The Tenth Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
universaljanitor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-05-16 02:00 pm
universaljanitor) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-05-16 02:00 pm
Entry tags:
Expiration Date
Who: The Tenth Doctor universaljanitor and Rose Tyler recidivus
When: forward dated to Friday night.because of hiatuses and lack of internet access it's going up now
Where: Their apartment of sickness and horror.
Summary: Ten's been sick for a few days, but just in the wee early hours of this morning... his first heart gave out. He knows its only a matter of time, now. But hey. Rose doesn't have to know that, too.
Warnings: SICKNESS AND DEATH AND SADNESS
[There's a thumping from the Doctor's room, from the bed that had been previously unused, but now housed him nearly twenty-four seven. He'd been ill and napping the first few days, dizzy and feverish but pushing through it. But ever since Thursday afternoon, he hadn't been able to get up, no matter how hard he tried. And damnit if he hasn't tried. He's fairly sure both Rose and Jack have held him down a few times, to keep him from falling off the side in an attempt to prove he was fine, but then again that might have been a dream, a nightmare brought on by the heavy, dead feeling inside his chest. The still weight of an unmoving heart.
But when Rose comes in to check the source of the noise, she'll just find the Doctor sitting in bed, laying back against the mess of pillows keeping him propped up, staring mournfully down at the phone on the floor, a phone that had been on the bedside table. Looks like even though the poor thing could barely move, he'd wanted to try and reach someone. To make a post. Ask a question.
Or maybe just try again to convince them that even with his skin looking grey and waxy, with dark circles under his eyes, the draw of skin over sunken cheeks from a few days spent doing nothing but throwing up everything he'd put into it.... that despite all of that, he was fine. He was the Doctor. And he was always fine.]
... Meant to do that.
universaljanitor and Rose Tyler recidivus When: forward dated to Friday night.
Where: Their apartment of sickness and horror.
Summary: Ten's been sick for a few days, but just in the wee early hours of this morning... his first heart gave out. He knows its only a matter of time, now. But hey. Rose doesn't have to know that, too.
Warnings: SICKNESS AND DEATH AND SADNESS
[There's a thumping from the Doctor's room, from the bed that had been previously unused, but now housed him nearly twenty-four seven. He'd been ill and napping the first few days, dizzy and feverish but pushing through it. But ever since Thursday afternoon, he hadn't been able to get up, no matter how hard he tried. And damnit if he hasn't tried. He's fairly sure both Rose and Jack have held him down a few times, to keep him from falling off the side in an attempt to prove he was fine, but then again that might have been a dream, a nightmare brought on by the heavy, dead feeling inside his chest. The still weight of an unmoving heart.
But when Rose comes in to check the source of the noise, she'll just find the Doctor sitting in bed, laying back against the mess of pillows keeping him propped up, staring mournfully down at the phone on the floor, a phone that had been on the bedside table. Looks like even though the poor thing could barely move, he'd wanted to try and reach someone. To make a post. Ask a question.
Or maybe just try again to convince them that even with his skin looking grey and waxy, with dark circles under his eyes, the draw of skin over sunken cheeks from a few days spent doing nothing but throwing up everything he'd put into it.... that despite all of that, he was fine. He was the Doctor. And he was always fine.]
... Meant to do that.