Belated gift for rhipowered
Title: Start Infinity Again
Author: voleuse
Ship: Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Everything alive has its two sides.
Notes: Set after TCI, futurefic
There are moments when Rose knows she'll never get used to his new face.
As the days go by, however, those moments become few and far between.
When she's feeling especially lonely, though, she closes her eyes and listens to his voice.
And his hand slips around hers, and everything's almost just the same.
*
They're back in Rose-era London, because she does like to visit her Mum, and the Doctor is fond of a pub a few blocks over. He likes the curries, and they never laugh much when he asks for salt.
Rose rings Shireen, dodges out for a movie and girl talk, so the Doctor and Jack head out to the pub on their own.
The Doctor has the usual, and Jack gets tikka masala and the bartender's phone number.
After the third beer, Jack sits back and grins at the Doctor.
"Rose looked real happy," he muses. "Almost glowed, point of fact."
The Doctor raises his eyebrow, smiles. "The answer to your question, Jack, is no."
"Really?" Jack leans forward. "Not even--"
"Not even," the Doctor confirms.
"I have to say, Doctor, I'm a little disappointed." Then Jack's grin deepens, and his hand covers the Doctor's. "But not much."
The Doctor laughs, and Jack takes it for evasion.
He's only partially right.
*
Each time the Doctor smiles at her, Rose feels a thrill down her spine. And not because he's the Doctor, no. It's because there's a dishy bloke smiling at her, and she wouldn't be human if she didn't smile back.
In her more contemplative moments, Rose thinks she's a little bit shallow.
But then he leans closer, says they'll do whatever she wants, her heart desires.
Then, she catches her breath, and tells herself he didn't mean it like that.
*
Rose is exactly the same as she was before, the Doctor knows. Except for one, tiny, significant detail.
Before, he used to reach out, entangle their fingers together, squeeze her hand as they traded grins.
Now, she's the one to catch his hand. She slips beside him before he notices, and her thumb rubs a quick circle on the inside of his wrist. When he looks over, he hears her breath catch, and as they make eye contact, she'll touch his shoulder with her other hand.
He knows that look in her eyes, even though she's never turned it on him, even though he's never seen her use it on anyone, except for Jack.
When she does that, he isn't sure he recognizes her, quite.
Maybe his eyes have changed, too.
*
And Jackie's gone to the market, ostensibly to pick up the makings of dinner. As soon as she's out the door, however, Rose starts giggling, in a sort of horrified manner, about Howard and his fruits.
The Doctor nestles more deeply into his armchair and grins. "I'm really going to have to meet this Howard, some time."
"Howard? Really?" Rose puts her feet up on the coffee table and raises her eyebrows.
"Well, yes." He dislodges the remote control from the seat cushion, flips it between his hands. "Seems like he's important. To your mum."
Rose stares at him, and there's a smile hovering at the edges of her mouth.
Before he can parse why, exactly, Jack bursts into the room and declares he's making Irish coffee for everyone.
*
It's been three hours since Jackie went to the market. She called once, said she'd been delayed, and hung up before the Doctor could respond.
Rose's reaction to that was much closer to abject horror than amusement. Truth be told, he could have lived without having heard Jackie's giggles as she rang off.
To distract her, Jack thwapped the radio a few times and managed to find a station that played something other than synthesized drivel.
After a half an hour, however, Rose declares she likes synthesized drivel, thank you very much, and she switched the stations back to bubblegum vocals and syncopated drums. She nods firmly, and begins to dance her way around the room.
The Doctor drinks his coffee and remembers he used to like this music, too. Odd, that.
Jack laughs at Rose's exaggerated shimmy and shake, but he stands as well, crosses the room with a slink and a swagger that isn't on the beat. Somehow, it doesn't matter.
They meet in the middle of the room, and Jack catches her hand, twirls her around.
"Wanna dance?" Jack croons. It's the tone of voice the Doctor knows has made dozens upon dozens of sentient beings weak in the knees, or whatever might pass for knees.
To the Doctor's surprise, Rose shakes her head and bounces back.
"No thanks," she says. "I've already got a partner."
