Title: Speechorifics
Author: darkbunnyrabbit
Rating: PG?
Spoilers: Nothing.
Pairings: Doc/Rose if you want to see it. It could be Nine, Ten, Ten.5, or Eleven.
Characters: Doctor, Rose
Warnings: Crack
Genre: A bit of meta, a bit of crack.
Summary: Rose is tired of hearing the same speech over and over again, and if the Doctor's not going to say anything about it, then she will.



“But to know those excuses, what does that say of you, Doctor?” The old crone smiled, and straightened from where she'd been cowering as she noted the Doctor's suddenly straightened posture. “You bring your judgment and your justice to me, but what of you? Who do you think you are to judge? How many cities have you razed? How many planets have you burned in your crusade? Tell me, Doctor, what is one colony next to the millions you've killed? Which of us deserves judgment?”

Rose cut off any further monologue with a disgusted growl. “You do!”

The Doctor started, as if he'd forgotten she was standing there—he probably had. “Rose—“

She ignored him. “You want to know the difference between he an' you? You hurt those people because you're selfish. You used people and stole youth from innocent children because you're afraid. You killed people who had a lifetime in front of them because you don't care!” The crone shrank back once more as Rose took a step forward, lacking all the pity the Doctor showed for the woman, and brimming with the disgust and righteous fury he abstained from. “The Doctor saves people. He helps people who are hurt, he gives up his life and his desires, and everything he'd like to hide from just to give people a chance to live those lives. Sometimes people die, an' sometimes the price of those second chances are the size of a city or even a planet...but even when it is, it's less than the people who would have been hurt by the people like you. An' the worst part of it is? Every time he can't save people, it's only because he's giving people like you a chance, and all you do is throw it back in his face.”

Having made her way closer to the woman in her tirade, she took the opportunity to reach out and smack the big red transmat button the woman had been guarding before. “Consider yourself judged.”

The Doctor had remained silent throughout her outburst. Now he watched her with something like wary curiosity. As if she'd been possessed, or simply stressed, overbalanced, and ready to lash out at anyone stepping out of line.

She scoffed, and held out a hand. “Gets old, hearin' that every time. Come on. Home. I want chips.”