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Story: The Lady in the Fireplace
Author: Melinda Kitty![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melindakitty
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: oh, so 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.
A theatre technician in a black sweatshirt and jeans comes out and taps nervously on the microphone.
"Ahem. MelindaKitty will not be appearing this evening, due to a slight case of absence. I mean, we know where she is, she's just not here. I'm her stand-in, so I'll just be.. er.. standing in. I mean, not standing IN something, because that would be.. well." *scratches back of neck* "Anyway, she's left me some stuff to do, so I'll just, er, get on with it then."
"IIIIII DON'T KNOOOW HOOOW TO LOOOOOOOOOVE HIIIM.. WHAT TO DOOO, HOOOW TO *erk*"
*giant hook steals techie off stage*
On with the show:
Ten says, “Note to self: Never let your irate girlfriend borrow your sonic screwdriver.”
In the here and now, everything stops.
The Doctor’s mind starts moving first. Soon. This vision is soon. Rose isn’t old. He himself hasn’t aged much at all. Within the year, maybe. He’ll lose her within the year. His mind spins in denial.
Her legs are tight around his waist. Her arms are tight around his shoulders. Her whole body is tight, at first with pleasure, then with realization. She knows what he’s seen. Why he stopped moving.
“Shit,” she says.
He’s just found her, and now he’s going to lose her.
“Oh God!” she says. “Doctor... You... You weren’t supposed to see that.” She’s breathless and flushed and beautiful and he could kill her right now. “I’m sorry. Doctor, I tried to warn you. I just wanted to forget--”
“You knew.” The level cold in his voice frightens even him.
“It’s only one possibility.” She cups his face in her hands. “Things can change.”
He pulls away when she tries to kiss him. “Things don’t change, Rose! Not things like that. It’s too important.” Furious, he turns away. Tucks himself, half-finished, back into his trousers. Has anyone ever done as many stupid things in one day as he has? He doubts it. “You knew and you did it anyway.”
“I couldn’t tell you!” She pulls her legs up, curling into a ball on the console. (He marvels for a moment at her balance.) “I bloody get it now! Time’s like music. A wrong note here or there won’t ruin the whole song.”
He can’t stand to be still. Paces, furious. “You knew and you did it anyway!”
“--But take out an instrument or three,” she continues. “Rewrite melodies without making sure they blend right when you play ‘em with the rest, and the whole thing might well come apart.”
Completely unscientific, but it’s still one of the better metaphors he’s heard. If he didn’t want to kill her where she stood -- sat... whatever -- he’d be impressed.
He snatches her jeans and very revealing knickers from the floor. Thrusts them at her. He’s amazed either of his hearts still work. “I trusted you.”
She takes her clothes with hands that tremble visibly. Begins to cry again. “And you play too big a part in it for me to tell you the truth.” She sniffs hard, trying to quell the tears. “Not quite the conductor-- more like a soloist. Virtuoso, even.” She turns the knickers in her hands, unable to determine which is front and which is back. Gives up with a strangled cry of frustration. “You of all people should understand bloody paradox, Doctor!”
“I trusted you with my heart and mind and soul and you--” Words fail him. The rage shakes him to the core. “You KNEW and you FUCKING DID IT ANYWAY!”
She looks away as if he slapped her. “And why not?” Silent tears slip down her cheeks.
“You’ve left everyone who’s ever loved you.”
He turns away, unable to look at her anymore. “I’ll never be free of you now.” He takes a sniff at his arm. Mint and musk and the faint pungency of sex. “I reek of you, head to toe. Inside and out.”
“I warned you to leave me alone.”
“You seduced me, Rose!” He blinks hard against tears. He is NOT going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him come apart at the seams. “And now that seduction will destroy me. For centuries! I’ll NEVER be the same.”
“You said you’d never, ever intentionally hurt me.” That look in her eyes, old beyond her years. “Liar.”
“You knew,” he says, desolate. “And you did it anyway.”
“If I told you about the future--” how can her voice be so steady? “--you would’ve chucked me out just like you did Jack.”
Fury cold and deadly, he strides over. Puts a hand on either side of her hips. Glares, nose-to-nose. “This isn’t about Jack and you know it.”
She doesn’t shrink from him. Instead, the thrumming returns. The air warps around him. “Time is patterns, Doctor, even for you. Encounter. Adventure. Abandon. Escape. I wonder if you’ll leave me for dead too... After.”
He wavers. Tries not to imagine too vividly how easy it’d be to wrap his hands around her slender throat.
