It Lies Unwritten (4/5)
Feb. 8th, 2012 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberfocusTitle: It Lies Unwritten (4/5)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amberfocus
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor/Rose Tyler
Genre: Romance, Mystery, Angst
Betas:amyo67, thetesh
Rating: Teen
Summary: In a tiny village on the edge of nowhere, a man who can't remember his own name tries to hold on to reality, but reality has other ideas. Only one thing remains constant; the woman in the blue jumper.
A/N: Yeah, it's just weird. Also, additional author's notes for this chapter at the end so as not to spoil the plot.
Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3
Chapter Four
He wakes up in mid-stumble, his heart lurching into his throat as his body tries to flatten itself face down in the dirt. Her hand is there immediately and then she is looping her blue jumper-clad arm through his when her hand is not enough to steady him. The softness of her body pushing into his side feels more right than anything has felt in a long time. She has become the most familiar thing in his life.
“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I’m here. Breathe slowly.”
He recovers his equilibrium and coughs violently. His throat feels as if it’s been coated with dust after being run over by a lorry. The pain begins to recede and she gives him a bottle of water. “Not too fast,” she tells him. It soothes as it goes down. He licks his lips and they are dry and parched.
She smiles at him and digs in her bag, pulling out a thin tube and smearing something across his lips. “That should help.”
It does. He starts to feel more like himself again. He looks around them. It’s summer and the streets are lined with flower boxes in full bloom. The scent of jasmine, roses, and a thousand other flowers suddenly attack his nose, as just as many colors assail his vision. He twists his neck from side to side and closes his eyes.
“I think they overdid it on all the flowers,” he says, trying to recover from the assault on his senses. It’s almost too much.
“People often do,” she says. “A few are nice, so a few hundred thousand must be better.”
“That’s the human condition,” he says.
She eyes him for a moment. “You do remember you have that, don’t you?”
“What?”
“The human condition.”
He laughs. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks. They continue their stroll down the too dusty street. It needs to rain, something to cleanse the dirt and grime away and show what’s really there underneath the surface.
“Where are we going?” he asks her finally.
“There,” she points. He reads the sign above the establishment.
“Goweil Saloon?” he says.
“Well, it goes with the cowboy hat,” she tells him. “Though I must say, not your best look ever.”
He touches his hat. “I don’t know where it came from.” He pauses. “Still, I think I’ve made worse wardrobe choices in the past.” He doesn’t remember them, but the words seem right coming out of his mouth, they feel true against tongue and teeth.
They go through the doors, genuine saloon doors, like in an American Western. They swing back and forth behind them. Rose escorts him to a table and leaves him there while she goes to the bar to order. His fingers trace a long, thin crack on the surface of the table that is otherwise smooth wood and completely polished to a high gloss. The entire place looks like that. Old, slightly run down, but with a new veneer on top. It seems to carry a promise to be bright and shiny, but really it all just seems so tired. He tries not to drum his fingers on it in a rhythm he can’t quite remember.
The food and drink is good, though, when it arrives. Fish and chips. He feels a pang over his heart and tries to hide it in the mug of ale. Rose is looking at him while he eats and he feels like he’s forgotten something small, but important, which is a strange feeling to have when he knows he has forgotten everything.
“So,” she says.
“So?”
“I keep trying, but I don’t know if I’m going to be successful.” Her eyes won’t meet his and it makes him nervous. He reaches for her hand and she squeezes his fingers in return.
“Successful at what?”
She sighs. “I don’t know if you can even understand me.”
“Rose, what?”
“The explosion that caused it is still out there, still happening, somewhere in time,” she says.
His confusion grows. “I don’t understand.”
“All universes are threatened.” She looks down. “But all I can think about is mine. The one that comes down to you and me and right here and right now.”
He is feeling desperate, like he should comprehend her words, but he doesn’t. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t remember. Of course, you don’t. It’s tricky. Memory is more important than you think,” she says.
“I have no memories,” he tells her. She stares at him mutely. “Rose?”
Her eyes are far away as if she’s seeing something else. Her voice is distant when she speaks. “People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can’t quite account for. Faces in photographs, luggage, half eaten meals… Rings.” Her finger traces his ring finger on his left hand and he notices suddenly the platinum band resting there. A wedding band. It matches the one on her finger. He’s sure it wasn’t there before.
“Do you know? What it is that I’ve forgotten?” His heart is beating so frantically, almost like it’s trying to escape his chest.
“Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. And…if something can be remembered, it can come back.” Her eyes meet his. “We don’t have much time left.”
“No, I don’t think that we do.”
“I’ve been remembering for both of us. I’ve tried so hard.”
There are tears in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. Rose should never cry.
“I can’t help it,” she says. “For so long the future seemed written in stone. And then I met you and you took me away in your magical machine and everything changed.”
“Magical machine?” Images cascade through his mind, tumbling like a waterfall, and he sees through a distant fog the outline of coral and a very young woman running towards him.
“And it all became open again. Unwritten. We could go anywhere. Do anything,” she said. “Only now…”
The words come to him from nowhere. “Time can be rewritten.” The words fall heavily, almost clunking against the crack on the table.
