Fic: After Dark (1/1)
Title: After Dark
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Dalek
Summary: There’s a reason he avoids sleep. She’s only just learning why.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing and for the title suggestion/being awesome. This was written for rallalon in thanks for this. Admittedly, there is no Jack in this fic, but, well, there is Nine. *g*
“After Dark”
By Gillian Taylor
She can’t sleep.
She’s tried. For what feels like hours she’s tried. She’s counted sheep, watched the wall, smoothed the bedclothes, shifted positions, fluffed her pillow, and stared at the ceiling. Nothing’s helped. Her mind just refuses to shut down.
Every time she’s closed her eyes she sees him. There’s a part of her that’s absolutely certain something’s wrong. He didn’t say anything before she went off to bed. Just a half-hearted grunt was the only acknowledgement she got. Maybe she did something wrong.
Adam. That’s got to be it. She invited him along and the Doctor didn’t want her to. She could read it in his eyes. But she thought she wanted the company. Human company. Not because the Doctor wasn’t enough - he was - but because there were some things an alien just couldn't understand. She wanted…what?
A boyfriend? God. What was she thinking? Meet a pretty boy, bit full of himself - okay, a lot full of himself - then raise his hopes by flirting? Take him home? Parade him in front of the Doctor? Try to get the Doctor jealous?
She’s such a teenager. She makes that single word into a curse in her mind. The Doctor trusted her to do the right thing. Then she goes and does something like this. No, wait, it’s worse than that. What if it isn’t Adam who’s the problem?
What if it’s her?
She’s the one who released that Dalek. She’s the one who good as killed over two hundred people. She’s the one who accused him of turning into something terrible. Then she invites someone onto the TARDIS - okay, he agreed, but she knows he wouldn’t’ve agreed if she hadn’t suggested it. Brilliant play, Rose. Well done.
Heaving a sigh, she shifts onto her back and blinks at the ceiling. That’s got to be what’s keeping her awake. Guilt.
Might as well get this over with. She kicks herself free of the sheets and climbs out of bed. She’ll apologise and everything’ll go back to the way it was. The two of them against the universe. Yeah, Adam’s here, but that doesn't count. At least not right now.
She shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she leaves her bedroom intent on finding the Doctor. This time of night he’s probably still in the console room.
However, when she finds him, any desire to apologise flees her mind. He’s standing next to the console, but he’s so still. He should be moving, tinkering, doing something other than this. His face could be etched in granite for all the expression that crosses it, his eyes mere flecks of ice. The way he holds himself practically screams ‘leave me alone’. He should look forbidding, dangerous, but to her he looks sad. Like the weight of the universe is weighing him down and he’s truly feeling it.
Like he’s the last of his kind.
It’s that last thought that brings her up short. She was too hung up over her own worries that she completely forgot about his. The Dalek was a reminder of his past. The reminder of why his people died. He told her that he’d know if another Time Lord survived and that it felt like he was alone.
What sort of friend is she to leave him to this?
She takes a hesitant step forward and pauses, braced for any sort of rejection. Maybe he doesn’t want company. But he doesn’t react. Just stands there. It seems like his eyes are vacant, like he’s not there.
Pushing caution to the side, she hurries to his side. He still doesn’t react, lost in some interior world.
“Doctor?” she asks quietly, touching his elbow.
“You should be asleep.” His voice is gravelly, almost thick with what she wants to call exhaustion. But that can’t be right. She’s never seen him tired. He’s always acted like sleeping, like rest, is beneath him. A stupid human ape thing.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies with a shrug. “Thought I’d come an’ see you. That all right?”
He looks like he’s torn between saying no and yes. “Fine.”
“Are you-“ she begins and cuts herself off almost immediately, focusing on her feet. She doesn’t want to pry, but she does. Just the way he’s acting is setting off mental warning bells.
“What?”
She shakes her head, losing courage. “Nothing.”
She’s actually somewhat startled to feel his cool fingers touching her chin, urging her to look up at him. “Must be something. Wouldn’t’ve said something if it wasn’t. So out with it.”
“Are you all right?” She can't resist him. Even though she knows he won't answer the question truthfully.
“Course I am! Fine, me. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks and there it is. A mask slipping into place, walls coming down, and he’s back to the way he normally seems. All manic energy and smiles. He’s not even touching her any more and the distance between them seems almost infinite.
