Post by Chloe on Apr 17, 2006 16:49:08 GMT
Rating: U
Disclaimer: The world of Doctor Who and New Earth, the episode on which this story is based, is currently owned by Russell T Davies. I lay claim to no part of it - however much I would like to have the Doctor - but the plot is mine.
Status: Complete (one-shot)
Warnings: The author's first shot at romance and slight angst. Proceed with caution and do not throw apples at the author. Please.
Summary: Barely hours after the events of New Earth, the hearts and minds of the Doctor and Rose are in turmoil. But can they say what the other needs to hear - or will they spend the rest of their time just gazing?
A/N Comments and criticism very much appreciated. This fic is not beta-ed and is my first foray into the DW universe and into angsty romance. If anyone has an idea for a better title, please post. Or just post anyway.
She’s staring out again.
He didn’t know who said it, but there she was: Rose Tyler, his best friend and companion, ignoring the rails of clothes around her in a very un-Rose-like manner, just staring into the distance.
Out the window, moron.
That voice! But again it was true; and that window happened to offer a startling, beautiful view of a hospital, set against a clear night sky, hardly polluted even by the bright lights of the city. Old New York had never slept; the 15th version wasn’t much better. But the hospital itself, set apart from the rest of the city, was quiet, dark…lonely? Could you call a hospital lonely? The Doctor sighed and strode over to Rose, her gaze still fixed on the green emblem that lit up the hospital’s side. She was trembling slightly.
“’S beautiful, isn’t it.” The Doctor looked at Rose carefully as she spoke for only the second or third time since they’d left Cassandra-in-Chip at the party. They’d gone back to the TARDIS, where for once, even the Doctor didn’t know what to say – he’d just piloted back to New New York in silence, landing a month or two after the day they’d foiled the Sisters’ scheme, the day they watched Cassandra finally die, the day they’d –
“It got back to work so quickly and all,” Rose continued, not looking at the Doctor, who was very glad she’d interrupted his thoughts. Retrospective could wait. He smiled gently, taking the space next to her.
“They flew in a group of volunteers from the colony over in M104 – used to be called the Sombrero Galaxy back in the day, must take you there sometime – and got the whole thing running after about a week. They’ll be deciding what to do with the cures soon.” The Doctor’s smile faded. “Unfortunately, the Duke of Manhattan is defending them. I suppose I can’t really blame him.”
Rose nodded absently, and silence fell between them again. The Doctor let his mind drift back to Ward 26 and the “incurables” – the ones who should have been terminal, who should have died, for they were only living because of death. Funny, that.
At least there was one thing the Sisters hadn’t been able to get rid of: but the Face of Boe had staved off old age all by itself. The memory of the Face’s departure returned a grin to the Doctor’s face. Funny how many legends you could get involved in if you lived for 900 years. What was it that Nurse Harne had called him? “A wanderer…the man without a home…A lonely god…”
Lonely. Maybe that’s all I am at the end of the day. He looked back to Rose, who had finally picked up a couple of outfits and was currently spending some of the New Earth credits he’d given her. She’s been through so much with me – well, the old me. And I still don’t know… ‘Cos she’s changed as well. Changed so much. So much that I almost didn’t realise…
Without warning, his mind flashed back to that moment, just outside Ward 26, when Rose – no, Cassandra – had literally grabbed him around the head and kissed him.
He could almost feel her lips now, pressing passionately against his, and the sheer power and feeling behind them – power that he was sure did not belong to Rose alone. But the kiss had taken over, leaving him to worry about her later – then, he’d really thought it was Rose, gone a bit high on apple grass and culture shock, but still Rose kissing him.
What worried him most was that he’d kissed back.
***
He’s staring again.
It was a soft, lilting voice, not at all like Cassandra’s grating whine which had been popping up now and again for the past few hours. Rose shook it out and smiled warily at the shop assistant.
He is! At you. Always you, you know.
She did know. For the past few – months? years? – she’d been by the Doctor’s side, he’d always been looking out for her, watching over her. From the moment he’d taken her hand, her life had changed. Completely, irreversibly, changed. And so had she, all because one man – well, alien – told her to run.
Then he’d gone and regenerated, and there’d been all that fuss at Christmas, and they’d spent a couple of months back home before setting off again. The Doctor was right: they always seemed to be running. Running from what, though? Rose turned to meet his eyes, and was a little surprised to realise that she didn’t miss the blue eyes of the other Doctor. She still didn’t like thinking “the old Doctor”. They’re different but the same. Maybe I had it easy: I’ve only changed on the inside… The brown eyes that gazed warmly at her were just as piercing, just as deep – perhaps less sorrowful than before. Rose liked to think that she’d contributed to that.
