The “Imagine getting used to Eleven after years of traveling with Ten” imagine sparked such a positive reaction that I even got requests to rewrite the fic for other regenerations - specifically, Eleven to Twelve. I have half a mind to write the Four to Five regeneration because I think that would be really interesting, but that all depends on how this one suit you all, I suppose.
There were a number of times that you had been unbelievably grateful that the Doctor taught you how to fly the TARDIS. Un-bel-iev-ab-ly grateful. You were about ninety-six percent sure that no one in the universe had ever been as grateful as you for the skill of driving. (And yeah, sure, you weren’t all that good, but you could soundly blame that on the fact that your teacher had barely passed the flight exam himself, so looking at it that way you were well on your way to surpassing the Doctor’s TARDIS-driving abilities.)
But never had you been as grateful as you were when the Doctor forgot how to drive the bloomin’ TARDIS.
You didn’t know what could have happened if you didn’t know how to fly the TARDIS. Perhaps you would have been fine, but alternatively, you could have landed in the Cretaceous Period and gotten eaten by a dinosaur. So-so. But you pulled the one move that you had practiced to the point of being even better at it than the Doctor: You maneuvered the TARDIS into the Time Vortex and put her in neutral.
That was five hours ago.
The Doctor was… different, definitely different. Older, which you didn’t mind, except that was going to throw you all the way back to when people thought that the Ninth was your father. Only they would mistake Twelve for your grandfather. Well… sure, you could pass him off as your father, you supposed, but you didn’t want to. Kissing Nine in public had gotten you plenty of dirty looks. Kissing this one… Um, did they still burn people at the stake, or..?
He’s gonna hate this, you thought.
He hadn’t gotten a look at himself yet. He’d pitched a bit of a senseless fit while you were driving the TARDIS (during which you had gathered that he didn’t remember who he was, or who you were, for that matter), but as soon as you got him into his bed, he had zonked out. This had left you with plenty of time to see… well, him. He was old. Wrinkled, grey, hollowed at the cheeks and paunch at his middle. After the chiseled muscle of Nine and the sinuous strength of Ten and the lean youth of Eleven, you somehow doubted that the Doctor would be pleased with this body. You couldn’t say that you minded it yourself (distinguished, your brain called him, mature), but the Doctor had such fickle self-esteem issues.
“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, leaning over give the Doctor a kiss on his forehead. His permanently-angry eyebrows twitched, but he was otherwise still. You sighed and rolled over onto your side so that you could watch him without propping yourself up on your elbows. The TARDIS dimmed the bedroom lights to about thirty percent.
You thought about going to sleep. You hadn’t slept for awhile and you were exhausted. The TARDIS was keeping tea warm for when the Doctor woke up, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that. He didn’t look strong enough to do anything harm, not even himself, and certainly not with regeneration sickness keeping him woozy for the next… oh, ten hours or so. The worst thing that could possibly happen at this point was him rolling over and falling out of bed.
Worse things have happened. You snuggled under the covers and reached out to grab his hand. The metal of his ring was reassuringly firm on his feeble bones, and you thanked Gallifrey for inventing rings that changed with regeneration.
Just as you were about to doze off, your phone rang.
Excellent point, but still can’t.
You groaned scrambling to find where your phone had fallen in the folds of the red down comforter that covered your bed. It jingled insistently with some tune that the Tenth Doctor had customized so many years ago that you didn’t have the heart to change. You finally found it and hit the green accept button with far more aggression than necessary.
“Hello?” you rasped, voice thick with exhaustion and the clinging remnants of your almost-sleep.
“Hey. How’s my darling wife, eh? Sticking with me?”
The Eleventh Doctor’s voice jolted through you, squeezing your chest like a vice. You had done the regeneration thing enough times now that it didn’t really freak you out, not like the first time, but that didn’t mean that you had completely acclimated yourself to losing one part of the Doctor for another. You loved the Doctor, but you also loved Eleven just as Eleven, the same way you did all the other Doctors, even though you simultaneously loved them all as the same person. You hadn’t let yourself miss Eleven in the last five hours, not really, but hearing his voice made it all crash down on you.
“Yeah,” you croaked. Something in your chest cracked painfully.
You glanced down at the wedding ring that adorned your left hand. It glinted in the dim light, just like the Doctor’s.
“Sweetheart, I’m… How is everything?” The Doctor sounded a bit out of breath.
