Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (27/27)
Title - Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (27/27)
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Rose, OCs
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for the kids. They're all mine.)
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - A very, very special thank-you, this time around, for everyone who came along for this journey. I appreciate each and every comment every one of you left for me, And I appreciate all the lurkers as well! There will be ficlets, many of which are written already, so this is not nearly the end of the Chaosverse. But it is the end of the first part of it.
One final, huge thank-you to
jlrpuck , who is the world's best beta and gave this a million careful readings and is a generally awesome human being. Many thanks also to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ and
bouncy_castle79 , who have both been invaluable in the writing of this fic and all subsequent fics. As long as you keep asking for Brem, you're going to keep getting Brem...
The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15 - Ch. 16 - Ch. 17 - Ch. 18 - Ch. 19 - Ch. 20 - Ch. 21 - Ch. 22 - Ch. 23 - Ch. 24 - Ch. 25 - Ch. 26
Epilogue
It was the Doctor’s idea to take everyone on a trip. “The least I can do,” he told Rose, and Rose agreed. So he rang Sarah Jane and bundled Jack and his Torchwood team onto the TARDIS and opened the TARDIS doors, after a quick trip, on a lovely, warm, pink-sand beach with palm trees and turquoise water.
“Oh, it’s fabulous!” Martha exclaimed, spinning around on the beach. “Where are we?”
“An exotic little place called the Caribbean,” answered the Doctor, wryly, and, at the obvious disappointment of his guests, scowled. “She’s been through a lot recently,” he said, gesturing at the TARDIS. “I’m not forcing her off-planet just yet.”
“The Caribbean’s not bad,” said Sarah Jane, trying to be supportive.
“Sarah Jane!” exclaimed Brem, pointing at the sea. “It’s the exact shade we painted your kitchen!”
He took them to pleasure planets fairly often, but not for extended stays, and not with so many people to watch the kids. It was virtually the honeymoon they’d never had. They spent one day entirely in bed, until they straggled to their balcony to watch the sun set over the water, wrapped in nothing but his coat, which had had a special starring role in the day’s activities. They spent other days lolling on the beach, the Doctor, astonishingly, even consenting to go about in shirtsleeves (Brem, meanwhile, stubbornly kept his jumper near him; he might consent to remove it, but it was always somewhere near him, being dragged through sand and salt water). Brem began a project to build the Most Impressive Sandcastle of All Time (he always called it by this grandiose title, offended when Owen once dismissed it as simply “the kid’s sandcastle;” Rose had punished Owen by embarrassing him by telling everyone the story of how parallel Owen had delivered Fortuna, and making it far gushier and more sentimental than Owen ever had been). Brem and his father spent hours with their heads bent together, sketching Gallifreyan equations in the wet sand with their fingers, as they tried to figure out the perfect way to pack sand into walls and turrets, the sun bringing out freckles on their skin. The Doctor held Athena’s hand firmly as they stood in the surf, he with his trousers rolled up, Athena giggling wildly as the waves knocked at her and she clung to her father. The Doctor even insisted on taking Fortuna out into the water, ducking her up and down in it, and Fortuna adored it.
On the last night of the week, they all ate on the beach, at a small restaurant whose tables were set directly in the sand. They had the place to themselves, and the kids took advantage of it, forcing their mother and grandmother to dance with them in the sand to the music being piped over the restaurant’s speakers. The Doctor refused to be coaxed, preferring to watch instead as Rose let Brem lead her through some sort of ridiculous tango to an updated version of Cuando Cuando Cuando. The tango didn’t work with the beat, but Brem looked determined to force it to. Athena was content just to let her grandmother swing her around.
He became aware suddenly that the dark-haired woman who worked for Jack was sitting next to him, holding Fortuna.
“All that work,” she said, not unkindly. “I don’t know what I expected. But she’s just an ordinary human. You must really love her.”
The Doctor looked at her. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she said.
“There’s no such thing as an ordinary human, Gwen. And, even if there were, Rose definitely isn’t it.”
Cuando Cuando Cuando had ended, and the next song began, and Brem suddenly began jumping in delight, bouncing over to his father. The Doctor sighed, the reaction to be expected, and he let himself be pulled up and over to the spot of sand where Rose was standing in bewilderment.