“Jus’ thought that today - it was hard, yeah? Long in all sorts of ways and, well, I wanted to say that, um, I’m sorry.” Sorry for releasing that Dalek. Sorry for bringing along Adam. Sorry for not being here earlier.
“What for?” He sounds almost startled, like he wasn’t expecting her apology.
She just looks at him, letting him read her answer in her eyes.
“Oh. Not your fault, yeah? ‘S who you are. Compassionate. An’ that’s all right. Fantastic, even. You saved the day, Rose Tyler. You taught a monster how to feel.” Something in his voice seems to imply that they might not be talking about the Dalek any more.
“I jus’ touched it,” she says softly. “Set it free.”
There’s affection in his eyes as he replies, “Yes, you did.”
“All those people died because of me,” she whispers.
He doesn’t offer her empty platitudes. But somehow what began as her attempting to comfort him turns into him comforting her. He pulls her into a hug and she lets herself relax against his chest, listening to the beat of his hearts.
“What ‘bout you?” she finally asks.
“What about me?”
She releases a frustrated breath. She isn’t explaining herself properly, but how can she when she doesn’t really know what she wants to ask? “You know that I’m here, yeah? If you want to talk?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. Then again, she didn’t really expect him to. Bare his soul and his worries to someone like her? She’s as much a murderer as that Dalek. As much as…
He thinks himself to be.
She tightens her hold on him, willing him to take comfort from her presence. It might be her imagination, but she thinks she feels him press a kiss against her hair.
They stay like that for an unknown amount of time, wrapped in each other’s arms. When she finally yawns, she’s actually rather surprised by the reminder of what brought them here.
“Right, then. Off to bed with you,” he says, tightening his arms for a moment before letting her go.
“What about you, then, Doctor? Aren’t you gonna go to bed?” she asks.
“Nope. Don’t need sleep, me.”
Liar. “Yeah, you do.” He doesn’t need a lot of sleep, true, but after a day like today? If she feels like she could sleep for a week, how must he feel?
But what if he doesn’t sleep because he’s afraid of what he might see in his dreams? Wasn’t that part of what was keeping her awake? Guilt, yes, but also fear of what she’d see when she finally closed her eyes? What if that’s what he feels all the time, in his sleep as well as every second he's awake?
“Come on.” She grabs his hand and tugs; he comes with her, even though he gives her a questioning look. “You need to rest. An’ I’m gonna make sure you do. Need someone to look after you, you do. Well, that’s what you’ve got me for.”
He seems rather bemused, but he lets her pull him along towards the bedrooms. She hesitates for a moment. Should she take him to his room? Or hers? Biting her lower lip, she comes to a decision. His room. He’ll be more comfortable there.
The TARDIS seems to agree because the next door they come to, rather than being her room, is his. While she’s familiar with the door, and has even had glimpses of the interior, she’s never actually been inside his room. That’s almost too intimate, despite their closeness. Her earlier bravado quells and she lets go of his hand. He opens the door and steps inside, but she doesn’t follow.
“Thought you were going to make sure I rest,” he says, turning around once - she assumes - he realises she isn’t following. “C’mon in, Rose. Nothing in here that you haven’t seen before.”
Yes, there is. She swiftly cuts off that thought before it can go any further. “I-“
Once she steps inside the room, he smiles at her, apparently satisfied. “I’ll jus’ get changed,” he says and disappears through a door she hadn’t noticed before.
Now that she has the opportunity, she examines the room. It’s all dark colours: wooden furniture, brown bed-coverings, splashes of crimson accents here and there. It’s so very him. There’s a desk along one wall covered in books and the remains of what looks like some sort of mechanical device.
But most of her attention is on his bed. It doesn’t look like he sleeps much. The edges of the bedclothes are military-straight. The only indication that someone might use the bed is a slight rumpling of the duvet along one edge, presumably where he sits to put on his shoes.
“Rose?”
His voice startles her out of her contemplations. “Yeah?” she asks, turning to face him.
All rational thought flees in the sight of all that bare skin. He’s wearing loose pyjama bottoms, but his chest has been left bare. There are marks on his skin and it occurs to her that something else happened to him today beyond the Dalek.
She doesn’t even register the command to move before she’s standing in front of him, her hand hovering over the marks. “What happened?” she asks.
“Had a bit of a disagreement with Van Statten,” he replies.
