Home is where the heart is.
Or where the hearts are, to be fair to him.
He knew that he would follow her anywhere, and that if she left him then he would be broken forever. But he also knew that she would die, and that that would break him too. He couldn't let her close; he couldn't let himself love her.
It would break him eventually, because she couldn't help but leave someday.
Doctor, do not be foolish.
His eyes snapped open, and the black assaulted the portals to his soul. But the gold lashed out, binding his gaze in yellow light.
What?
Don't be stupid Doctor. Don't deny her.
Who are you?
A faint sensation of amusement. You are not stupid Doctor, however much you are useless in matters of the heart.
TARDIS?
He felt the psychic equivalent of slow, condescending applause. Well done.
How?
The spark that Rose gave you. I speak through this.
So it's you that's healing me?
No.
What? It had to be. Who then?
Rose.
His condition must be affecting the TARDIS. Either that or his hearing. He'd thought she said Rose.
I did say Rose. It is she, not me.
How? Rose is human!
She looked into the Time Vortex, and no one's supposed to do that.
The Doctor would have rolled his eyes. I know that.
Some part of the Vortex stayed inside her, healed her, helped her. It could not leave her and just go into you; she is bonded to it in some way that I do not understand.
Rose is joined to the Time Vortex?
Ssh. He smiled at the quiet reprimand. Yes, she is. She imparted something of it into you. It is healing you.
But why? That would take massive amounts of her energy! It could kill her!
She does not know that. And as for why, believe you know exactly why. And if you don't, you are not quite as clever as I believed.
A memory, from long ago. Her voice, sending shivers across his body, shaking the war. "I want you safe, my Doctor."
But she is in danger, regardless.
Fear. I know she is. She's burning herself inside to save me. I'm not worth it.
Slight amusement, but only slight. She thought the same.
The black began to recede, the gold and the Doctor pushing it back together, linked. I have to stop her.
More amusement, slightly nostalgic. You work better together. Remember that.
What?
And not everyone leaves.
And he was alone inside his head once again.
And again, he fought.
>>>>>>>>>
His fingers were tighter around her hand, much more than they had been a few minutes ago. His forehead was furrowed in utter focus and his breath came in short sharp bursts. He was sweating even heavier now and the cloth in her hand was sopping wet.
It scared her. But she knew that he would be okay.
He had to be.
The cloth slipped from her fingers, and she reached out, skating her fingers over his skin. "Doctor," she said softly. "Doctor."
She received no sign that he heard, but all the same, she knew he had. A little twitch in the back of her mind, a shifting of attention, a thread of elation twisting through her mind that was never hers.
"Doctor."
Rose.
>>>>>>>>>