normally-paranormal

[normally-paranormal]

“I was thinking about what you said, Emmrich. About being afraid of death.”

The footsteps that had been approaching him paused. Rook didn’t look back, choosing instead to simply study the headstone resting in front of him. The text engraved into it was far too old to be clearly made out, though he thought that maybe the epitaph had been dedicated to a lover. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he picked at the hem of his trousers for a moment before he glanced back at the man waiting behind him. Emmrich inclined his head towards him. “I apologize if I.. made it weigh heavily on your mind, Rook.”

“No apologies needed, Professor.” Rook nodded to the empty space next to him, then looked ahead again. He waited until Emmrich had wandered over to kneel at his side to cast him another glance, this time accompanied with a small smile. “It’s been on my mind a lot, anyway. It’s kind of funny, I didn’t really think about it much until after I joined the wardens.”

“Oh, yes.” Emmrich fully settled into the grass next to him, preparing for a longer conversation. “From what I understand, the wardens have some close associations with death. I imagine one could almost drown in it.”

“Almost,” Rook echoed. He studied his friend. “How much do you know about the order?”

Emmrich hummed. He gave him a knowing look. “Some. I know that they hold their secrets very close to their chest. And that it must be forbidden for you to talk about such things.”

“Yeah, well…” Rook looked back to the grave and drew his knees up to his chest. He wasn’t exactly on good terms with the order. At least, not with the First Warden. It wasn’t entirely possible to be cast out, but he’d been as good as done so. It was that or being put on house arrest within Weisshaupt. He shrugged with one shoulder and leaned a little closer to Emmrich, speaking just a little more conspiratorially. In most cases, the dead didn’t talk, but he was settled in the Grand Necropolis and he wasn’t going to risk his words falling into ghostly gossip. “I guess it’s true, death is.. all part of the deal, really. It’s right there in the oath.”

“In death, sacrifice,” Emmrich quoted softly.

“Yeah. And in life..” Rook shrugged again. “You do what you can. You only get a few good decades, if you’re lucky.”

Emmrich’s brows furrowed in thought. He looked straight-on at Rook. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“The Calling,” Rook said. He shot him a lazy grin. “It comes for all Wardens, eventually. You take the oath, and if you’re lucky, you survive the ritual and get.. I don’t know, twenty, thirty years, at the most? Some get a lot less. Then the oath we made finally takes its toll and they pack us off to the Deep Roads, to die with honor, or something close enough to it.”

“Oh,” Emmrich said, softly. “Oh. I’d.. heard stories, of course, but-”

“The wardens are good at keeping secrets.”

“But that’s awful,” Emmrich said. He frowned at him. “Aren’t you terrified?”

“I guess.” It was hard not to be. He hadn’t known that fun little detail when he’d done the Joining. You weren’t supposed to. He supposed it didn’t make much of a difference, knowing the span of his life. He’d already sworn himself in to the wardens, and it wasn’t like anyone had ever heard of a Grey Warden going on to retire. There were no peaceful country sides for them, just an end at the hands of the Blight, however it might eventually find them. “But it’s just.. reality, you know? I can’t really undo it. I made my choice.”

“But you didn’t really know..”

“No,” Rook confirmed. “I didn’t.” He looked at Emmrich, holding the man’s gaze for a long moment. “I guess maybe that’s why this.. hunt for Solas thing hasn’t fully gotten to me. I mean, it has, but..” He frowned in thought. “I’m not scared of him. Or of Ghilan'nain, or Elgar'nan. What’s the worst they could do?” He asked. “Kill me? Sorry, but I’m already spoken for.”

“Destroy the world, I thought,” Emmrich offered. Rook sighed.

“Yeah. There’s that. Not gonna happen, though.” Rook gave the grave one last glance, then started to push himself to his feet. He’d wasted enough time here for the day. The Grand Necropolis was a place that he’d found oddly comforting since his first visit, and he found himself hoping that, somehow, when he died, his bones would make their way to Nevarra to rest under the care of some good, kind man like Emmrich. He offered out a hand to help him up, which Emmrich gratefully accepted. He smiled as he stood.

“And how are you so sure, exactly?”

Rook’s own smile deepened. He had no idea. “I’ve just got a good feeling, is all.”

[normally-paranormal]

and what if i made a fake book cover based on a memoir my OC writes several years after the Events. what then

(source for the image i used as the background)

[normally-paranormal]

Unfortunately the Christine fic that exists in my head does now have a vague bulleted list of every scene I'd want in there

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A slightly less tragic ending

-----

It was Sunday, January twenty-first, that I started to come back a little. My left leg was in a cast up in its old familiar position again amid all the pulleys and weights. There was someone sitting next to me, and it took me a moment to realize it was Arnie.