“It’s Juanes,” said the Doctor.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“I brought you back to Juanes!” exclaimed Brem. Jackie, pleading exhaustion, had put Athena down-although Rose noticed Jack being successful in pulling her back out to dance-and Brem was now spinning his sister enthusiastically. “I love Juanes.”
“This is new,” said Rose, even as the Doctor pulled her into the dance, one hand in hers, the other on her waist.
“It’s actually old,” he sighed. “I’m hoping he’s on the tail end of it.”
Rose listened for a second, following the Doctor’s lead automatically. “It isn’t even English. Does he even know the words?”
“Of course he does!” The Doctor frowned, offended on Brem’s behalf.
Brem must have heard her, because he bounded over immediately. “I know the words!” She should have known it would be an invitation for him to sing to her. Hoy me voy pero no.
She was surprised, however, when the Doctor joined in. No se va la herida grande que mi queda… She stared at him. He winked, suddenly pulling her closer, his voice in her ear as he sang to her. Por amarte, por mi culpa, por los besos que en el mar te di. She closed her eyes and rested her head against him. The rhythm of the song was not slow, and he had dropped her hand, both hands at her hips as he led them through it. Years in the TARDIS, and the Doctor had never spoken untranslated languages to her. Now he’d told her Gallifreyan vows and was singing to her in Spanish.
It was kind of outrageously sexy, to be honest.
The song was still playing but he was dancing her away from the lights, until the beat, and everyone’s voices, were almost drowned out by the whisper of the waves back and forth. She lifted her head, feeling drunk on him, on the silver-limned look of him in the moonlight.
“Where did you learn how to salsa?” she asked.
He made a face. “It isn’t salsa. Juanes is rokero with cumbia influences. And you have always been dismissive of my intimate knowledge of dancing.”
She giggled at him, as he swung her into a wide waltz step and then spun her until they both collapsed, dizzy, onto the sand, the waves just licking at their bare feet.
“The TARDIS didn’t translate it,” she said. “The Spanish.”
“Didn’t want to ruin the rhythm of the song, I guess,” said the Doctor.
“What did it mean?”
The Doctor paused and thought about it. “Er,” he said. “Not really the best thing to be singing to you, actually. Let’s pretend it was something devastatingly romantic.”
She giggled again. “It sounded devastatingly romantic.”
Brem appeared suddenly, lugging Fortuna, which alarmed Rose slightly as she sat up. Athena came bounding behind him, twirling onto the sand next to her father.
“What are you doing?” Rose asked, taking the baby from his arms.
“Coming to see you,” he answered, simply, and collapsed onto the sand next to her.
Rose handed Fortuna to the Doctor, who settled her on his chest, and laid back down. “Brem,” she said. “We have got to do something about that jumper.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking of changing my outfit.”
“It had better not involve that ridiculous hat Jack gave you,” said the Doctor.
“I’m also thinking of writing my memoirs,” continued Brem.
The Doctor lifted his head to catch sight of his son over Rose. “Your memoirs?”
“I have a lot to say,” said Brem.
“You’re four years old,” protested the Doctor.
“You are so obsessed with my age,” grumbled Brem. “Anyway, I’ve already saved the world. Or Mum and Grandma and Fort, anyway, which is almost the same thing.”
“Fortuna,” the Doctor corrected, trying once again, futilely again, he suspected, to resist the nickname.
“And most people don’t do anything like that until they’re at least thirty,” Brem continued, ignoring his father.
The Doctor sighed.
Rose, smiling, asked, “What will you call your memoirs, Brem?”
Brem thought for a second. “Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space.”
The Doctor sighed again.
“Dad,” said Brem.
“Yes,” he prompted.
“Can we go there next?” Brem pointed into the sky. “We’ve never been there. Is there anything worth seeing there?”
The Doctor looked up into the sky. It was crystal clear, carpeted with stars. And there was not a single hint of a storm approaching. He smiled. He had no idea where they ought to go from there. Brem’s suggestion was as good as any. After all, he’d always made it up as he went along.
No, he corrected himself. They would make it up as they went along.
