First of the Cliche Challenge fics!
I really thought this one would be comical, but it didn't turn out that way. In fact, it's really quite angsty. So:
Title: You Always Hurt the Ones You Love
Rating: Teen for angst unsuitable for young'uns
Characters/Pairing: Nine/Rose/Jack
Prompter: wendymr
Summary: The Doctor, Rose and Jack have the worst argument of their relationship. Much musing upon the title follows.
You always hurt the ones you love.
Jack scrubbed at his hair as he considered the cliché. Story of my life, he thought.
It wasn’t that he, Rose and the Doctor hadn’t had disagreements since becoming lovers. They had. Generally, though, they’d resolved without going all the way to, how’d Rose put it? Oh, yeah: Having a row.
This had been a row. Hell, it’d been an entire sculling race.
And it had begun so stupidly! Another misadventure, same as every other one, only when they got back from it, the Doctor had been touchy. Touchy enough that he’d leveled a fairly scathing insult at Jack when he’d attempted to defuse the tension, and then snapped at Rose when she’d tried to defend Jack.
Jack knew he should’ve left the room after that and let the Doctor stew in his own juices until he came down off of whatever Time Lordly fit of pique he was having, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d come back with a fairly biting piece of sarcasm, and it had all degenerated. There’d been insults, there’d been yelling, all the finest an argument could bring.
And when the Doctor had made some cutting remark about Jack’s libido, Jack had unthinkingly replied that he could easily get his needs met outside the Doctor and Rose.
He’d gone too far. He could still see the hurt in Rose’s eyes and the doors slamming shut behind the Doctor’s.
Shutting off the water, Jack considered his options. He could try groveling. Rose would forgive him, but he didn’t know about the Doctor. Or he could paste on a false face and let things go back to how they had been before they became lovers, if the Doctor didn’t put him off at the next stop. Which would be fine, really. He could deal with being on his own again. He’d been there often enough.
But nothing could compare to what he’d tasted here on the TARDIS. The thought of being alone again was horribly bleak.
His stomach growled. They’d all missed dinner. Jack pulled on some clothes and decided to raid the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t run into the Doctor or Rose while he did so. Right now, he didn’t think he could face them.
***
You always hurt the ones you love.
The old song was rattling around in Rose’s brain like loose change, and she wished she could make it go away. She threw yet another sodden tissue away and wished she could stop crying. But she was having a bad record with wishes lately, and she doubted it’d improve in the near future.
It was all so stupid. She had no idea what had even sparked the argument except for Himself being in a strop. She should’ve walked away, but she’d been concerned about Jack, who hadn’t had as much experience with the Doctor’s moods. So she’d stayed to try to mediate things, and it had backfired spectacularly.
It was just . . . sometimes the men acted like she was a child. Yeah, the Doctor was a Time Lord, and Jack was from three thousand years in her future and a Time Agent to boot, but it didn’t give them the right to be condescending to her. It hit her in her worst insecurities. What were they doing with her, anyway? The Doctor had literally all of time and space to choose from, and Jack . . . well, Jack had said it all, hadn’t he?
And then she’d jumped in with, “Sometimes, I wish I’d never even come aboard.” She could literally see that one hit home with the Doctor, and Jack had even flinched.
She didn’t mean it. She wouldn’t trade this for anything, and she knew that damn well. But she was hurting, so she’d struck out to hurt them, too.
God, she needed a cuppa.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face, and then she poked her head out of her room. Good. No one was in the immediate area, and if she was fast, she could hopefully make herself a cup of tea and be back in her room without running into either of the men.
***
You always hurt the ones you love.
Clichéd, thought the Doctor, but all too true. And he was good at it. This latest idiocy only proved it.
It was his fault. Neither Jack nor Rose knew how close they’d all come to death today. He’d purposely kept it from them. They both thought it was just another adventure gone pear-shaped. In reality, the crowd-dispersal gas the Trikadians used was deadly to humans. If the TARDIS hadn’t been nearby, and if she didn’t scan for and neutralize toxins whenever her crew reentered, the humans would’ve been dead within twelve hours as their lungs broke down.