He looked like hell made-over. His lip was busted, his left eye was partially hidden underneath a deep, purpling bruise, and his skin had broken out into reddened, uneven patches of acne, brought about by stress or too many cokes or reliable old teenage hormones. To my eyes, it was the best he'd ever looked. There was a moment, as bleary-eyed and light-headed as I was, that I thought I had to be dreaming. And then he turned to look at me.

Seeing me awake must've shocked him. Arnie all but leapt out of his seat, his eyes wide and his hands hovering as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. He finally seemed to settle on trying to knock some of his hair out of his face, a gesture so familiar that it made my chest ache as he struggled to find something to say. "Dennis," he finally managed, his voice hoarse, still not quite the old Arnie, but there was enough of something earnest in it that I didn't hear LeBay, either. "Hey, man. ..It's been crazy, huh?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it, even if it made everything in my body squeeze and ache and burn. Arnie looked at me like he didn't quite know what to make of that. "Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it. What happened to you?" I asked, squinting as I peered up at him. "You look like you're the one who got hit by a car."

There was a hesitation, and then a shy, nervous sort of smile came over his face. It lasted for only a second before he broke into a laugh, too- and, God, that alone made it all worth it. The doc could come and tell me that I'd never walk again, that my leg was going to be amputated at the hip this time tomorrow, that all I had ahead of me was another decade of painful physical therapy, and I wouldn't have done a thing different. It was a laugh that sounded like Arnie, the way I knew him. Call me sentimental, or a big fucking crybaby, or whatever brand of queer you want to, but I'd never heard a sound that was so much like waking up from a bad dream.

"I.. kinda did," Arnie answered. His smile fell away, but the life in his eyes was still there. That was all I could focus on. "It was.. LeBay. One minute, my mom and I were driving along, and the next, he was just... he was there. In the car with us."

"Wasn't inside you?" I said it, then grimaced. Arnie seemed to shrug off the awkward phrasing as well as anyone could.

"No." He let out a shaky breath, then shrugged. "Whatever you and Leigh did, Dennis, it was like he couldn't touch me anymore. Couldn't get in my head. He was trying to get ahold of the wheel, and he.. did. We had a head-on with a Chrysler."

"Jesus." I frowned at him, shifting against the pillows piled behind me. God, I was so tired of hospital beds I could puke. "How's Regina?"

"Recovering." He matched my frown. "I think."

There was a dip in his voice that made me worried. It'd been so long since I'd seen the real Arnie that I was suddenly terrified to realize that I couldn't quite tell the difference between a regular lowered pitch in his throat and LeBay's ugly growl pushing through. I couldn't read if Arnie had changed in some way or if it wasn't him at all. Arnie must've caught something in my face, because he shied away from me, and finally sat back down in the chair at my bedside. He reached up to swipe his hair out of his face again, the new, short haircut maybe not doing it for him. Arnie sighed. "I really screwed it all up, didn't I, Dennis? I mean, I.." His breath caught. "My mom thinks I've lost my fucking mind. She won't even look at me! Leigh- I- I don't even know what to say to her. And my dad.."

His voice cracked. I pushed out a soft breath. "Arnie.."

"That fucker!" He burst. Arnie's fists were clenched on top of his thighs, digging into the fabric of his jeans until his knuckles had gone white. "I don't know if he's gone, they didn't find shit at the wreck, but I swear to God, Dennis, I'm gonna pull him out of his fucking grave and make him fucking CHOKE! That son of a--"

"Arnie!" I barked, feeling like my heart was trying to seize in my chest. If LeBay wasn't gone--

I didn't get to finish the thought. Arnie choked, the tension bleeding from his body as he broke into a mortified sob, and forgive me, but that was just as much of a relief as his smile had been. He was angry. He had every right to be. But it was just that- just anger. Just something Arnie felt, deep and true, that belonged to him. I tried to breathe, and my voice was hoarse when I tried again. "Arnie, I- I'm so sorry, man. About your dad. I tried to.."

I'd tried to warn him. The sight of Michael Cunningham's body passed through my mind again and I had to repress a shudder. Scrubbing angrily at his good eye with one hand, Arnie shook his head. "It's not your fault. None of this is. I.." He dropped his hand, sighed again. When he looked at me, he looked scared. "..We're still friends, aren't we? After all of this?"

"Yeah, man. Yeah, of course we are." My mouth felt dry. And I'm not ashamed to admit it, I started crying then, too. I'd missed him like hell. Arnie nodded, looking relieved.

"Thank you, Dennis," he said, his voice quiet. He leaned over to give me a light punch in the shoulder. "You really saved my ass."

"Yeah, I'm a real Han Solo type," I told him. He smiled, faintly. I wondered when the hell I was going to get out of here so we could watch a game at home again. We hadn't talked about Leigh yet, but I was sure that was going to come, and even more so that it'd work itself out. I loved her, but she'd been Arnie's girl first, and Arnie and I had been claiming Libertyville as our own since long before she'd come around. Right then, I believed I'd be happy with just about any choice she made.

