Fic: Shake the Stars Down (4/many)
Title: Shake the Stars Down (Part 4)
Author: nocookiesjustbooks 2nd2ndalto
Pairing/Characters: Ten/Rose (Mickey, Jackie, Pete)
Rating: PG this section
Disclaimer: BBC owns everything, obviously.
Excerpt: It’s crippling, this sensation of being stuck.
Author's Notes: Set post-Doomsday. Many thanks to iluvmusicals for the beta.
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)
She misses the Doctor with a constant, burning ache that originates somewhere near her heart and radiates throughout her body, outside her body, filling her and all the space she occupies.
But she won’t give in.
She fights to keep that resolve in the following weeks, especially when she’s exhausted by encroaching hopelessness and too little sleep. It’s crippling, this sensation of being stuck. The same sky, same ground under her feet day after day. Some days it takes all her strength to keep moving.
***
Rose shoves her mashed potatoes to one side of her plate, rearranges what’s left of her roast beef. Trying to make it look as if she’s eaten more that she actually has. She’s heartsick and over-tired, can barely even tell if she’s hungry or not.
“Pass the carrots, love?”
Rose looks up as Jackie lifts the dish to hand it to Pete. It’s such a small thing; just a pleased little look that passes between them over the steaming vegetables. But right at this moment, it’s more than Rose can take.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announces abruptly.
Jackie’s brow creases in concern. “But sweetheart, you haven’t even finished your dinner!”
“M’not hungry. Just…” Rose shakes her head, jerking out of her chair and backing towards the door.
“Rose. At least stay and have dessert,” Jackie says sternly, rising from her own chair. “You haven’t been eating properly. Just look at you, you’re too thin-”
Pete places a hand gently on Jackie’s arm. “Jacks, just leave her.”
Jackie sighs in resignation and Rose shoots Pete a grateful look before nearly running to the front door, down the steps, out into the night. It’s stifling in there with the two of them, and the more distance she puts between herself and the mansion, the more she can feel her heart settling into a near-normal tempo, the better she can breathe.
Her steps slow to a walk as she approaches the rose gardens at the south end of the property, and she takes a deep lungful of cool September air. Ducking under the arbor, heavy with late summer growth, she drops onto a wide wooden bench in a little alcove out of sight of the house. Breathes.
They’re just so content. She’s pleased, thrilled for Jackie, of course she is. She knows she’s being selfish. But it just makes her own heartache worse. Pete’s done so much for them both already, and she knows she should be more grateful, hates the way she sometimes acts like an entitled child, but she’s hanging on by a thread.
Rose scrapes her hair off her face and stares sightlessly down at her scuffed trainers, trying to ignore the little twist of misery in her chest.
She has Pete to thank for her job at Torchwood. It was the first thing she did the second day she was here. A reason to get up in the morning. And besides that, she’s sure Torchwood is her best bet to find a way back to the Doctor. They’ve got a mysteriously large amount of financial backing, and their ethics and safety protocols are just questionable enough for her liking.
It’s been exactly four weeks since her first day at Torchwood. She tries not to think of the fact that she’s still not any closer to getting back where she belongs.
She sighs, zipping up her hoodie and pulling it tighter around her shoulders. She should’ve grabbed a heavier jacket on her way out the door, but the extra few seconds that would have required seemed impossible at the time.
This is what she wanted. All these years. Her whole life. Her mum and dad together, the three of them to be a family. And now she can barely sit through a meal with them. She swallows against the lump in her throat, pulls her feet up onto the bench and hugs her knees to her chest. There’s a fallen rose blossom on the bench next to her, and she picks it up, holding the little flower to her nose and inhaling. It smells nothing like it should, and she tosses it away.
It doesn’t help matters that everything is wrong here. She’s nearly immune to culture shock after the last two years with the Doctor. But in low times like these, when she's just looking for some comfort, a bit of familiarity… it just makes things that much worse when the air feels wrong, the chips taste different and everything on the telly is just off enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She shakes her head sharply. Right. That’s enough feeling sorry for herself. She’ll call Mickey, head over to his place for the evening. She can apologize to Mum when she gets back.