And it was his fault they’d been exposed to it. If he hadn’t been so damned keen on the sound of his own voice and so damned clever and proud of it, he could’ve had them away before the police arrived to break up the mob.
When they’d got back to the TARDIS, it had all crushed down on him, and, thickhead that he was, he took it out on them. Neither of them deserved the things he’d said. Especially “I’d be better off without you.”
That was a lie worse than statistics, if there was such a thing.
They’d both retaliated out of pure hurt, and it stung. It stung to think that Jack, who’d come into their lives so recently and enriched them incalculably, might want out of their relationship. It stung that Rose could regret the way she’d run, smile brighter than a supernova, into his TARDIS.
It hurt, knowing he could lose them. It hurt worse, knowing he could drive them away.
Well, if his big Time Lord brain could get him into this, it could get him out. He’d find a way to make it up to them. To get them to forgive him for his carelessness, his sharp words, his moods.
He sent a query to the TARDIS, who let him know (in a somehow exasperated tone of mind) that Rose and Jack were both in the kitchen.
For a moment, he considered just ignoring everything and hoping it would be better in the morning, and they could put this behind them without a word. Unfortunately for that plan, the TARDIS was still connected to his mind, and she gave him the mental equivalent of a dope-smack.
No. She was right. He needed to face them. They needed to know he cared enough to do that.
He headed down to the kitchen, hearts beating loudly in his ears. The door was open, and as he approached, he could see them.
They were holding onto each other, apparently having made up already for their parts in the argument. Both had tears on their faces. He stopped in the doorway, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Did they have enough forgiveness to cover his sins as well?
Jack saw him first. For a moment, there was fear in his eyes, and it hit the Doctor like a blow. Something must have showed in his expression, because Jack’s eyes softened. Rose lifted her head from Jack’s chest, her expression full of sorrow and compassion.
His throat tightened until he couldn’t even choke out the words “I’m sorry.” All he could do was rush forward and gather them in his arms, silently telling them how much he needed them.
Title: You Always Hurt the Ones You Love
Rating: Teen for angst unsuitable for young'uns
Characters/Pairing: Nine/Rose/Jack
Prompter: wendymr
Summary: The Doctor, Rose and Jack have the worst argument of their relationship. Much musing upon the title follows.
You always hurt the ones you love.
Jack scrubbed at his hair as he considered the cliché. Story of my life, he thought.
It wasn’t that he, Rose and the Doctor hadn’t had disagreements since becoming lovers. They had. Generally, though, they’d resolved without going all the way to, how’d Rose put it? Oh, yeah: Having a row.
This had been a row. Hell, it’d been an entire sculling race.
And it had begun so stupidly! Another misadventure, same as every other one, only when they got back from it, the Doctor had been touchy. Touchy enough that he’d leveled a fairly scathing insult at Jack when he’d attempted to defuse the tension, and then snapped at Rose when she’d tried to defend Jack.
Jack knew he should’ve left the room after that and let the Doctor stew in his own juices until he came down off of whatever Time Lordly fit of pique he was having, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d come back with a fairly biting piece of sarcasm, and it had all degenerated. There’d been insults, there’d been yelling, all the finest an argument could bring.
And when the Doctor had made some cutting remark about Jack’s libido, Jack had unthinkingly replied that he could easily get his needs met outside the Doctor and Rose.
He’d gone too far. He could still see the hurt in Rose’s eyes and the doors slamming shut behind the Doctor’s.
Shutting off the water, Jack considered his options. He could try groveling. Rose would forgive him, but he didn’t know about the Doctor. Or he could paste on a false face and let things go back to how they had been before they became lovers, if the Doctor didn’t put him off at the next stop. Which would be fine, really. He could deal with being on his own again. He’d been there often enough.
But nothing could compare to what he’d tasted here on the TARDIS. The thought of being alone again was horribly bleak.
