Categories: Ship, Het, Episode Tag
Characters: The Doctor, Romana
Spoilers: The Waters of Mars (November 15, 2009 Special)
A/N: Written on a whim.
Credits: Screencap courtesy of time-and-space.co.uk
Disclaimer: Today we're stealing from BBC Wales.
"I fixed it." She sat down beside him, so close that if she'd been real, he could have felt her thigh brushing up against his.
The Doctor almost fancied that he could. If he looked at her, she'd no doubt fade away. Just his mind having a laugh before coming unhinged. No less than he deserved. Time Lord victorious. This was his guilt then. For years he could count all too well, the weight of those deaths -- all of their deaths, her death -- had defined him, and in that moment when he'd gone too far, he'd made those deaths an abstraction. This was his reminder. There was no victory in any death, much less hers.
Fix it. He needed to do that, before the unhinging. Human civilization could not pay the price for his renewed bout of survivor's guilt.
She laid a hand over his. It felt warm and soft and real. Real.
So too late on the unhinging, then. Let the last of his sanity be swallowed in this moment. Maybe he could even imagine her smile, just for a bit. Selfishly, he turned to her.
No smile. She looked worried. And also oddly dressed. He'd have asked about that, if she were real. Her hand still felt warm over his, and the slight breeze stirred her hair.
"You're not . . . you're not real?"
She nodded and gave him the slightest hint of a smile.
He quelled the instinct to crush her in a hug. "But how?"
"Rose Tyler's dimensional cannon."
"What?" Suddenly he believed in this vision of Romana sitting beside him, even with that ridiculous tee shirt. His astonishment proved it to him.
"She's not here," Romana added. "That's quite a responsibility you dropped on her. I'm astounded that she still thinks well of you."
He scolded himself for wanting to ask about Rose before asking about the other. She was here about the other, he knew that much, because he knew her. "You fixed it?"
"Adelaide Brooke dies on Mars. Her granddaughter leads the deep space mission. The great and bountiful human empire is saved."
"Thank you," he said. "I mean, I know you didn't do it for me, but -- "
"I did do it for you," she said.
He nodded, grateful. "The cloister bell . . . "
"Led you here, to this desolute rock, and then stopped?" She smiled more fully. "Really, Doctor, you didn't think moping would repair a tear in the fabric of space-time, did you?"
He hugged her then, fiercely, and laughed in relief. "I don't deserve you."
"Then you're in luck," Romana said. "Nobody ever gets what they truly deserve." She drew back, and her hand curled around his his jaw. "I rather like this regeneration. I hope it lasts a good long while."
"I hope so too." Hope. He could hope again. He leapt to his feet and dragged her into the TARDIS. "Where to, then? I seem to recall owing you a trip to the beach."
"No beaches." She slapped his hand away from the controls. "Too cold and gloomy. Perhaps you should just let me drive?"
And he did.
This transformative work constitutes a fair use of any copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. Doctor Who™© and related properties are Registered Trademarks of BBC Wales. No copyright infringement intended. No profits made here. © Spiletta42, November 2009.