And she spins on her feet, once, twice, and halts in front of his armchair.
She holds out her hands, wiggles her fingers at him.
He thinks, maybe, the music isn't so bad after all.
*
It's three in the morning, and no sign of Jackie yet.
Jack's sprawled on the floor, his arms folded behind his head, his ankles propped on the coffee table. Rose sits on the floor, across from Jack, and three of the fingers on her left hand are touching the Doctor's right shoe.
He's retreated to his armchair, and had another Irish coffee. Jack and Rose have had quite a few more than one, and he closes his eyes and lets their rambling wash over him.
"She couldn't have been human, Jack," Rose protests, mid-story. "Humans can't read minds."
"Not in this century, maybe," Jack replies.
The Doctor interjects, "Actually--"
"But in the future," Jack continues, "sometimes it happens. Can I tell my story?"
"Sorry, sorry," Rose murmurs, giggling. "Go ahead."
"This girl was a mind-reader, and whip-smart to boot." Jack grins at the ceiling. "When she and her brother broke out, I was in the hangar...inspecting an engine."
"Stealing the blueprints, you mean," Rose notes.
"And I figured, hey, they don't seem like the bad guys. So I helped them out." Then Jack laughs. "Not that they needed it. She knocked out the guards like she was sneezing."
Rose strokes the Doctor's ankle, idly. "And her brother?"
"Her brother?" Jack rolls to his side, props himself up on his elbow. "He was cute, too."
*
Sometime before dawn, she drifts to sleep, her head leaning against the Doctor's armchair.
When she wakes, she's in his arms, and he's carrying her somewhere. "Doctor?"
"Shhh," he says. "More comfortable."
And then he's laying her down in her bed, pulling her shoes off. She squirms a little, but doesn't protest when he tucks her blanket around her.
She blinks, and he's staring down at her, with an expression she can't translate.
He bows, presses a kiss on her forehead, on her cheek. Then he's backing away, out, and he pulls the door shut as he leaves.
Maybe this time, Rose thinks to herself, maybe this time they will.
And she falls asleep hoping.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XLIV.
Crossposted to my fic LJ.
Author: voleuse
Ship: Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Everything alive has its two sides.
Notes: Set after TCI, futurefic
There are moments when Rose knows she'll never get used to his new face.
As the days go by, however, those moments become few and far between.
When she's feeling especially lonely, though, she closes her eyes and listens to his voice.
And his hand slips around hers, and everything's almost just the same.
*
They're back in Rose-era London, because she does like to visit her Mum, and the Doctor is fond of a pub a few blocks over. He likes the curries, and they never laugh much when he asks for salt.
Rose rings Shireen, dodges out for a movie and girl talk, so the Doctor and Jack head out to the pub on their own.
The Doctor has the usual, and Jack gets tikka masala and the bartender's phone number.
After the third beer, Jack sits back and grins at the Doctor.
"Rose looked real happy," he muses. "Almost glowed, point of fact."
The Doctor raises his eyebrow, smiles. "The answer to your question, Jack, is no."
"Really?" Jack leans forward. "Not even--"
"Not even," the Doctor confirms.
"I have to say, Doctor, I'm a little disappointed." Then Jack's grin deepens, and his hand covers the Doctor's. "But not much."
The Doctor laughs, and Jack takes it for evasion.
He's only partially right.
*
Each time the Doctor smiles at her, Rose feels a thrill down her spine. And not because he's the Doctor, no. It's because there's a dishy bloke smiling at her, and she wouldn't be human if she didn't smile back.
In her more contemplative moments, Rose thinks she's a little bit shallow.
But then he leans closer, says they'll do whatever she wants, her heart desires.
Then, she catches her breath, and tells herself he didn't mean it like that.
*
Rose is exactly the same as she was before, the Doctor knows. Except for one, tiny, significant detail.
Before, he used to reach out, entangle their fingers together, squeeze her hand as they traded grins.
Now, she's the one to catch his hand. She slips beside him before he notices, and her thumb rubs a quick circle on the inside of his wrist. When he looks over, he hears her breath catch, and as they make eye contact, she'll touch his shoulder with her other hand.
