Pairing: Rose Tyler/The Doctor
Fic Title: Days and Hours
Rating/Warning(s): PG-13 / spoilers up to Doomsday
Genre: Romance, Humor
Why This Must Be Read: Oh, the perils of time-travel; in this lovely one-shot we have a post-Doomsday Rose who accidentally runs into the Doctor in a supermarket of all places. This author has a real knack for dialogue, especially the Tenth Doctor's voice; which is not an easy thing to do. All of her fics are very well done, and if you like this story I hope you'll check out the rest :)
She’s deciding between orange juice and apple when she catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, just as he turns down the aisle. He’s staring at a carton of milk as if within its mild-mannered dairy confines there lurks an alien evil (which isn’t all that unlikely, she thinks, and thanks her lucky stars that she chose to wear trainers for this errand) so he doesn’t see her when she skips up behind him and links her arm through his.
“Thought you were going to stay home,” she chirps, giving the milk carton a quick once over herself, just to be sure. “Big manly man busy with repairs, sends the little woman out to the shop, isn’t that right?” She grins at him, letting her tongue slip between her teeth. “Did you miss me?”
He’s not grinning back.
Actually, ‘not grinning’ doesn’t begin to describe the look on his face right now. His expression is disbelief and thunder, and she thinks the world must be ending (again) because the desperation in his eyes is something she’s only seen in those rare moments when he’s sure there’s nothing but darkness on the horizon. Moments when she’s seen just how very close to madness he is. Hopelessness, she thinks, and then she notices.
“You’ve changed your tie,” she says softly, slowly. Blue paisley when she left him in the TARDIS twenty minutes ago, solid indigo now.
He looks so young. Lines on his face that she knows, lines she has traced with her fingers and the soft brush of her lips, are gone. He looks younger than she ever remembers him being (impossible, fuzzy human memory) but his eyes are ever-so-much older. He stares at her as if she’s impossible.
“Oops,” she says, which is sort of a stupid thing to say when you’ve just damaged the fabric of time with a paradox so massive you may as well have just sat down and begun to unravel the multiverse thread by thread and saved yourself the fuss, but she’s not feeling particularly urbane at the moment.
Her hair is brown and long, pulled into a messy bun low against her neck, her face bare of makeup, and there’s a small scar over her left eyebrow, a souvenir from a hostage situation that Mickey and Jake still haven’t forgiven themselves for. She is thirty-seven years old, and he only just lost her.