“And what was once found can now be lost. And that’s the biggest fear, isn’t it? Losing you? Because I already have. Once. Twice. Three times, if you count now.”
“That’s my hat.” A man he doesn’t recognize approaches the table and lifts the hat from his head. He runs his finger over the crack.
“You!” Rose exclaims.
“Me. Yes, I’m afraid so,” he says. He looks awkward and carries far more sadness in his ancient eyes than anyone should have to bear.
“You’re causing all of this.” Rose is angry. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Rose angry. He remembers Rose being angry. He remembers it! One hundred images of a furious Rose wash over him and he basks in it.
“Fossils in time,” says the stranger. “Footprints of the never-weres.” The crack disappears under the man’s hand and the table is suddenly unspoiled. “I didn’t mean to come here,” he says.
“You never do,” she replies.
“I didn’t know it would do this to him.”
“But it’s still your fault, and if you don’t fix it, I’m going to lose everything,” Rose says.
The man sets down a box on the table. It looks like a puzzle box. It looks like it should be one hundred times larger. “The box contains a memory of the universe. And the light transmits the memory.”
She reaches for it, but his hand stops her and he sits down at their table. “Everything will be restored for you. All the cracks in time will close, but…I don’t know. One of us might end up on the wrong side. Trapped in the Never-Space. The void between worlds. It’s all just a question of who can remember. Who will remember.” The stranger glances at him. “You have to remember.”
He rises from his chair. “I’m sorry, Rose. I think I’ll skip the rest of the rewind.” He presses something on the box and the light of memory shoots out of it. He vanishes and the two of them are alone again.
“Who was that?”
“A stranger,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Rose, I don’t understand. You seemed to know him.”
“Look at the light, Doctor,” she tells him. He does and a crash of memories makes him knock his chair back to the floor. Nausea whirls through his belly and crushing pain lances through the center of his brain.
“Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Please. For me.” It seems like it takes him forever as he follows the broken words back to reality and opens them. They are full of sand and he raises one hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. His vision is clouded, but clears after a moment as his tear ducts start working. Rose is across the room. Clear across a different room, lit by cold sunlight. A white, utilitarian, hospital room. She looks so fragile, so small, inside the blue jumper that he finally recognizes as his own.
“Rose?” His voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in months.
She turns from the window, hope lighting eyes that had almost been washed free of joy. “Doctor?”
Ch. 5:
Additional Author's Notes: Dialogue has been borrowed from the episodes Rose, Flesh and Stone, The Pandorica Opens, and The Big Bang.
Author:
amberfocusCharacters/Pairings: The Doctor/Rose Tyler
Genre: Romance, Mystery, Angst
Betas:
amyo67, theteshRating: Teen
Summary: In a tiny village on the edge of nowhere, a man who can't remember his own name tries to hold on to reality, but reality has other ideas. Only one thing remains constant; the woman in the blue jumper.
A/N: Yeah, it's just weird. Also, additional author's notes for this chapter at the end so as not to spoil the plot.
Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3
He wakes up in mid-stumble, his heart lurching into his throat as his body tries to flatten itself face down in the dirt. Her hand is there immediately and then she is looping her blue jumper-clad arm through his when her hand is not enough to steady him. The softness of her body pushing into his side feels more right than anything has felt in a long time. She has become the most familiar thing in his life.
“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I’m here. Breathe slowly.”
He recovers his equilibrium and coughs violently. His throat feels as if it’s been coated with dust after being run over by a lorry. The pain begins to recede and she gives him a bottle of water. “Not too fast,” she tells him. It soothes as it goes down. He licks his lips and they are dry and parched.
She smiles at him and digs in her bag, pulling out a thin tube and smearing something across his lips. “That should help.”
It does. He starts to feel more like himself again. He looks around them. It’s summer and the streets are lined with flower boxes in full bloom. The scent of jasmine, roses, and a thousand other flowers suddenly attack his nose, as just as many colors assail his vision. He twists his neck from side to side and closes his eyes.
“I think they overdid it on all the flowers,” he says, trying to recover from the assault on his senses. It’s almost too much.
“People often do,” she says. “A few are nice, so a few hundred thousand must be better.”
“That’s the human condition,” he says.
She eyes him for a moment. “You do remember you have that, don’t you?”
“What?”
“The human condition.”
He laughs. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks. They continue their stroll down the too dusty street. It needs to rain, something to cleanse the dirt and grime away and show what’s really there underneath the surface.
“Where are we going?” he asks her finally.
“There,” she points. He reads the sign above the establishment.
“Goweil Saloon?” he says.
“Well, it goes with the cowboy hat,” she tells him. “Though I must say, not your best look ever.”
He touches his hat. “I don’t know where it came from.” He pauses. “Still, I think I’ve made worse wardrobe choices in the past.” He doesn’t remember them, but the words seem right coming out of his mouth, they feel true against tongue and teeth.