You looked over at the brand new Doctor and smiled faintly. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
“Oh, good. Good. I can feel it… coming. Regeneration. This is gonna be a big one, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I know.” You carded your fingers through the new Doctor’s salt-and-pepper curls. He shifted, pushing his head into your touch. "It’ll turn out alright, though.“
"How is he- how am I doing?”
“Got a bit of amnesia,” you informed him, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re asleep now.”
“Am I handsome? Got t'be handsome for my beautiful wife.”
You were too tired to giggle, but your body made an admirable effort. “I think you’re handsome.”
“Oi! Bet that means I’m weird-looking.”
“You’ve always been weird-looking, dear,” you said blandly. The Doctor’s wrinkled old hand reached out shakily, searching, and you scooted yourself closer so that he could snake his arm around your middle.
“Hey!” Eleven whined childishly.
You smiled. Your eyes watered, stinging. You felt the new Doctor shifting against you, his breaths beginning to come in upset little hiccups. He was waking up.
“Time’s up,” you whispered. You heard the Doctor’s breath hitch on the other end of the line.
“No,” he said, panicking. “No, no, not yet, I need- just another minute, please, I-”
“Can’t,” you said, roughly wiping away your tears with your sleeve. Twelve whimpered, pressing himself against you, clinging, as if he could sense his previous body’s distress. Maybe he could. “Can’t talk forever or we’ll never let go.”
You heard Eleven make a broken sound. “I love you!”
“I love you too.” There were so many things to say but you couldn’t, and everything hurt so badly. Why did it hurt so much, every time? Why did every inch of you ache with loneliness, missing him so desperately, even though you knew he will right next to you. "I’m here. I’m not leaving, I promise, Doctor. I’m here. I’m here.“
There was a sound that ran along the line, a sound you had never heard any living being make before, a sound like a soul crying out-
The TARDIS broke the connection.
You stifled a sob, angrily tossing your phone onto the nightstand next to your side of the bed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to get easier, not… not this.
The Doctor jerked, struggling through a few more breaths that weren’t coming clearly in his new lungs, and then he opened his eyes. You cringed at their paleness, their familiarity even though you had never seen them before. He locked eyes with you, and oh, those eyes. Sad, confused, frightened, blatantly showing off that hurt part of him that hadn’t been there before; that part that came with Eleven’s goodbye. You did your best to smile, pressing your hand against his soft cheek. He leaned into your touch, gaze steady.
Susan- spare TARDIS key, memes, really nice flower petals Barbara - mini first aid kit, sewing kit, flask Vicki- small lizard, souvenir spoon from space museum Katarina - bras not invented yet, is confused Sara- guns Dodo- sweets, really neat rock she found Polly- compact, comb, spare hair ties Victoria- handkerchief, locket Zoe- logic, small amount of glitter Liz- notepad, pen, test tubes Jo- UNIT pass, lockpicks, sunshine Sarah Jane- notes, fake ids, sonic lipstick (when she’s older) Leela- extra knife (sheathed) Romana I&II- battery for K9, spare Sonic, TARDIS key, key to time, teabags…(it’s bigger on the inside) Nyssa- science, memories Tegan- passport, lipstick, list of places that aren’t Heathrow Peri- sunglasses and sarcasm Evelyn- pills, recipes, specs Mel- mix tape, flash drive, granola bars Ace- whoopass Grace- stethoscope, opera glasses Charley- handkerchief, TARDIS key, secret plum pudding recipe Lucie- stick of rock Iris Wildthyme- entire minibar Rose- TARDIS key, phone, occasional chips Jack- [REDACTED] Martha- keys, first aid kit, astonishing amount of patience Donna- twelve quid, chapstick, sudoku puzzle, alarming amount of sass Amy- phone, keys, Raggedy Doctor doll until Eleven found out River- diary, sonic, hallucinogenic lipstick Clara- phone, mini Jane Austen novel, paradoxes Missy- backup plans, murder Bill- iPod, rainbows, £2.37 in change, a woman’s phone number on a napkin Thirteen- Sonic, TARDIS key, psychic paper, cup of tea, library, everything she will ever need…(also bigger on the inside)
Just sent you a coffee! Could you pls write some sad/happy remadora headcanons, anytime is fine! Love your blog!!
You got it! Thanks for the coffee!
So let’s see….
“Merlin, Dora, I’ll be 55 when he graduates from Hogwarts. What do you think we’ll even be doing then?”
