The Green of the Spring

[preserved_ginger]

Title: The Green of the Spring
Author: lived_in_hope
Character(s), in order of appearance: Ten (references to Rose, Jackie, Martha and others)
Pairing(s): Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: The haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Spoilers: Everybody and their dog who’ve watched this show knows what happens in Doomsday; there are also spoilers for (and some dialogue from) Smith and Jones.
A/N: The title, summary, text of the cut and the quotes at the beginning and end of the fic are all from the poem Aftermath by Siegfried Sassoon.

Have you forgotten yet?...

By the time he’d come back to himself enough to notice the world around him again, or more accurately had been able to tolerate the idea of being anywhere near twenty-first-century London, it was springtime. He had opened the door of the TARDIS after an unusually soft landing – without thinking to check first where he’d landed – to find himself not a huge distance away from the Powell Estate.

Just typical of the sort of luck he had been having of late.

His first reaction had been a decision that in future he really needed to double- and triple-check his co-ordinates before he left the Vortex. In happier times, he’d been more than willing to land here – the place was close enough to Jackie’s that they hadn’t had to walk too far, but far enough away that the TARDIS hadn’t received too much of the wrong sort of attention. But after all that had happened, first at Canary Wharf and then those agonising few moments spent in orbit around a super-nova just so he could lay his eyes on her again and say good-bye, it seemed cruel and almost heartless of the TARDIS to have brought him here. He moved the TARDIS as soon as possible; near a hospital, it looked like. He didn’t care where it was so long as it wasn’t there – seeing the estate again had triggered memories of some of the happiest things he had experienced in this incarnation, and he was in no mood to tarnish those memories with the darkness that he had let swallow him whole since he’d lost her.

He wondered if she had started to forget him yet.

He hoped, prayed – for inasmuch as he believed in anything at all, he believed in her; she’d not have forgotten how they used to be already, surely? – that she had not. But time was a tricky thing at the best of times, as he well knew; old memories had a habit of slipping away almost unnoticed – until someone tried to remember something that had once been beyond precious only to find that they’d forgotten all but the barest facts. Such was human nature; he almost envied them their ability to forget. Sometimes to have a Time Lord memory was far more of a curse than it had ever been a blessing.

He loved and missed her so much that the thought she might forget him was anathema to him – but he knew at the same time that if she were ever to do what he had asked her to do so very long ago now and have that good, that fantastic, life then forgetting him might be exactly what would need to happen.

He did not let himself dwell on that thought because it hurt more than he could stand. Instead, to try to distract himself – although walking into trouble had, for once, honestly not been uppermost in his mind – he had decided that some plasma coils he had noticed near to where he had moved the TARDIS were worth further investigation. Perhaps, he had thought, a change of scene might help him clear his head. The TARDIS had still smelt oddly, inexplicably, of Rose; he had needed to be away from there, just for a bit. Had needed to find somewhere else to be until he could process everything, could come to some sort of terms with events, and make his mind accept the fact that she was gone for ever.

He had therefore checked in to the hospital; had complained of mysterious but severe abdominal pains and had apparently managed a performance convincing enough for the triage nurse to admit him. The plan hadn’t worked out all that well, though, as stuck in that bed he’d had little to do but think – and the only thing his mind had seemed capable of focussing on was Rose. He’d had to block the thoughts off eventually, corral them into a part of his mind and leave them there, because he had needed the oblivion of sleep and the last thing he had wanted was to dream of her and wake up alone. He had had to do that too often already and he had known it wouldn’t get any easier. He had known that it would happen one day, but had never dreamed it would be this soon; Rose, Rose, Rose. He had begun, shortly after Canary Wharf, to think he was losing what little grip he had had left on his sanity after the Time War; he had almost given in and let go but something, something had kept him from doing it.

He had thought that something was going on inside the hospital – from the look of the plasma coils he had figured that it had been building up for at least two days – but it had turned out that the plasma coils were a platoon of Judoon out looking for the murderer of the Princess of Patrival Regency Nine. And the murderer? Had turned out to be a plasmavore of all things. He had nearly, very nearly, ended up a plasmavore victim himself – part of him had welcomed the idea, had been intoxicated with the idea of peace at last after such a long time of laughing on purpose at the darkness. Rose had brought him through the worst of it, just after the Time War, but there was still so far to go, so very far ... He’d considered choosing not to regenerate, but then Martha Jones had nixed that idea with her attempts at pulmonary resuscitation and he’d coughed himself back into the sham of an existence he had been so very willing to leave behind.

