|Rose Tyler Will Defend the Earth (plusone) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-01-05 23:48:00
|Entry tags:||rose tyler, the doctor (9)|
Who: Rose Tyler (open to anyone on the TARDIS)
What: The first weekend home doesn't go well
When: Late night Sunday
Where: Her bedroom on the TARDIS
Warnings: Language, visual images, a dark mental state...
After being brought home so many times in the gate, Rose refused to trust that this was the real thing. Oh, people's words were lovely. They were happy she was back, they would help keep her safe. The Doctor took her home to her room on the TARDIS and she didn't protest, though she initially froze on going through the door. That was always the most horrifying, the most vividly graphic of the betrayals. When the TARDIS fought against her, took it out on her for ripping her soul apart and making it Rose's own.
She didn't feel anything like herself. It wasn't like Rose Tyler to be jumpy. Scared she could do, but she usually handled it with grace and determination. Now? Now she heard noises that made her flinch. She was on edge, every nerve in her body tensed to move at a moment's notice. Just in case. Just in case this was it. The person to turn on her before she was ripped back into some other scenario.
It had been an entire day, though that meant nothing. She'd once been given two years of believing she was home and safe before someone turned on her. It had been John that time. His ordinarily warm eyes turning cold, an icy shade of blue as he declared her a selfish bitch, reminded her that she never should have come back, and then... Well. Same as always, wasn't it? If it was possible to get used to being killed by the people you loved, Rose Tyler was.
She sat curled in a ball, her knees tucked into her chest. The room was familiar and terrifying all at the same time. Nothing was comfortable anymore. Nothing was safe. Even the things she'd known since she'd first arrived in Lawrence had her on edge. It had been so long since she'd been allowed to properly sleep. First the nightmares, then the pain. Two nights of pre-battle sleep and then... Fifty years and it wasn't like she was given a good night's rest in the cage.
That didn't seem to matter to her mind. Her body craved it, needed it. She'd doze off for moments at a time before she'd jerk awake, certain she would have to fight off her fellow cage inmates, or the people of Lawrence, or an army of Daleks. She finally stretched out on the bed, not bothering with the duvet. Maybe she deserved to be cold. In some ways, she craved it. Cold was a feeling, a temperature. And she wanted to feel, so desperately.
Her eyes drifted close, despite her efforts, and how she wished they hadn't. The first thing she heard was the screaming. She had no idea whose, but it had happened on the battle field. Then the images started filling her head. The Doctor being tortured. The silence that followed Becker's orders. All of it leading up to her decision to give herself up.
Those images were painful but manageable. It was what came after that was the hardest. Killing Rebekah, who was, by all rights, unkillable. Stabbing Tony, him trying to flirt with her with his last breath. Her own death, so many times over. Watching the Center, the TARDIS, everything she loved burn.
Rose wasn't a vampire. She was unable to turn her emotions on and off with a switch. But how she wished she could, and when she finally struggled to wake up, it was a scream, wrenching from somewhere deep inside of her. She didn't even know the sound was her until she lost her breath and began gasping for air.