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miss-storytime · 3 years

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Trial by Time: Chapter 1

Summary:

When a Sludge villain attacks Bakugo on his way home from school he finds himself in a fight for his life. During his struggle against his assailant, the young teen discovers something new about himself that may be extremely useful in his hero career. However, something else interesting happens during his encounter with the villain, the actions of his Quirkless classmate Midoriya, who rushes to his aid.

What new secrets will be discovered in this chapter, and how does Bakugo really feel about the courageous idiotic intervention of his childhood friend?

*This is an Alpha! Katsuki x Omega! OC A/B/O fic, so if that is not something that you are interested in reading or something you don’t like feel free to keep scrolling. No hard feelings on my end. Hope you all who do read, enjoy the chapter!

Have a Fantastical Day,

~ Miss. Storytime, & The Librarian

!DISCLAIMER!

I do not own any of these characters except my OC, and parts of the storyline. Most of the characters and plot belong to the amazing Kōhei Horikoshi! I give him all of the credit of which he is due.

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11 months ago… …

“Here’s the sad truth: All men are not created equal....”

“Is it possible to become a hero, even if I don’t have a Quirk!? I’m a normal

kid without any powers. Could I ever hope to be someone like you?”

“Can you be a Hero? Not without a Quirk.”

*************************************************

‘Damn it...Someone get this freak off me!’ Bakugo thought as he struggled against the binds of the Sludge villain holding him captive. His head was still spinning from how exactly he had gotten into this situation. All he knew was that he was walking home from school with his idiot friends in tow, and then he was being attacked by literal sewage.

‘This guy fucking reeks, I’m gonna smell like this for hours’, the heckles on Katsuki’s neck bristled as he let off another barrage of explosions. Looking around the ruined open-air shopping center Bakugo couldn’t find or think of anything that could help him escape. All he could see were the burning kiosks and storefronts, as well as the group of shoppers careening past him to avoid all the damage. The burning smell of smoke and fire filled the air and made breathing painful for the struggling teen. However, that wasn’t what was truly stressing Bakugo out, what really got under his skin was the crowd. They just stood there watching him like it was some sort of street performance; far enough away to keep themselves safe, but close enough to get a good view. It really pissed him off.

The scent of anxiety, fear, and concern radiating from the crowd was almost drowning out the smell of his burning surroundings, making it hard to focus. The mixture of alphas and omegas in the crowd alone was upsetting enough, all those competitors and potential mates watching him struggle like this was humiliating. Add on the irritating scent of the alphas, the distressed chirping and anxious smell of the omegas, and his instincts were bouncing off the walls. Ignoring them as best he could, Katsuki continued to pull and thrash against the slimy restraints of his captor. Using his quirk when he could in an attempt to escape Bakugo grew increasingly more frustrated, nothing seemed to be working. Every time he made a dent in the creep more goop took its place.

Slowly, Bakugo's vision began to tunnel down to a pinpoint, and he was becoming acutely aware of the rapid pounding in his chest. He was used to his alpha making himself known in less than ideal circumstances, but something about this was different. He could hear more than he thought he normally could, the sound of his own blood pumping through his veins thundered in his ears. The distant voices of the crowd gradually grew more clear, enough for Bakugo to make out what some were whispering to one another.

“It’s a monster…”

“This looks bad, maybe we should run?”

As if that wasn’t weird enough his sense of smell was getting increasingly more sensitive allowing him to pick up every note in the air. He was certain that if he focused he could pinpoint which scent belonged to which person; that is if the suffocating stench of his capture wasn’t all over him. ‘Where the hell are the heroes!? I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for...God whose smell is that, it’s really pissing me off!!’. Finally, the voice of a hero approaching stole Katsuki’s attention away from the frustrating smell.

“How dare you prey on a child!!”

Forcing himself to focus through his narrowed vision Bakugo saw the hero Death Arms charging at his attacker, and for a brief moment he felt some relief. However, whatever hope he had built up in those few seconds were quickly dashed when the hero made impact. Immediately it was clear that Death Arms was no more equipped to handle this freak anymore than he was, maybe even less so.

“What the hell is this? Some kind of goo?”

The hero wrestled his arm from the body of the slime and jumped back out of reach, careful to avoid further contact with the villain., while more pro heroes started arriving. Backdraft stood back away from him and the villain, putting out what fires he could while fencing off the onlookers with his quirk.

“Stay back, or I’ll snap his neck!”, the Villain laughed out tightening his hold on the blonde.

Something about hearing that triggered something deep within Katsuki, and all the accumulating panic was flushed from his system. A heavy lump started forming in Bakugo’s throat making it harder to breathe as it grew, and for a moment he felt that he was going to pass out. His vision broadened once again and his surroundings were overlaid in a reddish tint. The pounding in his ears overtook all other sounds as the weight in his throat burst forth from him in a roar.

“You picked the wrong guy to mess with!! I’m gonna send you back to whatever sewer you crawled out of!”

A feeling he had never known before crept up from his chest and filled his lungs and throat with a prickly heat as he surged forward against his restraints. Then he shouted at the Villain.

“Let me go!”

As he spoke he felt for a brief moment that he was in complete control of the situation. The pounding in his head quieted to a gently thrumming and he could swear the crowd watching fell into collective silence. For a second the binds holding him loosened enough for him to surge forward freeing one of his arms in the process. Almost as soon as he made progress the sludge returned with a vengeance, pulling his arm back in and wrapping around his mouth and nose. Bakugo continued to fight and thrash against the villain holding him as more heroes arrived on scene. His inner alpha creeping over his consciousness, pushing his instincts to the forefront of his mind. ‘Survive, even if you have to kill him’. And he tried.

Letting off the strongest explosions he could make, Katsuki pulled against the mess of slime surrounding him, occasionally pulling against his restraints hard enough to hurt his limbs. By the time Mount Lady and Kamui Woods arrived the young blonde was growing desperate, his skull throbbing painfully and his lungs were burning for air. ‘Damn it, am I gonna die on tv...what bullshit.’ Just as his vision dimmed to near-nothingness, Bakugo heard someone in the crowd cry out and he became aware of the irritating smell from earlier getting much closer. In fact, it seemed like it was right in front of him.

“No! You idiot! You're gonna get yourself killed!”

With the remaining strength he had Bakugo turned his head as best he could to see what was happening, and to his disbelief he saw his quirkless classmate, Izuku Midoriya, barreling towards him and the villain. Eyes wide and looking like he was on the verge of tears Midoriya spun and threw his backpack at the creature. Whatever happened after that must have done something, because the sludge surrounding his mouth dropped and Katsuki sucked in greedy gulps of air before speaking to the boy who was now digging, bare-handed, into the person holding him.

“What the hell?! Why are you here?!”

“I dunno, my legs they just started… moving. Kacchan! I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die!”

Midoriya continued to dig into the slime as Bakugo started fighting with renewed strength. As he fought, the now familiar heat filled his lungs and throat once again as he raged against his attacker with everything he had.

“Get the hell off me!!”

Feeling his attacker go stiff, and the restraints holding him relaxed once more Katsuki pushed forward just as before, except this time he felt he wasn’t pushing, so much as being pulled. A deafening BOOM rattled around in his head and made his teeth hurt. Temporarily disoriented, Bakugo wondered if he had in fact died. That is until the gentle feeling of a cool rain misted down on his head and now exposed limbs. Looking up he saw that the sky had clouded over and it had begun to rain, which he thought was odd. ‘I could have sworn it was just sunny...maybe I really am dead.’

As his head cleared and his hearing returned to normal he became aware of cheering. Looking around his surroundings he saw that him and his classmate were dangling a little ways off the ground, and the crowd that was standing behind the arms of Mount Lady were cheering. Finally regaining the sense to see why he was not standing on his own two feet Katsuki looked back from the crowd and saw the one person he never expected. ‘All Might....’ With the Sludge villain nowhere to be seen, and his idol standing before him, he knew it was finally over.

