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Story: The Lady in the Fireplace
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loveslashangst
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, abuse of REALLY good champagne, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did, Rose would be more BadWolf and less Angst, Ten would post a sign on the door sayin' "If the TARDIS is a rockin', don't come a knockin'", and half of their adventures through time and space would consist of finding new and unusual places to have a juicy shag.
Spoilers: AU, DURING "The Girl in the Fireplace". If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon. And you have my word that -- despite how this starts -- I'm a passionate Rose/Ten shipper.
Summary: OTP Rose/Ten with a lot of interesting liaisons along the way. So what exactly DID Ten do in Versailles? This French farce will have love, drama, sex, and eventually as close to a happy ending as I can manage. Be forewarned, though, I may take you places that would make RTD's head explode.
On with the show:
(In which Ten asks Rose for one more favour and she gives him something he’s always wanted.)
Rose nods. Her whole body is taut, waiting. The Doctor pulls her into his mind. Lets her feel what he feels. And for an unguarded moment, dares to imagine what it would be like if he were able to keep her.
Her pleasure brings him hard. Pulls a scream from him. He arches into her. Claims her again.
His eyes refocus slowly. Rose is exquisite in the throes of orgasm. She’s even more exquisite in the languor of afterglow. (The artfully-tousled look suits her.)
She smiles down at him.
He grins up at her.
She moves to release him from the handcuffs.
“Wait,” he manages. “I...”
A devilish grin. “Again?”
“No.” He moistens his lips. “I mean yes, but not yet. Would you...?” And he’s not sure how to ask her for what he wants. What he really wants. What he’s wanted since she began this exceptional transformation. (Weird that he should pause now, after everything they’ve seen and done.)
“Doctor?” She shifts her hips against his.
Aftershocks jar him blissfully from head to toe. “Mmmmmmm.”
She slips a hand low. Gives a leisurely caress that chatters his teeth in a good way. She crosses her arms on his chest. Bends low. Nips at his chin. “You all right?”
“Mmmmm...hmmmm.” He grins stupidly. “All right doesn’t even begin to cover what I am at the moment.”
Rose’s lips hover above his. “You were about to ask for something?”
He swallows hard. Gathers his courage. “Gallifrey.”
She stares. “What about it?”
He drops his gaze, almost afraid to find the words. “I... I want... I want you to... to take me there.”
“Oh Doctor, I wish I could.” There’s painful empathy in her eyes. “It’s gone, love.”
He nods. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Just above the surface of the planet is a gap in the fabric of reality. We called it the Untempered Schism.” He looks at her. Steels himself. “Is it still there?”
She blinks. “You don’t know?”
“I ran and never looked back.” He laughs bitterly. “I’d never intended to survive. Didn’t particularly want to... But the TARDIS had other ideas.” He sighs. “Harry sodding Houdini.”
“Stop that.” She kisses him fiercely. “I’m glad you lived. I’m glad she saved you. And if it’ll help...”
He retreats from emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. Shifts beneath her. Clings to the solidity of that liquid fire. “Is the Schism still there, Rose?”
She gathers the energy. Closes her eyes. (He can FEEL her move, a most extraordinary sensation as that piece of her that is her mind and soul leaves. Travels so far away.)
After a moment, she returns. Opens her eyes.
“It’s still there,” she says.
He sags in relief. “Would you take me there?”
She kisses him. Gently. Almost chastely. “Why now? If I may ask?”
He smiles. “I couldn’t face it alone.”
She smiles too.
She bends low. Presses her cheek to his. Ripples of space-time sear through him and he’s falling. Falling. Away from the shell of a body. Through space. Through the vast distances.
Back on the bed, he says, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she says.
And there it is. A scar on the fabric of space-time. Fresh and seething and dangerous. (When pressed, he tells people Gallifrey “burned” because most sentient beings can fathom the concept of “burning”. Few can truly grasp the extent of the horror that consumed the Shining World of the Seven Systems, erasing it from all of time and all of space forever. )
He remembers fighting. His eighth and the mad plan. The surety that though he’d lived as an outlaw, he’d die a martyr and a hero. The defeat of the Daleks was meant to be his epitaph.
And then the TARDIS pulled him back. Pulled them into the Rift even as rogue space-time scorched and burned and seethed. She protected him as the universe convulsed. But the “fires” that destroyed Gallifrey scarred him past salvaging.