***
Mickey understands best, or maybe he indulges her the most, and as the weeks go by, she spends more and more time at his flat. Before long, he’s cleared out his spare bedroom and she’s moved in. Best mates, same as they were growing up. It’s surprisingly nice for them to have a chance to remember why that was.
Jackie’s disappointed, but she understands. Truth be told, her daughter moved away from home several years back. Jackie invites Rose and Mickey for Sunday dinners, comes to Torchwood to meet Rose for lunch on Wednesdays.
Pete Tyler is a surprise. He's not her father, but really, he never was. All she ever knew of her own Pete was stories Mum told her and her own childish imaginings. This Pete isn’t the dad she always dreamed of, but she finds that’s not what she wants from him anyway. As the weeks go on, he becomes a mentor of sorts, a sounding board. She can tell him things she’d never tell Mum. Jackie’s desire to protect her surpasses all reason, but Pete becomes a friend, and both of them find they’re more than happy with that. And all that aside, he makes Jackie happy, so he’s all right in Rose's book.
After three months in this universe, it’s still hard, it still hurts, but there are times, albeit short ones, when she forgets. Whole minutes that tick by when she feels… not happy, but comfortable. She wants the Doctor back, desperately, but she’s got her mum and Pete and a brother or sister on the way. She’s got work and Mickey and a few mates who she doesn’t call nearly as often as she should.
When she realizes she’s let herself slip, even for a moment, it’s like a blow to the heart. She remembers again how lonely he is, and that’s quite enough to remind her why she’s not staying.
***
Rose sits at Mickey’s kitchen table, tips back the last warm swallow of her beer. Mickey finished his third an hour ago, has been soundly snoring down the hall for at least half that time.
She’s not surprised to discover her own sleeping schedule has become completely botched. Having lived for two years with someone who barely sleeps and had a first derisive, then dismissive regard for concepts such as “night”, “day” and “rest”, she finds she can barely remember what it was to go to bed at night and sleep until morning.
Reaching over to deposit her beer can on the worktop, Rose attempts to focus on the pile of Torchwood documents in front of her. She’s been staring at the specs for the dimension jumpers so long her eyes are beginning to blur. Although they’ve made very little progress towards actually repairing the devices, she now has a brain-achingly thorough understanding of every miniscule component within them, and she can’t help but feel quite proud of herself for that.
Rubbing her eyes, she shoves the papers away. That’s enough for tonight.
She sometimes wonders if she’ll ever be able to sleep like a normal human again. During her first Torchwood physical, the doctor tried to prescribe an antidepressant. She flatly refused.
There were more sleepless nights after that, though, and then more, culminating in a nasty incident involving a sharp-toothed shape-shifting alien in the sewers of Picadilly Circus and a rather impressive gash on her left leg. She finally, grudgingly agreed that maybe she did need something, and reluctantly accepted a prescription for a sedative. She’ll only take it when she’s so exhausted there’s really no other choice, not if she wants to keep going. Those nights, she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep and wakes hours and hours later, feeling as if her body hasn’t moved a centimetre since she lay down.
Sometimes, during the long nights, she just wanders. Walks the streets of this bizarre not-London until the sun rises. Sometimes she goes back to work, nodding to Torchwood’s nighttime security guard as she passes her ID through the scanner and makes her way back upstairs.
Always, but especially in the hardest moments, Rose remembers his face. Bright eyes and wild hair. That joyful grin and the soft smiles that were just for her.
This is what she does tonight, curled up alone on Mickey’s couch, the blue-white glow of the television flashing against her closed eyelids. She remembers every line of his face, the light in his eyes, every look, every touch. The way it felt to be wrapped in his arms, the perfect warm fit of his body against hers as he scooped her up, laughing with relief and exhilaration against her ear after their most recent escape. The way sometimes he’d hold on just a little longer than she expected him to, just quietly hold her for a moment before letting her go and spinning away again, telling her about which fantastic place he was taking her next.