She dares him with a look to do it. “I changed Jack. You couldn’t cope. Your girlfriend changed me. Now you’re looking for an excuse to run because that’s what you do. You escape.”
“This has nothing to do with Jack.” Reality twists around her slightly. He should be afraid, but instead he feels the kind of cold stillness the Master once described as a prelude to murder. “This is different.”
Rose raises her chin, defiant. Pushes a little harder with the air-warping. Makes it harder to focus on her. “He’s a man. I’m a woman. We both loved you. Neither of us is human anymore. How else is this different?”
He pulls back slightly. The smile feels cruel, even to him. “Well, for starters, he never gave me an inter-temporal blowjob.”
She slaps him. HARD.
He staggers, stunned. Stares at her.
She covers her surprise with a defiant glare. Slips off the console. Slides back into her clothes.
“You hit me!” Too startled to be furious, he touches his stinging cheek.
“You deserved it!” She yanks up her zip. Catches a bit of lacy knickers. Curses.
“Yes, but you hit me!”
Her eyes narrow. “Self-defence.”
“Maybe so, but you hit me!” He moves his jaw. It clicks back into place.
She yanks again. Zips her jeans. “I gave you a gift!”
“Yes, and it was lovely and now you hit me!”
The power gathers around her again. “Get out.”
He turns to go, still stunned. Realizes. “Hang on. This is MY TARDIS! You get out!”
Her eyes go gold. She reaches toward the central column. Pulls raw space-time from the Time Vortex. It crackles and spins in reality-warping tendrils. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
The Doctor decides discretion is the better part of valour and runs for his life.
He slams the door shut behind him.
It locks from within.
Terror forgotten in the indignity of being locked out of his own TARDIS, the Doctor pauses in his flight. Jiggles the latch. Locked tight.
Now she really has gone too far.
“Fine!” he shouts. “FINE! Fortunately, I happen to have a KEY to MY TARDIS!” He pats himself down. Checks his pockets.
The door slams open. He jumps, retreating to a defensive crouch in case the Big Bad Wolf is coming to eat him.
Fortunately, Rose has curbed the godlike energy. It curls around her in coronal wisps of past/present/future. She holds out an arm like a freshly emerged goddess, beckoning to a mere mortal like him. Beautiful. Ethereal. Powerful.
He stares, utterly bewitched.
The corners of those gold-in-gold eyes crinkle in amusement. She waves the key on its lanyard, taunting. Puts it around her neck. Slams the door shut. It clicks locked again.
He blinks, spell broken. Fumbles for words. “...Thief!”
“You were the one said to pick your pockets,” Rose’s muffled voice retorts.
He looks around, desperate for something to throw. Find the socks in his pocket. Hurls them down the hall.
They flutter impotently to the decking.
He tears his hair with a scream of frustration. Takes deep breaths. Reins in his fury. Straightens his tie. Shoots his cuffs. “So that’s how it is. So that’s how you want to play. Wellllllll. You’re not the only one who’s clever, Missy!” He fumbles in his pockets for his sonic screwdriver.
The door unlocks. Opens. A hand flashes the screwdriver. Twirls it with a flourish. He makes a leap for it. The door slams shut in his face. He shakes the latch hard. The familiar buzzing of the sonic screwdriver sounds from the other side of the door.
“No, no, no, no, no, NO!”
Too late.
“And don’t come back till you’re sorry!” shouts Rose’s muffled voice from inside.
He kicks impotently at the door. Stubs his toe. Curses fluently in thirty-three languages. Limps over to the wall. Sags against it.
Only then does he notice that, in his haste, he put his trainers on the wrong feet. With a sigh, he strips them off.
It’s only once he puts the shoe on the other foot that the irony catches up with him.
“Well, shit.”
CHAPTER ONE: COMING IN, Part I
CHAPTER ONE: COMING IN, Part II
CHAPTER TWO: COMING ABOUT
CHAPTER THREE: COMING THROUGH, Part I
CHAPTER THREE: COMING THROUGH, Part II
CHAPTER FOUR: COMING TO, Part I
CHAPTER FOUR: COMING TO, Part II
CHAPTER FIVE: COMING OUT, Part I
CHAPTER FIVE: COMING OUT, Part II
CHAPTER SIX: COMING UNDONE, Part I
CHAPTER SIX: COMING UNDONE, Part II
CHAPTER SEVEN: COMING APART, Part I
Crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
time_and_chips
Author: Melinda Kitty
melindakittyCharacters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: oh, so 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.
