Story: Soon, Love, Soon
Word Count: 1147
Author's Summary: Soon, love, soon/Such a wide, wide chasm of faith to leap.
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor (11th), the TARDIS, Romana (author-created)
Warnings: None, unless for some reason you have a real aversion to Doctor/Romana.
Recced because: Repeating yourself, they say, can be an indication of advancing old age. I hope not, because this is the second time this week I've recced a story featuring the Doctor and Romana, although this time we have a different Doctor and indeed a different Romana, and the two stories themselves are, I think, very different in tone and intent.
When I rec here, I often use these notes to pontificate on what I think good fanfiction is and the things fanfiction can do. And I think the idea of crossing different eras of Who is one of the things that a great many writers of Who-fic toy with at one time or another. I suppose such fics ultimately take their lead from the multi-teamup anniversary stories in the original series, principally The Five Doctors, although of course there was no (intentional!) shipping in that. I don't know whether the idea of Eleven/Romana is an obvious one or not, but there are quite a few examples out there by now and in just about all of them the pairing works very well indeed, and casts interesting sidelights on Eleven and his situation. And I think this fic is one of the very best examples.
I'll be honest, the author of this is a firm online associate of mine, but I know for a fact that I would be reccing this regardless of whether I knew the writer or not. This is one of only two stories she has posted on Teaspoon (the other a drabble), but on this evidence she needs to write more. I would describe this story as haunting, hallucinatory (and possibly some other words beginning with "h" if I could think of any); it hints things rather than states them and I find it extremely affecting indeed. In short, it's the sort of Doctor/Romana fic that has me going away shaking my head in admiration and quiet envy. If you're into this pairing, and even if you're not, I urge you to read this and leave encouragement for the author, and maybe she'll write some more.
''I don't remember this bit,'' he breathes. ''You shouldn't. I'm not even sure I exist,'' she replies. The sit in the dark, holding hands, feeling the perfect symmetry of each others' pulses (he'd forgotten how that felt), until his eyelids being to droop. ''It's all right,'' she says, closing his eyes with her fingers and resting her head over his hearts. ''I think I have a plan.''
He wakes up in the library. There is a note and a white scarf.