Wherever You Are (Ch 1/?)
Rating: Teen
Relationship: Ten x Rose
Summary: A post-GITF sick-fic UA. What if Rose had come away with more than nightmares after her run-in with the clockwork droids? What if her trust in the Doctor had been so fractured that she’d been afraid to tell him? And what if that broken trust might just lead to a dangerous situation for Rose? Will the Doctor be able fix it in time?
Notes: Hi lovely people! So this is chapter 1 of my submission for the @doctor-rose-events Classic Tropes event. It’s a bit darker than anything I’ve written in a while, and it deals with the effect of broken trust and abandonment after that confounded episode (SCREW YOU MOFFAT, AND HUZZAH FOR THE HORSE THAT REFUSED TO LET YOU RIDE IT). Trigger warning for non-explicit DV, self-loathing, PTSD, medical emergency (which will come later). This is a sick-fic, with lots of hurt-comfort, a surprise guest or two, loads of telepathy and some seriously difficult introspection. I am an unabashed Doctor x Rose shipper, I love Ten X Rose, but the Doctor we got in this stupid episode was a complete jerk and if we want the babies to be ok, they need to deal with the train-wreck that Moffat wrote. The Doctor needs to do some serious thinking and repair Rose’s trust in him because in this ep, he sucked. This is my attempt to do that in a rather dramatic and different way. Many, many thanks to @rose–nebula for the multiple read-throughs, wonderful beta and talking me off the ledge and/or setting this whole fic on fire. You’re the best! <3
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“Right, you two, that’s enough lying about. Time we got the rest of the ship turned off.”
Rose stared in shock and confusion as the restraints were removed, the disabled droids frozen above her, blades out. Her heart still pounding in terror, she bit back her disbelieving questions and demands for an explanation and forced herself to shift slowly off the table and stand, gently working her burning muscles.
Mickey wasn’t anywhere near as subtle, groaning and grumbling as he worked out the aches and pains. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice, though, dashing around and chattering about thick robots and milometers and thirty-seven years. And her- Madame de Pompadour.
She inhaled quietly, trying to keep a firm hand on her roiling emotions.
So far, the Doctor didn’t seem at all bothered to find them strapped to a table with killer robots intent on hacking them to pieces. When he’d first arrived, seemingly drunk and uncaring, she’d thought that his indifference was a ruse, that he was trying to catch the robots off-guard before destroying them with the anti-oil. Only, now that it was over, he hadn’t even bothered to check them over. He hadn’t even asked if they were alright, if they’d been hurt, or anything . He always asked, he always cared. Or at least he had , and now he was acting as if they’d just had tea in the TARDIS and there was nothing to bother about at all.
He hadn’t even looked her in the eye.
When she thought of how different it had been before he’d changed, her throat closed with pain and looming dread. Before, he’d been frantic after every close call and determined to ensure she hadn’t come to any harm, blaming himself if she got so much as a scratch (and disguising it in a lengthy lecture on the evils of fragile humans wandering off).
And now…
She exhaled, forcibly pushing the thoughts away. So he didn’t have time to bother about her just now- they were in a bit of a tight spot, she told herself. There wasn’t time. That was all.
She swallowed.
Trouble was, that was hard to believe when he’d still found time to insult her for being angry about being strapped to a table while he’d been off partying with the king’s bit on the side. He’d had time to insult the robots and swish about being smug. He’d had time to make snarky comments about lazing about. He’d had time to rush about being pleased with his own cleverness and ignoring her as best he could.
He just hadn’t had any time to bother about her.
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