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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Bedtime Stories
They made it another two miles before the Doctor was forced to call a halt, feeling the imminence of collapse heralded by Rose’s body. She didn’t complain once, yet beneath his hands he could feel the thunder of her blood and the jagged heave of tired lungs. With each step she tensed almost imperceptibly, attesting to her continuous state of pain. Every now and again she would weave slightly and he’d know that the dizziness she’d experienced earlier was returning. She marched forwards, long past the point when most people would have given up, in a steady rhythm that he suspected she sustained through force of will alone. Full of admiration, he steeled himself to push her onwards, knowing that to fail to do so was to condemn her to death. Nevertheless, as they reached the nine-mile mark he could stomach it no longer. Tightening his fingers around her shoulders, he tugged against her.
‘Stop, Rose. Time for a rest.’
She didn’t demur, folding beneath him without a sound like an unwound clockwork toy. He followed her down, hands ghosting her collapsed form. She was hunched in a small ball, head resting against her knees. She was also shivering. He fingered the fabric of her dress, realising that she was as good as naked. He shook himself free of his heavy leather jacket and leant forward, folding it around her, almost encasing her balled form within it. He then moved close against her back, wrapping his arms around her leather clad body. She leant into him, a pained little whimper escaping her lips. He rested his lips against her hair, shushing her softly.
‘We’ll stop here for the night, Rose. You can rest now.’ Without a word she curled herself against him and slipped into slumber.
The Doctor cradled her against him, waiting until her breathing slowed and deepened, indicating a deep state of sleep. Secure in the knowledge she would remain unconscious for some time, he eased her out of her tight curl, pressing his palm to her chest, checking her heart and lung sounds. Her pulse was slightly fast and her temperature elevated, indicating an advance in the physiological impact of the poison. He sighed. He had hoped that they would have more time before Adelphos’s toxin began to reassert itself seriously. He shifted Rose into his lap, moving a hand to her temple to reinforce the block preventing her from noticing the pain from her broken and bruised ribs, before cradling her against his chest. Closing his eyes he permitted himself some rest.
It was three hours before Rose stirred against him. Instantly he was awake, ensuring she didn’t move before she remembered where she was and the precarious nature of their position.
‘Rose? You should be sleeping. What’s the matter?’
She snuffled against him, rubbing her cheek against the soft wool of his jumper like a kitten seeking the reassurance of its mother.
‘Everything hurts.’ She mumbled. He held her carefully as she stretched, shivering as limbs moved outside the comforting cocoon of his leather jacket. He felt her wriggling against him, and realised she was pulling his jacket on, wrapping it around her securely, before snuggling against him once more, inveigling his arms around her and resting against his chest.
‘Better?’ He asked. She made a noncommittal noise and once more he wished he could see her face, study her expression and read the truth in her eyes. He contented himself with listening to her breathe and the little puffs of her silent sighs. The minutes passed and he could tell that she was still awake. He frowned. He knew she was tired, why wasn’t she sleeping?
‘Rose?’
‘I can’t sleep.’ She whispered, her voice fragile.
‘Oh.’ He didn’t know what to do. He could force a state of unconsciousness on her, but it wouldn’t be proper sleep and would not therefore rest her body properly. She needed natural rest. What did one do to help poorly little humans go to sleep? It had never really been a problem before. He didn’t exactly make a habit of sleeping with his companions; when it came to their bedtime he rather left them to it while he tinkered with the TARDIS or read in the library. He knew mothers sang to children to get them to sleep, but he rather doubted Rose would appreciate his singing voice.
As if sensing his discomfort, Rose pressed her small hand, enveloped within the sleeve of his jacket, against his chest. ‘Tell me a story?’ She asked.
If he had been able to see he would have looked at her incredulously, as it was he lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. His blue eyes might have been hidden behind a thick white crust but his expression was clear nonetheless and Rose giggled softly.
‘Bed time stories. Didn’t you have them when you were little, Doctor?’
‘No.’ His voice was clipped and he felt Rose stiffen, afraid she had said something wrong. He forced his voice to soften. ‘My society wasn’t like that, Rose. I grew up at my Chapter’s Time Academy from the age of eight.’
‘What about before then?’ Rose’s voice was quiet, tentative.
‘No bedtime stories. Not really.’
‘Oh.’
He felt the crushing weight of defeat, as if he had failed her in some way. He’d disappointed her and he felt an irrational urge to undo it.
‘I could tell you about Persephone.’ He said, the speed of his delivery undermining the nonchalance of his tone.
He felt her smile against his chest. ‘That’d be nice.’
‘Right.’ He shifted slightly, manoeuvring them into a more comfortable position. Holding Rose in a loose embrace, he began to recount the myth of Persephone and Hades.
As the tale developed he became aware that Rose was tracing tiny patterns on the surface of his jumper. It was very distracting. He stopped talking.