Tonks waiting up all night for Remus during full moon. How can she sleep, you know? Remus tells her not to worry, he’s done this a million times–Tonks has, by now, calculated exactly how many and knows it isn’t a million but may as well be–but Tonks knows that’s a fools’ errand, not to worry.
And when it’s no longer pre-dawn, but actual dawn-dawn, and Remus isn’t back… Tonks knows. She knows something’s wrong. Should she wait? Maybe he’s just… what, late because he’s gone to get the milk? No, idiot–he’s hurt, and she can’t wait, but if she goes and he comes back, if he’s not hurt and he’s just taking his time…
She doesn’t have to go. A cup of strongly caffeinated tea gone cold later, he does show up at their door. Most of him, anyway.
She helps him wash up, and she’s got an ointment ready for the scratches. Remus was surprised when he saw this earlier in the month, but did he think his girlfriend was just going to let him suffer on his own, for Merlin’s sake? I mean really, Lupin, I thought you were intelligent.
She watches the porcelain sink in the bathroom run rather red when he rinses out the wash rag.
“He’s got your eyes. … Oh, no, wait… Now he’s got… my mother’s eyes? Uh-oh.”
Remus teaching Tonks to slow dance because she thinks it would be romantic and of course he just happens to know. “Part of the subterfuge req list,” he smiles at her, and she almost laughs enough that she lets it go without a real explanation.
A very pregnant Tonks, coming into the living room to watch Dr Who in a large TARDIS night gown, and Remus spilling his tea because holy shit he loves this woman
Tonks perfects eating nachos in a way Remus had never even fathomed. Toppings and all.
Remus telling Tonks about the Marauder shenanigans, and she especially laughs at Sirius. “He never told me that part, what a bloody twat!”
The both of them waiting patiently in line and getting cut off by a Suburban Mom, who actually has to look back at them after a minute because they’re both wheezing with the effort NOT to laugh OUT LOUD because they’ve been verbally slaying her to one another for the last five minutes.
Tonks smacking Remus firmly on the back of the head with the Prophet because he speaks Welsh in the kitchen when he wants her to misunderstand, like a sneaky shit.
Day One fic for the Empty Child/Doctor Dances anniversary celebration! By Clare Hope, aka Admin Ianto at We-Are-Torchwood
That sounded like Owen. Why was Owen groaning? Wasn’t it night? Night was usually when Gwen was asleep.
“Owen? Gwen? Are you there?”
And that was Ianto. What was going on? Gwen sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Gwen, you’re awake. Look, we’re in this room. I can’t find any doors or weaknesses in the walls,” Ianto said. The only light was coming from a small torch that he was carrying. “You and Owen have been out for about 20 minutes.”
“Where are we? How did we get here?” Gwen groaned.
“Well, we were investigating Rift activity, so I’m guessing the Rift brought us here.” Ianto tapped the wall. “It seems to be some sort of high-strength metal alloy.”
Gwen crawled over to Owen and shook him roughly. “Wake up. We’re trapped.”
“Great. You know, I think I’m gonna stay asleep,” he mumbled.
“What’s that noise?” Ianto said suddenly.
Gwen knew that noise. So did Ianto, though he would prefer not to remember it. It was the whirring, wheezing sound of one space-time ship that had once whisked Jack away from them for three months. Their best guess as to the occupant of the ship was whoever Jack’s “doctor” that he kept referring to was, but they didn’t know for sure.
“What the hell is going on?” Owen snapped.
There was a thud, and another, higher pitched whirring. Part of the wall swung inwards, almost hitting Ianto in the face. “Hey!” he cried.
half three in the morning when he hears the TARDIS land, when his wife creeps
in through the front door like a teenager past her curfew, tip-toeing inside
and shutting it quietly. She mustn’t notice the kitchen light is on, because
River visibly startles when she turns around to find him waiting for at the
she all but gasps, caught off guard. "What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same,” he
counters, trying to keep his voice light even as anxious fingers tap against
the wooden table. The tea before him has long since gone cold, and River’s eyes
roam over him carefully, shoulders stiffening like they always do when she goes
on the defensive. His wife stands a little taller, her jaw a little tighter,
and he wishes that she wouldn’t, that she didn’t feel the need to tread around
him as if he were a snake in the grass.
Ah, the familiar sentence you’d heard too many times to count. You’d been a part of this game for far too long, every calculated move leading the man closer and closer to your boudoir in which sweaty bodies and breathy moans would come.