******************************************************************

Or so he thought. Camera after camera and microphones brandished by overzealous reporters were shoved in his face, and Katsuki was at the end of his rope. If he didn’t get away from these people he was going to explode. Literally. Listening to anchors prattle on about what had just happened to him over and over again had him bristling. He was tired, hurting, and smelled like absolute shit. It was either his scent or his scowl that finally tipped them off, he didn’t care to know which, but he was finally able to get a ride home from one of the police officers that had arrived on the scene.

After the relatively short ride to his home, Katsuki stood outside the front door for a moment. ‘Deku…’ He thought, turning abruptly from his door and stomping down the street in the direction of his childhood friend’s house. ‘I really don’t want to have to thank him for anything, but he did… well he did something today that’s for sure.’ He continued to walk until his classmate came into view, however, the closer he got the more irritated he became. His mind fogged over and before he knew what he was doing his mouth was moving.

“Deku!”

“Kacchan w-”

“Listen I would never ask for a weakling like you to help me. Don’t think you can look down on me! Got that? I was fine by myself! You're just a Quirkless failure who won’t even cut it as a rent-a-cop. You didn’t help me, you did nothing. And don’t you forget it!”

After thoroughly ranting Katsuki turned and started back towards his house as fast as he could, and like usual the further he got from Deku the clearer his head became and the calmer he felt. ‘Shit...that’s not what I meant to say at all. What the hell is wrong with me. I’m always doing dumb shit like that with him...fuck.’ Sighing, Bakugo stomped up the stairs to his house and opened the door, slipping his shoes off before walking inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The scent in the house was off, and it really irritated him. He just wanted to come home and have as normal an evening as he could, after a shower or five of course. His dad smelled like a nervous wreck, all chirping and anxious in the main room, so when the door closed behind him Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see his dad already starting towards him.

“Katsuki! Oh, Katsuki, your home! Your mother and I were worried sick! Are you ok, do you need anything? We saw what happened on the news, tell me can I get you anything. Like maybe food or or-” stopping to sniff the air his father wrinkled his nose and brought Bakugo in for a hug. “How about a bath? I bet that sounds good right now hu?”

At the best of times, hugs like this upset the teen, but the tightness of his fathers embrace got under his skin and he wiggled away as fast as he could.

“Oi! Get off of me old man, I’m fine! I can get my own bath!!”

It was then Katsuki noticed his mother approaching him, arms crossed as she stopped just in front of her young son. With her eyes narrowed Mitsuki took a deep breath before lifting her son's chin and turning his head from side to side. Brushing through his hair down both of his shoulders with her hands before closing her eyes and kissing him gently on the head. She lingered a moment before stepping back, red-faced and avoiding eye contact.

“He’s fine Masaru… I bet he’s hungry though, why don’t you go get us something to eat? We missed dinner watching the news.”

His father glanced between the two before nodding and starting down the hallway towards the kitchen. Bakugo sighed, knowing something was coming if she wanted to be alone with him.

“Look if your gonna yell at me I’m really not in the mood I’m tired and I want to go to b-”

“Go take a bath and then meet me out here. We need to have a talk.”

****************************************************************

After taking a rather long soak and scrubbing himself a little too hard with scent-free soap, Bakugo felt clean enough to change and return to the living room. He was tired and grumpy, but something about the way his mother had treated him earlier made it a little easier to move. Although, if he was honest with himself, it also scared the shit out of him. ‘Wonder what’s going on now.’

Rounding the corner into the living room the smell of food hit his nose and his stomach replied eagerly. His father had set up one of the tables in the living room and on it sat a large dinner. All Katsuki’s favorites. Bakugo kneeled next to his father, across from his mother and mumbled his thanks before he began filling up his bowl when his mother spoke.

“All Might was here earlier.”

Bakugo froze, his head shooting up to meet his mothers eyes. “All Might wa-!” Mitsuki gave him a pointed look and he huffed, sitting back on his heels

“All Might was here earlier today, and he told us a little bit about what went on today. He said some rather interesting things happened between you and that villain. Did you know that he was an Alpha Katsuki?”

“Of course I did, anyone can smell that shit.”

“Language Katsuki.” His father interjected quietly, filling up his son's bowl with an outrageous amount of food. Chirping happily as he did the same for his wife.

Watching her husband for a moment Mitsuki continued, “Well according to All Might, your voice seemed to work on him a little bit, the villain I mean Enough that you were able to almost get away on a few occasions.”

Bakugo was silent for a moment, letting his mother’s words roll over in his head. As far as he knew he didn’t have a voice yet, unless…

“Was that what that heat was? In my throat I mean, it felt all prickly and heavy.” Mitsuki closed her eyes and sighed before responding.

“Yes, just my luck you’d come into it now. It’ll only feel like that for a little bit though, after a while it’ll be as easy as talking. Anyways, I saw the news Katsuki, your voice did have an effect on that villain today. The news has seen it, they won’t shut up about it. It was so obvious that All Might came down to ask us if we knew that you were an Apex.”

“Seriously I can’t believe All Might came here to talk to you two losers while I was out to thank D-... an Apex? All Might thinks I’m an Apex.”

“We know you are. At least we know now anyway, your father and I have tossed around the idea for a while. I was hoping not though, you’ve got a big enough ego as is-”

“Ego!! What the hell does that mean old hag! Just cause I know I’m amazing doesn’t mean I have an ego!!”

They bickered back and forth with one another for a while until Masuru huffed loudly and looked between the two.

“No more fighting, not after today.” His father looked over at his mom, “We said we weren’t going to do this tonight, Mitsuki. You promised.” His mother took a deep breath and nodded while maintaining eye contact with her son.

“Fine, fine. The brat gets a pass tonight, but let me be very clear.” She leaned forward and took her bowl, giving Katsuki a pointed look as she spoke. “You may think you're all tough shit now that you're an Apex, but pull that voice on me and I’ll beat your ass. I’m still the alpha of this house and your mother. Got it?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and grunted his agreement, taking a deep breath through his nose as he brought the bowl up to his lips to hide his smile. ‘The house smells right now’, placing the bowl back down Bakugo sighed and settled in to dinner with his family.

***********************************************************************

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, I had a lot of help from my close friend on this one. If you liked it please leave a heart, and maybe leave a comment? I’d love to hear from you guys. As I always I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you all have a great life.

Remember,

Keep Dreaming,

~ Miss. Storytime, & The Librarian

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justlightlysedated · 4 years

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for the lovely @el-gilliath 💖 happy birthday tove! i was totally planning on giving this to you during christmas, but plans changed, so here you go! three scenes for a superhero au, where the whole squad used to be in a superhero team when they were in their teens! and i hope you have an amazing and lovely day! you deserve it!

one.

Alex watches as Max bends over the body and very carefully moves their hair to the side.

Alex's fears are confirmed by the way that Max inhales sharply and gets quickly to his feet.

Alex steps out of the shadows and Max's eyes jump to him immediately.

He looks around them to make sure that no one was paying attention like Alex is that careless and then walks over to him.

"Is it him?" Alex asks.

And at the same time Max demands, "What are you doing here?"

Alex scoffs, “What do you think that I’m doing-?”

"All I know is that this is the first time that I've seen something like this since you-"

Alex makes a rude noise with his mouth, sucking air through his teeth and rolling his eyes at the implications, still, after everything they've been through, after everything that Alex had to give up.

Max stops talking and drags a hand through his hair.