Arnie was alive. He was himself, if a little worse for wear. We also hadn't talked about Christine yet, but the last I'd seen of her, she'd been as good as gone. It struck me then that if LeBay had been with Arnie, if he'd caused that wreck, then he'd abandoned the Fury. He couldn't have been in both places at once. I didn't have it in me to feel any sympathy for her.

"Hey," I said after a quiet moment, smiling tiredly when Arnie met my gaze. I nodded down towards my leg. "Sign my cast for me?"

[normally-paranormal]

Would you judge me if I wrote Christine fanfic

[normally-paranormal]

Tip #68

Finished off the last little bit of that Wolf 359 fic. Set four days after Who's There, Minkowski has a conversation with a ghost.

-----

“I say again: Requesting immediate assistance. Please respond.” 

Minkowski waited. And waited. The static of the radio popped and fizzled on, occasionally shifting frequency or fading out, but no other human voices came over the line. Her mouth tightening into a thin line, she shut off the comm. 

Four days. Only four days. It already felt like it’d been a lifetime since the red dwarf had turned blue and the entirety of her universe had shifted on its axis. In the rush to get the station back into functionality, between tallying up hundreds of system errors and reckoning with her three broken, angry, terrified crew mates, she hadn’t had time to reckon with, well, time. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t have enough of it or if she had way, way too much. Her days were both rapid and endless, her nights were a mix of rushing thoughts and sleepless hours spent listening to the horrible, aching noises the station made as it buckled under its own weight-- and there’d only been four of them since everything had really, really gone to hell. 

She should leave the comms room. Her transmission was completed and Hera could let her know if anything did come through to them, but she hesitated. Only for a moment. Her crew needed her to get up and get moving, they needed her to fix every single thing that’d been broken, but they could give her a minute, couldn't they? She deserved that much, didn’t she? A tiny little moment to herself so that she could finally think about…

Pryce and Carter’s Deep Space Survival Procedure and Protocol Manual, Tip #1,001: In times of trouble, an idle mind is your worst enemy. Keep yourself occupied at all times. Don’t stop. 

The last of Pryce and Carter’s, and the easiest to remember. She shouldn’t have that moment to herself. She should keep moving. Minkowski pushed herself away from the console to start for the door. 

“Oh, lighten up, why don’t you? It’s not like the station’s gonna blow up if you stop and take a breath. It already did that, remember?” 

Minkowski froze. No, no no no… She turned, slowly, and sure enough, there he was. Communications Officer Douglas Eiffel, as foolish as ever, his feet resting on the console as if he wasn’t at risk of knocking a million switches out of place. With one hand resting behind his head, he gave her a raised eyebrow and a small smirk, a sight so familiar that, for a moment, she wanted to believe it was real. Everything else- the star, the alien transmission, the shuttle explosion- had just been a nightmare. A long, terrible nightmare. 

Pryce and Carter’s Tip #911: Sometimes things get worse before they get better.

And didn’t she know that more than anyone. Minkowski watched the man in front of her for just a moment longer, then closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She knew better than to let herself indulge in something like.. this. Looking anywhere but at him, she spoke a little above her normal volume. “Hera?” 

“Yes, Commander?” Came the immediate response from the intercom. She sounded tired, Minkowski thought. It was almost funny to think an AI could be tired, if it wasn’t so tragic. Once upon a time, Hera had nearly always sounded.. Chipper, upbeat, even when sarcastic. Not anymore. 

“Can you check the oxygen levels in the station for me? Is anything off, in here or elsewhere?” 

“Um….” There was a pause, almost as if Hera were moving away to check something, as if she weren’t directly integrated into the station insofar as becoming the station. “No. I mean, thermal controls are a little.. Off, down in the cargo bay, but all oxygen levels in the station are suitable. Oxygen levels in the comms room specifically are nominal. Is…. everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Minkowski said. “Yeah, it's fine, Hera. I guess I just.. It’s been a long day.” 

“Oh, come on Commander, you’re smarter than that,” said Eiffel. Minkowski jumped, her gaze darting back to the man settled in front of her. He grinned. “Sorry to go all Sixth Sense on you, but plot twist: you’re seeing dead people.” 

“Commander?” 

“Like I said,” Minkowski started through gritted teeth, though she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Hera or Eiffel or herself, ���It’s been a long day.”

“Okay, Commander,” Hera said, at the same time at which Eiffel spoke over her to make his point; “Yeah, yeah. You think you’ve had a long day? How do you think I feel? At least you’ve got people to talk to, and a big fancy star to look at, while I’m over there somewhere in solitary confinement.” He gestured vaguely towards the direction that the shuttle had tumbled off in, and Minkowski remembered again that he would still be tumbling. With every single second that passed, he was moving thousands and thousands of miles away from the Hephaestus, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He was out there, alone, drifting, and she didn't have to dig deep to know that she would never be able to save him. Suddenly Eiffel raised his hands in a placating gesture, pulling his feet from the console to sit up properly. “Okay, okay. That was a little harsh, I’ll admit. But aren’t you being a little harsh on yourself? I mean, how much sleep have you actually gotten in the last few nights?” 