Sneaking a glance at the obviously attractive man, you smirked, an intended strand of hair being tucked behind your ear as you drank in the blonde man, biting your lip intentionally.
You’d been planning it all night, sneaking calculated glances from across the bar when he’d peer up from his drink. The nameless man’s blue eyes bore a striking resemblance to a certain angel you could never get out of your head, and his build was definitely not one to complain about. Of course the blonde hair was a bit off from what you were looking for, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t who you’d be thinking of tonight as he hopefully plowed into you.
Here we are, as requested. The Doctor was in the request Ten or Eleven if i recall correctly. I believe I didn’t really state any specifics so this will be for any. This went a couple different ways in my mind but I eventually finished on the cybermen. A bit blegh, not my favorite, but it turned out okay. Hope you still like it though.
Word count: 1626
“Three days?” You double-checked, fixing your bag on your
“Three days” The Doctor confirmed, giving you a quick kiss
and a wave as he stepped back into the Tardis. You waved in return as he closed
the door behind him and soon the box you called your home was slowly fading
away. You smiled softly at the empty space, knowing you’d miss him. But he’d be
back. Just three days. Three days for you to visit home and have a quick catch
up with your friends and family before you were back out into space. First was
your best friend. You were staying at their house over the three days and they were
the only one to know about the Doctor and where you’d really been. So you could
ramble excitedly about your adventures before you had to go and talk about how
‘college’ was doing to everyone else. You turned, heading inside your friend’s
place with your phone already in hand filled with pictures.
Three days, you could do that. Three days would be fine.
Three days was not fine. Trust you to get home just before
an alien invasion. This was just absolutely typical. You had been so used to
this, you should have already expected it. One thing you weren’t used to
however, is having no one by your side. In all honesty, you were freaking out.
You had been in your friend’s house early the second morning, laughing over a
couple stories from the Tardis with tea, when the TV switched to breaking news.
Both of you were quick to pay attention, especially when you
heard the Prime Minister suddenly start asking about the Doctor. You knew then,
it was your responsibility to call him, get a hold of him somehow. You were his
companion right? More than that, obviously, but not everyone had to know that.
You put your tea down and walked quickly back to the bedroom with your friend
right behind you. You picked up your phone and was ready to dial right when the
screen went black. You frowned. You could swear it was fully charged.
You sighed, changing your plan to get dressed quickly as
possible and telling your friend you were going out to get a closer look at
what was happening and see if you could get ahold of the Doctor. Your friend
protested and insisted you stay where it was safe but you simply grabbed your
dead phone and left, promising you’d be back once it was all over. It didn’t
take long for you to find the centre of what was happening.
You ducked inside a dark shop with the window and door
broken, managing to hide just as something came around the corner. Your heart
was beating faster than you’d thought possible when you tried to peek around
the corner at the sound you recognised. What you saw didn’t help one bit. A row
of cybermen were moving down the street, seemingly searching for something.
“Human detected” One spoke up suddenly. You covered your
mouth to keep from screaming, ducking back in your hiding place and hoping
against all hope that they wouldn’t find you. You let out a real scream when a
metal hand clamped down on your arm. “You are human. You are inferior. You will
be upgraded” It told you as it pulled you along.
“The hell I will!” You screamed, terror lacing your words.
“You’re gonna regret doing anything to me. Do you know who I am?” The cyberman
stopped, turning to you.
“Initiating scan” There was a moment that was silent for all
but your panicked breathing as the cybermen all around you fell frozen. “Scan
complete. Alert. Human is (F/N) (L/N). Companion to the Doctor”
“Damn right” You breathed in almost relief, hoping against
all hope that they would let you go for fear of the Doctor.
“Companions of the Doctor are time travellers” The cyberman
stated. You frowned slightly at it.
“What about it?” You asked carefully, looking around at all
“Scan initiated” Another moment of silence. “Scan complete.
You are carrying traces of Time Energy. You will be upgraded to Cyber-Planner”
Your eyes widened in shock as you heard this and you immediately tried to
struggle away. The cybermen teleported themselves and you back to what looked
like their ship. You were quickly sat down where your wrists and ankles were
restrained to the straight-backed metal chair.
“No! You can’t do this, you can’t! The Doctor will never
stop looking for me, he’ll kill you all!” You shouted at them, tugging
fruitlessly at the restraints. The cybermen didn’t answer and it was only a
moment later that you felt something small crawling up your legs. You looked
down and screamed at the sight of the many metal bugs crawling over you now.
