whoniverse1000 | Fic Post

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The trees remember everything. Things that are, things that were, things that will be. The Forest of Cheem is a repository of the memories of a galaxy. Remembering the histories of every species it has collectively encountered. Its travelling saplings send back knowledge and memories as their roots grow further into the earth of their new home planets. Deep down into the earth, soaking up the memories of the ground they walk upon and the sky above them. Remembering each planet’s birth pains, injuries and joys, each species that has graced or cursed its surface.

So too they know each planet’s end, whether cold and lonely in ice or loud and fast in flames. They remember all that isn’t, all that wasn’t, all that never will be. All those that have been lost to common memory are as old friends to them.

Many species are uncomfortable with them if they know about their memories, still more are comforted by it. They know all your sins, whether petty or huge, and they forgive each one, for its is all part of a greater pattern, one that binds the universe together. Picking their way steadily through the universe careful not to interfere in its warp and weft, knowing, grieving, rejoicing.

They miss the Time Lords, with their memories so much like their own. Yet so much colder, far less forgiving.

She stands on the spinning space platform, as the planet known as Earth dies below them, feeling the forest reaching out through her to give comfort to the world that birthed its ancestors. She holds the hand of the last of a terribly rare and much missed species and reaches out her own mind to his. For a brief moment his eyes close and his mind reaches out to her own, releasing the burden he bears, just for a moment.

In that moment she knows her own end, and in this moment remembering his world with him, her only regret is that her time on the same path as he has been so very short.

Rose/Jabe, Ten/Shakespeare, Ace/Rani

Edited 2008-05-27 21:52 (UTC)

Time Lords were telepathic, usually only mildly. The human capacity for telepathy tended to begin and end at identifying psychic paper as such.

The Doctor had left Ace here, as Rani's ward; had warned the Rani that if anything happened to his Companion, the Daleks' fate would be mild compared to Rani's.

So Ace stayed in the labs, as did the Rani, working at all hours of - well, there was no day or night, not here, on a world tidally-locked to its red dwarf sun.

But on those rare moments when both women sleep - usually on opposite ends of the facility so they don't kill one another, regardless of the Doctor's orders - their minds touch.

It's why the Rani permits Ace to try her hand at refining the chemicals that will end up in the next walking weapon that her lab will supply for the Time War...based on chemical-squirting beetles of Earth, fittingly. The Daleks shall puzzle over this, no doubt, which amused Rani, and was why she permitted Ace these liberties.

Ace has other thoughts in her sleep, other reasons why the Rani tolerates her. Doctor! which runs through the Rani's own thoughts; they both know the Doctor, both feel for him, both have measures of feelings for him.

Shared feelings, both before and after their minds touch at a physical distance.

„Was this what you had in mind when you mentioned that we could flirt later?“ Shakespeare stretched his arms languidly over his head, before wrapping one around the Doctor's chest. PLACE

„Uhm... to be honest, not quite. I mean I always did suspect, but then again... different places, different customs, you know.“ The Doctor smiled back at Shakespeare.

„Yeah, about that... where are you from, exactly?“ Shakespeare's tone was still light and playful, but there was a seriousness underlying the question that made the Doctor squirm a little.

„Ah, well... we don't have to talk about this now, do we?“ The Doctor pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Shakespeare. „I can think of a lot of other things we could do instead. And they would be much more fun,“ he grinned.

„Oh really? And what did you have in mind, Doctor?“ Shakespeare grinned back at him.

„Well... you could read me a sonnet.“

„Seriously?“

„Yes. Come on. I've always wanted someone to read me a sonnet. Well, not just any someone. I want you to read me one. Please?“

Shakespeare sighed. „Alright. You are a very strange man, Doctor.“

„So I've been told.“

Shakespeare sat up and rested himself against the headboard. Then he furrowed his brow for a while. Finally he took a deep breath and began in a recital tone. „O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st-“

„Stop,“ the Doctor interrupted.

„What, don't you like it? I wrote it about two months ago. It fits you.“

„I know. I've changed my mind, though.“

„What would you prefer that I do instead?“ Shakespeare looked a mixture between confused and put off. The Doctor gave him a consiliatory smile.

„You could kiss me.“

„Now, that sounds like a good idea,“ Shakespeare answered, his smile coming back, and followed it through with a bone-melting kiss.

„You kiss just as well as you write, Bill,“ the Doctor said when they broke apart.

„Wait till you see what else I can do.“

“I can imagine-“ the Doctor started, but was cut off by Shakespeare.

„Enough talking for tonight.“

„Brilliant idea,“ the Doctor agreed and pulled Shakespeare in for another kiss.

Jack Harkness/Jack Harkness(41), Jack/Ten/Master(Simm), DonnaNoble/River Song

"This isn't how it's suppose to be is it?"

James Harper looks out over the ruined and mostly barren land from their place along the tench. He searched his brain for a picture from his past, of water and trees and tall buildings rising against the skyline, happy people dashing from awning to awning to keep from being drenched by the rain.

"No." he answered simply.

"And it's all because of me." it wasn't a question.

James turned his eyes toward the other man who's hazel eyes suddenly seemed to lose the sparkle they had once held. He never wanted to see him look so sad, he began to regret telling the other man the truth. He shook his head and raised his hand to cup his companion's shoulder with a soft squeeze that cause their eyes to meet.

"No, it's because of me, never think anything else."

"But I'm the one who's not suppose to be here. It's me who..."

"Jack," a firm hand on Jack's cheek stopped him from continuing, "it doesn't matter. Your fault, my fault. None of it matters. I would have paid any price. I have you, the rest is just-- something I'll have to fix later."

"Later?" Jack's lips twitched at the corners with the ghost of a smile.

"Later, but not now. Now, now is for this."

James leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over Jack's once, twice, a third time before Jack's hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down into the fiery pleasure that lived in his mouth. As their tongues played at dancing between them all that Captain James Harper could think was that this was definitely worth having to fight the Nazi's for an extra decade or so.

Donna Noble/Ianto Jones, Ian Chesterton/Jack Harkness, Ian Chesterton/Ten

Fic Post

Nine/Jabe

Ace/Rani

Ten/Shakespeare

Jack Harkness/C. Jack Harkness (41)