Keeping the Silence
My first Whofic. And my dip into the Who fandom is all Doomsday's fault. I'm stretched out between so many fandoms now it's just... bad.
This disregards the appearance of the bride at the end of Doomsday. Because that just ruined the mood.
But anyways, enjoy!
For centuries, she's watched her Doctor fall to pieces as people have left his life. His daughter's death, Susan leaving, the numerous companions that left, through either death or of their own free will—although she wasn't sure which way hurt him more; knowing that he had unwittingly led them to their death or knowing that they had tired of him.
And then the Time War. When he regenerated into his ninth form, he'd already lost many of the few good friends he had among his own people—it marked his new regeneration as a melancholy one. Most of the others thought him eccentric at best. Then he had had to make the ultimate choice: to destroy the Dalek race for good (or so he thought) or let everyone on Gallifrey, and elsewhere in time and space keep battling on forever. But in pushing that metaphorical button, the TARDIS felt both his hearts break. The loss of his home planet, of the rest of his people, had blown him apart.
For months he just let the TARDIS drift in the Vortex, not noticing anything around him. He barely ate, and a number of times, she locked him in the kitchen until he ate something—and no amount of yelling or jabs with his sonic screwdriver would let him get out without doing so. More than once she also hid the alcohol from him when tried to drown his sorrows.
Gradually, he picked up again—only to throw himself into his saving the world routine. The TARDIS couldn't help but worry. She was afraid that he saw it as some sort of penance, that he'd keep on risking himself right up until he ran out of regenerations. Then he'd die a true death, her along side him. The last Time Lord and the last TARDIS.
She had to admit, she was wary when her Doctor brought Rose on board. She knew the Doctor was lonely (despite her fond habit of pulling tricks on him), but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen when this young, vibrant London shopgirl left. Would she break her Doctor, like the rest of them?
But Rose found a place in both the Doctor and the TARDIS' lives. She brought a spark back to the Doctor—that was when the TARDIS truly welcomed her. Anyone who could even begin to heal the scars was welcome. She began to play her games with Rose, switching things around on her. To her delight, Rose would just chuckle and thump the nearest wall playfully. She wasn't like some of the previous companions, who would whine and complain that they could never go anywhere inside without getting lost.
That only made her confuse them more. Adam had been the easiest to crack—and she was sure happy to see the back of him. Time went on, and Rose became a constant part of life on board the TARDIS—the one who when pushed could slap just as hard as her mother, the one always curious and eager to learn, and a trouble-magnet to a certain degree. Not that the TARDIS thought that was anything to really worry about; they were both trouble-magnets.
Jack coming on board changed the dynamics slightly, but not in a bad way she thought. If anything, she picked up definite twinges of jealousy through their mental connection when Jack flirted with Rose. Not that Jack really meant anything by it—he was an exhibitionist, and prone to flirting with anyone (or anything for that matter).
Then there was the... nightmare on Satellite 5. The Daleks. The Doctor's painful memories of the end of the Time War resurfacing—and the bitter observation that Gallifrey had died for nothing. She couldn't believe what was happening when the Doctor sent her and Rose back. Rose's actions banished any last doubts she had about her. Here was someone who would die to keep her Doctor alive—and nearly did.
After the Doctor's subsequent regeneration, things defiantly began to warm up between the Doctor and the Rose. And the TARDIS couldn't help but chuckle when Sarah's appearance sparked Rose's jealousy. But she could have smacked her Doctor up the head for the whole Reinette thing. As it was she changed things around on him and him alone.
Falling through the bridge to the parallel universe almost killed her, and she really only started to notice things once they were back in their own universe. Mickey was gone, and that one barrier had been removed from them.
It wasn't long after the incident with the devil's pit that Rose and the Doctor finally admitted their feelings for each other. And the TARDIS was pleased that her Doctor had found love once more. He'd started to become cynical after the war, before Rose.
But she should have remembered that just when things start to seem that its going right, life has to throw in it mandatory curve ball. Or two,
A few weeks after the time spent in London 2012 for the Olympics, Rose started to feel a bit off, something both her and the TARDIS noticed. But it passed relatively quickly, and passed it off as a twenty-four hour bug—although she certainly didn't mind the special attention the Doctor gave her. The TARDIS, however wasn't so sure. Gently probing Rose, she found the centre of her uneasiness nestled in Rose's womb.
Rose was pregnant. Barely a week or so, she guessed. She decided against letting the cat out of the bag, rather wanting Rose to find out by herself.
But the second curve ball was thrown before she did. What would come to be known as the Ghost War.
When they arrived in London, she had felt the wrongness hovering over the city, so did the Doctor. But she never dreamed that the wrongness was Cybermen and Daleks. When Rose and the Doctor went off to investigate, she was certainly worried.
For her Doctor. For Rose. For the unborn child Rose was unaware she was carrying.
She sent a silent plea to the White Guardian to bring them all back to her. But those last few minutes, when she felt the Void open, she also felt the Doctor's jolt of fear and anguish—Rose was gone.
He's wandered back, silent and so terribly alone. From the glimpses she gained from his mind, she able to piece together what had happened. And learn that Rose was still alive, but achingly unreachable.
Not that it stopped her Doctor from searching for way—relentlessly. Any last breech, or just a crack, he was determined to find it.
She held off telling him of the Rose's pregnancy in the hope that Rose, who must have discovered it by now, could tell him herself. When everything was righted once more. it occurred to her later, it was possible the transition to the parallel earth, the trauma, could have made Rose miscarry. But she sure hoped not
But it wasn't. All the Doctor found was a slither of crack—to try and go through that hole would have caused both worlds to shatter. But he had to at least say goodbye, although the TARDIS knew it would leave him broken again.
She herself felt pained at seeing Rose's hologram, knowing that she wouldn't be stepping back on board. She felt the Doctor's jolt when Rose mentioned the baby, a flash of hope, shock and fear. The TARDIS now wondered if telling him was such a good idea. The knowledge that he had a child he wouldn't be able to see could drive him mad—he'd never rest until he got back to them. But Rose seemed to acknowledge that as well, clarifying to the Doctor that it was her mother that was pregnant—three months gone. But looking carefully at Rose image, the TARDIS noticed the baggy top covering the stomach that was slightly bigger than it was last time she saw it.
Rose lied, maybe not directly, but she lied to the Doctor, even though it was tearing her apart emotionally. And in this case the TARDIS agreed with her.
When the connection faded without the Doctor finishing his sentence, he just stared at the spot where Rose's image had been for a long time, as if willing her to appear again. But she didn't and he silently made his way back to the chair and cried.
She knew she wouldn't tell him, she cared for him far too much to inflict the pain that the knowledge would bring. All she could do was hope that someday, by some miracle, they were reunited again.
Because without hope, the universe is far too dark and lonely.
AN: Reviews are always good. CC is welcomed with open arms, and if you want to flame me, go ahead (but please tell me what your gripe with it was so that I can improve it).