Sweet as Sugar
folder
1 through F › Doctor Who
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
11,721
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Doctor Who
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
11,721
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Dr. Who, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
37
Sweet as Sugar Chapter Thirty Seven
Disclaimers Apply
Previous chapters can be found here: Previous chapters can be found here: http://tv.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544190551&chapter=1
A/N Megahuge thanks to everyone who stuck with me this far. I hope to wrap this up soon and I have some one shots in the works… *shifty* Huge heaping glittery sparkled thanks to Goddess Foxfeather for all of her betaing and wonderfulness!
Thump.
Rose blinked, fighting the urge to turn around and find the source of the sound. She kept her eyes focused on the Doctor, on his ramrod straight posture and narrowed eyes. They were not alone in the chamber but they could have been, for all of the attention that the Rani and the Master were paying them. Rose was not sure, but she had the distinct feeling that there were even more observers hidden in the dark rim of shadows limning the space, peering at her, expecting a charge or challenge from her lips. Instead, she took first one, then two tentative steps towards her Doctor. “No,” he said suddenly, his entire demeanor changing, his body uncoiling from a twist she had not realized he had sunk himself into. “Don’t, Rose. Just…stay there.”
“Doctor,” she began, but the intense, almost pained look in his eyes stopped her. She felt panicked, sick with it almost, and more than that, she felt angry. Days, or what passed for days, in the TARDIS went by when she forgot what it meant to be human. If, she reflected, she ever truly had known. She felt powerful with the Doctor, immortal… he would always protect her. No matter what happened between them, no matter how long they had been apart while she was stranded in Norway, working for Torchwood, he would protect her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus, to tear her eyes off of him and look around their chamber. It was huge, larger than she would have imagined, and seemed endless.
“Rose,” the Rani’s pacific voice intoned from somewhere in the shadows, “you are indeed a very special girl.”
“Yeah?” she replied with more than a hint of cheek. “Mum told me that all the time, usually right before she grounded me for something or other.”
“Rose,” the Doctor said quietly, “remember when you were in school and read about DNA and such?” His gaze traveled the length of the complex series of fine wires that served as a physical link through time. He was not sure whether or not it was the Lungbarrow Loom, but he had a strange and niggling memory, Cousins teasing him, calling him Wormhole… Shaking himself loose of the past, as much as a Time Lord could be expected to at any rate, he continued. “This here,” he gestured grandly at the Loom, “is the Time Lord version of sex.” Raising one brow in what could only be called a lascivious manner, he winked at her and seemed to suddenly inhabit his own head again, his face becoming animated as he spoke, limbs loosening enough to let him pace around her, moving to stand between Rose and the Loom.
“No third date rule with you lot then?” she asked, her own brows shooting up. From everything she had experienced with the Doctor thus far, every errant touch, every honey-scented breath feathered across her cheek, her ear, her neck… she had assumed--no, believed, hoped—that the sexual component of his existence was something familiar and, well, human.
The Doctor did not pretend to misunderstand, shooting her a rueful, amused glance before focusing his attention once more on the Loom. “The Rani wants to take some of your essence, Rose. Fold it into the mix, as it were. But…” he paused, fixing his glare on some dark point beyond the equipment, on what Rose could only assume was the Rani or the Master, “the problem is… you’ll die.”
“Oh, such melodrama,” the Master sighed. He had shed his robes and was attired in something vaguely like styles worn for centuries on Earth. He moved around the Loom to stand before Rose and the Doctor, looking supremely bored and self-satisfied at once. “The Looms are key, Doctor. Without them, we are the last of our race.”
“With them,” the Doctor broke in, “we are still the last. Rather, I am. You are nothing more than an invention of the Rani, a twisted manipulation of genetics shoved into the mold of the Master.” He strode towards the Loom, neatly circumventing the Master’s lunge with a jaunty sideways skip. He reached out and touched his fingers lightly to the frame, swinging around and out of the reach of the other Time Lord as the Master regained his footing. “My earliest memories are of the Loom,” he announced conversationally. “Have I ever told you about it, Rose?”
“N… no,” she admitted, oddly transfixed on the sight before her. If she did not know better, she would have sworn that the Doctor was unbalanced mentally. She took the chance his action was affording her and skittered backwards, away from the Loom and the gathering Time Lords. The watchers remained in the shadows but Rose did not care. She saw the door to her right and began edging towards it, despite the logical voice in her brain demanding she use common sense and remember that she did not know where that door led. _Can’t be as bad as this, can it? _ she thought, wincing as she realized that she had likely just jinxed herself.
“I had many Cousins…those are Gallifreyans who are, ah, born from the Looms,” he explained, ducking under the delicate item, one eye on the Master as he moved. He had no desire, truly, to destroy the Loom but rather wanted to examine it, refresh his mind on just why he had been an outcast after all… it was easy to forget when you were alone. Everything took on a halcyon quality in the dimness of time and space, floating without an anchor. Well, no anchor until he met Rose. She grounded him like no one else had… she was his chain, his link to reality… “Do you remember?” he asked the Master suddenly. “Do either of you recall the Looms? You were Childe once, too…” He smiled tightly at the lack of immediate answer. “Thought so. Well, it’s been lovely, really it has, but I find this entire experience entirely too sick for my own liking… and that is saying something.” He moved quickly, pushing the Master to one side and heading for Rose. “Run, you silly girl!” he barked. “And don’t look back!”