Together.
Finis.
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Rose, OCs
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for the kids. They're all mine.)
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - A very, very special thank-you, this time around, for everyone who came along for this journey. I appreciate each and every comment every one of you left for me, And I appreciate all the lurkers as well! There will be ficlets, many of which are written already, so this is not nearly the end of the Chaosverse. But it is the end of the first part of it.
One final, huge thank-you to
jlrpuck , who is the world's best beta and gave this a million careful readings and is a generally awesome human being. Many thanks also to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ and
bouncy_castle79 , who have both been invaluable in the writing of this fic and all subsequent fics. As long as you keep asking for Brem, you're going to keep getting Brem...
The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15 - Ch. 16 - Ch. 17 - Ch. 18 - Ch. 19 - Ch. 20 - Ch. 21 - Ch. 22 - Ch. 23 - Ch. 24 - Ch. 25 - Ch. 26
Epilogue
It was the Doctor’s idea to take everyone on a trip. “The least I can do,” he told Rose, and Rose agreed. So he rang Sarah Jane and bundled Jack and his Torchwood team onto the TARDIS and opened the TARDIS doors, after a quick trip, on a lovely, warm, pink-sand beach with palm trees and turquoise water.
“Oh, it’s fabulous!” Martha exclaimed, spinning around on the beach. “Where are we?”
“An exotic little place called the Caribbean,” answered the Doctor, wryly, and, at the obvious disappointment of his guests, scowled. “She’s been through a lot recently,” he said, gesturing at the TARDIS. “I’m not forcing her off-planet just yet.”
“The Caribbean’s not bad,” said Sarah Jane, trying to be supportive.
“Sarah Jane!” exclaimed Brem, pointing at the sea. “It’s the exact shade we painted your kitchen!”
He took them to pleasure planets fairly often, but not for extended stays, and not with so many people to watch the kids. It was virtually the honeymoon they’d never had. They spent one day entirely in bed, until they straggled to their balcony to watch the sun set over the water, wrapped in nothing but his coat, which had had a special starring role in the day’s activities. They spent other days lolling on the beach, the Doctor, astonishingly, even consenting to go about in shirtsleeves (Brem, meanwhile, stubbornly kept his jumper near him; he might consent to remove it, but it was always somewhere near him, being dragged through sand and salt water). Brem began a project to build the Most Impressive Sandcastle of All Time (he always called it by this grandiose title, offended when Owen once dismissed it as simply “the kid’s sandcastle;” Rose had punished Owen by embarrassing him by telling everyone the story of how parallel Owen had delivered Fortuna, and making it far gushier and more sentimental than Owen ever had been). Brem and his father spent hours with their heads bent together, sketching Gallifreyan equations in the wet sand with their fingers, as they tried to figure out the perfect way to pack sand into walls and turrets, the sun bringing out freckles on their skin. The Doctor held Athena’s hand firmly as they stood in the surf, he with his trousers rolled up, Athena giggling wildly as the waves knocked at her and she clung to her father. The Doctor even insisted on taking Fortuna out into the water, ducking her up and down in it, and Fortuna adored it.
On the last night of the week, they all ate on the beach, at a small restaurant whose tables were set directly in the sand. They had the place to themselves, and the kids took advantage of it, forcing their mother and grandmother to dance with them in the sand to the music being piped over the restaurant’s speakers. The Doctor refused to be coaxed, preferring to watch instead as Rose let Brem lead her through some sort of ridiculous tango to an updated version of Cuando Cuando Cuando. The tango didn’t work with the beat, but Brem looked determined to force it to. Athena was content just to let her grandmother swing her around.
He became aware suddenly that the dark-haired woman who worked for Jack was sitting next to him, holding Fortuna.
“All that work,” she said, not unkindly. “I don’t know what I expected. But she’s just an ordinary human. You must really love her.”
The Doctor looked at her. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she said.
“There’s no such thing as an ordinary human, Gwen. And, even if there were, Rose definitely isn’t it.”
Cuando Cuando Cuando had ended, and the next song began, and Brem suddenly began jumping in delight, bouncing over to his father. The Doctor sighed, the reaction to be expected, and he let himself be pulled up and over to the spot of sand where Rose was standing in bewilderment.