“He hurt you.” It’s not a question. Suddenly, despite everything that’s happened, she wishes she hadn’t stopped the Dalek from killing Van Statten. What was it, then? Torture? Some sort of perverted medical device? No. She can’t dwell on it. Over and done with. They’re here, they’re safe, and they’re both alive.
Unlike all those other people who died in that underground base.
“Nah. He tried. Thought he was clever, but he wasn’t. I’m all right.”
“I can get something from the medbay if you like?” she offers.
“Doesn’t even hurt,” he tells her. “Be gone by morning.”
Would he lie to her? She searches his eyes, but can only see truth reflected in them. “Okay. You should get to bed.”
There’s a quirk of his lips. “So should you.”
Yes, she should. But she’s not leaving yet. “Got to take care of you, remember? How do I know that you won’t jus’ get up an’ go back to the console room to tinker as soon as I’m gone?”
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” he asks, amused.
She just shakes her head and watches him pull back the duvet and slide underneath.
“Gonna tuck me in now?” He gives her a challenging look as she moves to the side of the bed closest to him.
“D’you want me to?” she retorts.
He laughs softly. “Maybe.”
Nice of him to be clear. She smiles slightly as she adjusts the duvet so it covers him almost to his neck. “There. All tucked in. Sleep well, Doctor.”
She starts to pull away when he captures her wrist.
“Stay.”
She doesn’t see his lips move, but she heard the word all the same. She doesn’t particularly relish returning to her own bed and facing the demons she knows wait for her behind her eyes. Perhaps he feels the same. Maybe if she stays here, just for tonight, the dreams won’t come for either of them.
Perhaps they’ll find peace.
“All right,” she says. He edges over, giving her enough room to slip under the covers beside him.
The lights dim around them and she suspects that the Doctor must’ve given the TARDIS some sort of non-verbal command. Either that or the old girl is trying to give them a hint. She smiles and turns onto her side, barely able to make out the form of the Doctor beside her.
“Rose?” he asks.
“Mmm?”
There’s movement and a dark shape looms above her, though she feels no fear. “Thanks,” he says and she feels the ghost of a kiss against her lips before it disappears.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, edging closer to him so she can rest her head against his shoulder. One of his arms comes around her and, thus secured, she lets her eyes close.
She has no unpleasant dreams that night.
She learns in the morning that neither did he.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, time_and_chips, & hearts_in_time
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Dalek
Summary: There’s a reason he avoids sleep. She’s only just learning why.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing and for the title suggestion/being awesome. This was written for rallalon in thanks for this. Admittedly, there is no Jack in this fic, but, well, there is Nine. *g*
“After Dark”
By Gillian Taylor
She can’t sleep.
She’s tried. For what feels like hours she’s tried. She’s counted sheep, watched the wall, smoothed the bedclothes, shifted positions, fluffed her pillow, and stared at the ceiling. Nothing’s helped. Her mind just refuses to shut down.
Every time she’s closed her eyes she sees him. There’s a part of her that’s absolutely certain something’s wrong. He didn’t say anything before she went off to bed. Just a half-hearted grunt was the only acknowledgement she got. Maybe she did something wrong.
Adam. That’s got to be it. She invited him along and the Doctor didn’t want her to. She could read it in his eyes. But she thought she wanted the company. Human company. Not because the Doctor wasn’t enough - he was - but because there were some things an alien just couldn't understand. She wanted…what?
A boyfriend? God. What was she thinking? Meet a pretty boy, bit full of himself - okay, a lot full of himself - then raise his hopes by flirting? Take him home? Parade him in front of the Doctor? Try to get the Doctor jealous?
She’s such a teenager. She makes that single word into a curse in her mind. The Doctor trusted her to do the right thing. Then she goes and does something like this. No, wait, it’s worse than that. What if it isn’t Adam who’s the problem?
What if it’s her?
She’s the one who released that Dalek. She’s the one who good as killed over two hundred people. She’s the one who accused him of turning into something terrible. Then she invites someone onto the TARDIS - okay, he agreed, but she knows he wouldn’t’ve agreed if she hadn’t suggested it. Brilliant play, Rose. Well done.
Heaving a sigh, she shifts onto her back and blinks at the ceiling. That’s got to be what’s keeping her awake. Guilt.
Might as well get this over with. She kicks herself free of the sheets and climbs out of bed. She’ll apologise and everything’ll go back to the way it was. The two of them against the universe. Yeah, Adam’s here, but that doesn't count. At least not right now.
She shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she leaves her bedroom intent on finding the Doctor. This time of night he’s probably still in the console room.