Minkowski stared at him hard- a look she had given him a hundred times before, for a hundred different stupid reasons, most of them being something that had come out of his mouth. No, no, she wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to talk to a ghost, not when there was so much work to be done. She wasn’t giving in to that, not right now, not ever, really not ever… 

“Hera?” 

“..Yeah, Commander?” 

“I want you to do a reboot of the comms systems.” 

There was a pause. Minkowski crossed her arms and waited, her gaze locked onto the man settled in front of her. He raised his eyebrows, turning his placating gesture into jazz-hands before he leaned back again in his seat. “A.. full reboot, Commander?” 

“Yes, Hera. A full reboot.” 

“Oh… kay, but I’m right in the middle of walking the Lieutenant through something, so can it wait just a tiny--” 

“Now.” 

“Okay, okay. Rebooting right now. Communications systems will be down for about.. Three minutes, give or take. And… d--” 

There was a quiet burst of static as Hera’s voice distorted and faded out. Minkowski felt a small well of guilt settle in her chest for shutting her off like that, but it meant three minutes of going totally unheard. Three minutes that she could speak to the ghost settled in front of her. She clenched her jaw, staring hard for another long moment. Eiffel only smiled in return, for once seeming to wait until she spoke first.

At least, he waited for a few seconds. And then he rolled his eyes and looked back to the console, seeming to search over the buttons and switches for something in particular. “You know, she probably would’ve just ignored you if you started talking to yourself. She does it to me all the time.” 

That wasn’t comforting. In fact, none of this was comforting. She wasn’t sure why she bothered shutting Hera down when she should just--

“You know how much I hate being the voice of reason, Commander. But I actually do think that you should take a break.” Eiffel looked back to her. She felt herself take a steadying breath, blinking at a burning feeling behind her eyes that told her tears were inevitable if she kept staring at him like this. Four days… he would still be alive, probably, unless he’d done something exceptionally stupid. She didn’t put it past him to do something exceptionally stupid. 

“I don’t have time for a break, Eiffel,” she snapped back. “I know you can’t exactly know this, but the station is falling apart and if we don’t do something about it I could-” 

“Oh, I know that perfectly well. It’s been falling apart since day one.” Eiffel smiled at her. “And I’m not me, remember? I’m all in here.” he gestured at his own head. “If you start thinking otherwise, you’ll have actually lost your mind. And then we’re really in for a ride if you go buying tickets to the crazy train.”

“Then you should know that I don’t have an option. What am I supposed to do, let it all keep breaking down? I don’t exactly have much to work with here.” She paused as he broke into a laugh and frowned. It wasn’t funny. None of it was funny. Not even Lovelace’s stupid jokes held anything funny in them anymore. They were stranded out here alone and as good as dead, with an unprecedented solar event happening right out their window and a crew member who’d been flung out of her reach only moments after she’d promised that she wouldn’t leave him out there. She had Hera, grieving and glitching at every turn, who’d been struggling to control the station even before part of it had blown up, and Hilbert, insane as he was, and Lovelace, losing her grip with every passing second, all to take care of and keep alive. And she couldn't. Not for forever, and she knew it. Eiffel kept laughing.

“But it is funny,” he told her, before she could even snap at him. He gave her a lopsided grin and rested an arm over the back of his chair. “Come on. You’ve got, like, the only three people in the galaxy who could survive a thing like this on your side. Hera’s a supercomputer, for crying out loud. And Lovelace, who’s totally lived up to the badass space captain thing, and Hilbert, who..” He grimaced a little, then shrugged. “Despite.. everything, is still kind of a mad supergenius. If anyone’s gonna get through it all, it’s the three people you’ve got behind you. And they’re not gonna go any more cu-cuckoo than they already have if you take a nap for a few hours.” 

He was right. Maybe. But just because her crew happened to be made up of some of the best minds she’d ever known didn’t mean that she had the resources they needed to keep them alive. There were vital repairs to be done to the station, things that she tried to pretend weren’t looming over their heads at any given moment. And then there was the fact that she didn’t have her full crew, either. She was missing one. Minkowski chewed at her lip, then sighed. She sounded tired even to her own ears. “And what about you, Eiffel?” 

He shrugged. That was about as much as an answer as she could get, really. “I don’t know, Commander. But if I were me, I wouldn’t want Commander Minkowski to work herself insane over a situation she couldn't do anything about. ..Pryce and Carter’s number 68,” he added, with a sudden expectant grin. “Go.” 