That regeneration was the most bitter of all.
Rose is with him. Silent. Empathetic. She’s seen this before and yet she forgives him. How can she forgive him when he...?
Back on the bed, her lips brush his. “Don’t,” she says quietly. She shuts the doors for him so he doesn’t have to relive the shame of becoming the Last of the Time Lords.
“Thank you,” he says.
Were his world intact, he could find his way across the continent of Wild Endeavour. Through the mountains of Solace and Solitude. His hearts break at the thought of the beauty of the towers beneath their dome -- the Citadel of the Time Lords. Gone. All gone. But she said the Schism remains and he trusts her.
No confining iris. No familiar landmarks. It’s all terribly disorienting; alien, yet with enough familiar bits that he knows she’s brought them to the right place. And at the edge of his sight, a half-seen ghost, is the Untempered Schism itself. He doesn’t have to look to know that it runs wild. Free. A survivor, just like him. And just like him, a wild card in the universe.
There’s a wonderful/horrible moment when it recognizes him. (It’s been waiting for him.)
Back on the bed, Rose whispers, “Don’t look until you’re ready.”
He waits. Waits for what feels like an eternity. Waits because he’s more afraid of this than anything.
The Schism is patient; it has all of time and space too.
Some go mad when they see it. Some run away. The last time he was here, he ran. A child. Afraid. Alone. That moment of terror and cowardice and failure set everything in motion. All of his regenerations. All of his Adventures. His lot in the universe.
The Schism drove the Master mad. It set everything turning in such unfortunate ways. So many from their age group went so terribly wrong and now only he remains.
Rose begins to pull him very gently back.
He resists.
Back on the bed, he presses his cheek to hers. “Don’t give up on me, Rose... Please.”
She blends her mind and soul with his. Love. Support. Trust. Understanding. She leads him closer. Above them, the Untempered Schism churns and flares. Beautiful. Wild. Dangerous. A test he failed as a child. His last tie to a world that’s gone for good.
The choice is his.
Rose draws back slightly. Lets him face it -- alone but not alone.
He gathers his courage...
...looks up...
...and is inspired.
Link to All Previous Chapters
Author:
loveslashangstCharacters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, abuse of REALLY good champagne, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did, Rose would be more BadWolf and less Angst, Ten would post a sign on the door sayin' "If the TARDIS is a rockin', don't come a knockin'", and half of their adventures through time and space would consist of finding new and unusual places to have a juicy shag.
Spoilers: AU, DURING "The Girl in the Fireplace". If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon. And you have my word that -- despite how this starts -- I'm a passionate Rose/Ten shipper.
Summary: OTP Rose/Ten with a lot of interesting liaisons along the way. So what exactly DID Ten do in Versailles? This French farce will have love, drama, sex, and eventually as close to a happy ending as I can manage. Be forewarned, though, I may take you places that would make RTD's head explode.
On with the show:
(In which Ten asks Rose for one more favour and she gives him something he’s always wanted.)
Rose nods. Her whole body is taut, waiting. The Doctor pulls her into his mind. Lets her feel what he feels. And for an unguarded moment, dares to imagine what it would be like if he were able to keep her.
Her pleasure brings him hard. Pulls a scream from him. He arches into her. Claims her again.
His eyes refocus slowly. Rose is exquisite in the throes of orgasm. She’s even more exquisite in the languor of afterglow. (The artfully-tousled look suits her.)
She smiles down at him.
He grins up at her.
She moves to release him from the handcuffs.
“Wait,” he manages. “I...”
A devilish grin. “Again?”
“No.” He moistens his lips. “I mean yes, but not yet. Would you...?” And he’s not sure how to ask her for what he wants. What he really wants. What he’s wanted since she began this exceptional transformation. (Weird that he should pause now, after everything they’ve seen and done.)
“Doctor?” She shifts her hips against his.
Aftershocks jar him blissfully from head to toe. “Mmmmmmm.”
She slips a hand low. Gives a leisurely caress that chatters his teeth in a good way. She crosses her arms on his chest. Bends low. Nips at his chin. “You all right?”
“Mmmmm...hmmmm.” He grins stupidly. “All right doesn’t even begin to cover what I am at the moment.”
Rose’s lips hover above his. “You were about to ask for something?”