He had wanted to get out of London then, get right away and clear of the place for a long long time, but he had owed Martha Jones his life so as a thank-you he had offered her a “one-time-only” trip in the TARDIS. She had taken him up on his offer with alacrity, after a little bit of time-travelling persuasion on his part, but it hadn’t been until she’d seen the inside of the TARDIS that she had had any clue of who or what he was. She’d asked question after question, including about how many people were supposed to crew the ship, and because he had wanted to mention her he had unleashed the memories he had been trying so desperately to forget:

“Well, sometimes I have guests. I mean some friends, travelling alongside. I had - there was recently a friend of mine. Rose, her name was, Rose. And... we were together. Anyway.”

“Where is she now?”

He had forgotten that she would want to know the answer to that question. Although it was reasonable enough, he had thought; he had told her that he and Rose had been together, and as there had been only one way he had wanted her to interpret that (the correct way, as it happened, but that was really none of her business) there was only one way he could answer it without breaking down – and that was to lie.

“With her family. Happy. She's fine. Not that you're replacing her.”

He hadn't wanted to admit to himself that that had been exactly what she was doing, and for a long time afterwards he would still refuse to admit it. But when he had pulled the hand brake, and the TARDIS had jolted and shook – and he had fallen, only to get up and shake Martha Jones’d hand and welcome her aboard – much of this had still been in the future.

But as the TARDIS dematerialisation sequence had fully engaged, he had been determined that the status quo would suit him just fine, for the present.

“I won't forget her,” he had muttered. “I won’t.”

Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the green of the Spring that you'll never forget.

Comments

[pellnell.livejournal.com]

Aw, that was beautifully-written. I really, really loved it.

* adds to memories *

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[sgpr-fan.livejournal.com]

ooh i like this. the Doctor was really in character and gha I miss him and rose.

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

Thanks, I’m glad you like it (and I miss Ten and Rose together as well.)

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

I was aiming for something that might lend itself to a series of its own at some point, and I think I might have achieved that.

As for the quote ... it’s pretty much my view of why he enjoyed being John Smith so much condensed into a sentence or two: he did it because it gave him the chance to forget ... except the poor dear man didn’t manage it, did he?

[helygen.livejournal.com]

Aaah this is gorgeous, and so very sad.

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

Thank you; and the sadness is evocative of Season Three – he didn’t really lose that until well into Season Four, and we know what happened to him after that. Poor man.

[helygen.livejournal.com]

*nods sadly*

[brokentimelord.livejournal.com]

That was beautiful, spot on. I miss them so much

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

I miss them, too; it’s why I write for Ten so much. In a way it helps keep alive how they used to be, y’know?

[postynotedreams.livejournal.com]

How did I not read this? I've got to stop staying up so late. It's making me loopy.

Anyway....

Some really good lines here, too many to list. Nicely written. :)

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

Sleep is good, y’know (I should know, I don’t get enough of it!)

Glad you like this, though :)

[rose-cat.livejournal.com]

OK, that's it! *friends you*

You have an amazing talent for getting inside Ten's head. (careful you don't stay too long in there) Even when your interpretations go beyond obvious canon, they feel consistent with it(more so than in some actual recent episodes ;) ).

...inasmuch as he believed in anything at all, he believed in her...

Excellent use of one of my favorite lines -- from Satan Pit, isn't it?

Such was human nature; he almost envied them their ability to forget. Sometimes to have a Time Lord memory was far more of a curse than it had ever been a blessing.

Great observation. For all his superior attitude, he does seem to envy humans at times. Speaking of which, it just occurred to me -- did you refer to "human nature," as in the episode of that name, on purpose?

...laughing on purpose at the darkness.

Season 3 Ten, in a nutshell.

Had needed to find somewhere else to be...had therefore checked in to the hospital...because he had needed the oblivion of sleep and the last thing he had wanted was to dream of her and wake up alone.

He didn't want to dream about her and then wake up alone...awwwww *sniffles*
This is a great explanation for him actually checking in, as opposed to just using his psychic paper to get in and look around, in response to the plasma coils. Yup, look behind Bright Happy Curious Ten and there's Dark Miserable Hurting Ten.

...nearly, ended up a plasmavore victim himself – part of him had welcomed the idea, had been intoxicated with the idea of peace at last...He’d considered choosing not to regenerate...

Oooh, you found Suicidal Ten! I'm starting to catch him here and there on repeated viewings -- especially in Season 3, duh, but possibly in Nine's era as well. I hadn't considered him here, but it fits.

This is my favorite of your stories so far. *pops into memories*

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

did you refer to "human nature," as in the episode of that name, on purpose?

Yup! Good on you for picking that up :)

Oooh, you found Suicidal Ten

He’s desperately easy to find in Season Three, poor lovey.

This is my favorite of your stories so far.

*blushes* Thank you!

[bananasandroses.livejournal.com]

Season Three breaks my heart, particularly when we see how damaged Ten still is from the Time War; with the grief of losing Rose on top of that, it’s barely a surprise that he’s begging his oldest enemies to kill him.

Can I friend you too? Love your work.

By all means! I love new friends.