His stomach growled. They’d all missed dinner. Jack pulled on some clothes and decided to raid the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t run into the Doctor or Rose while he did so. Right now, he didn’t think he could face them.
***
You always hurt the ones you love.
The old song was rattling around in Rose’s brain like loose change, and she wished she could make it go away. She threw yet another sodden tissue away and wished she could stop crying. But she was having a bad record with wishes lately, and she doubted it’d improve in the near future.
It was all so stupid. She had no idea what had even sparked the argument except for Himself being in a strop. She should’ve walked away, but she’d been concerned about Jack, who hadn’t had as much experience with the Doctor’s moods. So she’d stayed to try to mediate things, and it had backfired spectacularly.
It was just . . . sometimes the men acted like she was a child. Yeah, the Doctor was a Time Lord, and Jack was from three thousand years in her future and a Time Agent to boot, but it didn’t give them the right to be condescending to her. It hit her in her worst insecurities. What were they doing with her, anyway? The Doctor had literally all of time and space to choose from, and Jack . . . well, Jack had said it all, hadn’t he?
And then she’d jumped in with, “Sometimes, I wish I’d never even come aboard.” She could literally see that one hit home with the Doctor, and Jack had even flinched.
She didn’t mean it. She wouldn’t trade this for anything, and she knew that damn well. But she was hurting, so she’d struck out to hurt them, too.
God, she needed a cuppa.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face, and then she poked her head out of her room. Good. No one was in the immediate area, and if she was fast, she could hopefully make herself a cup of tea and be back in her room without running into either of the men.
***
You always hurt the ones you love.
Clichéd, thought the Doctor, but all too true. And he was good at it. This latest idiocy only proved it.
It was his fault. Neither Jack nor Rose knew how close they’d all come to death today. He’d purposely kept it from them. They both thought it was just another adventure gone pear-shaped. In reality, the crowd-dispersal gas the Trikadians used was deadly to humans. If the TARDIS hadn’t been nearby, and if she didn’t scan for and neutralize toxins whenever her crew reentered, the humans would’ve been dead within twelve hours as their lungs broke down.
And it was his fault they’d been exposed to it. If he hadn’t been so damned keen on the sound of his own voice and so damned clever and proud of it, he could’ve had them away before the police arrived to break up the mob.
When they’d got back to the TARDIS, it had all crushed down on him, and, thickhead that he was, he took it out on them. Neither of them deserved the things he’d said. Especially “I’d be better off without you.”
That was a lie worse than statistics, if there was such a thing.
They’d both retaliated out of pure hurt, and it stung. It stung to think that Jack, who’d come into their lives so recently and enriched them incalculably, might want out of their relationship. It stung that Rose could regret the way she’d run, smile brighter than a supernova, into his TARDIS.
It hurt, knowing he could lose them. It hurt worse, knowing he could drive them away.
Well, if his big Time Lord brain could get him into this, it could get him out. He’d find a way to make it up to them. To get them to forgive him for his carelessness, his sharp words, his moods.
He sent a query to the TARDIS, who let him know (in a somehow exasperated tone of mind) that Rose and Jack were both in the kitchen.
For a moment, he considered just ignoring everything and hoping it would be better in the morning, and they could put this behind them without a word. Unfortunately for that plan, the TARDIS was still connected to his mind, and she gave him the mental equivalent of a dope-smack.
No. She was right. He needed to face them. They needed to know he cared enough to do that.
He headed down to the kitchen, hearts beating loudly in his ears. The door was open, and as he approached, he could see them.
They were holding onto each other, apparently having made up already for their parts in the argument. Both had tears on their faces. He stopped in the doorway, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Did they have enough forgiveness to cover his sins as well?
Jack saw him first. For a moment, there was fear in his eyes, and it hit the Doctor like a blow. Something must have showed in his expression, because Jack’s eyes softened. Rose lifted her head from Jack’s chest, her expression full of sorrow and compassion.
His throat tightened until he couldn’t even choke out the words “I’m sorry.” All he could do was rush forward and gather them in his arms, silently telling them how much he needed them.