“There are limits,” she started, rattling off the tip without having to think about it, “To what the human body can take in any period of time. Please be mindful that you do not overwork yourself.” She paused, then frowned. “That’s a cheap trick. The next tip is-” 

“Unless you have orders to do so, I know, I know.” Eiffel raised an eyebrow at her. “But you’re the highest authority right now. And really, if you’re seeing things…” 

“I need a break,” she finished for him. His smile turned a bit more genuine as he spun his chair back towards the console. She let out a low breath. She didn’t want to rest, not right now, but maybe he was right. Maybe she was right? She didn’t know what the real Eiffel would say, but…

A burst of static. A pause. Then Hera’s voice floating over the intercom. “---Done. Oh, there we go. Communications systems are back online.” She sounded cheerful, at least. Then Hera’s voice softened, speaking to Minkowski only, she assumed. “Did that.. Do whatever you needed it to, Commander?” 

“Yeah, Hera. Thanks.” Minkowski hesitated a moment longer. Eiffel was still sitting in front of her, but she knew he’d be gone when she turned her back. Still drifting, out there, somewhere, in a direction she could pinpoint but couldn't follow. But she could sleep, and put herself on a regular rotation with Lovelace and Hilbert, and work out a plan to handle any alarms when they went off. She could do that much. Sighing, she turned from the console and started back out into the rest of the station.

[normally-paranormal]

Aurora

Summary: Set just before The End of Time. The Doctor visits Lucy Saxon, both to answer a question and to distract himself from what's to come. -

     Broadfell Prison wasn’t his usual sort of haunting ground. Well, not by choice, though he did find himself arrested or otherwise confined to a prison cell more often than he’d like. But there was something here that had been bothering him for a while now, and with nothing better to do- and all thoughts of Bowie Base One and the Ood and victory shoved far, far into the back of his mind- he figured he could afford a little trip. A little, unimportant trip. A little visit to Broadfell Prison to see little, unimportant Lucy Saxon, the girl who’d been forgotten maybe even more than the year itself. 

     The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached her cell, one hand thumbing at the leather of the wallet he kept the psychic paper in, but he figured he wouldn’t need it. He’d only passed one set of guards wandering the halls who’d barely bothered to glance in his direction and Lucy would know exactly who he was. He stopped short at the bars of her cell and peered in, waiting for her to notice him first. 

Keep Reading (Ao3)

[normally-paranormal]

The View from the Front Porch

Summary: Jackie Tyler had once thought that she would never in a million years, never in the whole wide world, consider the Doctor a friend. Sitting in a different universe altogether, she supposed she'd come to like him. -- A midnight conversation about a new universe, an old life, and Rose Tyler. --

     Jackie Tyler had never quite decided what she thought of the Doctor. Insufferable, yes. Insane, yes. Horrible, oh, yes. He’d stolen away her only daughter, had put her in danger and broken her heart, changed her until the girl Jackie knew was a far cry from the woman she only caught glimpses of. She’d hated that man so much for all of the time stolen and all of the pain he left in his wake that sometimes she couldn't see straight. How dare he, she used to think, sitting all alone in her empty flat, How dare he swoop in and take away my entire life?

     And yet… and yet. The woman Rose had grown into was a hero tenfold, in the truest sense of the word. She was confident, she was compassionate, she was frustratingly headstrong, and she was good. Jackie thought she held the claim to a fair bit of all that, but she also knew that it hadn’t all been her. Even if she had planted the seeds long before that man had stepped into their lives, she supposed he had been the catalyst for their growth. A second chance and a new life is what he’d been, and though Jackie would never admit it, she thought that maybe she finally understood the decision Rose had made. Walking through a whole new universe, living in the house that belonged to her dead-not-dead husband, Jackie thought that maybe she would have done the same. And maybe he wasn’t so bad- he’d kept his promise of bringing Rose home, after all. 

     And now there was him, and she still wasn’t sure what to think. 

     It’d become something of a habit to take walks around the house at night, wearing off the restless energy that came from knowing her sleep would be broken anyway the next time the baby cried. It wasn’t long after the Doctor- or his clone, or whatever he was- joined them that she realized he, too, was prone to late night walks. It took only a week or three before she was regularly finding him on the front porch, settled into a deck chair with his legs drawn to his chest, his eyes on the stars. Tonight, the air was a little chilly and she knew that he had probably foregone remembering to wear a jacket, so she stopped by the kitchen and made two cups of tea to warm them up before she headed outside. 

     The man didn’t even notice her at first. It was funny, sort of, how observant he could be in all things strange and how easily he missed the things that anyone else would take to in a second. She wasn’t quite sure if that was the alien or the human part of him. She eased into the chair next to him and passed the mug over, watching as he started when her hand was suddenly in front of his face. “Tea?” 

     The Doctor blinked, then looked at her, accepting the mug with a grin. “Oh, always. Thank you, Jackie.” He leaned further back into his chair, letting his feet fall to the ground as he looked back out at the night. “Could save the universe with your tea.” 