“Isobel is finally, finally, really moved on,” he says, looking at Alex with a slight pleading expression. “She’s doing good. Has her own events planning business, and business has been good the last couple of months. She doesn’t need to get dragged back into-”

Alex lifts his hands and Max stops talking.

“I didn’t come here for help,” he tells him, trying to make that clear. He can’t read Max as well as he can read some of the others, but he can definitely see the slight disappointment in his eyes.

“I’ve been tracking similar deaths all over the country for the last couple of months, but I thought that maybe I was seeing things.”

Max exhales roughly and shakes his head. “You aren’t seeing things,” he grits through his teeth. “But I don’t think that you should get involved-”

“Oh, you mean that you going after him is going to be much better for Isobel’s state of mind, than me continuing to do what I’ve been doing for the last ten years?”

Max just shakes his head and exhales roughly. “Fine, do what you want, you always did.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Maybe if you were more of a leader and less of a coward back then, I wouldn’t have had to pick up your slack.”

Max clenches his jaw, and Alex can feel the pull of the static electricity, but Max has obviously gotten more control over his abilities since they were teenagers.

He swallows hard and just looks at Alex with a serious, no nonsense expression, that always made Alex’s skin crawl because Max was always demanding authority without actually doing anything to deserve it.

“Just do what you came here to do and leave. Michael also, is finally moving on, and I don’t want you to do anything to set that back.”

Alex, however, has not gotten any better at letting his powers react before he can get them under control.

He has Max’s jacket in his grip and is moving them into the shadows, darting from out in the open to a more secluded alleyway.

He pushes Max into the wall, and Max gasps, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he gets his bearings back.

“Do not even think for one second that I am not fully aware about what you did,” he hisses into Max’s face. “You were upset because I was the one to convince Liz to go after Rosa, but you do not get to stand there and pretend that you’re being caring and concerned, when you’re the one who convinced Isobel that I had to go.”

“Your father was hunting us down one by one,” Max snaps back and pushes against Alex, sparks flying down around them. “It was in everyone’s best interest-”

Alex pushes him back and takes several steps backwards, until he’s pressed up against the other side of the alley. “It was in your best interest! You had no idea about what had happened between me and Michael when you decided that it would be better if I also left. You were trying to protect Michael and Isobel, and I get that, but you do not get to act like you weren’t being selfish too.”

Max inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down, but he doesn’t deny it or say anything else. He just looks at Alex who exhales roughly, and looks around himself, finding a perfect shadow to use as his escape.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I won’t be here long enough for you to have to come up with a perfect lie. I remember how much you suck at that.”

Before Max can say anything, Alex moves back and to the left, stepping into the shadows and out inside of Kyle’s apartment.

Kyle jumps startled, letting his spoon fall back into his bowl of cereal and spilling milk everywhere.

"Jesus," he says, shaking his hand out. "Could you at least warn me you're gonna do that?"

Alex spares him a look, before he continues to walk towards the part of the living room that Alex appropriated for his research.

One wall is entirely covered in a large map with papers and photos stuck to it and pins with yarn in various colors connecting events in a way that only Alex can understand.

"So is it him, or will our roommate agreement be tragically short?" He asks, and Alex hears him moving closer, still munching on his cereal.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Alex says, turning to him. "But I'm going to be staying in town a little bit longer."

Kyle lowers his bowl down and looks at Alex seriously, "So it is him, then?"

Alex nods his head sharply and looks back to the wall. "Looks like Noah is back in town."

two.

"Oh no," Cam mock exclaims as she walks into Max's office and catches a glimpse of his face. "Level Five Brooding face already? I figured you'd be over the moon with Liz back in town."

She sits on the edge of his desk, right in front of him, and raises an eyebrow when he just sighs and leans back in his seat.

"So it's not Liz, then," she says and tilts her head at him, and he sighs again, feeling slightly like he's about to get a stomach ache but not quite.

"Oh, come on," she says rolling her eyes. "I know you want to tell me. You know you want to tell me, and there is the added bonus that it will make you feel better."

Which was true, the nature of Cam's ability made it so that if you were keeping a secret or telling a lie, you'd feel gradually more and more uncomfortable in her presence until it bursts out of you, like word vomit. It made her a good cop, but also impossible to keep anything from her.

He holds out for another five seconds, ignoring the sick feeling crawling in the pit of his stomach, before he exhales roughly and leans even further back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling.

"Alex is back in town," he says finally and the sick feeling ebates somewhat, but not entirely.

He wants to keep the Noah thing a secret for as long as possible, and since Alex says he's dealing with it, he's going to have to trust that he has it under control.

"No way," Cam gasps, leaning a little bit closer. Before she stops and tilts her head again.

"Alex showing up, directly after Liz comes back into town, seems a little-"

"She doesn't have anything to do with Alex," Max says firmly, looking back at Cam, who raises her hands in defense, and rolls her eyes a little, making him exhale roughly again and lean forward trying to get her attention.

She looks back at him, mockingly serious.

"He's not going to be here long enough to warrant a welcome back," he tells her instead, and she just nods her head back, understanding what he's not saying.

She's had to drag a drunk and unruly Michael enough times back home to understand what he's trying to say.

He sighs and goes to lean back in his seat when there is a sharp knock on the open door.

They both turn to see the sheriff leaning into the room, “We’ve got another one like the one this morning.”

Max just nods his head and stands up, and Cam follows after him.

three.

Michael isn’t nearly drunk enough and he’s entirely not paranoid enough to imagine that someone is watching him.

Someone is watching him and has been for the last couple of hours, and Michael is about drunk enough to push for a confrontation.

“You can stop lurking in the shadows and say hello,” he says out loud, and feels a twinge in his chest at the way the words make him think about Alex.

But he brushes the thought away, he really doesn’t want to be a melancholy drunk tonight, not so close to the anniversary.

There is no motion, but Michael can feel the presence staring at him harder, like they’re confused that he noticed their presence.

“This might not come as a shock to you,” he says in the same loud voice. “But I have superpowers.”

He lifts his hands in the air and wiggles his fingers, and there is the sound of metal clanging against metal, coming from the hubcaps hanging from a high metal structure.

“Tactile telekinesis,” he continues. “Meaning that I can literally feel the atoms moving around you, so you might as well come out.”

There is silence while the person weighs their options and Michael just levers himself to his feet, and raises his hands up on either side of him.

“I’m not getting any younger here,” he goads.

“Certainly getting drunker,” a vaguely familiar voice says from right behind him, and Michael turns around but when he does there is no one there.

Michael’s eyes narrow, and light floods the space behind him. It’s enough for him to catch the figure dressed all in black that darts backwards into the shadows behind the Airstream.

Michael reacts quickly, reaching out with his hand and pushing the Airstream back suddenly enough that it freaks them out and draws them out of hiding, and it’s only then, when they shift into the shadows, actually fucking disappearing from Michael’s radar for one second before they’re on the other side of the junkyard.

Michael ignores the way his chest ache and he reacts instinctively, switching all of the lights on behind him before he turns and spots them again, frozen for one split second, before they notice Michael and run towards the shadows again.

Michael doesn’t have much practice fighting with a shadow walker anymore, but he knows their one weakness.

He runs after them, making sure to move things big enough to cast a shadow that they can sneak into.

He’s faster than them, and manages to catch up to them easily.

The shadow walker is right on the edge of a shadow and about to be lost from Michael until the next time they decide to stalk him, when he reaches out and snags his fingers on their cloak, and he pulls, making them fall backwards.

Michael stops running, and barely manages to move out of the way before they’re pushing themselves back to their feet.

Michael just reaches out before anything else can be said or done, and turns them around, the hood of their cloak falling backwards to reveal a shock of black hair and pale skin.

Michael opens his mouth ready to demand an explanation, when the person finally looks at him, and Michael freezes.