He swallows hard. Gathers his courage. “Gallifrey.”
She stares. “What about it?”
He drops his gaze, almost afraid to find the words. “I... I want... I want you to... to take me there.”
“Oh Doctor, I wish I could.” There’s painful empathy in her eyes. “It’s gone, love.”
He nods. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Just above the surface of the planet is a gap in the fabric of reality. We called it the Untempered Schism.” He looks at her. Steels himself. “Is it still there?”
She blinks. “You don’t know?”
“I ran and never looked back.” He laughs bitterly. “I’d never intended to survive. Didn’t particularly want to... But the TARDIS had other ideas.” He sighs. “Harry sodding Houdini.”
“Stop that.” She kisses him fiercely. “I’m glad you lived. I’m glad she saved you. And if it’ll help...”
He retreats from emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. Shifts beneath her. Clings to the solidity of that liquid fire. “Is the Schism still there, Rose?”
She gathers the energy. Closes her eyes. (He can FEEL her move, a most extraordinary sensation as that piece of her that is her mind and soul leaves. Travels so far away.)
After a moment, she returns. Opens her eyes.
“It’s still there,” she says.
He sags in relief. “Would you take me there?”
She kisses him. Gently. Almost chastely. “Why now? If I may ask?”
He smiles. “I couldn’t face it alone.”
She smiles too.
She bends low. Presses her cheek to his. Ripples of space-time sear through him and he’s falling. Falling. Away from the shell of a body. Through space. Through the vast distances.
Back on the bed, he says, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she says.
And there it is. A scar on the fabric of space-time. Fresh and seething and dangerous. (When pressed, he tells people Gallifrey “burned” because most sentient beings can fathom the concept of “burning”. Few can truly grasp the extent of the horror that consumed the Shining World of the Seven Systems, erasing it from all of time and all of space forever. )
He remembers fighting. His eighth and the mad plan. The surety that though he’d lived as an outlaw, he’d die a martyr and a hero. The defeat of the Daleks was meant to be his epitaph.
And then the TARDIS pulled him back. Pulled them into the Rift even as rogue space-time scorched and burned and seethed. She protected him as the universe convulsed. But the “fires” that destroyed Gallifrey scarred him past salvaging.
That regeneration was the most bitter of all.
Rose is with him. Silent. Empathetic. She’s seen this before and yet she forgives him. How can she forgive him when he...?
Back on the bed, her lips brush his. “Don’t,” she says quietly. She shuts the doors for him so he doesn’t have to relive the shame of becoming the Last of the Time Lords.
“Thank you,” he says.
Were his world intact, he could find his way across the continent of Wild Endeavour. Through the mountains of Solace and Solitude. His hearts break at the thought of the beauty of the towers beneath their dome -- the Citadel of the Time Lords. Gone. All gone. But she said the Schism remains and he trusts her.
No confining iris. No familiar landmarks. It’s all terribly disorienting; alien, yet with enough familiar bits that he knows she’s brought them to the right place. And at the edge of his sight, a half-seen ghost, is the Untempered Schism itself. He doesn’t have to look to know that it runs wild. Free. A survivor, just like him. And just like him, a wild card in the universe.
There’s a wonderful/horrible moment when it recognizes him. (It’s been waiting for him.)
Back on the bed, Rose whispers, “Don’t look until you’re ready.”
He waits. Waits for what feels like an eternity. Waits because he’s more afraid of this than anything.
The Schism is patient; it has all of time and space too.
Some go mad when they see it. Some run away. The last time he was here, he ran. A child. Afraid. Alone. That moment of terror and cowardice and failure set everything in motion. All of his regenerations. All of his Adventures. His lot in the universe.
The Schism drove the Master mad. It set everything turning in such unfortunate ways. So many from their age group went so terribly wrong and now only he remains.
Rose begins to pull him very gently back.
He resists.
Back on the bed, he presses his cheek to hers. “Don’t give up on me, Rose... Please.”
She blends her mind and soul with his. Love. Support. Trust. Understanding. She leads him closer. Above them, the Untempered Schism churns and flares. Beautiful. Wild. Dangerous. A test he failed as a child. His last tie to a world that’s gone for good.
The choice is his.
Rose draws back slightly. Lets him face it -- alone but not alone.
He gathers his courage...
...looks up...
...and is inspired.
Link to All Previous Chapters
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