She tears past the painted 'Eight' on the wall, gripping the banister firmly so as not to pitch down the stairs, running harder than she'd done in a while. To see her run like this, you'd think she had a pack of Cybermen on her tail, but no. No, this is a good run. A 'too excited to wait for the lift' run.
Seven: she can't think straight. Giddy. Happy. There's tears of joy running down her face and she doesn't care. Doesn't let go of the banister to wipe them away.
Six: her earpod chimes that someone's ringing her and she hits the ignore button on the wrist-piece. It's probably Mickey, she thinks, calling to tell her about --
Five: -- it, and he doesn't need to. She saw it for herself, pitching drunkenly through the sky, narrowly avoiding taking down several Zeppelins, before crashing down at the foot of Torchwood's Canary Wharf headquarters.
Four: Her pulse echoes in her ears, beating out a simple rhythm: he's back. He's back. He's back. (She should have kept up her running; she's gotten slow in the last two years. Time was, she'd be there already.)
Three: Almost, almost, almost there. Still too high to simply slide down the banisters.
Two: Bursting with excitement, she's almost there. Her legs are wobbly and it takes real effort to keep them from missing steps in her exertion and haste. Careful now.
One: The lobby. She contains herself to a fast-walk as she heads through the reception area, not wanting to look unprofessional here, overwrought though she is. He's back, she thinks, and it's about all she can think.
Outside, she catches sight of him picking his way out of the fallen TARDIS. He kicks the timeship in temper, and it's then she notices what should have been obvious from the first moment, but her too-excited brain had stupidly overlooked: he's regenerated again. His clothing runs to the eccentric -- a baggy-sleeved old-fashioned men's shirt, a waistcoat, cravat, watch-chain -- but he looks good.
"Doctor!" she cries out, and his head whips around, and he stares at her in shock as she throws herself into his arms. "Doctor, you came back for me!"
He hesitates for a moment, and she looks up at him, about to ask what's wrong, when his handsome face melts into a smile. "So I did... my dear."
Content, Rose holds onto him, burying her face in his neck. He's back, she thinks, and that's just fantastic.
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
lies_companion
She tears past the painted 'Eight' on the wall, gripping the banister firmly so as not to pitch down the stairs, running harder than she'd done in a while. To see her run like this, you'd think she had a pack of Cybermen on her tail, but no. No, this is a good run. A 'too excited to wait for the lift' run.
Seven: she can't think straight. Giddy. Happy. There's tears of joy running down her face and she doesn't care. Doesn't let go of the banister to wipe them away.
Six: her earpod chimes that someone's ringing her and she hits the ignore button on the wrist-piece. It's probably Mickey, she thinks, calling to tell her about --
Five: -- it, and he doesn't need to. She saw it for herself, pitching drunkenly through the sky, narrowly avoiding taking down several Zeppelins, before crashing down at the foot of Torchwood's Canary Wharf headquarters.
Four: Her pulse echoes in her ears, beating out a simple rhythm: he's back. He's back. He's back. (She should have kept up her running; she's gotten slow in the last two years. Time was, she'd be there already.)
Three: Almost, almost, almost there. Still too high to simply slide down the banisters.
Two: Bursting with excitement, she's almost there. Her legs are wobbly and it takes real effort to keep them from missing steps in her exertion and haste. Careful now.
One: The lobby. She contains herself to a fast-walk as she heads through the reception area, not wanting to look unprofessional here, overwrought though she is. He's back, she thinks, and it's about all she can think.
Outside, she catches sight of him picking his way out of the fallen TARDIS. He kicks the timeship in temper, and it's then she notices what should have been obvious from the first moment, but her too-excited brain had stupidly overlooked: he's regenerated again. His clothing runs to the eccentric -- a baggy-sleeved old-fashioned men's shirt, a waistcoat, cravat, watch-chain -- but he looks good.
"Doctor!" she cries out, and his head whips around, and he stares at her in shock as she throws herself into his arms. "Doctor, you came back for me!"
He hesitates for a moment, and she looks up at him, about to ask what's wrong, when his handsome face melts into a smile. "So I did... my dear."
Content, Rose holds onto him, burying her face in his neck. He's back, she thinks, and that's just fantastic.