Fic: "Long-Distance Travel" (Ten/Rose | PG)
Title: Long-Distance Travel (1/1)
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: Rose's morning commute is interrupted by a very familiar face.
Warnings: Fluff
Disclaimer: Much as I might like them to be, none of these characters are mine. I have, however, been on the tube platform in question. The restaurant, too.
Author's Notes: Written here in my hotel room in London, where I can look out the window at Paddington Station. It was just too good a chance to pass up. Thanks to wendymr and dark_aegis for beta services, and to joely_jo and sensiblecat for a place to stay when we go into the north of England tomorrow, and for lovely company at the Globe theater last weekend.
Paddington Station is not where she expected to see him again. Not that she expected to anyway; 'impossible' is a powerful word, after all. But if he was going to come to her new home in her new London, she'd have expected him to show up somewhere less…public. In front of Pete's house, maybe. Her office in Canary Wharf. One of the restaurants she frequents. (She's particularly fond of the Garfunkel's next door to Paddington. Not because the food is great-it's no better than okay-but because it's reasonably convenient to her flat and the people are friendly and it drives her nouveau-riche mother batty.)
And yet there it is, the familiar police box, sitting on the platform for the Hammersmith and City Line. The Doctor, in a tube station.
The door opens and she holds her breath, feeling obscurely as though the only thing that will make this real is if she hopes hard enough. Like believing in fairies to make Tinkerbell well again, she thinks wildly, and almost lets the held breath go in a snort of near-hysterical laughter.
When he emerges, his eyes immediately go to her as if he knows exactly where to look, despite the fact that it's morning rush hour, the platform is crowded with standing commuters waiting for the tube, and she's half-behind the Oyster Card reader, wallet still open from where she'd tapped her card and not yet put it away. He smiles, that familiar grin that lights up the whole place, and suddenly she can breathe again. His arms open invitingly, and she hurls herself into them, laughing and crying as he whirls her around. The commuters standing around them simply step out of the way. They're Londoners, after all; nothing fazes them.
"How-" she begins to ask as he puts her down, but she's interrupted by a deep, long, intense kiss. She responds, holding him as tightly as he's holding her. A dream, she thinks as he nips gently at her lower lip. It has to be.
He pinches her arm sharply, and she breaks away, startled. "Ouch!" she yelps.
"See? Not a dream." He gathers her back to him and leans his forehead against hers. "I thought it was impossible," he murmurs. "Turns out I was wrong. Just very, very, veryvery, very very very difficult. It took me a long time to work out how to get here."
"How long?"
A corner of his mouth quirks up in a self-deprecating smile. "Seventy-two years."
"Seventy-two?" Rose boggles. He was still looking for her after that long? Her heart does an odd little skip-beat flip at the thought. "It's only been three years for me."
"I know. I tried to come back earlier, but, well, it's not so easy to land smack on the dot when crossing the Void. I was careful to check the date before I contacted you, though. Didn't want to put myself into the time-line and find out it'd been as long for you as it had been for me." Rose doesn't answer for a moment, and his smile fades. "Did I wait too long?" he asks quietly.
"No!" she blurts, horrified. "Of course not!"
The smile comes back, more radiant than ever. "Fantastic!"
And now she laughs, caught up in the joy of seeing him again and the sudden release of the tension and unhappiness she'd carried with her since the day she'd leant against a cold, white wall and sobbed. He laughs too, and hugs her tightly to him again. A few commuters give her sidelong looks, disapproving of such an emotional display in a public place, and it only makes her laugh louder.
The tube comes into both sides of the platform almost at the same time, westbound and eastbound, and she and the Doctor are pressed against each other as the mass of commuters separate into two groups, piling onto their respective carriages. "Like chromosomes during meiosis," the Doctor murmurs in her ear, and she giggles some more. A minute or so later, the platform is empty and the trains have left in a whoosh of air and a deafening rumble. The only ones left are the two of them.
He loosens his hold on her just enough to look into her face. "Did I mention," he said, "that it also travels through time? And across dimensions? And, not so incidentally, to the places you need to go to settle your affairs and say goodbye?"
"This is goodbye, then." It's not a question. Seventy-two years of searching to get him across this once; she can't imagine they'll ever be able to come back.
"Yeah." He searches her face, uncharacteristically serious. "No coming back, Rose. This is it, I'm afraid. That all right?"