Tonight she remembers these things. And sleeps.
Author: nocookiesjustbooks 2nd2ndalto
Pairing/Characters: Ten/Rose (Mickey, Jackie, Pete)
Rating: PG this section
Disclaimer: BBC owns everything, obviously.
Excerpt: It’s crippling, this sensation of being stuck.
Author's Notes: Set post-Doomsday. Many thanks to iluvmusicals for the beta.
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)
She misses the Doctor with a constant, burning ache that originates somewhere near her heart and radiates throughout her body, outside her body, filling her and all the space she occupies.
But she won’t give in.
She fights to keep that resolve in the following weeks, especially when she’s exhausted by encroaching hopelessness and too little sleep. It’s crippling, this sensation of being stuck. The same sky, same ground under her feet day after day. Some days it takes all her strength to keep moving.
***
Rose shoves her mashed potatoes to one side of her plate, rearranges what’s left of her roast beef. Trying to make it look as if she’s eaten more that she actually has. She’s heartsick and over-tired, can barely even tell if she’s hungry or not.
“Pass the carrots, love?”
Rose looks up as Jackie lifts the dish to hand it to Pete. It’s such a small thing; just a pleased little look that passes between them over the steaming vegetables. But right at this moment, it’s more than Rose can take.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announces abruptly.
Jackie’s brow creases in concern. “But sweetheart, you haven’t even finished your dinner!”
“M’not hungry. Just…” Rose shakes her head, jerking out of her chair and backing towards the door.
“Rose. At least stay and have dessert,” Jackie says sternly, rising from her own chair. “You haven’t been eating properly. Just look at you, you’re too thin-”
Pete places a hand gently on Jackie’s arm. “Jacks, just leave her.”
Jackie sighs in resignation and Rose shoots Pete a grateful look before nearly running to the front door, down the steps, out into the night. It’s stifling in there with the two of them, and the more distance she puts between herself and the mansion, the more she can feel her heart settling into a near-normal tempo, the better she can breathe.
Her steps slow to a walk as she approaches the rose gardens at the south end of the property, and she takes a deep lungful of cool September air. Ducking under the arbor, heavy with late summer growth, she drops onto a wide wooden bench in a little alcove out of sight of the house. Breathes.
They’re just so content. She’s pleased, thrilled for Jackie, of course she is. She knows she’s being selfish. But it just makes her own heartache worse. Pete’s done so much for them both already, and she knows she should be more grateful, hates the way she sometimes acts like an entitled child, but she’s hanging on by a thread.
Rose scrapes her hair off her face and stares sightlessly down at her scuffed trainers, trying to ignore the little twist of misery in her chest.
She has Pete to thank for her job at Torchwood. It was the first thing she did the second day she was here. A reason to get up in the morning. And besides that, she’s sure Torchwood is her best bet to find a way back to the Doctor. They’ve got a mysteriously large amount of financial backing, and their ethics and safety protocols are just questionable enough for her liking.
It’s been exactly four weeks since her first day at Torchwood. She tries not to think of the fact that she’s still not any closer to getting back where she belongs.
She sighs, zipping up her hoodie and pulling it tighter around her shoulders. She should’ve grabbed a heavier jacket on her way out the door, but the extra few seconds that would have required seemed impossible at the time.
This is what she wanted. All these years. Her whole life. Her mum and dad together, the three of them to be a family. And now she can barely sit through a meal with them. She swallows against the lump in her throat, pulls her feet up onto the bench and hugs her knees to her chest. There’s a fallen rose blossom on the bench next to her, and she picks it up, holding the little flower to her nose and inhaling. It smells nothing like it should, and she tosses it away.
It doesn’t help matters that everything is wrong here. She’s nearly immune to culture shock after the last two years with the Doctor. But in low times like these, when she's just looking for some comfort, a bit of familiarity… it just makes things that much worse when the air feels wrong, the chips taste different and everything on the telly is just off enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She shakes her head sharply. Right. That’s enough feeling sorry for herself. She’ll call Mickey, head over to his place for the evening. She can apologize to Mum when she gets back.
