WHO-fiction! At last!

So. I've written loads of poems about them. Loads of small verses and dialogues, and made banners to go along. But suddenly I thought it would be time for something slightly longer. More extensive. Considerably more sniffy. This is an attempt of writing fanfiction, which I've so far loved reading and now come to love writing. Rewatched two of my all-time favourite episodes last night, "The Satan Pit"/"The Impossible Planet" from Series 2, and was amazed as usual. Blown away. It's just too good, it's hard to believe, it's difficult to deal with. Thereafter, how could I NOT write a fic about that unique relationship? That scene where Rose tells the space station crew how she can't leave The Doctor behind, because "he's not..." and then she almost starts sobbing - unlike me, who was crying loudly. And hugging the dvd box set. "I'm gonna wait for the Doctor. Just like he waited for me." Man, they're killing us fangirls! Slowly and with determination! Thus, I decided to use my personal involvement for something constructive, make myself useful in all my sorrow. I collected a lot of incoherent, random writings, and then brought them all together into a little text. How coherent it's become, I really don't know. And it's a first, so bear with me. It might not be that great, but it's about great people. And it comes from the heart, with lots and lots of love, which should count for something. I'll try my best at making an illustration too, wait and see! But first of all:

Title: "Same old self." By: Scaramouche, the po(t)et, and überfangirl. Setting: post-"The Satan Pit". Spoilers: not many, but if you don't know your WHO, you won't understand shite. Characters: Ten/Rose. Excessive pairing. Theme: the essential nature of their relationship, near the final episodes of their season together. All good things come to and end. *SOB!!!* Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but the BBC has certainly come to own me. I was listening to The Soundtrack, whilst creating this, and trying to keep myself together. Tough.

The Doctor grinned at her. Just like he always had. Different man, same grin. Same look, when he tilted his head and their eyes met. He lay his hand on hers, folded his fingers round her fingers, nodded invitingly. And they would run off, together, into danger and adventure, laughing all the way. Jumping off roof tops and mountain peaks, at least figuratively. She'd got used to his unpredictability, but never tired of it. She considered it a sweet, if sometimes frustrating quality. He had a lot of those, truth be told. Characteristics and capricious whims that made her half dizzy, half excited. On constant alert. Ready to be shocked, thrilled, confused - whatever would pop into his mind and result in unparalleled strangeness. New adventures; surreal and unforgettable things. Yet, she couldn't quite put her finger on it; the essence of his behaviour; which was probably what she loved the most about him. An original, for once. As varied as their journies, as indeterminable as the size of the Universe. And after all, maybe he WAS the Universe. To her, at least, for she'd simply come to terms with how she needed little else. Nourishment and energy, she thought. A life line. Right now, he had captured her entire life in that machine of his. Behind those wooden doors, inside the frame of a harmless-looking safe house painted blue, lay the whole of her existence. Her days, her developing ways, her character. Emotions and laughter. And moreover, her heart. Resting with him. Nothing more important than the two of them. Him and her. The Doctor and Rose; saying their names out loud, to sense the taste of it in her mouth. Outside the basic elements, beyond the laws of physics. Their own conventions. Unlimited possibilities, unlimited power. Oh, and she might never understand him, but it still wouldn't keep her from longing to be with him. This mysterious man who'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They relayed on each other. They had a quiet, binding agreement. Would he ever comprehend how he'd made himself so indespensable, how he made others lay their lives happily under his control, within his dominion? Probably not. He didn't like such human trains of thought. She laughed, remembering his grim expression everytime he'd be faced with someone's arguments of ethic immorality and narrow-minded objections. The unwill to deal in terms of right or wrong; matters were bigger and more pressing than that. He's taught her many an inestimable lesson, a.o. on the simplicity of her kind. Travelling across time and space and galaxies isn't easy, but he'd also instilled her on how it must be enjoyable. Fear and fun, hand in hand. A bit like them. Moving on, never looking too far back. Scaring the living daylights out of her, and still being genuinely good. For he didn't take the chance of having to compose himself, either. No restrictions, no boundaries. Those were his established rules. No real consequences, no guilt. And no escape. There was the silent, yet irreversible promise established in a London cellar all those memories ago. Of mutual dependence. The moment he grabbed her hand, she'd known. There would be no turning back, and no time to regret it. She didn't wish for there to be any. There had been a few sleepless nights, of course. All on her own, in her bedroom onboard the TARDIS. Wondering, considering, missing earth. But not nearly enough to be discussing alternative options. She wanted to stay, forever, but for whose sake she couldn't always tell. They were both alone; in their different, but recognizable ways. Picking up trails, laying new paths. Discovering. All she's ever wanted to do. All he'd ever done. And now they were together, a joint force. Better with two. She often counted herself inexpressibly lucky to have met him. Beyond belief, this amazing feeling of belonging some place and still be able to go wherever she wanted. Travel alongside this marvellous create, unlike anyone else she'd encountered over the years. Who'd made her into a better person, ridiculous as it might seem. He was a good influence, no doubt, but whether he was aware of any of this, she just couldn't tell. Frustrating at first, but now she'd got used to all the unanswered questions. Uncertainty had passed and been replaced with unconditional care. He didn't give away much, especially not concerning his past and its possibly horrific memories, but she knew he meant no offense. Some people protected themselves by being shieldingly forthcoming, she'd learnt. They avoided personal confrontations, but did everything they could to keep on top of the situation. In the beginning, he'd been exactly like that. Talkative, cool, casually funny; but only to a certain extent. Then he turned dismissing. After a while, however, he'd changed. He had opened up a little, given her a small idea of the circumstances which she'd become part of. His destiny. The last Time Lord, the curious fighter. Not only was he one of a kind, but literally speaking the only one left. He'd told her, once, just after her first close encounter with death. Saved, in a last-minute rescue operation, by him. She'd bought him chips, to say thanks. Taken him to a local bar, for their first date. Overwhelm him with earthly experiences. A well-working treatment. She could hardly imagine what it felt like to be completely deserted, all she could focus on was the fact that now he'd got her. And so she replied. How delighted she was about sprinting away from terrible, sword-wielding, vindictive aliens. With helmets. As long as he was beside her, she would gladly do that every day. He'd grin, then, when she revealed to him such pieces of absolute and brutal honesty. And he'd clench her palm, heartily. One of his most warm and imtimate signs. Made her feel indescribably significant. Or, more frequently, he'd draw her into a tight hug; both closing their eyes and drifting off for a second. Her chin fitting perfectly with his shoulder blade. It all came so naturally to them. As the process itself, of getting to know each other. Slowly adjusting to the notions and pecularities that were characteristic of the both of them. Hence becoming more and more familiar, as friends. Best friends. Soul mates. And the consequent joy. A sense of relief. Somehow, without noticing the progress. It just happened. So maybe he hadn't actually found her. Maybe he'd found his true self, through her, recovered and retrieved his old form. She'd like to believe that. And she'd be grateful, always, for having been taught to keep on searching. No matter what, you mustn't stop. They'd never ever stop. They'd grow, and they'd laugh and they'd keep on running. Never letting go.