Disclaimers Apply
Previous chapters can be found here: Previous chapters can be found here: http://tv.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544190551&chapter=1
A/N Megahuge thanks to everyone who stuck with me this far. I hope to wrap this up soon and I have some one shots in the works… *shifty* Huge heaping glittery sparkled thanks to Goddess Foxfeather for all of her betaing and wonderfulness!
Thump.
Rose blinked, fighting the urge to turn around and find the source of the sound. She kept her eyes focused on the Doctor, on his ramrod straight posture and narrowed eyes. They were not alone in the chamber but they could have been, for all of the attention that the Rani and the Master were paying them. Rose was not sure, but she had the distinct feeling that there were even more observers hidden in the dark rim of shadows limning the space, peering at her, expecting a charge or challenge from her lips. Instead, she took first one, then two tentative steps towards her Doctor. “No,” he said suddenly, his entire demeanor changing, his body uncoiling from a twist she had not realized he had sunk himself into. “Don’t, Rose. Just…stay there.”
“Doctor,” she began, but the intense, almost pained look in his eyes stopped her. She felt panicked, sick with it almost, and more than that, she felt angry. Days, or what passed for days, in the TARDIS went by when she forgot what it meant to be human. If, she reflected, she ever truly had known. She felt powerful with the Doctor, immortal… he would always protect her. No matter what happened between them, no matter how long they had been apart while she was stranded in Norway, working for Torchwood, he would protect her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus, to tear her eyes off of him and look around their chamber. It was huge, larger than she would have imagined, and seemed endless.
“Rose,” the Rani’s pacific voice intoned from somewhere in the shadows, “you are indeed a very special girl.”
“Yeah?” she replied with more than a hint of cheek. “Mum told me that all the time, usually right before she grounded me for something or other.”
“Rose,” the Doctor said quietly, “remember when you were in school and read about DNA and such?” His gaze traveled the length of the complex series of fine wires that served as a physical link through time. He was not sure whether or not it was the Lungbarrow Loom, but he had a strange and niggling memory, Cousins teasing him, calling him Wormhole… Shaking himself loose of the past, as much as a Time Lord could be expected to at any rate, he continued. “This here,” he gestured grandly at the Loom, “is the Time Lord version of sex.” Raising one brow in what could only be called a lascivious manner, he winked at her and seemed to suddenly inhabit his own head again, his face becoming animated as he spoke, limbs loosening enough to let him pace around her, moving to stand between Rose and the Loom.
“No third date rule with you lot then?” she asked, her own brows shooting up. From everything she had experienced with the Doctor thus far, every errant touch, every honey-scented breath feathered across her cheek, her ear, her neck… she had assumed--no, believed, hoped—that the sexual component of his existence was something familiar and, well, human.
The Doctor did not pretend to misunderstand, shooting her a rueful, amused glance before focusing his attention once more on the Loom. “The Rani wants to take some of your essence, Rose. Fold it into the mix, as it were. But…” he paused, fixing his glare on some dark point beyond the equipment, on what Rose could only assume was the Rani or the Master, “the problem is… you’ll die.”
“Oh, such melodrama,” the Master sighed. He had shed his robes and was attired in something vaguely like styles worn for centuries on Earth. He moved around the Loom to stand before Rose and the Doctor, looking supremely bored and self-satisfied at once. “The Looms are key, Doctor. Without them, we are the last of our race.”
“With them,” the Doctor broke in, “we are still the last. Rather, I am. You are nothing more than an invention of the Rani, a twisted manipulation of genetics shoved into the mold of the Master.” He strode towards the Loom, neatly circumventing the Master’s lunge with a jaunty sideways skip. He reached out and touched his fingers lightly to the frame, swinging around and out of the reach of the other Time Lord as the Master regained his footing. “My earliest memories are of the Loom,” he announced conversationally. “Have I ever told you about it, Rose?”
“N… no,” she admitted, oddly transfixed on the sight before her. If she did not know better, she would have sworn that the Doctor was unbalanced mentally. She took the chance his action was affording her and skittered backwards, away from the Loom and the gathering Time Lords. The watchers remained in the shadows but Rose did not care. She saw the door to her right and began edging towards it, despite the logical voice in her brain demanding she use common sense and remember that she did not know where that door led. _Can’t be as bad as this, can it? _ she thought, wincing as she realized that she had likely just jinxed herself.
“I had many Cousins…those are Gallifreyans who are, ah, born from the Looms,” he explained, ducking under the delicate item, one eye on the Master as he moved. He had no desire, truly, to destroy the Loom but rather wanted to examine it, refresh his mind on just why he had been an outcast after all… it was easy to forget when you were alone. Everything took on a halcyon quality in the dimness of time and space, floating without an anchor. Well, no anchor until he met Rose. She grounded him like no one else had… she was his chain, his link to reality… “Do you remember?” he asked the Master suddenly. “Do either of you recall the Looms? You were Childe once, too…” He smiled tightly at the lack of immediate answer. “Thought so. Well, it’s been lovely, really it has, but I find this entire experience entirely too sick for my own liking… and that is saying something.” He moved quickly, pushing the Master to one side and heading for Rose. “Run, you silly girl!” he barked. “And don’t look back!”