She takes a deep breath, then places her hands on his cheeks, framing his face. "I told you before: I made my choice, and it's you. Mum's got Pete and litle Anna, and Mickey's got Jake-"
"Oh, the wind sets that way, does it?" the Doctor interrupts, eyebrows lifting.
"Seems he was just waiting for the right bloke to come along as well." Rose grins, but then sobers again. "A couple of days to quit my job, say goodbye to my family and friends, and pack up my flat, and then I can walk into the TARDIS with you and never look back."
"Are you sure?" he presses. "Really, really sure?"
Rose sighs, glancing away and letting her hands drop to rest against his chest. "There's no place for me here, Doctor. Mickey and Mum were replacing people who had died, like stepping into the driver's seat of a used car. There never was a Rose Tyler. I'm having to carve a spot for myself, wedging my way into a space that's the right size for a Yorkie, but not for me." She looks up, meets his eyes again. "Besides, being with you-travelling with you-that's all I've wanted to do since you first asked me. I said no to you once out of a sense of responsibility to my family. I won't do it again."
His eyes warm, their corners crinkling with delight, and he bends to kiss her again. Though this one is shorter and gentler than the earlier one, it's no less powerful, and Rose knows that it's acceptance and promise all in one. "All right, then," he says, taking her hand. "Let's go."
Together they walk toward the TARDIS, fingers intertwined, grinning at each other like fools. The Doctor unlocks the door and starts to push it open, but stops and spins around, startling her. "Oh!" he says. "I forgot!"
"Forgot what?" she asks, frowning.
"What I started to say to you. I was right in the middle of a sentence, and I never got to finish. But that's always the way, isn't it? If it isn't the operator cutting in to tell you your time's up, it's the power of a supernova waning and your trans-dimensional projection cutting out just at the wrong moment."
"Doctor," Rose says with loving exasperation.
"Oh! Right." He turns to face her properly and takes her other hand in his free one. "Rose Tyler," he says, "I love you."
She smiles, the biggest, broadest smile she can ever remember having. "I know," she tells him fondly.
"And hey! We've met in a train station. Did you know J.K. Rowling's parents met in a train station? Good omen, that."
Rose is amused. "Did you really need an omen?"
"Nah. But it can't hurt. Besides, it was a good excuse to land in Paddington. Now all we need is a bear…."
The two of them disappear into the TARDIS, and as the next wave of commuters filters in, the police box fades away.
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: Rose's morning commute is interrupted by a very familiar face.
Warnings: Fluff
Disclaimer: Much as I might like them to be, none of these characters are mine. I have, however, been on the tube platform in question. The restaurant, too.
Author's Notes: Written here in my hotel room in London, where I can look out the window at Paddington Station. It was just too good a chance to pass up. Thanks to wendymr and dark_aegis for beta services, and to joely_jo and sensiblecat for a place to stay when we go into the north of England tomorrow, and for lovely company at the Globe theater last weekend.
Paddington Station is not where she expected to see him again. Not that she expected to anyway; 'impossible' is a powerful word, after all. But if he was going to come to her new home in her new London, she'd have expected him to show up somewhere less…public. In front of Pete's house, maybe. Her office in Canary Wharf. One of the restaurants she frequents. (She's particularly fond of the Garfunkel's next door to Paddington. Not because the food is great-it's no better than okay-but because it's reasonably convenient to her flat and the people are friendly and it drives her nouveau-riche mother batty.)
And yet there it is, the familiar police box, sitting on the platform for the Hammersmith and City Line. The Doctor, in a tube station.
The door opens and she holds her breath, feeling obscurely as though the only thing that will make this real is if she hopes hard enough. Like believing in fairies to make Tinkerbell well again, she thinks wildly, and almost lets the held breath go in a snort of near-hysterical laughter.
When he emerges, his eyes immediately go to her as if he knows exactly where to look, despite the fact that it's morning rush hour, the platform is crowded with standing commuters waiting for the tube, and she's half-behind the Oyster Card reader, wallet still open from where she'd tapped her card and not yet put it away. He smiles, that familiar grin that lights up the whole place, and suddenly she can breathe again. His arms open invitingly, and she hurls herself into them, laughing and crying as he whirls her around. The commuters standing around them simply step out of the way. They're Londoners, after all; nothing fazes them.
"How-" she begins to ask as he puts her down, but she's interrupted by a deep, long, intense kiss. She responds, holding him as tightly as he's holding her. A dream, she thinks as he nips gently at her lower lip. It has to be.
He pinches her arm sharply, and she breaks away, startled. "Ouch!" she yelps.