The man standing in front of him is much older than the last time that he’d seen him when he was a teenager, and there is a new scar cutting across one of his eyebrows and a look in his eyes like he’s seen way too much in their time apart but he’s familiar in all of the ways that matter.

“Alex,” he exhales in a rush, feeling like his knees might just turn to jelly.

Alex pulls away from him, and shakes his head slightly, before he half smirks at Michael.

“Hey Guerin,” he says, eyes darting all over Michael’s face. “Long time no see.”

#i adore your vigilante au so i hope you like this 🥰💖#super hero team au

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timeywimeygalaxy · 6 years

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The Ghost Of You {Chapter 1}

A/N: Hiya! so earlier today I wrote a post about a fic idea I had based on BuzzFeed unsolved Shane and Ryan but with a Human AU sanders sides, a few people responded so I decided to write it! [shameless MCR reference with the title as I think it kinda fits for maybe later chapters? I dunno.] xD

So this started out a prologue but it completely got away from me and I pretty much had to make it the first chapter xD please bear with me we are going to get into the ghost story in the next chapter! (that’s if people like this one at all) I’m sorry if this is crap I’m still rusty after many years of not writing anyways enough of my rambles I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: I’m not sure, none yet, I guess someone talking about murder?

Words: 2120

Pairings: None (yet....) ;)

Tag List: @accio-hufflepuff-power , @just-an-anxious-ravenclaw-boy

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future updates!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

They were always told to never go near that house at the end of the street, their parents said that something very bad happened there years ago and even though it had laid abandoned, untouched for nearly a decade, rumours, stories flew around about that place, “it’s haunted” someone said “there was a horrible murder” others gossiped “ I once saw blood run down the walls” one person remarked, though none of this had been proven, all three teens were forbidden from going anywhere near it, not that it ever stopped them… well most of them.

“Hurry up specs!” Roman roared after his bespectacled nerdy friend, who was dragging his feet behind him.

“I never agreed to this!” Logan called back from behind.

“Two against one!” Virgil retorted as Roman continued to drag him by the hand to the end of the street.

At sixteen the three friends had been inseparable since infant school, though they all had their differences they decided that’s what made them a great team, Roman Prince the dramatic, theatre geek, though the theatre thing was very recent, he was always up for a laugh and cared immensely about his two friends, Virgil Summers , the anxious yet sassy emo who was obsessed with anything of supernatural origin and Logan Fray the intelligent, calm collective cynic of the group, though some may argue he’s the one that keeps the other two in line a lot of the time, but somehow today was not one of those times, despite his protests to the other two, their minds had been made up.

It started with a game of truth or dare, that escalated into a bet and they had somehow ended up outside of the ‘haunted’ house at the end of the street. Dam Logan hated that game.

“Go on Hot topic! $20 says you can’t go into that house and stay in it for 5 minutes” Roman coaxed.

Virgil thought this had been a great idea and a great way to earn a quick buck but as he stood on the edge of the driveway and looked up at the house he was beginning to have second thoughts, despite it being derelict it looked pretty good from the outside, the inside, however… he stood there biting his lip, he wanted to do it really he did, ghosts and demons had always fascinated him and he had always wanted to communicate with one….despite his anxiety telling him it was a bad idea, weighing it all up in his head, he finally turned to Roman.

“If I die in there princey then I’m haunting the fuck out of you”

Roman grinned at him as Logan caught up to them “Virgil, this is a ridiculous idea, we need to end this experiment It’s not safe.”

“Says who?” Roman scoffed

“Everyone!” Logan argued as he looked positivity dumbfounded at Roman’s nonchalant attitude towards this, Virgil raised his eyebrow at him “you don’t believe in ghosts so why are you worried?”

Logan adjusted his glasses as he spoke “whilst it is true that I don’t believe…apparitions can exist, the house may otherwise need much repair work and therefore will not be safe to enter, under those circumstances, it could lead to injury and or other life-threatening scenarios”

Before Virgil could think about what he said, Roman interrupted “oh hush pocket protector he’ll be fine! double or nothing!” he held up two twenty-dollar bills and Virgil slowly grinned and pushed all his anxious thoughts to the back of his mind.

“you’re on!” he shook Roman’s hand before pushing his own into his pockets, pulling his purple plaid hoodie around himself even tighter and headed towards the front door of the house he inhaled deeply then placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed.

The door slowly creaked open as Virgil stood in the entrance hesitant, gradually stepping inside, making his way down a small hallway he was greeted with a rather dishevelled living room, dust covered the couch and a broken wooden coffee table lay on the ground, it looked like it had almost been split in two, a staircase stood by the living room and to the left of him stood a small kitchen with a stove which looked almost ancient by today’s standards, it’s off-white nearly brown colour stained the counters next to it as Virgil looked around, he thanked the heavens he wasn’t in full darkness as the windows despite them being encompassed with mould and dead flies still let some sunlight shine through, taking a few more strides further into the living room he made sure not touch anything, it was all gross anyway, looking around he felt…off.

“he-hello?” no answer. he glanced around again, it felt like someone was watching him and he swore he heard a low growl at one point, his heart had started racing but with excitement or fear he couldn’t tell anymore as he tried to control his breathing, bringing his hoodie up to his mouth as to not breath in a crapload of dust, he ran up the wooden staircase which luckily for him didn’t cave through thanks to his skinny ass, coming to the top of the stairs he found a bathroom and a bedroom.

Entering the bedroom, he found a double bed, a wooden wardrobe and a desk sitting in the corner, all once again covered with dust and god knows what else, looking down he could see the carpet in here had been torn, like there had been struggle of some kind, not wanting to think of the horrors this house had once bared within its walls Virgil carried onto the wardrobe opening it, there were mostly empty coat hangers save for two, on one hung a pink shirt with a yellow star in the middle, and the other hung a light blue polo shirt, his heart sunk at the thought of these two pieces of garments belonging to the people who lived here before…who had died here as well.

“those poor people” he muttered to himself, as sadness bubbled up inside him.

THUD

His heart skipped a beat as he stayed rooted to the spot, that…that sounded like it came from downstairs, slowly and quietly closing the wardrobe doors he silently creeped to the landing and sneaked down the stairs holding his breath.

“is there anyone here with me?” his voice was shaky as he spoke, trying not to freak out.

THUD

the wall banged next to him and he jumped a mile away from it, he heard that growl again, “uh I’m sorry for what happened to you! I-“

THUD

He jumped again as a thud was heard from the front door, the front door suddenly swung open making a bang into the wall opposite, Virgil screamed as he whirled around to see Roman laughing his ass off.

“oh my god that was great!” Roman howled as Virgil stormed up to him and punched him the arm.

“you fucking asshole!” he punched him again and shoved Roman out the door, as the sun hit his pale face, Roman continued giggling holding his knuckle in his mouth to stifle them, as Virgil paced the front lawn of the house.

“C’mon it was pretty funny!”

“I swear dude- just-“Virgil couldn’t get his words out, the more Roman tried to stifle his laughter the more annoyed he felt, who was he kidding? Did he really think he was close to seeing a ghost? Probably not.

“Virgil are you quite alright?” Logan enquired placing his hand on Virgil’s shoulder gently, exhaling Virgil looked at him and a small smile tugged at his lips, “I’ll be ok” he replied, “did anything happen in there?” his bespectacled friend asked, he thought for a moment before answering “nothing out of the ordinary” he answered as he looked at Roman and realised something, he smirked and made his way towards him.

“I did my time, cough up princey” he demanded as he held his hand out to him, Roman’s laughter ceased as he saw Virgil’s hand, he groaned “ohh fine! Worth it though!” he pulled out the two twenty dollars from his jean pocket and Virgil snatched them up, “thanks sir sing a lot”

He held out his hand once more, Roman grabbed it and was pulled to his feet.