They go through the doors, genuine saloon doors, like in an American Western. They swing back and forth behind them. Rose escorts him to a table and leaves him there while she goes to the bar to order. His fingers trace a long, thin crack on the surface of the table that is otherwise smooth wood and completely polished to a high gloss. The entire place looks like that. Old, slightly run down, but with a new veneer on top. It seems to carry a promise to be bright and shiny, but really it all just seems so tired. He tries not to drum his fingers on it in a rhythm he can’t quite remember.
The food and drink is good, though, when it arrives. Fish and chips. He feels a pang over his heart and tries to hide it in the mug of ale. Rose is looking at him while he eats and he feels like he’s forgotten something small, but important, which is a strange feeling to have when he knows he has forgotten everything.
“So,” she says.
“So?”
“I keep trying, but I don’t know if I’m going to be successful.” Her eyes won’t meet his and it makes him nervous. He reaches for her hand and she squeezes his fingers in return.
“Successful at what?”
She sighs. “I don’t know if you can even understand me.”
“Rose, what?”
“The explosion that caused it is still out there, still happening, somewhere in time,” she says.
His confusion grows. “I don’t understand.”
“All universes are threatened.” She looks down. “But all I can think about is mine. The one that comes down to you and me and right here and right now.”
He is feeling desperate, like he should comprehend her words, but he doesn’t. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t remember. Of course, you don’t. It’s tricky. Memory is more important than you think,” she says.
“I have no memories,” he tells her. She stares at him mutely. “Rose?”
Her eyes are far away as if she’s seeing something else. Her voice is distant when she speaks. “People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can’t quite account for. Faces in photographs, luggage, half eaten meals… Rings.” Her finger traces his ring finger on his left hand and he notices suddenly the platinum band resting there. A wedding band. It matches the one on her finger. He’s sure it wasn’t there before.
“Do you know? What it is that I’ve forgotten?” His heart is beating so frantically, almost like it’s trying to escape his chest.
“Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. And…if something can be remembered, it can come back.” Her eyes meet his. “We don’t have much time left.”
“No, I don’t think that we do.”
“I’ve been remembering for both of us. I’ve tried so hard.”
There are tears in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. Rose should never cry.
“I can’t help it,” she says. “For so long the future seemed written in stone. And then I met you and you took me away in your magical machine and everything changed.”
“Magical machine?” Images cascade through his mind, tumbling like a waterfall, and he sees through a distant fog the outline of coral and a very young woman running towards him.
“And it all became open again. Unwritten. We could go anywhere. Do anything,” she said. “Only now…”
The words come to him from nowhere. “Time can be rewritten.” The words fall heavily, almost clunking against the crack on the table.
“And what was once found can now be lost. And that’s the biggest fear, isn’t it? Losing you? Because I already have. Once. Twice. Three times, if you count now.”
“That’s my hat.” A man he doesn’t recognize approaches the table and lifts the hat from his head. He runs his finger over the crack.
“You!” Rose exclaims.
“Me. Yes, I’m afraid so,” he says. He looks awkward and carries far more sadness in his ancient eyes than anyone should have to bear.
“You’re causing all of this.” Rose is angry. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Rose angry. He remembers Rose being angry. He remembers it! One hundred images of a furious Rose wash over him and he basks in it.
“Fossils in time,” says the stranger. “Footprints of the never-weres.” The crack disappears under the man’s hand and the table is suddenly unspoiled. “I didn’t mean to come here,” he says.
“You never do,” she replies.
“I didn’t know it would do this to him.”
“But it’s still your fault, and if you don’t fix it, I’m going to lose everything,” Rose says.
The man sets down a box on the table. It looks like a puzzle box. It looks like it should be one hundred times larger. “The box contains a memory of the universe. And the light transmits the memory.”
She reaches for it, but his hand stops her and he sits down at their table. “Everything will be restored for you. All the cracks in time will close, but…I don’t know. One of us might end up on the wrong side. Trapped in the Never-Space. The void between worlds. It’s all just a question of who can remember. Who will remember.” The stranger glances at him. “You have to remember.”
He rises from his chair. “I’m sorry, Rose. I think I’ll skip the rest of the rewind.” He presses something on the box and the light of memory shoots out of it. He vanishes and the two of them are alone again.
“Who was that?”
“A stranger,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Rose, I don’t understand. You seemed to know him.”
“Look at the light, Doctor,” she tells him. He does and a crash of memories makes him knock his chair back to the floor. Nausea whirls through his belly and crushing pain lances through the center of his brain.
“Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Please. For me.” It seems like it takes him forever as he follows the broken words back to reality and opens them. They are full of sand and he raises one hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. His vision is clouded, but clears after a moment as his tear ducts start working. Rose is across the room. Clear across a different room, lit by cold sunlight. A white, utilitarian, hospital room. She looks so fragile, so small, inside the blue jumper that he finally recognizes as his own.
“Rose?” His voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in months.
She turns from the window, hope lighting eyes that had almost been washed free of joy. “Doctor?”
Ch. 5:
Additional Author's Notes: Dialogue has been borrowed from the episodes Rose, Flesh and Stone, The Pandorica Opens, and The Big Bang.