However, when she finds him, any desire to apologise flees her mind. He’s standing next to the console, but he’s so still. He should be moving, tinkering, doing something other than this. His face could be etched in granite for all the expression that crosses it, his eyes mere flecks of ice. The way he holds himself practically screams ‘leave me alone’. He should look forbidding, dangerous, but to her he looks sad. Like the weight of the universe is weighing him down and he’s truly feeling it.
Like he’s the last of his kind.
It’s that last thought that brings her up short. She was too hung up over her own worries that she completely forgot about his. The Dalek was a reminder of his past. The reminder of why his people died. He told her that he’d know if another Time Lord survived and that it felt like he was alone.
What sort of friend is she to leave him to this?
She takes a hesitant step forward and pauses, braced for any sort of rejection. Maybe he doesn’t want company. But he doesn’t react. Just stands there. It seems like his eyes are vacant, like he’s not there.
Pushing caution to the side, she hurries to his side. He still doesn’t react, lost in some interior world.
“Doctor?” she asks quietly, touching his elbow.
“You should be asleep.” His voice is gravelly, almost thick with what she wants to call exhaustion. But that can’t be right. She’s never seen him tired. He’s always acted like sleeping, like rest, is beneath him. A stupid human ape thing.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies with a shrug. “Thought I’d come an’ see you. That all right?”
He looks like he’s torn between saying no and yes. “Fine.”
“Are you-“ she begins and cuts herself off almost immediately, focusing on her feet. She doesn’t want to pry, but she does. Just the way he’s acting is setting off mental warning bells.
“What?”
She shakes her head, losing courage. “Nothing.”
She’s actually somewhat startled to feel his cool fingers touching her chin, urging her to look up at him. “Must be something. Wouldn’t’ve said something if it wasn’t. So out with it.”
“Are you all right?” She can't resist him. Even though she knows he won't answer the question truthfully.
“Course I am! Fine, me. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks and there it is. A mask slipping into place, walls coming down, and he’s back to the way he normally seems. All manic energy and smiles. He’s not even touching her any more and the distance between them seems almost infinite.
“Jus’ thought that today - it was hard, yeah? Long in all sorts of ways and, well, I wanted to say that, um, I’m sorry.” Sorry for releasing that Dalek. Sorry for bringing along Adam. Sorry for not being here earlier.
“What for?” He sounds almost startled, like he wasn’t expecting her apology.
She just looks at him, letting him read her answer in her eyes.
“Oh. Not your fault, yeah? ‘S who you are. Compassionate. An’ that’s all right. Fantastic, even. You saved the day, Rose Tyler. You taught a monster how to feel.” Something in his voice seems to imply that they might not be talking about the Dalek any more.
“I jus’ touched it,” she says softly. “Set it free.”
There’s affection in his eyes as he replies, “Yes, you did.”
“All those people died because of me,” she whispers.
He doesn’t offer her empty platitudes. But somehow what began as her attempting to comfort him turns into him comforting her. He pulls her into a hug and she lets herself relax against his chest, listening to the beat of his hearts.
“What ‘bout you?” she finally asks.
“What about me?”
She releases a frustrated breath. She isn’t explaining herself properly, but how can she when she doesn’t really know what she wants to ask? “You know that I’m here, yeah? If you want to talk?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. Then again, she didn’t really expect him to. Bare his soul and his worries to someone like her? She’s as much a murderer as that Dalek. As much as…
He thinks himself to be.
She tightens her hold on him, willing him to take comfort from her presence. It might be her imagination, but she thinks she feels him press a kiss against her hair.
They stay like that for an unknown amount of time, wrapped in each other’s arms. When she finally yawns, she’s actually rather surprised by the reminder of what brought them here.
“Right, then. Off to bed with you,” he says, tightening his arms for a moment before letting her go.
“What about you, then, Doctor? Aren’t you gonna go to bed?” she asks.
“Nope. Don’t need sleep, me.”
Liar. “Yeah, you do.” He doesn’t need a lot of sleep, true, but after a day like today? If she feels like she could sleep for a week, how must he feel?
But what if he doesn’t sleep because he’s afraid of what he might see in his dreams? Wasn’t that part of what was keeping her awake? Guilt, yes, but also fear of what she’d see when she finally closed her eyes? What if that’s what he feels all the time, in his sleep as well as every second he's awake?