“you’re such a jerk” Virgil remarked as Roman smirked at him “you love me really” he batted his eyes at him and was met with a small shove, “I get the front door crap but how did you do the other things?” he asked curiously.

“what other things?” Roman looked confused as he walked off before Virgil could react.

10 YEARS LATER

10 years had passed and the incident with the house was all but nearly forgotten by Roman and Logan though Virgil held on to that memory, the three men sailed through the rest of high school and eventually university together, Roman majoring in theatre and Film, Logan majoring in English literature and Virgil majoring in journalism.

After graduation they decided it would be best to move in together realising that rent would be a hell of a lot cheaper living together than on their own and eventually found a small apartment on the outskirts of LA, Virgil found a graduate job at a media company and started working on his own articles, mainly about the supernatural world, eventually he managed to get the other two jobs there too with Roman working in the video section and Logan working with Virgil with writing articles and scripts for videos.

“uh guys…” he caught both men’s attention as they turned to him from the each of there desks within there cubicles.

Logan raised an eyebrow at him “Is everything ok Virgil?”

He had to breach this carefully, “so uh my boss is letting me do my own project for an article and I said about something supernatural related I want to find evidence that ghosts and demons actually exist by filming them and I also may have said that you guys would help me” he winced and closed his eyes expecting rejection and sure enough.

“I can’t do that, I have other projects that need my attention and besides why did you tell him that we can help?” Logan removed his glasses rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“C’mon specs, sounds like an adventure, this could be the chance for some fun!” Roman mused as he walked by slapping Logan’s back, Logan fell forwards slightly with a gasp and glared at both of them.

Virgil sat down in the cubicle opposite him swinging on his chair slightly fidgeting with a stress ball “I don’t know, just thought it would be good, spirits and stuff, I love that kind of shit”

“yes, exactly you love that…stuff, not me, not rom-“

Roman gave an offended gasp “Hey, I may not be as into this supernatural stuff as you are Virgil but I’m not as skeptical as Logan here”

“then where do you stand?” Logan eyed him

“We get to fuck with demons… that sounds like a fun adventure to me” he grinned.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Virgil let out under his breath, “no demon fucking princey!” he said sternly wagging his finger at him, Logan groaned and rolled his head over his chair he leaned forward as Virgil wheeled his chair over with his feet to Logan’s desk, Roman leaned on it and listened.

“okay, say hypothetically I do agree to this, why?”

“you would get to do all the boring stuff like the research!” Roman divulged.

Logan’s eyes lit up behind his glasses, then the light vanished.

“Falsehood. Research is not boring, but I am intrigued, continue.” he gestured his hand.

“well…you got me the believer, you the cynic-

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but Virgil continued

“And Roman the…in-between?” he asked himself, Roman grinned “I bring much needed comic relief to otherwise scary situations!”

“yep! That!” Virgil pointed at Roman and looked back at Logan with pleading eyes

“Look, buddy I know you’re like skeptical about all of this but at least open your mind a bit, who knows maybe you might see something that’ll change your view” Virgil encouraged, and Logan stared at him as a warm smile slowly came to his face.

“Awesome! We are so doing this!” Virgil said excitedly as he punched the air.

“Shall I get on with the research then?” Logan enquired as Virgil got back to his computer “Actually I got this one covered buddy” as Virgil placed a small stack of papers on Logan’s desk, picking them up he read “494 Skylar avenue? But that’s-“ Roman looked over Logan’s shoulders as his eyes grew wide, “our hometown!” he squealed as he finished Logan’s sentence for him.

“Yup, gather your things boys, we’re going home”

There you have it! first chapter! I hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think, I do have more story planned so please let me know if you’d like me to continue or not! ^_^ hope you all have a lovely day!

#Sanders sides #Thomas sanders #Human AU #buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed shane #buzzfeed ryan #Patton #Roman #Logan #Virgil #Ghosts #Demons #Ghost au #sanderssidesfic #ts fanfiction #paranormal

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tenscupcake · 7 years

Text

electrostatic potential (29/?)

ten/rose. teen this ch. i’m back, baby! hope you guys enjoy this chap, and that it’s at least somewhat worth the wait ;) thank you oodles to amber for the beta and for making this chapter much better! summary: as the doctor and rose traverse time and space looking for adventure, they slowly fall victim to a mysterious energy that can manipulate their emotions. though confused and unnerved by the cerebral affliction, neither of them understands its cause, or realizes that it could jeopardize their friendship. what will it take for them to discover the truth? this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

Rose has to hand it to the Doctor for keeping a relatively cool head through all this. Since they returned to the hut, he’s done his best to stay optimistic (which seems almost paradoxical, in itself), and she has taken encouragement from the fact that he hasn’t been freaking out. At least not very much. She expected him to be about a million times more worried than she is about this whole thing, but that’s far from the case. Now and then, small bursts of anxiety mar the ambiance in the garden, but he does a decent job of warding them off.

Much of the time, all his focus is on keeping her calm, and it’s miraculous how well it works. Even after all the training he’s taken her through so far, it still surprises her how much more powerful the Doctor’s mind is than hers. How irresistibly persuasive his gentle suggestions are. Trying to ignore the sensation of calm he’s offering is like trying not to drift off in a cozy bed after a long day. Why resist?

It certainly has been nice to spend a couple of hours lying in the grass with no obligations besides snogging. Normally, she might be a tad sexually frustrated by now, but with the looming questions of her health and the future, neither of them feels it’s the right time for a shag. Without breaking their link, the Doctor checks the outside world from time to time to see if the storm has calmed enough to brave the trip to the TARDIS. But over time, these pauses become less frequent. Whether he’s forgetting, or becoming more and more reluctant to part with her even briefly, she isn’t sure. But whichever way, she doesn’t mind.

The Doctor has a way with this telepathy thing. Time seems to speed up while they’re connected, almost to the point that she wants to tell him to slow it down for them.

She wonders if he would. She thinks it’s within the realm of possibility for a Time Lord to be able to manipulate time itself.

“Not quite.” The Doctor breaks them out of a kiss with a chuckle. They’ve shifted gradually over time: he’s hovering over her, supporting his weight on his elbow rather than crushing her. “I can’t manipulate time without using ethically questionable technology. But I can manipulate your perception of it. It’s difficult, though, and not without risks.”

“Should’ve known.” She grins happily, almost forgetting about her situation. But the golden glow around his tousled hair acutely reminds her of the circumstances, and her smile falters. “Want to check on the storm again?”

His smile falters, too.

“Okay.”

She wishes she hadn’t asked, because within seconds they’re disconnected and heading for the door of the hut.

The storm hasn’t just let up – it’s completely paused. In fact, it’s almost too calm, like they’re in the eye of a hurricane, and the inevitable second wave of destruction could strike any moment. It’s quiet in the absence of the torrential rain and constant crash of thunder, but the sky is still a dark, ominous gray. The light breeze on her skin is a different temperature than the surrounding air, and storm clouds race through the sky overhead, turbulent currents still on the move. This really could be their only window to the TARDIS all day.

Every occupant of the island has sought shelter indoors, making it feel like a mistake to have stepped outside at all. A calamity waiting to happen. Rose doesn’t find it likely that anything worse can happen than being struck by lightning and nearly dying, but it’s still eerie to be outside. The village and the surrounding beach are so empty, it’s as though they’ve been evacuated pending a natural disaster. A rumble of thunder echoes in the distance with a greenish light, and Rose longs to return to the sunshine and chirping birds of the garden.

The Doctor is holding her hand, at least, but she thinks it’s more to prevent her running off again than for a sense of comfort.

