#fixated on the ocean right now can you tell? i've been deprived

[stephaniedolen]

bondi icebergs, portra 800

[lostinfic]

my brain is overwhelmed with self-indulgent daydreams, but the current fixation is rose as a mermaid. i've been living in ninerose land, but any doctor will do. any universe, any rating!

Underwater life

Nine x Rose | Rated E | 744 words

cw: post-Time War suicidal thoughts (I swear, it’s happier than it sounds)

Definitely inspired by the Rose “prequel” RTD posted yesterday.

Send me your most self-indulgent prompts

The Moment has played a dirty trick on him. A trick he’s not ready to forgive. He was not supposed to survive. Rage burns inside of him, bright as regeneration energy. Rage at the Moment, at Time Lords and Daleks. Rage at himself. He doesn’t deserve to survive.

There is a strange lucidity to his actions. Not unlike when he gripped the handle and pulled it down, sealing the faith of his home planet. It feels distant now.

He discards his now too-small clothes and trades them for somber, simpler ones. He sets the coordinates. He’s never been to that planet, but it has what he needs. The Tardis doesn’t protest. She’s grieving too. And he waits. His mind is empty. He can’t feel them anymore. He’s empty.

The Tardis materializes.

“Once I’ve opened the doors, just leave,” he tells his ship. 

He pats a coral strut and swallows thickly.

Standing in front of the doors, he breathes in oxygen for the last time.

Salt water rushes in, flooding the control room. The Doctor fights the current and steps out on the ocean floor. 

Sun rays don’t shine this far down. He’s weightless in the cold dark. It’s so quiet.So peaceful. Even this, he doesn’t deserve. 

Soon, his respiratory bypass system will kick in, but it won’t last. Even if he regenerates, he’s too deep, the next him will drown too. And the next one. And the next one. Until he’s all out. 

He closes his eyes.

He lets go.

Then there’s a tap on his shoulder. 

His limbs flail. Panic sets in. He can’t breath. There’s something. Someone. A hand grips his. Oxygen deprivation. Hallucinations. 

He’s carried by the hand, up or down, left or right, there’s no way to tell. Water glides around him, fast.

There’s light in the distance. A sunrise from the ocean floor.  And it’s the last thing he sees before losing consciousness. An angel and light at the end of the tunnel— humans were right.

There are lips on his. Not a kiss. Breath. Air. Pushed into his lungs.

The Doctor’s eyes fly open. He coughs water. The air has never smelled so sweet, not even on Tranekaer.

“Hello.”

The owner of the lips. A young woman with the kindest eyes he’s ever seen. Her blond hair drips over her bare shoulders and her bare— Oh. The Doctor quickly averts his eyes.

“Wha’? Never seen a mermaid before?”

“Mermaid?”

He allows his gaze to take her in. The pale, almost iridescent, skin of her torso. Fins like chiffon trims across her ribs. A slender waist, the curve of hips, and then scales, in pinks and reds, tapering into a tail. Right out of a fairy tale. 

She smooths her wavy hair away from her neck, exposing gils right under her ears.

“Fantastic!” The Doctor laughs— a nasal laugh, he notices. 

“You sure are in a good mood for a bloke who nearly drowned.”

“Nine hundred years and I’ve never met a mermaid. I thought you were just a myth.”

The universe still has surprises in store for him. Something like hope sparks in his chest.

“Hold on,” he says, feeling the flat surface underneath him, “I thought Bahari was a waterworld. Only oceans.”

It’s what saved them from the war, Daleks would have turned to rust here.

“It is. But some of us like to lounge in the sun, so we built islands.”

The Doctor lies back down, arms crossed under his head. Day stars twinkle in the sky. Sun rays caress his face, the face he has yet to see. 

“I’m Rose, by the way,” the mermaid says.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Are you a space traveler?”

He nods, and she gasps with delight.

Could a mermaid travel in space? The thought surprises him. But there’s something of an adventurer in her, he can feel it. A kindred spirit. Could the Tardis— “My ship!”

He sits right up.

“It’s still underwater, I think,” Rose says. It was locked, I couldn’t get you inside. Your crew must be looking for you.”

Her words stab his hearts.

“No crew. There’s no one left.”

And perhaps she saw the cloak of grief descend on his shoulders, for she says, “There’s me.” And there is something, in that shy smile of hers, an offer that momentarily soothes every ache in his bones. She doesn’t know anything about what he’s just done. She saved him. Gave him a second chance. Or at least a respite. 

“Would you like to see my world?” she offers. 

“Yes, I would.”

She cups his cheek tenderly. Her hand is cold, but her gaze is warm. “Take a deep breath, Doctor.”

She kisses him, once more breathing life into him.