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28 May 2011 @ 01:41 am
Fic: ‘Same day. Almost. Maybe.’  
Title: Same day. Almost. Maybe.
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During seasons 1-2, modern series.
Summary: She’s lived a lifetime in a day.

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).

As much as I like Amy and the Doctor, I like to revisit Rose and the Doctor. Primarily because I’m still waiting to see how the current series of Doctor Who will end, with all its plot twists and turns!

I also like dipping my toes in seemingly quieter waters, Doctor Who wise, from time to time!

All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.


Two moons rise into a dove grey sky; stars peep shyly forth. She reaches for her companion’s hand and smiles at him. “It’s beautiful,” she leans closer to quietly say.

He smiles and squeezes her hand. “You’ve seen nothing yet!”

She opens her mouth to protest but all she can do is laugh as he runs toward a dark blue police box in the midst of a field of orange grass.

Browsing a marketplace, she grins suddenly as she picks up a simple crystal. As she turns it, the light from the nearby lamp breaks into a rainbow; discordant song bursts loudly from its heart. She drops it suddenly onto the cloth on the stall’s counter. It falls silent.

“Is something wrong?” The woman (she assumes the creature behind the counter is a woman; it sounds like a woman) carefully lifts the crystal from the cloth, afraid to drop and shatter it.

“It surprised me,” she replies. “Was it supposed to do that?”

“Here.” A hand reaches over her shoulder and gently, he blows on it. The song that now emanates from the crystal is sweet and soft. “This is how it can sound. Great,” he grins, “alarm system if you wire it properly. How much?”

“I ...”

He flashes a black wallet at her, his fingers holding it open.

The creature behind the counter bows (or so she supposes). “N-n-nothing, your Grace.”

He casually tosses the crystal to the girl on his side of the counter. “Very well.” She catches it, but only just. “Great prezzie for your mum, don’t you think?”

“Mum, I’m—no, I’m comin’ home,” she exclaims into her phone. Her companion rolls his eyes. “Just ... later,” she finishes lamely.

“Domestics,” he shakes his head as he flips a knob and turns a switch. “So, want to go home or see the Eye of Orion?”

“Well ...”

He can tell her reluctance, see it as she pockets her phone slowly. “I can take you home, if you want ...”

Her lips quirk, curving slowly into a smile and then a grin. “Eye of Orion?”

“Very quiet, I must say. Feel up to some running?”

She groans.

With no fanfare, but plenty of nonchalant sound (he keeps leaving the brakes on), the blue police box lands. Flyers hanging by one corner on the wall fall off, drift down the quiet street.

Relatively quiet street. She can hear a party in one of the flats as she opens the door and steps out of the control room. “Same day?”

“Same day,” he confirms, locking the door behind her.

“But we’ve done ... I’ve lived ...” Words fail to describe the wonders, the lifetime she’s lived in that small (bigger on the inside) box.

“Well,” he pauses thoughtfully, “almost the same day.”

“You said the same day.”

“I could be wrong but we know I’m not.”

She rolls her eyes and runs toward the block of flats.
Armchair DM: Igor: Joy! Joy! Joy! Joy!armchairdm on May 28th, 2011 12:12 pm (UTC)
... suuuure he's not wrong.

"Even a broken clock is more reliable than you; as it's right twice a day!"
F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on May 28th, 2011 01:42 pm (UTC)
... that quote is very true!
Armchair DM: Igor: A Rod Of Silencearmchairdm on May 29th, 2011 03:04 am (UTC)
It's from Romana from memory; certainly said to Doc4; but it's true today as it ever was! (Though Doc10 seemed to have an uncanny knack for often getting where he wanted to go; more than all the rest put together.)
F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on May 29th, 2011 03:18 am (UTC)
Though Doc10 seemed to have an uncanny knack for often getting where he wanted to go; more than all the rest put together.
That might be why I've not written for him as much as 9 and 11 although he would sometimes miss the mark in his years with Rose.