Not just the fact that they were bugs, but you knew they had something to do
with this upgrade to ‘Cyber-Planner’ which you hadn’t heard about before. You
knew you needed the Doctor, but how were you supposed to call him? It was
likely he didn’t even know you were in trouble. He might even show up tomorrow
like he was supposed to, only to find you gone and half the world were
cybermen. So as one last resort, your one last hope to keep yourself human, you
knew what you had to do.
“Doctor!” You called as loud as you could, louder than you
ever had before. You felt your mind change, and it was only another moment
before you knew you were gone. Your panic faded to nothing. You felt a cold
smile spread across your face.
“Conversion complete” One of the cybermen stated. The
restraints on the metal chair snapped open and you stood and stretched with the
smile never leaving your face.
“Complete alright” You heard your voice say. “My, my. Look
at that, information. So, what are we up
to?” You turned to one of the cybermen who’d brought you here, facing it with
all the authority you knew you now had. It was about to answer when an all too
familiar sound filled the air. You turned with the rest of the cybermen as one
stated exactly what you were all seeing with a degree of panic.
“I think we can see that” You pointed out, watching as the
blue box solidified in front of you with the thud of the landing. The doors
opened as the Doctor rushed out, his panicked state turning to frozen horror as
he stopped, taking you in and realising what had happened.
“A bit late Doctor” You seethed. The cybermen suddenly
dropped all around you and he looked around in confusion before his eyes fell
on you. “You have no idea how hard this is” You breathed out softer.
“(Y/N), it’s still you?” The Doctor asked hesitantly. You
“Yeah…” Your legs gave out and your vision darkened for a
second and when it was done you found yourself on your hands and knees, looking
up at the Doctor as he watched you in horror.
“It won’t be for much longer” He told you sadly. You
“What-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp, realising exactly
what he meant as you felt another presence in your mind, trying to push to the
surface. Trying to take you over completely. The Doctor was suddenly in front
of you, helping you sit up so you were sitting on your knees. You gave a
pleading look and without a word he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and was
scanning you. He grimaced slightly before looking at you properly.
“(Y/N), listen to me. I have a way to fix this but… It’s
going to hurt a bit” He explained hesitantly.
“A bit?” You questioned incredulously.
“A lot” He corrected. “But I don’t know what else to do. I
“Do it” You told him. He paused.
“You don’t even know what it is. You’re just going to let
me?” He asked slowly. You nodded confidently.
“Yeah, I trust you. Do it” You repeated. He watched you a
moment longer before nodding.
“This will be over soon, I promise” He told you softly,
placing a kiss to your forehead.
The moments to follow were a pain filled blur. You weren’t
sure how long it lasted or if you screamed or not but the one thing you were
sure about is that the Doctor was there the whole time, speaking softly to you,
telling you it was almost over. When it did stop the first thing you noticed
was the emptiness in your head. It was only you. You looked up into the hope
filled eyes of the Doctor and smiled.
“It worked” You told him breathlessly. He smiled in return,
pulling you in for a hug. As you thought over everything that had happened that
day, you found yourself crying into his shoulder. He held you tighter, shushing
you gently and whispering to you to calm you down.
“What is it?” He asked after a moment. You pulled back
slightly to look at him properly, your eyes locked on his.
“You heard me” You whispered in almost disbelief. He smiled
at you, one hand moving to cup your cheek as he wiped a tear away with his
“(Y/N), it doesn’t matter where or when you are, or how far
apart we are. I will always hear you, and I will always come for you” He
promised you. You smiled at the genuineness in his voice and pulled him close
again for a slow sweet kiss.
“Three days can end a bit early, can’t they?” You asked
softly. He laughed.
::Alright @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 you requested this AGES ago, I’m so sorry I never got to writing it, but I’m going back through old requests and doing them. Really hope you still wanted this and like it::
Doc, I can hear em’ screaming at us from here!” you breath past your teeth as
the Doctor scrambled for his sonic screwdriver. Those oversized pepper shakers
had been following you since the town square. The man you’d known only for a few
counted years certainly had kept his promise on an exciting time. But right now
it was proving to be a little too much, you certainly needed some kind of
vacation from this hell. The Doctor suddenly took you by the hand and started
running again. A these twists and turns were already making you dizzy, and now
you were being pushed to climb up a fire exit. The daleks chasing after you
shouldn’t be so fast, but somehow they caught up to you at every turn. By the
time you reached the Tardis they were all closing in on the doorway. It was
your turn to grab and run, pushing his head down by the neck so he wouldn’t try
to talk it out again.