“It’s Juanes,” said the Doctor.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“I brought you back to Juanes!” exclaimed Brem. Jackie, pleading exhaustion, had put Athena down-although Rose noticed Jack being successful in pulling her back out to dance-and Brem was now spinning his sister enthusiastically. “I love Juanes.”
“This is new,” said Rose, even as the Doctor pulled her into the dance, one hand in hers, the other on her waist.
“It’s actually old,” he sighed. “I’m hoping he’s on the tail end of it.”
Rose listened for a second, following the Doctor’s lead automatically. “It isn’t even English. Does he even know the words?”
“Of course he does!” The Doctor frowned, offended on Brem’s behalf.
Brem must have heard her, because he bounded over immediately. “I know the words!” She should have known it would be an invitation for him to sing to her. Hoy me voy pero no.
She was surprised, however, when the Doctor joined in. No se va la herida grande que mi queda… She stared at him. He winked, suddenly pulling her closer, his voice in her ear as he sang to her. Por amarte, por mi culpa, por los besos que en el mar te di. She closed her eyes and rested her head against him. The rhythm of the song was not slow, and he had dropped her hand, both hands at her hips as he led them through it. Years in the TARDIS, and the Doctor had never spoken untranslated languages to her. Now he’d told her Gallifreyan vows and was singing to her in Spanish.
It was kind of outrageously sexy, to be honest.
The song was still playing but he was dancing her away from the lights, until the beat, and everyone’s voices, were almost drowned out by the whisper of the waves back and forth. She lifted her head, feeling drunk on him, on the silver-limned look of him in the moonlight.
“Where did you learn how to salsa?” she asked.
He made a face. “It isn’t salsa. Juanes is rokero with cumbia influences. And you have always been dismissive of my intimate knowledge of dancing.”
She giggled at him, as he swung her into a wide waltz step and then spun her until they both collapsed, dizzy, onto the sand, the waves just licking at their bare feet.
“The TARDIS didn’t translate it,” she said. “The Spanish.”
“Didn’t want to ruin the rhythm of the song, I guess,” said the Doctor.
“What did it mean?”
The Doctor paused and thought about it. “Er,” he said. “Not really the best thing to be singing to you, actually. Let’s pretend it was something devastatingly romantic.”
She giggled again. “It sounded devastatingly romantic.”
Brem appeared suddenly, lugging Fortuna, which alarmed Rose slightly as she sat up. Athena came bounding behind him, twirling onto the sand next to her father.
“What are you doing?” Rose asked, taking the baby from his arms.
“Coming to see you,” he answered, simply, and collapsed onto the sand next to her.
Rose handed Fortuna to the Doctor, who settled her on his chest, and laid back down. “Brem,” she said. “We have got to do something about that jumper.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking of changing my outfit.”
“It had better not involve that ridiculous hat Jack gave you,” said the Doctor.
“I’m also thinking of writing my memoirs,” continued Brem.
The Doctor lifted his head to catch sight of his son over Rose. “Your memoirs?”
“I have a lot to say,” said Brem.
“You’re four years old,” protested the Doctor.
“You are so obsessed with my age,” grumbled Brem. “Anyway, I’ve already saved the world. Or Mum and Grandma and Fort, anyway, which is almost the same thing.”
“Fortuna,” the Doctor corrected, trying once again, futilely again, he suspected, to resist the nickname.
“And most people don’t do anything like that until they’re at least thirty,” Brem continued, ignoring his father.
The Doctor sighed.
Rose, smiling, asked, “What will you call your memoirs, Brem?”
Brem thought for a second. “Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space.”
The Doctor sighed again.
“Dad,” said Brem.
“Yes,” he prompted.
“Can we go there next?” Brem pointed into the sky. “We’ve never been there. Is there anything worth seeing there?”
The Doctor looked up into the sky. It was crystal clear, carpeted with stars. And there was not a single hint of a storm approaching. He smiled. He had no idea where they ought to go from there. Brem’s suggestion was as good as any. After all, he’d always made it up as he went along.
No, he corrected himself. They would make it up as they went along.
Together.
Finis.