I Am He and He Is Me (4/4) Ten/Rose Post EoT2
Chapter Four - Here Comes The Sun
Little darling, it's been a long, cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun,
Here comes the sun,
And I say "It's all right"
Little darling, the smile returning to their faces.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun,
Here comes the sun,
And I say "It's all right"
George Harrison
At last they dressed and stepped out of the TARDIS. There was a moment of hesitation, brief but significant, on the threshold. One step, and he would be walking away from his former life, the chaos and danger and running around to hide the gaping wound at the heart of his being.
The voices in his mind were silent now. Sleeping - they’d never completely disappear but with his declaration of his feelings for Rose they seemed to have retreated. Their work was done and now they were leaving the two of them with the privacy they’d craved.
So, a human life. It was better than nothing - and very much better, he was beginning to realise now, than what had immediately preceded it. Any new start had the seeds of an adventure in it.
“Well?” Rose prompted. “Gonna stand there all day?”
He glanced backward, and laid his hand on the exterior of the little ship.
“Just a box,” he remarked, looking up at it.
“No spare power yet for a chameleon circuit,” she explained.
“Have to see what we can do about that,” he said. “Although,” he admitted, “they’ve never really been my strong point.”
“She is bigger on the inside, though.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “The two of you did a pretty good job.”
“Him, mostly,” said Rose. “He was down here a lot. Sort of meditating, trying to get closer to you.”
“And I kept running away,” he murmured. “’Cos I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“If Donna heard you say that, she’d give you a slap.”
“I expect she would. Well, that’s one thing I tried to get right. Can’t guarantee anything, but at worst she can be miserable in comfort.”
“Oh, don’t say that!”
She began to lead him up the stairs. Apparently, they were in the cellar of the Tyler mansion, which he’d last seen overrun with Cybermen and terrified party guests. “Didn’t the other Jackie die down here?” he asked.
She paused, looked back at him a minute. “Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Not if it doesn’t matter to you.”
What else was she going to ask him? He couldn’t help wondering what the psychic link had picked up. He’d worked very hard to keep some of it private, things like bedding Queen Elizabeth which, frankly, he’d done for all the wrong reasons, and he knew it didn’t do him any credit. Bowie Base, he was fairly confident, he’d managed to lock away - even from himself, though Wilf’s gentle, persistent questioning back in the café had opened up a crack.
But, once all the stuff with the Master started, experiences and emotions had flooded over him so powerfully that he doubted if anything would have kept them contained. He rather wished he’d used his own fob watch.
Then he thought about the way they’d made love. So grounded in the moment, so completely physical and simple, in the best possible way. He was looking forward, he realised, to being a less complicated species. Endorphins coursed through his bloodstream, and he felt a glow of peace and contentment that had been unfamiliar to him for a very long time. A willingness to drink in the wonder of what was happening, and leave the explanations and the analysis until later.
“What was it like when I came back?” he asked.
“Very quiet, really,” she replied. “He went into a bit of a trance and lay down and there was a glow, and then you just sort of…changed.”
He noticed the change of pronoun with a certain pleasure. “He’s not gone away, you know,” he told her. “Doesn’t work like that. More like we split into two and you got all the good bits. I made sure of that.”
“And left yourself with nothing,” she said, almost angrily. “How could I leave you like that? This isn’t about me, it’s about you. What you needed, and you’d never take for yourself.”
They reached a spacious utility room and through the window he could see the dawn of a new world beginning to break. “I’d like to go outside,” he said. “Look up at the sky and count the stars before they start to fade away.”
“Suits me,” she told him. “Should’ve brought your coat. You’ll feel the cold more, now you’re human.”
“Then you’ll just have to hold me tighter, won’t you?” he said, and clasped his arms around her waist. Framed in the doorway, surrounded by the unglamorous paraphernalia of recycling bins, firewood and Wellington boots, they kissed long and hard. He wondered if he’d ever be able to say often enough how much she meant to him. And how he’d managed to stop himself from saying it before.
When they were finally done and ready to go out, she asked, “Will there be another one? Over there, in the other world?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Another Doctor, another TARDIS. The story goes on. I’ve just been shunted into a siding.”
“Oi!” she said, thumping him, before she reached for the latch and opened the door.
“And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he added, rapidly. With a creak the door opened, letting in a rush of early morning air. He saw a large lawn frosted with dew, tasted the atmosphere (just a teensy little bit more nitrogen) and drank in the silence, filled with such potential, as the world began to emerge from the chrysalis of night into a new day. Another circuit of the parent star, filled with so much potential.
So much to see, so much to do.
Except…the exploring would be different here. He hadn’t asked, but he could tell from what he’d seen of the little TARDIS that they wouldn’t be going anywhere for quite a while - unless they took a bus.
Didn’t matter. Wherever you were, there was always something to see - an interesting flower, or a beautifully rounded and speckled pebble, or a fleeting trick of the light. Something to make you go, “Ooh, look at that!” and delight in having another pair of eyes to share it with. He’d forgotten that, or maybe he’d just locked it away in the consciousness that was now returning to him.
You could do all the exploring you liked, or you could just go for a walk on the beach after lunch, but either way, the best bit of the journey was the coming home. Home to firelight and tea and cakes, chops for tea. But more than that. Coming home to yourself, to your house of belonging, the missing half of your heart and soul.
“Come on!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s run!”