‘Rose? What are you doing?’
‘Wha?’
‘You’re drawing on me.’
‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise. I was thinking.’
‘And?’
‘I think it’s really sad.’
‘Well, that’s rather the point, Persephone was kidnapped and forced to endure months beneath ground with Hades. The Earth mourned her loss, hence winter, and rejoiced with her return, hence spring.’
‘That’s not it.’
‘I can assure you it is, Rose. I happen to be very well acquainted with Greek myths!’
‘No. That’s not what I meant. Persephone having to leave Hades. That’s sad.’
‘Have you been listening to the story, Rose?’ He asked incredulously.
Rose huffed against his chest. ‘’Course! But I reckon she loved him. She didn’t wanna go back but her mother forced her and she had to spend most of the year apart from the man she loved. S’not fair.’
‘Rose, Hades is death. He’s old and sad and dark, everything she is not.’
‘Doesn’t make any difference, not if she loved him. And she must have done, otherwise it doesn’t make sense. She was the daughter of a god, if she’d wanted to, she coulda left. She stayed. Reckon that makes it clear. She fell in love with him.’
He chuckled, a little derisively. ‘You’re a romantic child!’
‘Maybe, but I reckon love is blind. Only explanation for me and Jimmy Stone. It’s not always good for you, but that doesn’t stop you. Don’t think what I felt for Jimmy was real, not in the end, but if what I felt is just a tiny bit like real love then, well, he could be old and ugly and I don’t think I’d care.’
The Doctor humphed, trying not to notice how his hearts began to race at the possibilities behind her words, or the surge of something that felt rather like jealousy at the mention of the past boyfriend. Still, life wasn’t a fairy tale and love wasn’t safe or wise. Time she started to learn that, before she got hurt.
‘True love didn’t go well in Greek myths. Take Orpheus. He successfully pleaded his case with Hades and Persephone for the life of his wife, only to fail at the last hurdle and lose her forever.’
‘He lost her?’
‘Yes.’
There was a pause before she spoke again. ‘Aren’t you meant to be Orpheus?’
The Doctor didn’t respond. Rose’s innocent enquiry felt like a knife in his gut, twisting and pernicious. He’d arrogantly told Adelphos that he would not fail, but already they had failed to cover the distance he had determined they needed to before they rested. They’d need to cover more ground tomorrow than they’d achieved today, and what was the likelihood of that in the face of Rose’s failing strength? He was going to lose her.
He pulled Rose closer to him involuntarily, he couldn’t lose her. Not yet. Not when he’d only just found her, only just started to feel that surviving might not be the curse he had taken it for. The woman you love – the Dalek had said. Had it been right? He hadn’t challenged Adelphos when he had cast him in the role of Orpheus. He hadn’t thought twice about surrendering his sight if it meant a chance to rescue Rose. Could he love her? He almost laughed at the irony. Winter in love with spring, death with life. Whatever Rose might think, he was no more for her than Hades was for Persephone.
‘Doctor?’ Her tired voice was concerned.
He roused himself from the bleak interior of his head, forcing himself to contemplate her. Even without his sight, her imagined image was enough to banish his darkness. He smiled at her fondly. ‘Still not asleep? What am I going to do with you?’
‘Tell me another story. One from your home. You must have had myths, or something.’
He sighed. It hurt to remember, but, as he sifted through his memory for her, not as much as he had expected.
‘Oh, all right then. Don’t blame me if it’s dull, though, fusty boring bunch, my lot.’ He settled his shoulders against the rock behind him, feeling Rose’s head rest against his chest, and began to speak.
‘At the beginning of all things the Universe was born from the Great Old One, Azathoth. Desirous of creating a new realm, he split into ten parts, creating the eleven dimensions. The Mother Goddess used the anvils of heaven to create Time, pouring it into the empty vessel that Azathoth had created. Into this new dominion came the Menti Celesti; Pain and Death joined Time, and together they frolicked, creating the ultimate essence of the Universe, the constants that govern all life. Without them, no being could know pleasure, for what is pleasure without pain? No being could understand life, for life means nothing without death, and no being could glory in the moment, for only the passage of time defines the space within it. And so the Universe began, and Time began to move, and …’ He stopped, realising that the sound of his voice had finally lulled Rose to sleep.
He rested his head back against the cold rock, trying not to feel the meaning of the myth he had related. He understood pain, time, death; he did not need to be reminded and he certainly did not need to lose Rose in order to appreciate what she was to him. If the Menti Celesti came for his Rose they would find him blocking their path. As he listened to the quiet sighs of her sleeping breaths he thought that never had he understood so thoroughly why humans prayed.
Chapter 12
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I liked the bit of Gallifreyan myth. This is an interesting story, full of original detail, and I like the way you describe the doctor's reactions and expressions and then how they look to Rose.
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