No, it isn’t Found & Revisited. Sorry. The muse just isn’t there, and I’m tired of fighting to even write a paragraph a day. Anything that I do write is just crap, so I would rather wait until the muse returns.
In the meantime, I’m trying my hand at something very different: a Broadchurch crossover with Rose Tyler. I have to admit the inspiration DID come from Dearest Anonny’s fantastic “In Need of Healing” Inboxfic series. However, this is a completely different story, unrelated to that gorgeous bit of writing.
This story, “Closed,” is circa Journey’s End. The Dimension Cannon fails, and Rose never makes it back to her original universe. Impossible to ever see the Doctor again, she struggles to move on.
Above is a preliminary banner. Click the “Read More” for a sneak peek.
His eyes were closed, and his head was bowed. Pete Tyler sat in the corridor of the Naval Military Treatment Facility in Greenwich, located in the old Royal Naval War College facility on the shores of the Thames.
He held his mobile and stared at the picture of what he called his second chance family. Jackie, Rose and himself were standing behind a happy Tony Tyler. He was readying himself to blow out the candles on his third birthday cake. The picture had been taken just a few weeks before. The day had been a happy oasis in the middle of a sea of worry: stars disappearing, the Darkness and the return of the violent weather changes that had followed the first time the walls of the universe had weakened and cracked.
One hour had passed since the incident, and still had not called Jackie. He could no longer put it off.
"Jacks, there has been an…incident. Rose has been hurt." Pete knew that something in his voice told Jackie that this time was different, because his wife said nothing in reply. She must have known that this was not just another one of the numerous sprains, strains, split lips, broken fingers or concussions that Rose had sustained during her days and nights defending the Earth.
"I’ve sent Jake to pick you up. He should be there in a few minutes."
"Oh God! Rose!" Jackie Tyler choked out the words as she looked through glass which separated her from her daughter. The glass was cold under her fingertips as she pressed her palms to the window.
Rose was motionless, save the artificially induced rise and fall of her chest. A blue sheet was draped over her torso and legs, except for her arms, which had been arranged unnaturally straight by her sides. Two intravenous lines led to numerous bags of fluid, one on the back of her hand, and the second, near her heart. Her eyes were covered with white gauze, taped shut. The skin on her face, neck and hands was an angry shade of red, glistening from the ointment used for the second degree burns. A tube down her throat controlled her respiration. Her dark blonde hair was frizzy and uneven, like the worst haircut after the worst perm. Bare patches on her scalp were visible where hair had been singed completely away; in other spots, the hair had been clipped to better expose lacerations and wounds.
The flat screen monitor hanging on the wall visually indicated just how serious her condition was. Her heart rate was sluggish and erratic. Brain wave activity was nearly flat, as were muscle and eye movement.
Pete pulled Jackie into his side, and she turned into him, burying her face into his chest.
"I knew it would end this way. That bloody alien!" Jackie managed to say, though it was muffled and nearly unintelligible through her racking sobs.