And, together, laughing, they ran across the grass towards the horizon, just because they were together, as it should be, and they could.
.
Little darling, it's been a long, cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun,
Here comes the sun,
And I say "It's all right"
Little darling, the smile returning to their faces.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun,
Here comes the sun,
And I say "It's all right"
George Harrison
At last they dressed and stepped out of the TARDIS. There was a moment of hesitation, brief but significant, on the threshold. One step, and he would be walking away from his former life, the chaos and danger and running around to hide the gaping wound at the heart of his being.
The voices in his mind were silent now. Sleeping - they’d never completely disappear but with his declaration of his feelings for Rose they seemed to have retreated. Their work was done and now they were leaving the two of them with the privacy they’d craved.
So, a human life. It was better than nothing - and very much better, he was beginning to realise now, than what had immediately preceded it. Any new start had the seeds of an adventure in it.
“Well?” Rose prompted. “Gonna stand there all day?”
He glanced backward, and laid his hand on the exterior of the little ship.
“Just a box,” he remarked, looking up at it.
“No spare power yet for a chameleon circuit,” she explained.
“Have to see what we can do about that,” he said. “Although,” he admitted, “they’ve never really been my strong point.”
“She is bigger on the inside, though.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “The two of you did a pretty good job.”
“Him, mostly,” said Rose. “He was down here a lot. Sort of meditating, trying to get closer to you.”
“And I kept running away,” he murmured. “’Cos I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“If Donna heard you say that, she’d give you a slap.”
“I expect she would. Well, that’s one thing I tried to get right. Can’t guarantee anything, but at worst she can be miserable in comfort.”
“Oh, don’t say that!”
She began to lead him up the stairs. Apparently, they were in the cellar of the Tyler mansion, which he’d last seen overrun with Cybermen and terrified party guests. “Didn’t the other Jackie die down here?” he asked.
She paused, looked back at him a minute. “Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Not if it doesn’t matter to you.”
What else was she going to ask him? He couldn’t help wondering what the psychic link had picked up. He’d worked very hard to keep some of it private, things like bedding Queen Elizabeth which, frankly, he’d done for all the wrong reasons, and he knew it didn’t do him any credit. Bowie Base, he was fairly confident, he’d managed to lock away - even from himself, though Wilf’s gentle, persistent questioning back in the café had opened up a crack.
But, once all the stuff with the Master started, experiences and emotions had flooded over him so powerfully that he doubted if anything would have kept them contained. He rather wished he’d used his own fob watch.
Then he thought about the way they’d made love. So grounded in the moment, so completely physical and simple, in the best possible way. He was looking forward, he realised, to being a less complicated species. Endorphins coursed through his bloodstream, and he felt a glow of peace and contentment that had been unfamiliar to him for a very long time. A willingness to drink in the wonder of what was happening, and leave the explanations and the analysis until later.
“What was it like when I came back?” he asked.
“Very quiet, really,” she replied. “He went into a bit of a trance and lay down and there was a glow, and then you just sort of…changed.”
He noticed the change of pronoun with a certain pleasure. “He’s not gone away, you know,” he told her. “Doesn’t work like that. More like we split into two and you got all the good bits. I made sure of that.”
“And left yourself with nothing,” she said, almost angrily. “How could I leave you like that? This isn’t about me, it’s about you. What you needed, and you’d never take for yourself.”
They reached a spacious utility room and through the window he could see the dawn of a new world beginning to break. “I’d like to go outside,” he said. “Look up at the sky and count the stars before they start to fade away.”
“Suits me,” she told him. “Should’ve brought your coat. You’ll feel the cold more, now you’re human.”
“Then you’ll just have to hold me tighter, won’t you?” he said, and clasped his arms around her waist. Framed in the doorway, surrounded by the unglamorous paraphernalia of recycling bins, firewood and Wellington boots, they kissed long and hard. He wondered if he’d ever be able to say often enough how much she meant to him. And how he’d managed to stop himself from saying it before.
When they were finally done and ready to go out, she asked, “Will there be another one? Over there, in the other world?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Another Doctor, another TARDIS. The story goes on. I’ve just been shunted into a siding.”
“Oi!” she said, thumping him, before she reached for the latch and opened the door.
“And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he added, rapidly. With a creak the door opened, letting in a rush of early morning air. He saw a large lawn frosted with dew, tasted the atmosphere (just a teensy little bit more nitrogen) and drank in the silence, filled with such potential, as the world began to emerge from the chrysalis of night into a new day. Another circuit of the parent star, filled with so much potential.
So much to see, so much to do.
Except…the exploring would be different here. He hadn’t asked, but he could tell from what he’d seen of the little TARDIS that they wouldn’t be going anywhere for quite a while - unless they took a bus.
Didn’t matter. Wherever you were, there was always something to see - an interesting flower, or a beautifully rounded and speckled pebble, or a fleeting trick of the light. Something to make you go, “Ooh, look at that!” and delight in having another pair of eyes to share it with. He’d forgotten that, or maybe he’d just locked it away in the consciousness that was now returning to him.
You could do all the exploring you liked, or you could just go for a walk on the beach after lunch, but either way, the best bit of the journey was the coming home. Home to firelight and tea and cakes, chops for tea. But more than that. Coming home to yourself, to your house of belonging, the missing half of your heart and soul.
“Come on!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s run!”
And, together, laughing, they ran across the grass towards the horizon, just because they were together, as it should be, and they could.
.