He walked up to her, eyebrow raised. “What exactly are you doing in the men’s section?” She giggled as he took her hand in his and led her back to the TARDIS, the feeling of unease from earlier lifting. “You’ll see,” she replied cheekily. “I just thought you might need some –”
***
“Jimjams!” The Doctor whooped in delight and, flinging the pyjamas onto the sofa, threw his arms around a startled-but-happy Rose. He held her for seconds, wondering why he found it so hard to move; then Rose looked up and smiled, and he spun her out, switching on the trans-dimensional radio with his free hand.
“Come on! This is a momentous occasion! Haven’t had a new set of jimjams for years! Well, not my own at least. Pretty sure I’ve got a matching dressing gown around here somewhere – but not now! This calls for dancing! You up for the moves?” He paused to wink at Rose, who rolled her eyes and gave in, allowing the Doctor to take her other hand and whirl her around the console room, laughing all the while.
***
She collapsed next to him on the sofa, narrowly missing the pyjamas. The Doctor gasped in mock outrage. “Don’t you go crumpling my jimjams! I’d have you out of my TARDIS in a blink of an eye!” He looked down at Rose, who just smiled and huddled closer to him: she still wasn’t quite sure if he would, if one day she’d get left behind, accidentally like Captain Jack, or thrown out like Adam…
The Doctor abruptly stopped his theatricals. He put his arm around her gently, capturing her hand in his, causing Rose to look straight up into his concerned face. It’s like you can read my mind, she thought for a moment – and forced herself to look away, placing her head on his chest.
“I really meant it, y’know,” she whispered before the Doctor had a chance to speak. “Travelling with you. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and…” Her gaze trailed its way back up his neck, jaw, lips, nose, those eyes… “I don’t want it to stop.”
He stared at her for an age, and Rose wondered if she’d gone too far, if there were things, bad things, in his past that she’d somehow reminded him of. But it was true: she couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without the Doctor and the TARDIS. She’d come so close when he’d left her on the Powell Estate last time, and she’d hated it, almost sworn she’d never return even though she knew they loved her, Mum and Mickey, but what could they offer that the Doctor could not?
Love, came the answer, spat out in Cassandra’s mocking tones. And suddenly Rose was reminded of the scene in the basement, Cassandra fooling about in the Doctor’s body, making her acknowledge that yes, she had been looking and yes, she did like it, maybe even better than she’d liked it before the regeneration. But what kind of future did she really have with a time-travelling, near-immortal alien? Cassandra had said something about new parts, hardly used; was that just because he’d got a new body or could those parts really not be used – with humans at least?
“Rose. Earth – well, Doctor – to Rose? Rose!”
She started, looking back into the Doctor’s alarmed eyes. “You’d better get some sleep,” he said lightly, pulling himself away and helping Rose to her feet. She tried to smile, but already she missed the feel of his arm on her shoulder, his smooth, elegantly sculpted hand covering hers – had he been caressing it? It was marginally warmer than the other, but she still felt cold inside: where did she really belong?
“Come on. Your bedroom’s still in roughly the same place – might have jumped a couple of doors down the corridor but…” The Doctor trailed off, looking more keenly into Rose’s face. “Rose, are you –”
“I’m fine.” She laughed inwardly at herself, knowing she was anything but fine; but what could she say to the man who seemed to know her better than she knew herself – or was that just her fantasy? Rose shook herself together and smiled for the Doctor, who duly grinned back and reclaimed her hand. They walked in silence through the maze of corridors, past oddly shaped doors and all sorts of strange humming equipment; only at Rose’s door did the Doctor release his hold. She gazed at him for a moment, her thoughts still whirling incessantly, the urge to do something – anything – growing stronger by the second.
All of a sudden, Rose straightened up and kissed him – just on the cheek, swift and bold. Not waiting to see the reaction on his features, she rushed inside her room, muttering a hurried, “G’night,” and collapsed on the bed, heart racing.
And all that from one peck! In a daze, she changed into a new nightie and slowly drew under the sheets. At least my bed’s stayed the same, she thought wistfully as she drifted off, aided by a lilting song that hummed from the walls and echoed inside her troubled head.
***
He stood there for an hour, facing the closed door like a schoolboy about to see his head-teacher – the conflicting feelings of excitement and dread tearing through him.