And suddenly, he’s doing a much less impressive job of being optimistic. His worry starts to compound hers as they make their way across the boardwalk, walking at a rate too brisk to be leisurely. And just a minute ago he was doing so well. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that now they really have to confront what happened, if anything did? (Apart from the hundred thousand volts or whatever.) Or that if there is anything wrong, he’s going to have to take action to fix it? Is he thinking back to the last time Bad Wolf was inside her, and he had to sacrifice his own life? Is he afraid of dying again? Should she be?

God, she wishes he would go back to being cool and calm about it. This is a definite downside to the automatic communication thing.

“What is it?” the Doctor suddenly asks, looking over at her in more of a glare than anything.

“What’s what?”

“You’re tense. Walking too fast for you?” He slows down his pace, if only marginally.

“Er… no…” She’s not sure how to respond. She didn’t expect him to pick up on that. Stupid. How much longer will they both continue to underestimate the potency of this thing? They both should’ve learned their lesson by now. Always assume it can transmit. Always. “Just… you’re a bit tense is all. And you weren’t before.”

To her surprise, the Doctor sighs and turns his head to stare straight ahead.

“What’d you want the defense lessons for if you weren’t going to use them?”

“Oi! ‘S not my fault!”

Blimey, he’s grumpy when he’s nervous.

“You’re right. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Just… I tried to explain before. You’ve got to actually try to block me out if you want to. If you’re trying to hear me, then you will.”

“I know… just… didn’t have enough time to think about doin’ that is all.”

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m just…”

“Do you not think I’ll be all right?”

“I do.” He turns to her as they stop at the top of the stairs leading down to the sand. “I’m only anxious to find out what’s going on.”

“Okay.”

They’re quiet the rest of the way, but the Doctor doesn’t let go of her hand. The sand is mushy and cold from the rain, but the air is crisp and warm, drier than usual. It almost feels like a new beginning, and she can’t help but wonder if there are more of those on the horizon.

She doesn’t feel any ill effects from this thing. In fact, there have been a few undeniable beneficial effects. She got struck by bloody lightning – and she’s got branching blood vessel tattoos on her arms to prove it – but she’s fine. She’s walking and talking and functioning normally. The Doctor scanned her pretty much everywhere with the sonic and came back with nothing. How’s that even possible?

But even worst case scenario… if there are still some remnants of Bad Wolf in her, didn’t the Bad Wolf bring life? Okay, well, it killed a few Daleks. More than a few. But it saved a bunch of people aboard the satellite. Jack. The Doctor. She always feels guilty that he sacrificed one of his lives for her that day, but on the flipside, if she hadn’t gone back to him, he would have died anyway, and she thinks he wouldn’t have been able to regenerate himself out of that one.

Whatever this is, she wants to believe it’s not a bad thing.

She thinks back to what she’d learned the other day, how strong emotions can overpower unwanted ones from the outside. She concentrates on the optimism and hope these thoughts bring help to cancel out the Doctor’s negativity, and it actually works fairly quickly. She grins to herself, proud of her progress, and doesn’t bring it up again.

With how tenaciously the Doctor is leading her through the sand, it doesn’t take long at all to get back to the TARDIS.

The infirmary has been bumped close to the console room, and before she knows it she’s perched on an examination table, gripping the edges of the the thin, hard cushion to take the edge off her anxiety.

“Why don’t you lie down?” the Doctor says absently as he swipes on his glasses and collapses onto a rolling stool. The first thing he does is get a pair of gloves from a rack on the wall, pulling them on with crinkling and slapping noises that run chills down her spine.

“’M fine,” she insists, gripping the table harder.

He pauses in the middle of searching a drawer of the nearby counter at her tone, glancing over at her.

“I just want you to be relaxed, that’s all.”

“I’m relaxed,” she lies through her teeth.

“Okay.” He resigns that she isn’t going to acquiesce, and starts rounding up supplies from various drawers and cabinets, arranging them on a metal tray. It feels a bit too much like an operating room for her liking.

“Is all that really necessary?”

“What?” he asks, turning to her with an expression of innocence. “It’s not like I’ve got a scalpel or anything, just basic, run-of-the mill diagnostic tools.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He tears open something plastic as he walks over to her, and holds up the object in question. “Cotton swabs.”

She relaxes a little. Seems harmless enough.

“Open up,” he says.

She stares back at him, affronted.

Confused, he opens his mouth, pointing to it with his free gloved hand.

Oh.

“What are you gonna do?”

“DNA sample. Here, you can do it. Just stick it under your tongue for a bit, that’ll do it.”

He hands her the swab carefully by the very bottom, and she takes it and does as he requested.

“Can’t you figure this out with your hands, or whatever?” she asks as she hands it back to him.

“There’s a lot of information I can get from sensory inputs,” he agrees, taking the swab from her and immediately dunking it into a long tube of clear liquid. He seals a cap over it hastily. “Temperature, respiration rate, pulse… and if I can taste it, mineral levels, electrolyte balance…” He tears open another piece of plastic and pulls out what looks like a toothpick, handing it to her like he did the swab. “One more. Just scrape the inside of your cheek a little. Not enough to hurt yourself, just to collect a few thousand cheek cells.”

She takes it from him and follows his brief instruction, and he rolls away to retrieve something else.

“But I can’t analyze DNA with a simple touch,” he continues his earlier thought. “Or view cellular structures with just my eyes. Glasses or not.” He returns to her, takes the toothpick, and wipes the end of it on a rectangle of glass. A microscope slide, she guesses. He covers it with a square of plastic and sets it on his metal tray.

He then picks up the tube with the cotton swab and wheels himself over to what looks like a fume hood from her high school chemistry class.

“Expectin’ some noxious gases?” she asks.

“It’s not a fume hood,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s close, though. Biosafety cabinet,” he pronounces with enthusiasm. “It’s designed to protect the sample, not me. I can’t have your genetic material getting contaminated with mine, or that of the countless species of bacteria, viruses, and fungi no doubt floating through the air.”

“Right,” she rolls her eyes at the unpleasant reminder.

He gathers some bottles and boxes from a nearby cabinet and runs them over to the safety contraption. He then picks up a spray bottle from next to it and squirts its contents onto one glove, then rubs his gloved hands together, spreading it over his hands thoroughly.

He extracts liquid from various bottles and vials and transfers them here and there with some sort of high-tech blue syringe device, rushing but never seeming to make a mistake. It’s fascinating watching him work, even though she has no idea what he’s doing.

But when he’s occupied for more than a minute or so, she loses her ability to focus on watching him, and anxiety creeps up on her. She’s optimistic he won’t find anything that indicates she’s in mortal danger. But now that he’s actually collecting samples from her mouth and doing analyses on them that she doesn’t even understand, she’s feeling out of her depth. She has no idea what he may find. She could be a mutant now, one of the X-men, or some other alien invention that’s far from human.

“This sort of PCR would probably take an hour or two in your time,” he calls back to her after a minute, almost as though he knew the silence was becoming uncomfortable. Just hearing his voice is enough to bring her out of the spiral. “But with the equipment I’ve got, it should only take, oh… ten minutes?”

“Impressive.” She tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite work.

“I know,” he cocks his head to the side. Only a small, sealed vial of liquid in his hand now, he walks over to a large cube-shaped piece of equipment on a nearby counter, presses a button, and places it carefully into a rack that ejects itself from the side. He types furiously for a few moments on a user interface mounted on the front, eyes glued to the small screen. “This primer too…” he mumbles to himself. “Cover all our bases.”

She decides not to ask any questions about this particular process, figuring he’ll tell her the important stuff when he’s ready.

“Right!” he exclaims, whirling around just as a green light flashes on the machine with a crescendo of beeps that remind her of the sound the washing machines at the laundromat make when they begin a cycle. He claps his hands together, and walks back over to his tray of instruments. He places the tray on a small cart by the counter, and rolls it the few feet across the floor until it’s next to her table.