A drabble about Tentoo and Rose’s first few minutes together in honor of Tentoo day. @doctorroseprompts
The man in brown is gone. The man in blue remains. He feels the wind in a way he never felt as a Time Lord: cold and biting.
Rose slumps forward. A sob wracks her body. The Doctor doesn’t know what to do. If he was in a brown suit, he would comfort her. Kiss her, hold her, rock her until she calmed down. Then he would make her a cup of tea while they snuggled on the Tardis jump seat.
But he was the Doctor in blue. He doesn’t know if he is welcome. She is mourning for the other him, and he is too. He wishes he could be the man she wants, not the one she is stuck with.
He looks a few yards away to where Jackie is standing in the sand. She pushes her hair behind her ears then gestures at Rose, then to him, and back to Rose.
He takes the hint and gingerly places a hand on Rose’s back. She turns toward him, and his breath catches, unsure of her next move.
Still crying, she puts her head on his chest and wraps her arms around him. He holds her close. “I’m here,” he whispers. “I love you.” She looks up and smiles through the tears. His worries fade. He is the Doctor and she is Rose Tyler, and they are going to be just fine.
Because I’ve become addicted to Harry Potter and needed to reflect that in the love nerds somehow …
They fight constantly now.
It’s so much different from the constant bickering they used to share. That action - hell, that life - is no more. It’s the ending of quiet muttering over who took the better pair of goggles, which Doctor was better, who was quicker at repeating the digits of pi.
That’s over. Those days are left in the sullen darkness of the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Just like those times, FitzSimmons are no more.
He stutters; she cries. He shakes; she hides. He thunders; she stops.
She stops helping. She stops following him. She just … Ceases.
They’re volatile. Deep within her aching chest, she knows this. She’s toxic. He’s damaged. They’re no longer a “they.”
She looks at him and sees a best friend that’s no longer there - and if he is, he’s too far buried under the sediment of a broken friendship, the words at the bottom of the sea, the days spent silent in the infirmary. She can’t dig him out any more than she could swim those ninety feet faster.
So she watches as he rides the waves, risingrisingrising before the inevitable crush of salt against the rocks. And then she’s there to pull him up, clean the glass out of his hands, before he’s back at the crest.
Her distance is maintained. She watches and watches and watches and feels like screaming because if he would only let her help he wouldn’t be hurting. She wouldn’t be laboring under this burden of responsibility.
For six weeks this continues. Forty-two days filled with waves and tears as salty as the sea. But like all, the darkness ends. Even if for but a spark of light, the darkness must cease.
He seemed well enough last week to hold tea cups with sloshing too much, so that’s what she brings him. The set is old, but nonetheless it represents them as much as the lab. The sugar dish is a Dalek, the pot the TARDIS, and the cups covered in various quotes. And though she can’t see it as she rests the pot on the tray, she almost smiles at the fact a “Love, Fitz” is scribbled on the bottom. Almost.
His door is left open, so she doesn’t bother knocking. He’s not asleep, and he avoids showers as long as possible due to his trauma, so she has good reason that she won’t interrupt.
Sure enough, he’s on the bed, a well worn book open against his knees. He doesn’t notice her come in, too engrossed in the pages. A smile ticks at the corner of her lips; he looks near exactly like the Fitz from years before. Curled up, reading.
It’s only as she draws nearer that she realizes he’s mouthing the words, squinting harshly at the pages. Her heart plummets.
“Knock knock,” Jemma whispers, offering a plastic smile.
His head jerks up, hand shaking against the book’s back, eyes wide with surprise.
“I brought tea,” she holds the tray up just a bit higher, his eyes following the trail of steam. “English, just the way you like it.”
He nods, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. When she makes no move, his hand twitches to his side.
She shakes her head, as if in a trance, and softly pads over, hesitating a second more before taking a seat next to him. The tray is placed between them.
It’s silent, and that hurts. Less than two months before they would have banter between them, perhaps even laughing.
But the airwaves are as still as the ocean depths, the only echoes being the clink of tea spoons on china.
She doesn’t have to ask him what he takes; she already knows, and so does he. It’s not until their fingers are both being warmed that she hesitates, eyes glued to the way his hand shakes.