He knows that look in her eyes, even though she's never turned it on him, even though he's never seen her use it on anyone, except for Jack.
When she does that, he isn't sure he recognizes her, quite.
Maybe his eyes have changed, too.
*
And Jackie's gone to the market, ostensibly to pick up the makings of dinner. As soon as she's out the door, however, Rose starts giggling, in a sort of horrified manner, about Howard and his fruits.
The Doctor nestles more deeply into his armchair and grins. "I'm really going to have to meet this Howard, some time."
"Howard? Really?" Rose puts her feet up on the coffee table and raises her eyebrows.
"Well, yes." He dislodges the remote control from the seat cushion, flips it between his hands. "Seems like he's important. To your mum."
Rose stares at him, and there's a smile hovering at the edges of her mouth.
Before he can parse why, exactly, Jack bursts into the room and declares he's making Irish coffee for everyone.
*
It's been three hours since Jackie went to the market. She called once, said she'd been delayed, and hung up before the Doctor could respond.
Rose's reaction to that was much closer to abject horror than amusement. Truth be told, he could have lived without having heard Jackie's giggles as she rang off.
To distract her, Jack thwapped the radio a few times and managed to find a station that played something other than synthesized drivel.
After a half an hour, however, Rose declares she likes synthesized drivel, thank you very much, and she switched the stations back to bubblegum vocals and syncopated drums. She nods firmly, and begins to dance her way around the room.
The Doctor drinks his coffee and remembers he used to like this music, too. Odd, that.
Jack laughs at Rose's exaggerated shimmy and shake, but he stands as well, crosses the room with a slink and a swagger that isn't on the beat. Somehow, it doesn't matter.
They meet in the middle of the room, and Jack catches her hand, twirls her around.
"Wanna dance?" Jack croons. It's the tone of voice the Doctor knows has made dozens upon dozens of sentient beings weak in the knees, or whatever might pass for knees.
To the Doctor's surprise, Rose shakes her head and bounces back.
"No thanks," she says. "I've already got a partner."
And she spins on her feet, once, twice, and halts in front of his armchair.
She holds out her hands, wiggles her fingers at him.
He thinks, maybe, the music isn't so bad after all.
*
It's three in the morning, and no sign of Jackie yet.
Jack's sprawled on the floor, his arms folded behind his head, his ankles propped on the coffee table. Rose sits on the floor, across from Jack, and three of the fingers on her left hand are touching the Doctor's right shoe.
He's retreated to his armchair, and had another Irish coffee. Jack and Rose have had quite a few more than one, and he closes his eyes and lets their rambling wash over him.
"She couldn't have been human, Jack," Rose protests, mid-story. "Humans can't read minds."
"Not in this century, maybe," Jack replies.
The Doctor interjects, "Actually--"
"But in the future," Jack continues, "sometimes it happens. Can I tell my story?"
"Sorry, sorry," Rose murmurs, giggling. "Go ahead."
"This girl was a mind-reader, and whip-smart to boot." Jack grins at the ceiling. "When she and her brother broke out, I was in the hangar...inspecting an engine."
"Stealing the blueprints, you mean," Rose notes.
"And I figured, hey, they don't seem like the bad guys. So I helped them out." Then Jack laughs. "Not that they needed it. She knocked out the guards like she was sneezing."
Rose strokes the Doctor's ankle, idly. "And her brother?"
"Her brother?" Jack rolls to his side, props himself up on his elbow. "He was cute, too."
*
Sometime before dawn, she drifts to sleep, her head leaning against the Doctor's armchair.
When she wakes, she's in his arms, and he's carrying her somewhere. "Doctor?"
"Shhh," he says. "More comfortable."
And then he's laying her down in her bed, pulling her shoes off. She squirms a little, but doesn't protest when he tucks her blanket around her.
She blinks, and he's staring down at her, with an expression she can't translate.
He bows, presses a kiss on her forehead, on her cheek. Then he's backing away, out, and he pulls the door shut as he leaves.
Maybe this time, Rose thinks to herself, maybe this time they will.
And she falls asleep hoping.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XLIV.
Crossposted to my fic LJ.