“Come on.” She grabs his hand and tugs; he comes with her, even though he gives her a questioning look. “You need to rest. An’ I’m gonna make sure you do. Need someone to look after you, you do. Well, that’s what you’ve got me for.”
He seems rather bemused, but he lets her pull him along towards the bedrooms. She hesitates for a moment. Should she take him to his room? Or hers? Biting her lower lip, she comes to a decision. His room. He’ll be more comfortable there.
The TARDIS seems to agree because the next door they come to, rather than being her room, is his. While she’s familiar with the door, and has even had glimpses of the interior, she’s never actually been inside his room. That’s almost too intimate, despite their closeness. Her earlier bravado quells and she lets go of his hand. He opens the door and steps inside, but she doesn’t follow.
“Thought you were going to make sure I rest,” he says, turning around once - she assumes - he realises she isn’t following. “C’mon in, Rose. Nothing in here that you haven’t seen before.”
Yes, there is. She swiftly cuts off that thought before it can go any further. “I-“
Once she steps inside the room, he smiles at her, apparently satisfied. “I’ll jus’ get changed,” he says and disappears through a door she hadn’t noticed before.
Now that she has the opportunity, she examines the room. It’s all dark colours: wooden furniture, brown bed-coverings, splashes of crimson accents here and there. It’s so very him. There’s a desk along one wall covered in books and the remains of what looks like some sort of mechanical device.
But most of her attention is on his bed. It doesn’t look like he sleeps much. The edges of the bedclothes are military-straight. The only indication that someone might use the bed is a slight rumpling of the duvet along one edge, presumably where he sits to put on his shoes.
“Rose?”
His voice startles her out of her contemplations. “Yeah?” she asks, turning to face him.
All rational thought flees in the sight of all that bare skin. He’s wearing loose pyjama bottoms, but his chest has been left bare. There are marks on his skin and it occurs to her that something else happened to him today beyond the Dalek.
She doesn’t even register the command to move before she’s standing in front of him, her hand hovering over the marks. “What happened?” she asks.
“Had a bit of a disagreement with Van Statten,” he replies.
“He hurt you.” It’s not a question. Suddenly, despite everything that’s happened, she wishes she hadn’t stopped the Dalek from killing Van Statten. What was it, then? Torture? Some sort of perverted medical device? No. She can’t dwell on it. Over and done with. They’re here, they’re safe, and they’re both alive.
Unlike all those other people who died in that underground base.
“Nah. He tried. Thought he was clever, but he wasn’t. I’m all right.”
“I can get something from the medbay if you like?” she offers.
“Doesn’t even hurt,” he tells her. “Be gone by morning.”
Would he lie to her? She searches his eyes, but can only see truth reflected in them. “Okay. You should get to bed.”
There’s a quirk of his lips. “So should you.”
Yes, she should. But she’s not leaving yet. “Got to take care of you, remember? How do I know that you won’t jus’ get up an’ go back to the console room to tinker as soon as I’m gone?”
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” he asks, amused.
She just shakes her head and watches him pull back the duvet and slide underneath.
“Gonna tuck me in now?” He gives her a challenging look as she moves to the side of the bed closest to him.
“D’you want me to?” she retorts.
He laughs softly. “Maybe.”
Nice of him to be clear. She smiles slightly as she adjusts the duvet so it covers him almost to his neck. “There. All tucked in. Sleep well, Doctor.”
She starts to pull away when he captures her wrist.
“Stay.”
She doesn’t see his lips move, but she heard the word all the same. She doesn’t particularly relish returning to her own bed and facing the demons she knows wait for her behind her eyes. Perhaps he feels the same. Maybe if she stays here, just for tonight, the dreams won’t come for either of them.
Perhaps they’ll find peace.
“All right,” she says. He edges over, giving her enough room to slip under the covers beside him.
The lights dim around them and she suspects that the Doctor must’ve given the TARDIS some sort of non-verbal command. Either that or the old girl is trying to give them a hint. She smiles and turns onto her side, barely able to make out the form of the Doctor beside her.
“Rose?” he asks.
“Mmm?”
There’s movement and a dark shape looms above her, though she feels no fear. “Thanks,” he says and she feels the ghost of a kiss against her lips before it disappears.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, edging closer to him so she can rest her head against his shoulder. One of his arms comes around her and, thus secured, she lets her eyes close.
She has no unpleasant dreams that night.
She learns in the morning that neither did he.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, time_and_chips, & hearts_in_time