     “I have saved the universe with my tea,” she replied, earning a quiet, bright laugh from him. 

     “Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I’ve always wondered if that’s why this incarnation ended up with such a fondness for it.” 

     “Don’t be daft. Everyone likes my tea.” 

     “I’ll believe that,” he said, and then they fell quiet. Most of the nights with him were like this; a cup of tea, a bit of banter, and then silence. Another funny thing, that. She was used to friends who were endlessly chatty, she was endlessly chatty, and she’d never known the Doctor to shut up to save his own life. But here they sat, quiet and comfortable. She’d thought at first that maybe this was something else that came with his humanity, but now she wasn’t so sure. She thought that maybe this contemplative part of him had always been there, but she hadn’t been around enough to see it. Rose had, probably. She could imagine the two of them, in that impossible TARDIS, on some empty moon a billion miles away, enjoying a moment of absolute silence. 

     Just for a moment, though, she thought, with a small smile. Trouble would’ve found them by the next. And just when had that become a thought to smile at? 

     She turned to look at him and found that he was still staring out at that night sky. They were lucky that Pete’s home was just far enough away from the city that the stars weren’t wholly blocked out by the light. Rose and him both had a fondness for those stars and whatever it was that lay beyond them, and Jackie thought that it just wouldn’t do if her little girl couldn't see the stars that she loved so much. She watched the Doctor for another long moment, studied the tight set of his jaw and the tired, old look in his eyes, and decided to break their silence. 

     “Do you miss it?” She asked. It was the question she’d had lodged in the back of her mind since he came here, this man who’d never stayed for long once the action was through. If she were lucky, he and Rose would stay for dinner, but they’d be gone long before the plates were even off the table. He started again and looked at her, taking a breath like he’d forgotten to breathe while he’d been so lost in thought. She watched him swallow, then look out again. 

     “..Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. He finally tore his gaze away from the sky enough to actually look at Jackie while he talked, and she saw reflected in that gaze the same longing that she sometimes felt, inexplicably, for that cramped little apartment on the Powell Estate, with little Rose Tyler always in the next room. “Sometimes. I mean, it’s a whole universe, Jackie. And this one, it’s- it’s new. There’s a billion, billion stars out there that even I’ve never seen. Who knows how many planets and… weird little species that never evolved in our universe. I used to know so many of those histories like the back of my hand- well, that changes sometimes, but… it’s all new, all strange. I don’t know what’s out there.” He grinned. “ I don’t know! Those were always my favorite bits.” 

    “Your favorite bits were being the smartest person in the room,” she said, and he laughed again. She wanted to smile with him, but there was a sort of sadness to those words, wasn’t there? Either way she looked at it; this man who clearly loved the stars would never get to see them again, and this man who her daughter loved would always be longing for something else. She bit her lip and followed his gaze out to the sky. What’s more, she knew that Rose would always be thinking about someone else, too. That other him, the one somewhere else, so far away that even she couldn't go after him anymore. Jackie sighed. That man had treated being split in two like such a gift, but it seemed like Rose was being torn apart as well. She’d cried as much to Jackie not long after the whole ordeal was over, when the two of them had finally caught a moment alone. 

     The Doctor’s mind, as always, must’ve been drifting towards her daughter as well. He hummed softly. “I was never the smartest when Rose was in the room,” he said, his voice soft again. “..There is still so much out there that I never got to show her.” 

     “She worries about you, you know.” Jackie gave him a look that she hadn’t intended to be accusing, but she couldn't help it. This was her daughter, and he kept on breaking her heart. “The both of you.” 

     “I know.” He gave her a sad, soft smile, not at all like the bright grins that were synonymous with him in her mind. “But we’ll be alright. It’ll take a little time, but, well, he’s got plenty of that, hasn’t he?” And then he grinned, but it still lacked all that life and fire that she was used to. “And so have I. Only difference is that I’m taking the scenic route.” 

     “And what about all that stuff you just said about the universe?” She asked, now seeking to dig up the reassurance she needed that he’d stay, that he’d finally just make Rose happy and not keep leaving her behind or tearing her in two despite the wonders of the galaxy. “You miss it, you said. Doesn’t that bother you?” 

     “What? That I’m here and he’s out there?” The Doctor shrugged, shifting in his seat to properly face her. “That’s the thing, Jackie. That’s why this is all so brilliant! I can be perfectly happy here, because I know a part of me is still out there.” He nodded towards the edge of the porch, towards the world, towards the whole universe, even though they both knew that he was in a different one altogether. “I’ll miss it, sure. God, do I miss it. But I’m having the one adventure he never can.” And there was that grin, bright and stupid and begging her to knock it off him even in the best of times. Well, usually. Right now she actually found herself wanting to smile in return. 

     “And he’ll be fine,” the Doctor continued, again looking at the sky. “Rose worries, but.. It’s ‘cause of her that he’ll be alright. I keep trying to tell her that.” 