A theatre technician in a black sweatshirt and jeans comes out and taps nervously on the microphone.
"Ahem. MelindaKitty will not be appearing this evening, due to a slight case of absence. I mean, we know where she is, she's just not here. I'm her stand-in, so I'll just be.. er.. standing in. I mean, not standing IN something, because that would be.. well." *scratches back of neck* "Anyway, she's left me some stuff to do, so I'll just, er, get on with it then."
"IIIIII DON'T KNOOOW HOOOW TO LOOOOOOOOOVE HIIIM.. WHAT TO DOOO, HOOOW TO *erk*"
*giant hook steals techie off stage*
On with the show:
Ten says, “Note to self: Never let your irate girlfriend borrow your sonic screwdriver.”
In the here and now, everything stops.
The Doctor’s mind starts moving first. Soon. This vision is soon. Rose isn’t old. He himself hasn’t aged much at all. Within the year, maybe. He’ll lose her within the year. His mind spins in denial.
Her legs are tight around his waist. Her arms are tight around his shoulders. Her whole body is tight, at first with pleasure, then with realization. She knows what he’s seen. Why he stopped moving.
“Shit,” she says.
He’s just found her, and now he’s going to lose her.
“Oh God!” she says. “Doctor... You... You weren’t supposed to see that.” She’s breathless and flushed and beautiful and he could kill her right now. “I’m sorry. Doctor, I tried to warn you. I just wanted to forget--”
“You knew.” The level cold in his voice frightens even him.
“It’s only one possibility.” She cups his face in her hands. “Things can change.”
He pulls away when she tries to kiss him. “Things don’t change, Rose! Not things like that. It’s too important.” Furious, he turns away. Tucks himself, half-finished, back into his trousers. Has anyone ever done as many stupid things in one day as he has? He doubts it. “You knew and you did it anyway.”
“I couldn’t tell you!” She pulls her legs up, curling into a ball on the console. (He marvels for a moment at her balance.) “I bloody get it now! Time’s like music. A wrong note here or there won’t ruin the whole song.”
He can’t stand to be still. Paces, furious. “You knew and you did it anyway!”
“--But take out an instrument or three,” she continues. “Rewrite melodies without making sure they blend right when you play ‘em with the rest, and the whole thing might well come apart.”
Completely unscientific, but it’s still one of the better metaphors he’s heard. If he didn’t want to kill her where she stood -- sat... whatever -- he’d be impressed.
He snatches her jeans and very revealing knickers from the floor. Thrusts them at her. He’s amazed either of his hearts still work. “I trusted you.”
She takes her clothes with hands that tremble visibly. Begins to cry again. “And you play too big a part in it for me to tell you the truth.” She sniffs hard, trying to quell the tears. “Not quite the conductor-- more like a soloist. Virtuoso, even.” She turns the knickers in her hands, unable to determine which is front and which is back. Gives up with a strangled cry of frustration. “You of all people should understand bloody paradox, Doctor!”
“I trusted you with my heart and mind and soul and you--” Words fail him. The rage shakes him to the core. “You KNEW and you FUCKING DID IT ANYWAY!”
She looks away as if he slapped her. “And why not?” Silent tears slip down her cheeks.
“You’ve left everyone who’s ever loved you.”
He turns away, unable to look at her anymore. “I’ll never be free of you now.” He takes a sniff at his arm. Mint and musk and the faint pungency of sex. “I reek of you, head to toe. Inside and out.”
“I warned you to leave me alone.”
“You seduced me, Rose!” He blinks hard against tears. He is NOT going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him come apart at the seams. “And now that seduction will destroy me. For centuries! I’ll NEVER be the same.”
“You said you’d never, ever intentionally hurt me.” That look in her eyes, old beyond her years. “Liar.”
“You knew,” he says, desolate. “And you did it anyway.”
“If I told you about the future--” how can her voice be so steady? “--you would’ve chucked me out just like you did Jack.”
Fury cold and deadly, he strides over. Puts a hand on either side of her hips. Glares, nose-to-nose. “This isn’t about Jack and you know it.”
She doesn’t shrink from him. Instead, the thrumming returns. The air warps around him. “Time is patterns, Doctor, even for you. Encounter. Adventure. Abandon. Escape. I wonder if you’ll leave me for dead too... After.”
He wavers. Tries not to imagine too vividly how easy it’d be to wrap his hands around her slender throat.