Much to her dismay, the tray has a needle on it.

“What’s ‘at for?” she asks,

“Blood sample,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Arm,” he adds, tapping the end of the cart.

She grumbles, but sets her forearm on the cart. She covers her face with her other hand, and turns her head resolutely away from her arm, even though he hasn’t started anything yet.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“I just don’t want to see it, all right? I don’t like needles. Or blood.” She huffs angrily.

“Rose, just out of curiosity, what sort of tests did you imagine me doing?”

“I dunno! Less invasive ones?”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “I promise, though, I’m very good at it. I have a touch more experience than your average phlebotomist. It’ll just be one teensy little poke.”

“Right.” He ties a strip of latex tightly around her bicep.

“You know, I actually don’t need much blood. If you prefer, I can prick your finger.”

“No, that’s worse,” she says.

“I agree. More nerve endings in your fingertips.” There’s some clattering of supplies on the tray. “Make a fist.”

She does, wincing a little at how sweaty her palm is.

“Rose Tyler, single-handedly took down the emperor of the Daleks, but can’t handle a needle,” he quips.

“Shut it.”

“I’m afraid I need both my hands, but you can hold on to whatever else you want, if you’d like,” he offers, an olive branch.

On his suggestion, she reaches her hand out, keeping her eyes firmly shut, until she finds his hip, then reaches her hand around and squeezes his bum.

“Woah!” he jumps a little. “Maybe not the best idea to startle someone who’s about to stick you with a needle?” He chuckles a little.

“Sorry.” She relaxes her grip, but can’t help cracking a smile.

He lightly presses a couple fingers into the dip of her elbow, shifting in tiny increments. A cold, wet piece of cotton rubs against the skin he just touched, and alcohol burns her nose.

“There’s really no better way to do this in the future?” she asks.

“I’m afraid humans don’t ever develop the ability to spontaneously bleed,” he says through another round of chuckles. At least her silly questions are inadvertently lightening his mood. “All right, little pinch.”

It’s really not so bad. Every other time she’s gotten blood drawn it’s been worse. It’s a little pinch, like he said. But she still squeezes his bum a little for good measure.

“Okay, about ten seconds…” She feels a slight tug on the needle as he attaches a vial. “Relax your hand.”

She doesn’t try to count, fearing it’ll only make it seem longer, but it is fairly soon that the needle slips back out.

“There we are. Done.” He presses a cotton ball against her elbow, and places a piece of tape over it to hold it in place.

She opens her eyes and looks down at the harmless ball of cotton.

“Not so bad, eh?”

“S’pose not.”

He swipes up the dark red vial from the tray and walks over to another piece of equipment, adjacent to the first.

“What’re you gonna do with this one?” she asks. She winces a little, holding her other hand against the cotton and tape as her skin starts stinging. Damn needle.

“Basic blood panel. Well, basic for my standards, not the standards of 21st century Earth. Might take a little longer than the PCR.”

Next, he pulls out what looks like a Gameboy and various white cords that resemble Apple headphones.

“All right, now I really need you to lie down,” he says as he approaches the cart and sets the device down.

“Why?” she asks, apprehensive.

“I’m gonna do an electrocardiogram, and you need to be relaxed and stay relatively still for it.”

“You can’t do that with the sonic, or somethin’?”

“Rose, why are you opposed to this? It’s completely painless.”

“It’s not gonna help you figure out what’s changed, is it?”

“Rose,” he continues calmly despite her defiance. “You’ve just been struck by lightning and you got overdosed with adrenaline, can I please just check your heart?”

She sighs angrily. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Rose lies back reluctantly.

“You’ll also need to, erm, take your shirt off.”

“Seriously?”

The Doctor sighs, but takes her hand.

“Rose, I cannot get all the information an ECG provides just from the screwdriver. I can get simple information – blood pressure and heart rate, for example, but nuanced electrical impulses require a little something extra.” He gazes into her eyes and softens his tone to his most persuasive purr. “I just want to make sure you’re all right. It’ll only take a few minutes, and I promise I won’t make it awkward. Okay?”

“Kay,” she agrees, unable to resist those eyes.

With one light squeeze of her hand and a smirk, he turns away to give her a measure of privacy. He pulls the cart further up along the edge of the table, and busies himself with pulling the ends of the wires out of plastic wrappers.

Figuring she might as well get it over with, she wrestles her shirt off and lies back down.

She exhales deeply and slowly, trying not to be embarrassed. He has seen them before, after all. But it’s awkward now, somehow. The circumstances are too cold and professional.

He turns around, and he only glances down briefly to ensure the task is done, but she thinks she sees his cheeks flush with a tiny bit of pink.

Without letting his gaze linger, he picks up the first cord and peels off a sticker, then places the sticky pad near the middle of her chest without so much as glancing at her breasts. She’s not spending even the slightest effort on maintaining mental barriers, either, but she doesn’t feel the faintest flicker of arousal from him.

She can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, even though she would feel awkward if he was getting aroused. But she tries not to dwell on it. It’s no surprise to her that he is good at turning himself off when he wants to.

The pads are small. Smaller than ones she’s seen on TV shows. No larger than a dime. Future technology, she assumes.

A second pad goes only a couple inches from the first, on the other side of her sternum. Four more along her ribs, just beneath her left breast, close enough that it makes her breath catch several times. But the Doctor still seems unaffected, as though he’s really just a random cardiologist and she’s just a random patient.

“Okay, just hold as still as you can. Try not to take deep breaths, and no talking.”

He punches in a few things on the device, then sets it down on the cart and stares down at it, rather than over at her.

“Should only take about two minutes.”

He periodically pushes buttons and swipes his fingers across the little screen. Rose is anxious enough that she counts a few seconds go by, but once she gets to thirty and he still hasn’t glanced over, she just closes her eyes. Without him talking to her, or even looking at her, in his effort to avoid potential awkwardness, it feels like he’s not even there anymore, and her thoughts take a downward turn again.

He’s taken blood and cells and spit and now she’s tethered to a bloody machine. She’s starting to feel more like an experiment than a human. It’s chilly in here, too, to the point that she’s suppressing shivers. The cold, clinical atmosphere of this miniature medical facility has seeped into her bones. Tests are properly running now. No turning back, deciding she doesn’t want to know. Mere minutes until they give definitive answers. What if he does find something bad? Could the results of one of these ‘run-of-the-mill’ diagnostic tests be her death knell?

It feels like more like ten minutes have passed when the Doctor finally looks away from the tiny screen.

“All right, all done.” He removes the electrodes from her skin carefully, as though peeling a plaster from a wound. Once they’re all gone, he reaches for her shirt and hands it to her before quickly turning around again. “Completely normal.” Rose breathes a sigh of relief she hadn’t realizes she was holding. “Somehow,” he adds, as though he can’t believe it.

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes,” he assures her, glancing up at her face. “Very good. Just a few more things to check while we wait on the results of the others.”

He reaches for the tray and picks up the microscope slide he’d smeared with her cheek swab, and heads over to a different counter with a microscope.

She’d forgotten she let down her tenuous barriers, because she suddenly feels a spark of nervousness from him again. It’s not like she didn’t already know he was anxious; he’s never such a mute except when he’s both severely worried and focused. She worries her own spirals of anxiety are worsening his, but only briefly. He does have much stronger barriers than she has, and could easily block such a signal if he wanted to.

It only takes him a fraction of a second to adjust the microscope, and he takes off his glasses to peer into it, twisting a few knobs with delicate precision until he finds the right position for viewing.

“Nothing remarkable here.”

