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Summary
"Help me." She asked and he responded. He woke up and scared off the pilot fish. Only it was too early and he paid for it with a small (light, hardly even worth mentioning really) neural implosion. Then, he went back to sleep and it all should have been fixed when he woke up.
Except.
Except he's up now and talking to some awfully bold Sycorax and no one understands a bleeding word he's saying.
(Or; It turns out there are consequences to implosions in one's head and now the Doctor can't stop speaking Gallifreyan. The TARDIS is less helpful than one might hope.)
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Bookmark Notes:
Gallifreian language is musical?
Cultural differences and language barriers
Learning languages for each other
OMIGOSH THERE'S PLOT?? AND LORE??
Galifreyan culture and Rose
Enjoy the Doctor being caught off guard by human emotions. Also chemistry :D
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Ch14
He opened his mouth and a stream of lilting syllables tumbled out. He stopped talking and frowned.
“Oh,” Rose said, “I’d sorta hoped the TARDIS would fix that.” He stared at her blankly. He’d just opened his mouth again, probably to speak more musical nonsense Rose thought, when a huge yawn caught him by surprise. Rose giggled. He just looked so startled by it. He smiled at her.She surged across the final few between them and wrapped her arms around him. He was skinnier than she was used to, and a little taller, all sharp angles and movement where he had been sturdy strength. He smelled right though. Like spices and old books and the TARDIS and something she couldn’t name.
He was still her Doctor.
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Suddenly, a spark of yellow light leapt from her fingers to the monitor in her hands and the screen lit up. It was still covered in the circular symbols of the Doctor’s written language, but it was at least on. She made a mental note to ask him about the little spark of light when they could talk again. It hadn’t hurt, in fact it felt like home in the same way the TARDIS did, but she knew better than to ignore odd occurrences like that.“Right.” She paused to consider her path forward here. She’d only taken a few years of foreign languages in school (the less said about her French the better really), but she remembered the first few lessons. Greetings. That was a safe spot to start.
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His dreams were filled with golden light, brighter than the yellow-orange of regeneration energy. The light of the TARDIS, he realized, she was comforting him even as he slept.Strangely, where before he would have taken that sort of uncertainty as a reason to start the day in a foul mood, now it was almost exciting. Was he an optimist in this body? Oh, that was going to take some getting used to.
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“How long did that take you to learn?” he asked. She stared. Right. Oh this was going to be so annoying. He pointed at her and then mimed sleeping. She shook her head and pointed at the screen. Right. All night then. It made sense. As one might expect, Gallifreyan was a language not only of physical space, but also of time. The words shifted in response to their environment; the way one said ‘good morning’ was very different depending on where in the universe one was located both physically and in the timeline. So, as they drifted through the vortex, the greeting Rose had been trying to learn would have been slowly changing to reflect their changing position. The real question was, how had she gotten it right? No human should be able to figure out the shifting patterns of time based suprasegmental features that accompanied each syllable of the language.
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He didn’t deserve that sort of happiness, but now. Huh, he really was an optimist because now the only protest he could come up with was that anything like that needed to wait until they could have a real conversation again.
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“Not like that,” now she sounded fond. “You woke too early, you know that. And you, my clever boy, you found a way to fix it. But, you must choose.”“I don’t understand!” He gripped her wrists, holding her hands to his face, desperate for her not to pull away. The beast stalked closer. He could feel its hot breath on his neck now, so close. And then he blinked and it was not his mother before him but himself, the himself from just over a week ago.
“You are a Time Lord,” he said, lip curling upward, “With a Time Lord mind.” The old Doctor pulled his hands free of his own grip and stepped back.
“I died for this,” he said very quietly. “For her.”
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“Doctor?” she whispered.“Hrng,” he said. Despite her fear and exhaustion, Rose giggled.
“So good with words,” she told him.
“Ack,” he said, “Rose?”
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“Tickles,” she said, “Oh that’s so weird.”He snorted, “Humans. I use a bit of technology your people won’t invent for nearly a thousand years and all you can say is it tickles.”
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