She dares him with a look to do it. “I changed Jack. You couldn’t cope. Your girlfriend changed me. Now you’re looking for an excuse to run because that’s what you do. You escape.”
“This has nothing to do with Jack.” Reality twists around her slightly. He should be afraid, but instead he feels the kind of cold stillness the Master once described as a prelude to murder. “This is different.”
Rose raises her chin, defiant. Pushes a little harder with the air-warping. Makes it harder to focus on her. “He’s a man. I’m a woman. We both loved you. Neither of us is human anymore. How else is this different?”
He pulls back slightly. The smile feels cruel, even to him. “Well, for starters, he never gave me an inter-temporal blowjob.”
She slaps him. HARD.
He staggers, stunned. Stares at her.
She covers her surprise with a defiant glare. Slips off the console. Slides back into her clothes.
“You hit me!” Too startled to be furious, he touches his stinging cheek.
“You deserved it!” She yanks up her zip. Catches a bit of lacy knickers. Curses.
“Yes, but you hit me!”
Her eyes narrow. “Self-defence.”
“Maybe so, but you hit me!” He moves his jaw. It clicks back into place.
She yanks again. Zips her jeans. “I gave you a gift!”
“Yes, and it was lovely and now you hit me!”
The power gathers around her again. “Get out.”
He turns to go, still stunned. Realizes. “Hang on. This is MY TARDIS! You get out!”
Her eyes go gold. She reaches toward the central column. Pulls raw space-time from the Time Vortex. It crackles and spins in reality-warping tendrils. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
The Doctor decides discretion is the better part of valour and runs for his life.
He slams the door shut behind him.
It locks from within.
Terror forgotten in the indignity of being locked out of his own TARDIS, the Doctor pauses in his flight. Jiggles the latch. Locked tight.
Now she really has gone too far.
“Fine!” he shouts. “FINE! Fortunately, I happen to have a KEY to MY TARDIS!” He pats himself down. Checks his pockets.
The door slams open. He jumps, retreating to a defensive crouch in case the Big Bad Wolf is coming to eat him.
Fortunately, Rose has curbed the godlike energy. It curls around her in coronal wisps of past/present/future. She holds out an arm like a freshly emerged goddess, beckoning to a mere mortal like him. Beautiful. Ethereal. Powerful.
He stares, utterly bewitched.
The corners of those gold-in-gold eyes crinkle in amusement. She waves the key on its lanyard, taunting. Puts it around her neck. Slams the door shut. It clicks locked again.
He blinks, spell broken. Fumbles for words. “...Thief!”
“You were the one said to pick your pockets,” Rose’s muffled voice retorts.
He looks around, desperate for something to throw. Find the socks in his pocket. Hurls them down the hall.
They flutter impotently to the decking.
He tears his hair with a scream of frustration. Takes deep breaths. Reins in his fury. Straightens his tie. Shoots his cuffs. “So that’s how it is. So that’s how you want to play. Wellllllll. You’re not the only one who’s clever, Missy!” He fumbles in his pockets for his sonic screwdriver.
The door unlocks. Opens. A hand flashes the screwdriver. Twirls it with a flourish. He makes a leap for it. The door slams shut in his face. He shakes the latch hard. The familiar buzzing of the sonic screwdriver sounds from the other side of the door.
“No, no, no, no, no, NO!”
Too late.
“And don’t come back till you’re sorry!” shouts Rose’s muffled voice from inside.
He kicks impotently at the door. Stubs his toe. Curses fluently in thirty-three languages. Limps over to the wall. Sags against it.
Only then does he notice that, in his haste, he put his trainers on the wrong feet. With a sigh, he strips them off.
It’s only once he puts the shoe on the other foot that the irony catches up with him.
“Well, shit.”
CHAPTER ONE: COMING IN, Part I
CHAPTER ONE: COMING IN, Part II
CHAPTER TWO: COMING ABOUT
CHAPTER THREE: COMING THROUGH, Part I
CHAPTER THREE: COMING THROUGH, Part II
CHAPTER FOUR: COMING TO, Part I
CHAPTER FOUR: COMING TO, Part II
CHAPTER FIVE: COMING OUT, Part I
CHAPTER FIVE: COMING OUT, Part II
CHAPTER SIX: COMING UNDONE, Part I
CHAPTER SIX: COMING UNDONE, Part II
CHAPTER SEVEN: COMING APART, Part I
Crossposted to
time_and_chips
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