"See? Not a dream." He gathers her back to him and leans his forehead against hers. "I thought it was impossible," he murmurs. "Turns out I was wrong. Just very, very, veryvery, very very very difficult. It took me a long time to work out how to get here."
"How long?"
A corner of his mouth quirks up in a self-deprecating smile. "Seventy-two years."
"Seventy-two?" Rose boggles. He was still looking for her after that long? Her heart does an odd little skip-beat flip at the thought. "It's only been three years for me."
"I know. I tried to come back earlier, but, well, it's not so easy to land smack on the dot when crossing the Void. I was careful to check the date before I contacted you, though. Didn't want to put myself into the time-line and find out it'd been as long for you as it had been for me." Rose doesn't answer for a moment, and his smile fades. "Did I wait too long?" he asks quietly.
"No!" she blurts, horrified. "Of course not!"
The smile comes back, more radiant than ever. "Fantastic!"
And now she laughs, caught up in the joy of seeing him again and the sudden release of the tension and unhappiness she'd carried with her since the day she'd leant against a cold, white wall and sobbed. He laughs too, and hugs her tightly to him again. A few commuters give her sidelong looks, disapproving of such an emotional display in a public place, and it only makes her laugh louder.
The tube comes into both sides of the platform almost at the same time, westbound and eastbound, and she and the Doctor are pressed against each other as the mass of commuters separate into two groups, piling onto their respective carriages. "Like chromosomes during meiosis," the Doctor murmurs in her ear, and she giggles some more. A minute or so later, the platform is empty and the trains have left in a whoosh of air and a deafening rumble. The only ones left are the two of them.
He loosens his hold on her just enough to look into her face. "Did I mention," he said, "that it also travels through time? And across dimensions? And, not so incidentally, to the places you need to go to settle your affairs and say goodbye?"
"This is goodbye, then." It's not a question. Seventy-two years of searching to get him across this once; she can't imagine they'll ever be able to come back.
"Yeah." He searches her face, uncharacteristically serious. "No coming back, Rose. This is it, I'm afraid. That all right?"
She takes a deep breath, then places her hands on his cheeks, framing his face. "I told you before: I made my choice, and it's you. Mum's got Pete and litle Anna, and Mickey's got Jake-"
"Oh, the wind sets that way, does it?" the Doctor interrupts, eyebrows lifting.
"Seems he was just waiting for the right bloke to come along as well." Rose grins, but then sobers again. "A couple of days to quit my job, say goodbye to my family and friends, and pack up my flat, and then I can walk into the TARDIS with you and never look back."
"Are you sure?" he presses. "Really, really sure?"
Rose sighs, glancing away and letting her hands drop to rest against his chest. "There's no place for me here, Doctor. Mickey and Mum were replacing people who had died, like stepping into the driver's seat of a used car. There never was a Rose Tyler. I'm having to carve a spot for myself, wedging my way into a space that's the right size for a Yorkie, but not for me." She looks up, meets his eyes again. "Besides, being with you-travelling with you-that's all I've wanted to do since you first asked me. I said no to you once out of a sense of responsibility to my family. I won't do it again."
His eyes warm, their corners crinkling with delight, and he bends to kiss her again. Though this one is shorter and gentler than the earlier one, it's no less powerful, and Rose knows that it's acceptance and promise all in one. "All right, then," he says, taking her hand. "Let's go."
Together they walk toward the TARDIS, fingers intertwined, grinning at each other like fools. The Doctor unlocks the door and starts to push it open, but stops and spins around, startling her. "Oh!" he says. "I forgot!"
"Forgot what?" she asks, frowning.
"What I started to say to you. I was right in the middle of a sentence, and I never got to finish. But that's always the way, isn't it? If it isn't the operator cutting in to tell you your time's up, it's the power of a supernova waning and your trans-dimensional projection cutting out just at the wrong moment."
"Doctor," Rose says with loving exasperation.
"Oh! Right." He turns to face her properly and takes her other hand in his free one. "Rose Tyler," he says, "I love you."
She smiles, the biggest, broadest smile she can ever remember having. "I know," she tells him fondly.
"And hey! We've met in a train station. Did you know J.K. Rowling's parents met in a train station? Good omen, that."
Rose is amused. "Did you really need an omen?"
"Nah. But it can't hurt. Besides, it was a good excuse to land in Paddington. Now all we need is a bear…."
The two of them disappear into the TARDIS, and as the next wave of commuters filters in, the police box fades away.