Title: Fix You In This Movie
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Martha, other character
Prompt: Can we spin the world on its axis, Can we make the clocks run backwards, Can I only change your history for a day, And can I fix you in this movie, See us both move in slow motion, Is that sunrise or sunset, Well how can say -- Tom McRae, One Mississippi
Author's Note: Prompt and beta by Sinecure
"It helps if you take the lens cap off," her voice echoed through the control room, the teasing laughter in it unmistakable.
"Right," the Doctor grumbled, fumbling with the black plastic cover. "Knew that. Was just testing the night mode function."
"Mm-hm, sure. Genius."
He dropped the cap to the floor by his boots and feigned offense. "Cheeky." Light flooded the tiny screen as he trained the camera on Rose.
"Oi, you." She waved a hand in front of her face as though shooing away a fly. "You never said you were gonna film me!"
"What'd ya think I wanted it for? Slitheen?"
It was just a twentieth century video camera with none of the bells and whistles they could've had if they'd hopped forward a few hundred years. Rose insisted though, said that, sometimes, older is better.
He'd turned away from her then, hadn't wanted her to see the blush slowly spreading across his daft old face.
"I told you it was a bad idea," Rose huffed, her words coming out in short, ragged breaths.
"Did not," the Doctor whined, picking up the pace even more, coat billowing out behind him. The camera bobbed at his side, lens trained on the ground, the only picture visible on the tiny screen that of the dirt and gravel quickly slipping by.
"Did too." He didn't need to look at her face to hear the smile in her voice. "I said, Doctor--"
"Look," he interrupted, "the TARDIS. We're safe."
He started taking the camera out more and more often as time went by. She called him obsessed, but he knew a storm was coming, knew that the time they had left was slowly slipping through their intertwined fingers.
"How long are you gonna stay with me?" the Doctor asked, turning to face her.
The camera had been set down, forgotten about in light of the awe-inspiring creatures that slowly floated overhead. Pointed in their direction, it continued to run until the battery died and the screen was plunged into darkness.
He'd grown to hate the camera and its blurry picture quality after losing Rose. His memories of her--the sound of her voice, the way her nose crinkled up when she smiled--were fading fast, so fast that he couldn't even remember the color of her eyes.
Reaching over to grab the remote, the Doctor quickly pushed the off button, then leaned back into the couch with a sigh. Eyes closed against the swiftly forming tears, he didn't see Martha enter the room with a frown.
"Watching those old home movies again?" she asked, and he didn't miss the hint of impatience in her voice.
Not trusting his voice not to betray the affect the films had on him, he simply nodded once, briefly, hoping she'd take the hint and let him be for a bit. Give him the chance to get himself back under control.
The door closed softly and he breathed out a sigh of relief.
The movies were all gone now, destroyed by the one thing he couldn't stop: time. But he didn't feel the loss of them as much as he would have in years gone by.
He still had the camera. And occasionally, like now, he would train it on the occupants of the TARDIS, despite the eye rolls and sighs of annoyance he usually got in return.
"D'you mind?" Martha was standing in the doorway, hands on hips, waiting for him. "There are more important things than taking a stroll down memory lane right now."
"Right," he replied, zooming in on her face briefly. "How're the patients then?"
She turned and led him through the doorway, quickly adopting what he liked to call her 'doctor mode'. "Iona's off the oxygen and breathing on her own. She'll be fine, just as I suspected."
He nodded gratefully, and entered the darkened bedroom. The air was warm, warmer than normal, even for his human companions. "And how is--"
"She's fine, Doctor." Martha smiled at him. "She needs her rest though. Your offspring is just as exhausting as you are apparently."
Giving the occupants of the room a quick once over--Rose sleeping peacefully in the large bed in the center of the room, their newborn daughter, Iona, snuggled comfortably in her arms--Martha gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving him alone. Dropping the camera to his side, the Doctor gazed in wonder at his new family.