***
Mickey understands best, or maybe he indulges her the most, and as the weeks go by, she spends more and more time at his flat. Before long, he’s cleared out his spare bedroom and she’s moved in. Best mates, same as they were growing up. It’s surprisingly nice for them to have a chance to remember why that was.
Jackie’s disappointed, but she understands. Truth be told, her daughter moved away from home several years back. Jackie invites Rose and Mickey for Sunday dinners, comes to Torchwood to meet Rose for lunch on Wednesdays.
Pete Tyler is a surprise. He's not her father, but really, he never was. All she ever knew of her own Pete was stories Mum told her and her own childish imaginings. This Pete isn’t the dad she always dreamed of, but she finds that’s not what she wants from him anyway. As the weeks go on, he becomes a mentor of sorts, a sounding board. She can tell him things she’d never tell Mum. Jackie’s desire to protect her surpasses all reason, but Pete becomes a friend, and both of them find they’re more than happy with that. And all that aside, he makes Jackie happy, so he’s all right in Rose's book.
After three months in this universe, it’s still hard, it still hurts, but there are times, albeit short ones, when she forgets. Whole minutes that tick by when she feels… not happy, but comfortable. She wants the Doctor back, desperately, but she’s got her mum and Pete and a brother or sister on the way. She’s got work and Mickey and a few mates who she doesn’t call nearly as often as she should.
When she realizes she’s let herself slip, even for a moment, it’s like a blow to the heart. She remembers again how lonely he is, and that’s quite enough to remind her why she’s not staying.
***
Rose sits at Mickey’s kitchen table, tips back the last warm swallow of her beer. Mickey finished his third an hour ago, has been soundly snoring down the hall for at least half that time.
She’s not surprised to discover her own sleeping schedule has become completely botched. Having lived for two years with someone who barely sleeps and had a first derisive, then dismissive regard for concepts such as “night”, “day” and “rest”, she finds she can barely remember what it was to go to bed at night and sleep until morning.
Reaching over to deposit her beer can on the worktop, Rose attempts to focus on the pile of Torchwood documents in front of her. She’s been staring at the specs for the dimension jumpers so long her eyes are beginning to blur. Although they’ve made very little progress towards actually repairing the devices, she now has a brain-achingly thorough understanding of every miniscule component within them, and she can’t help but feel quite proud of herself for that.
Rubbing her eyes, she shoves the papers away. That’s enough for tonight.
She sometimes wonders if she’ll ever be able to sleep like a normal human again. During her first Torchwood physical, the doctor tried to prescribe an antidepressant. She flatly refused.
There were more sleepless nights after that, though, and then more, culminating in a nasty incident involving a sharp-toothed shape-shifting alien in the sewers of Picadilly Circus and a rather impressive gash on her left leg. She finally, grudgingly agreed that maybe she did need something, and reluctantly accepted a prescription for a sedative. She’ll only take it when she’s so exhausted there’s really no other choice, not if she wants to keep going. Those nights, she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep and wakes hours and hours later, feeling as if her body hasn’t moved a centimetre since she lay down.
Sometimes, during the long nights, she just wanders. Walks the streets of this bizarre not-London until the sun rises. Sometimes she goes back to work, nodding to Torchwood’s nighttime security guard as she passes her ID through the scanner and makes her way back upstairs.
Always, but especially in the hardest moments, Rose remembers his face. Bright eyes and wild hair. That joyful grin and the soft smiles that were just for her.
This is what she does tonight, curled up alone on Mickey’s couch, the blue-white glow of the television flashing against her closed eyelids. She remembers every line of his face, the light in his eyes, every look, every touch. The way it felt to be wrapped in his arms, the perfect warm fit of his body against hers as he scooped her up, laughing with relief and exhilaration against her ear after their most recent escape. The way sometimes he’d hold on just a little longer than she expected him to, just quietly hold her for a moment before letting her go and spinning away again, telling her about which fantastic place he was taking her next.
Tonight she remembers these things. And sleeps.