If anyone actually KNOWS what all the mathematical mumbojumbo is then forgive me when I get the terms wrong… Because it's been years since I've done this and I thought I'd never need to use it again… But apparently falling in love with Doctor Who and writing fanfics require me to use all scientific and mathematical knowledge.

Damn it.

Mathematical Conclusions
Rated G
Characters: Ten/Rose, OFC (a companion post-martha, donna and whoever comes next.)
Notes: Okay... after finishing I found that I didn't need too many mathematical terms which is good. :) ENjoy and please comment.

This was also inspired by xkcd. Thanks to them for all their brilliant work.

http://imgs. xkcd. com/ comics/ dPainoverdt. png

Take out all the spaces to see the comic that inspired this little ficcie. :) Really. The comics are quite good. You should really take a gander over.

Scribble scribble scribble

"equals to… infinity?" The Doctor's nose wrinkled in disagreement. "No, that can't be right…" He furiously scratched it out and started again.

"Whatcha doing?" a voice asked, a head suddenly appearing next to his and nosily taking a peek at the paper.

"Oi!" The Doctor scrambled to cover the sheet with his body, folding his arms and flopping himself down on the table. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

"Liar," Eve grinned, her fingers trying to worm her way through the tangle of his appendages. "I wanna see! Let me look! I saw calculus. I thought you were above calculus… Huh… huh… huuuuuuh." Her fingers were slowly making her way past his arm and were skimming the edge of the paper.

"I told you not to eat those Guiritanian chocolates. It makes you more than a little annoying," he growled, refusing to budge.

Suddenly he felt the paper quickly get pulled between the table and his skin and Eve was running around the TARDIS console to get away from him, laughing. Her eyes were glinting in triumph and her eyes fell to the paper.

"Evelyn, give that back. NOW!" he shouted. His face was flushed red in embarrassment. "Lord! Why do I even let you stay with me for so long?!"

He was expecting her to read the paper and laugh at him for being silly. If she didn't then he expected her to look at him pitifully and tell him she's sorry. If she didn't say she was sorry for being rude, then he expected her to "kindly" tell him to move on from what happened three companions ago.

Instead, she frowned at the paper. She looked at it for ten seconds before mumbling a few numbers to herself.

"You… You lost Rose… 14… 15 years ago?" she asked, her tone taking that of someone asking about the weather. She rounded back around the console and picked up his pencil.

"14 years, 3 months and 2 days," he answered automatically.

"I think that you're thinking too small, then…"

The Doctor stared at her. Instead of doing what he expected, she actually joined him in his ludicrous attempt at mathematically trying to calculate how long it will take him to completely get over the loss of Rose…

Oh… that's why…, he thought.

She crossed out "days" and "weeks" and wrote "never."

"And… if you think about it, truth and wisdom is a derivative of both pain and time so you substitute that fraction with 1," she said. Never taking her eyes off the paper, she sat down and he silently sat on the seat next to hers.

"And couldn't you have used a little flower as a symbol for Rose? I mean… it's a little… stick-figurey…" she cringed.

"I was going to do a portrait but if I did, I would have had to do a portrait every time I rewrote the equation," he said simply, taking the pen and paper back.

"K sub one would definitely be positive and K sub 2 will unfortunately be large…" He put the pencil in his mouth and stared at the modifications she made.

Two hours later, the Doctor held a fresh new sheet of paper in his hand, this time with words instead of numbers.

Eve had fallen asleep in her seat, a bead of what could only be drool at the corner of her slight open lips. He took one of the napkins that had random mathematical theorems on it to wipe the moisture away, but her hand slapped at his the moment he made contact.

"Cookie," she grumbled and her head turned over to face the other way. He looked at the paper again and saw all his questions answered… Well, maybe not all, but at least a few.

Will it ever stop hurting? No.

After years, I ever meet her again, could we be just friends? No.

Do I want that? No.

Is K sub 1 positive? Enormously so, yes.

Is K sub 2 large? Uh huuuuuuuh.

Will I ever stop hurting?

The Doctor paused before writing down his final conclusion.


No… The half-life of Pain is ALMOST infinite. And even after millennia, its residue would be negligible but never gone… And maybe that's a good thing.