He catches her looking, gaze hardening, as he slips the offending ligament behind his back.
“So what were you reading?” Her voice carries a faux light note, and they both know it. But she’s trying to bridge this gap between them, and again they both know it, so he lets her, even if just for a little bit.
“Ch-Chamber ‘f S-Secrets,” he mumbled, watching the tea swirl in his cup.
“Really?” Jemma can’t help the crease in her eyebrows. “But you always said that was your least favorite,”
“’S,” he nodded, managing the single syllable. “B-But it re-remi-nds m’ of y-you. When you we-re ha-happy,”
Her fingers ghost the bicep of his injured arm, but she pulls back at his flinch. “But you - we hadn’t even met back then. The only books we ever read together were the Half-Blood Prince and The-”
“- Ha-Hallows, yeah,” he nodded. “B-But you 'ways re-reminded me of Her … Herm … ” his fists clench at his inability to get the name out, but Jemma gently placed her palm on his tense shoulder.
“Hermione, yes …” She smiles, perhaps for real this time, but even that’s not enough to stave off the misting of her eyes. “And you always did remind me of Ron. Perhaps not the strongest, but you were definitely the bravest,”
Even Fitz has to grin at that, half-hearted as it is. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jemma sighed, fondness overtaking her.
They lapse into silence yet again, and it’s only a few moments later that she realizes what she’s just admitted. A flush creeps up her cheeks at the realization, but regardless, she can’t help but think that it’s true. He’s the Ronald Weasley to her Hermione Granger. No matter what, they would always find each other.
“Perhaps,” Jemma whispered, a realization creeping over her. “Perhaps this is our Horcrux, Fitz,”
“This is our Horcrux,” she stated again, sitting up. “This is what tore them apart, us apart.”
He doesn’t try to speak, perhaps too turned by the past few minute’s events, but nonetheless he gives her a quizzical look.
“The Horcrux, Fitz - the locket. It’s what made them fight, and then Ron left, and it hurt both of them.” Her eyes were beginning to glisten, and the fact it was over a book series didn’t escape her. “That’s - That’s what happened to us. The pod - it pulled us apart. Made us forget what we were. You changed.”
He jerks as if he’d been burned, and it’s only that Jemma takes his shaking hands gently that he stays seated. Her palms softly take his tea cup so she can fully grasp both of his hands, eyes wide.
“But it was temporary - this is temporary. They found their way back to each other - so why not us?”
She’s torn between laughing and crying all at once. If someone had told her just four months ago that the way she would honestly open herself up to Fitz after he sustained brain damage was through a TARDIS tea set and Harry Potter references, she’d have laughed in their faces. But here she was now, looking up into his hurt but hopeful blue eyes, and it all felt right.
“They - they, ah, they en-end up to-to-together,” he stumbles out, hands and voice quivering. She knows what’s flitting through his - both of their minds, really - right now. Those few words shared on the ocean floor.
“Yes,” Jemma murmurs. “But that’s the thing - they were friends first, Fitz. And then they decided that they would like to spend the rest of their lives with their best friend. And, really,” she added, growing bashful. “I’ve had to experience life without you, and quite frankly, I’m not sure if that’s a life worth living.
"Maybe we don’t make it like they do. Maybe we really are just friends. But I know you wouldn’t mind trying for … for something more. And truthfully, neither would I,”
When her eyes dare to meet his again, it’s with such an intensity that she’s never seen. He’s open, and for the first time in weeks, his eyes aren’t clouded with worry or stress.
“Want t-to kiss you,” he mumbled softly, the thumb of his injured hand carefully moving to run over her knuckles. It’s shaking, but they can’t bring themselves to care. They’ve made it.
She laughs lightly in the air between them. “Then why don’t you?”
Her head ducks in, but just before their lips meet, he gently pulls her back by her shoulder.
“No-Not y-yet,” he managed, sheepish. “I want to b-be bet-better. Able to, ah, h-hold you,”
The ice that had momentarily forked in her heart dissolves in a flurry as she gives him an understanding smile. Instead, she pulls him into a tight embrace, planting a warm, light kiss on the shell of his ear.
“Whatever happens,” she whispered. “I just want you to remember that you’re my best friend before anything else. No matter what happens, if this doesn’t work out, or if we don’t get our fairytale ending, that will never change.”
He pulls back, his lips finding her hairline, before he pulls her tighter into the crook of his neck. “Always,”