     “How can you be so sure?” 

     “Because I know him, remember? He's me.” He sat back in his seat. His smile faded, just a bit, back to that sad and soft and heartbroken expression. “Oh, it’ll kill him, all of this. Losing her again, and everyone else going back to their lives. But that’s the thing, Jackie.” He looked over at her. “He didn’t have everyone else before Rose Tyler. He just went at it alone. But now… I think he knows. Loneliness doesn’t suit him.” He smiled again. “And somewhere out there, a piece of him is still with Rose Tyler. I think that’s enough.” 

     Jackie did smile back, then. And she wanted to laugh at the stupidity of it, of looking at this ridiculous, stupid, incredible, horrible man and thinking that she was glad to have him under her roof. He’d told her once that he would try not to rely on her hospitality for too long, that he’d find his own place, but she didn’t mind his staying. She had the feeling that the moment he left, Rose would follow, and if nothing else he was a surprisingly good help at handling the baby. She shook her head and looked away, some kind of weight dislodging from her chest. At least she knew that he did love Rose, that he was intent on staying for her. “So you think you’ll be comfortable here? Eventually?” 

     “Already am.” The Doctor- or whoever he was- crossed his legs in his seat, following her gaze right back out to the sky. “You’ve got a great view, Jackie. Good tea, a good view..” He trailed off. “I’ve already got some of the best parts of being human.” 

     She nodded, couldn't help but agree. Another ridiculous, funny thing, agreeing with him. She smiled to herself. Only in a whole other universe could that have happened. “And you’ve got Rose, I guess.” 

     She could hear the grin in his voice. “And I’ve got Rose.”

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Not gonna let myself post any more of this until I've actually written more of it since I've already decided to change some of these two scenes but,,, wip from where the (tenth) Doctor wakes up to find Rose is a little different 👀

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:)

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I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology

(brightened version + close ups! Click for full quality)

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Criss-crossed

Summary: Rose wakes up somewhere strange, unable to remember when or where they are. But she does remember that the Doctor doesn't look like that anymore.

I want to keep poking at this concept if I've got the time for it, but for now, this was just to actually get the thing on paper :)

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She almost didn’t notice that anything had changed. 

Between the cold floor, the dim room, and the throbbing in her head, it took her a moment to even notice him at all. Rose opened her eyes to near darkness and slowly pushed herself up into a sit, letting her eyes adjust and doing first what she’d been almost conditioned to do since she started traveling with the Doctor; she took stock of her surroundings. Not just cold metal floors, but cold metal walls surrounded her. There weren’t any windows, but dim light filtered down from a dirty, quietly humming bulb overhead, the kind she’d associate with schools and dreary office buildings. There was one door in the wall closest to her, bearing a large valve that reminded her of submarines or old ships. It looked a bit like that outpost that she’d witnessed fall into a black hole only recently: the resting place of a few good people and fifty Ood.  

The room seemed empty- no TARDIS- and that scared her a bit more than the pure fact that she wasn’t sure how she’d ended up here. She finally got herself off the ground and tried unsuccessfully to brush away the dust that had collected and stuck to her shirt. The room was covered in the stuff- abandoned, then? 

“This place could use a sweep,” she said out loud, then paused. She’d registered the missing TARDIS, the empty room, but it hadn’t even occurred to her to think that she would be without the Doctor. That had happened before only at the worst of times. Spinning around, she caught herself breathing a sigh when she found him across the room, slowly standing and pulling himself up by leaning against the wall. He didn’t look any more worse for wear than he usually did, but suddenly something deep in her chest clenched. No, it did more than that, it wrenched, twisting up until she found her breath trapped in her throat. 

“Rose?” The Doctor asked, squinting at her through the dark. He’d finally stood, seeming to have gained back his senses after whatever had happened to them. “You alright there? I think we-” 

She wasn’t sure what triggered the impulse. Maybe the sound of his voice, maybe the concern hidden within it, but before she could think about it she was running right for him. It was a pure, stupid, silly impulse that had her throw her arms around him and squeeze tight, her heart beating hard. She wasn’t sure what they’d done or how they’d gotten here, but she knew that seeing him felt like a miracle. He caught her- he always did- and squeezed back, just as tight, leaning against the wall to let it support them both. When he spoke again, his voice was a little softer. “Rose?” 

“Doctor,” she said, and she hated how meek her voice sounded -hated that she couldn't recall why. She gave him one last tight squeeze, her hands digging into the black leather of his coat-- and that’s when it hit.

The Doctor didn’t wear that coat anymore. 

Rose jerked back, half shoving him away from her and half stumbling with the effort, and there he was, just as she remembered. Blue eyes, darker, shorter hair, a stern face that was much more well-suited to boyish grins than it had any right to be. Right now he was giving her a bewildered frown, his arms still falling to his sides from where he’d been holding her. Again he asked, this time expectant, “Rose?” 