He straightens up and pulls the slide out. He reaches for a clear bottle, and squeezes a drop of liquid on the slide, then does the same with another bottle of dark purple liquid. Both droplets on the slide, he covers it with a clear slip once more and places it back under the lens. After several more seconds of peering into the eyepiece again, he steps back and runs a hand furiously through his hair.

“That’s impossible,” he mutters to himself.

“What?” she asks, alarmed.

He doesn’t answer. A machine beeps, and he runs from the microscope over to the contraption that made the washing machine noise earlier, scanning the text on the screen.

“What?” he spits out at the screen, his trademark of frustrated bewilderment.

“What?” she repeats herself, angry and impatient now.

“Your DNA it’s… it’s still 100% human, but…” He dashes back to the microscope, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“But what?” she gets up this time, walking cautiously over to him.

He remains silent for a few long seconds, staring into the microscope again.

“Impossible,” he repeats when he finally pulls away. When he turns around, his eyes are wide, his lips parted in shock. He finally registers that she’s standing there, waiting, and he begins to try to explain, though it’s full of jargon.

“This serum,” he snatches up the clear bottle and holds it up, “is a cocktail of biological signals to speed up the cell cycle, along with nutrients to make accelerated growth possible. And this one,” he holds up the purple bottle, “is a powerful oxidizing agent. It damages DNA, creates additional mutations to accelerate cellular aging by a specific magnitude. Relative rates are known for most known species in the universe. At least as of the year 62700 or so.”

“The point,” she reminds him.

He takes a deep breath, stopping the incessant flow of words. “Rose, your cells aren’t aging at all. At least not visibly. They look how a Time Lord’s would. It appears there are new protective mechanisms in place, or your existing ones have been significantly enhanced.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, if your cells aren’t aging, you aren’t aging. At least not at nearly the same rate you should be.”

“I’m not aging?” She pauses for a moment, brainstorming the implications of that. “I’m like you?” she asks with a flicker of excitement.

Another machine dings, and the Doctor leaps over to it without responding to her question. He scrolls down the screen so fast she doesn’t know how he’s actually reading anything displayed on it.

But when he turns away, he looks even more awestruck.

“Normal, everything is normal. How is it all normal?” He looks positively unsettled by such a notion.

“Oi, don’t seem so disappointed that there’s not bad news!”

“No, I’m not!” He tries to assure her, unconvincingly. “It’s not… it’s just that… hang on.” Suddenly, he dashes out of the room altogether, his trainers crashing down the hall.

Rose growls audibly, frustrated that he isn’t finishing any of his thoughts and leaving her hanging like this. It’s her life on the line here.

But it’s only a few seconds before they come pounding down the hall again, clutching another handheld device. This one is black and covered in antennae like something from the original Ghostbusters.

“Sit down,” he commands with a nod to the exam table, either bored with or too impatient for politeness anymore. She does it anyway, hopping back up on the table and holding her breath for whatever he’s about to do. “Hold still,” he adds, stopping about two feet from the table.

Easier said than done when she’s close to hyperventilating.

He punches a few buttons on the device and points the antennae in her direction, and it makes a few bizarre noises – from whirring to whooshing to crackling – that go on for several long seconds.

And for several more agonizing seconds after the ruckus ceases, the Doctor stares down at the small user interface, utterly silent, his face contorting more and more with shock and confusion.

“That’s impossible!”

“WHAT IS IT!?” She demands, finally raising her voice.

“This device, it –” he shakes it in the air “ – measures electromagnetic radiation. All sorts. Most existing wavelengths, in fact. It also stores a database of the electromagnetic signature of thousands of living creatures – humans included. But your signature, that is, your signature now, has no match in the system.”

“What’s that mean?” her voice jumps an octave in panic.

“You have more energy coming off you than any human should. More than any organism should, actually, save for species like me. It’s far closer to the signature of a Time Lord than a human. A Time Lord or maybe –” he cuts himself short, and starts furiously pressing buttons again.

“Maybe what?”

“Protoplasm,” he says without looking up.

“Proto-what?”

“The TARDIS.”

“What?”

“Rose, the TARDIS. I told you this ship’s alive. But she’s got loads of energy signatures most living creatures don’t. Like protoplasm.”

“What’s protoplasm?”

“Morphologically unstable organic matter,” he explains, scrolling through something on the device. “It’s what allows the TARDIS to travel through space and time the way she does without her computers exploding. And what allows her to exist in a different dimension, and change the layout of the interior on a whim – Aha! TARDIS! Here it is! I manually input these data second I bought it. Didn’t come standard – this is hardly Gallifreyan technology. But I knew it’d come in handy someday.”

He starts laughing enthusiastically as he walks to the side of the table so she can see the tiny screen.

“Look at this, Rose. This is mad. Here you are” – he points to a squiggly graph that resembles a readout from a heart monitor – “here’s a reference human, and here’s the reference TARDIS I installed. You’ve got fingerprints from both. A perfect mixture of the two!” When she looks over at him, the Doctor is smiling like a lunatic the way he does when he single-handedly discovers something unique and astonishing.

“You’re happy about this, so I’m guessing I should be too?”

“It’s the TARDIS, Rose. It must be. From when you were Bad Wolf. Some residual energy must have been left behind, dormant. Hidden. But when that lightning hit you, it must have activated that presence. Not to such a degree that it would burn up your mind again, but just enough to cause changes at the cellular level. The perfect balance.”

“What are the chances of that?”

At Rose’s question, the Doctor’s smile fades as he’s struck with yet another epiphany. His eyes go wide.

“Maybe it wasn’t chance.”

“What?”

He circles around to the front of the table again and his eyes zero in on hers. He’s standing so close his thighs are touching her knees.

“Earlier, you said you felt like something told you to run.”

Rose gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Could have been Bad Wolf all along. Leading you straight into the lightning strike just like it led you back to the Game Station. It planned this from the beginning.”

“Oh, my God.” She gasps out a few breaths, trying to process everything. “You sure it’s not threatening my brain, or anythin’?”

“One hundred percent positive.” He nods resolutely, leaving no room for doubt. “That’s what I was checking for.”

“Oh, my God,” she repeats, and a brilliant smile breaks through her nervous frown. “Doctor, what does this mean, though, really?”

“It means you won’t live to be a hundred, you’ll live to be a thousand, maybe ten thousand. Maybe indefinitely. It means you’ll never get degenerative diseases like cancer. It means… it means…”

“It means I can stay with you,” she finishes.

He exhales in disbelief, and it’s almost a chuckle. His expression is torn, like he wants to both laugh and cry but neither is winning out. His eyes sparkle with happy tears; trembling breaths disrupt his gorgeous smile. He runs his hands down his face, smearing some moisture on his cheeks, and takes in a ragged breath like the next one could be a sob.

“Forever,” Rose adds softly.

Suddenly spurred to action, the Doctor brings his mouth down against hers. His hands reach up to cradle her face, gentle but unyielding, as though they never intend to let her go. His lips move with the unrestrained passion he so often holds back. But it’s not rough or rushed, but sweet and tender, as though she’s the most fragile of gifts. Thankful she’s already sitting down, Rose wraps herself around him, losing herself in the soft caresses of his lips and the way his thumbs stroke her skin, in all the possibilities their future holds now. The last of the tension in her muscles melts away. Their minds gently and easily intertwine with the renewed physical closeness and they bask in relief together, and dream peacefully of a life without the threat of mortality.

When they finally break apart to catch their breath, they giggle at each other briefly, but then the Doctor turns somber.

“If you want.” He shrugs, as though he’s indifferent, but she knows better.

Evidently, so does he, because his serious façade cracks almost instantly, revealing a huge smile beneath it.

Rose shakes her head and pulls the Doctor’s mouth back down to hers.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #figured this would be a good way to kick off my return #sorry for the wait!#it's good to be back #written by yours truly

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