I see all that is. All that was. All that ever could be. And something tells me that last part just got a little more complicated. Oh, Rose…
The Doctor sighed in frustration, leaning against the vibrating wall and eventually slumping to the floor, his head dropped in his hands. It was filled with even more thoughts and feelings and memories than usual: most of them centred on the normally happy, bubbly, unguarded girl behind that door, who had been acting oddly all day. And that was without accounting for Cassandra.
She likes you, imbecile. More than likes. And you wouldn’t have realised if it hadn’t been for me.
Grimacing, the Doctor finally recognised the extra voice in his head. “Brilliant,” he muttered, not wanting more mind traffic. “Talking of the devil, and all that. Just what I needed.”
Isn’t it just! You really need to loosen up a tad, m’dear – so tense in this foxy body of yours…
“Get out.”
Cassandra’s voice huffed. You know perfectly well why I can’t leave. Do you really believe I enjoy being stuck here on the sidelines of your volatile mind while the rest of my spirit’s already free? If it’s any consolation, Miss Blondie’s got a bit of me too – but you already knew that, what with your probing into other people’s minds as well…”
“Fine!” The Doctor clenched his fists, ignoring the urge to aim his sonic screwdriver into his ear. “If you can’t get out, shut up. I have better things to do than listen to you whine all night.”
Oo-er! We are a little tetchy tonight! But look on the bright side, honey: when regeneration time comes around, I’ll be off! Can’t say the same for your dear Rose – the way you’re headed she’ll be gone long before then.
He stayed silent, trying to think of anyone but Rose – and failing.
This is what it boils down to, my foxy fool: she loves you. More than her mother, more than her boyfriend, more than life. You’re everything to her, and how you missed that with nine hundred years of experience under your belt amazes me, but practically all the thoughts in her little brain were about you. But she’s scared, very scared. She doesn’t want to lose you again, she feels like you’re slipping away… But enough of Blondie. I won’t ask if you love her, Doctor. Everyone apart from you and her knows you do. That’s how it always is. The real question is: What are you going to do about it?
At last the voice of Cassandra vanished, leaving a bewildered-looking Doctor slumped against the wall. He tried to recall similar situations from his past lives – he must have been able to sort out romance in at least one of them – but this was different. This was about Rose, and he was the New New Doctor.
A determined glint in his eyes, he pushed himself off the TARDIS floor and slipped into Rose’s room.
***
“Rose?” The figure in the bed shifted at the Doctor’s voice, but her breathing was steady – deep and slow. He left the door ajar – not much point closing it when there was nobody else in the TARDIS – and treaded softly over to Rose’s bed, cursing himself with every step. Why am I doing this… I’ve gone too far already… What will I achieve… Rose? He was standing over her now, watching her chest rise and fall, her beautiful lips slightly parted. Reaching down to brush a stray strand of hair off her brow, he found himself sitting on the bed, his hand still by her face, the other caressing hers. “Oh, Rose,” he breathed, aching to hold her, kiss her, never let her go…
“I’m sorry.” The words echoed around the room, and he bent closer to Rose, stroking her hair as she slept.
“I…I’ve been thinking. About you, about…us. A lot, recently. And I… I just… we wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work.” The Doctor noticed that the walls had stopped humming. He swallowed nervously before carrying on, not sure who he was talking to, or who he was trying to convince.
“I’m going to take you so many places, Rose Tyler. Still haven’t reached Barcelona, have we! But if we go – when we go – I’ll always be watching for you. I… I almost lost you today.” His voice broke as a single tear fell to the bed sheets. “And I won’t ever, ever let that happen again. ‘Cos if you got hurt, if you got…killed… I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I’d… I’d use up all my lives first. Every last one, if it meant you wouldn’t be taken from me.
“But that’s the thing, the wretched thing… If I get killed, if I change again… I can’t put you through that again. It’s not… right. And I don’t want you to feel that pain, not now, not ever.
“So I can’t. I can’t afford to go down this path, can’t risk losing you one way or another…”
The Doctor stopped, wiping the wetness from his cheeks. “I… I love you, Rose. But we can’t. I can’t. Maybe I haven’t changed that much – maybe I’m still a coward. But I’m… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he finished in a whisper, bringing her hand to his lips. Reluctantly disentangling himself from her, he shakily found his feet, keeping his gaze on her – then, on impulse, bent over to kiss her sweet lips. For the last time? a melodic voice enquired playfully. It has to be, he replied sadly, then laid down her hand and made to leave.
Movement from the bed made him turn in the doorway; but Rose’s breathing was still regular, and the Doctor hoped with both his hearts that she was still asleep as he swept back to the console room.
He didn’t see the tears that flowed down her face as she turned away from the door.