“You changed,” she said, and the words came out a bit more forceful than she intended. Or maybe she did intend it, she thought. She’d considered before- the first time- that something might have taken him, impersonated him. It seemed more likely now, when whatever this was might not know of his new face. 

“What?” The Doctor asked. He took a step forward and she stumbled back another four. 

“You changed! I saw you change!” Rose wanted to glance around behind her, to look for a weapon or an exit, but she already knew that the room was empty and she doubted her ability to quickly wrench open that valved door. She had nothing to fight with. Nothing but the domestic approach. “You’re not the Doctor, who are you?” 

“I’m not the- did you hit your head a little too hard?” 

“You’re not-”

“I happen to know who I am, thank you very much.” He was still wearing that bewildered look, a sight that was shocking just from it’s familiarity. “If I knew you had such a bad memory, I wouldn’t’ve brought you along. Memory loss and time travel don’t mix very well, you know.” He started to push past her, flashing a brief smile and moving on as if there was nothing at all to be concerned about. Which was so frustratingly like him that she knew a part of her wanted to simply follow along. 

“You’re not listening to me!” She yelled, a whole lot of that frustration slipping into her voice. “You changed, Doctor. And now you’ve gone and done it again!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Changed how?” He turned around to face her again, and seemed to catch himself before he spat out another snide comment. “Look- I don’t know what happened, but I am going to fix it. You just need to-” 

“Changed how?” She repeated, incredulous. She almost couldn't believe him, but then again, that might’ve been the comment  that made her believe he really was, somehow, the Doctor. “You died! Or- or something! And then you changed and then it was all right again, I guess, but now you look like-”

His expression had turned grim somewhere in the midst of her rant. He closed in on her, pushing a finger up against her lips to shush her. “Shut up.” 

“Doctor-” 

“Shut. Up.” He waited for a moment to ensure she would stay quiet, which she did. She looked up at him and realized her heart was racing, like she’d just come face-to-face with some terrible sort of alien. Or, she thought, like she’d just had another argument with him, which she supposed she had. His voice was quiet and stern when he continued. “Now, Rose, I want you to think. The last time I was with you, we were leaving London in the year 2006. You wanted to visit your mum after the ordeal with your dad and the Reapers, so I took you. Ring any bells?”

She opened her mouth to speak and he slowly lowered his hand away.  Breath shaky, she said, “But that was ages ago. I don’t..” She trailed off as he gave her a very pointed look. It was the look that told her she had to think it through. He’d given her all the pieces, she just needed to pull them together. “So… what? You’re saying that we… crossed timelines?” She asked. It was the best way she could think to explain it. His face split into one of those boyish grins.

“Something like that. I reckon you and your past self must have switched places somehow. Or..” He paused, that grin returning in a flash. “I suppose I could have traded with my future self. Come on.” Turning to start towards the door just as he had a moment ago, Rose found herself hesitating. She wasn’t quite sure how he could handle this so nonchalantly, but then again, it was him. All the proof she needed. 

“But wait,” she said, and he looked back at her, expectant. Now that she knew what she was looking at, the Doctor in an earlier time, something in her chest hurt. “If you’re here, then where’s..” Where’s my Doctor, she almost asked, but that wasn’t right. This was her Doctor, always had been, always would be. He’d never left her. But, staring at him, it was hard not to feel like she was staring at a ghost. Just like that, her train of thought shifted. “..Wait,” she started more urgently. “Doctor, you should know..” 

“I’m going to stop you right there,” he said, stern but not unkind. He met her gaze evenly. “Rose, you should already know this, but I’m going to say it anyway: You can’t tell me anything about what happens between my present and yours. Whatever happens, whatever mistakes you or I make, whatever warnings you want to give, you can’t. I probably know a bit more than I should already.” 

“But…”

“We both know you’ve seen the consequences of trying to change something like that.”

She fell quiet. Rose nodded, feeling all the world like she’d been scolded. He was right and she knew it- but it didn’t hurt any less. As if he could simply mend all of his- their- unforeseen sorrows with a grin, he turned on his heel and started for the door. “Now! Let’s see where we are, shall we?”

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Have some Thoughts on how color would be used in Seeing Ghosts, wanted to make something a bit more cohesive, didn't wanna draw anymore halfway through and learned Procreate hates writing lefthanded,,,,,, but there's a lot more where this came from :) (Didn't even get into the sets!)

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[on date] *winks flirtily* and btw i am soooo haunted by the ghosts of my past mistakes and how preventable their consequences were. do you want me carnally

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Owning a pet and living alone just means you talk at them constantly like you're a software engineer and they're your rubber duck

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Wips,, the title page for the Seeing Ghosts script treatment that I still need to fully write

And the first draft of that Portal fic :)

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erm. obsessed with making stupid little color palettes. most of these are named after songs I like

please tag me in your art if you use them ! :]