And So Things Go, Chapter 30
Title- And So Things Go (30/34)
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - T
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - The fallout from lunch.
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone. And, on an artistic front-thank you to angelfireeast for the lovely banner at the top of the chapter.
Just a reminder-I’ll be taking next week (13 October) off from posting; Chapter 31 will go up on October 20. Hopefully. :)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Epilogue
Peter was furious; he couldn’t understand why Rose was acting like a jealous teenager, instead of the caring woman he knew and loved.
The meal with Annie had seemed to start well enough-Annie being her usual, charming self, Rose being cautious. As things had progressed though, he and Annie catching up, Rose had begun to slide towards being...formal. Polite. Too like the woman he’d first grown to know, and not nearly enough like the woman he loved. Annie had tried to draw her out, asking after her schooling, her background, trying to get Rose to talk about herself; Rose had eventually retreated to terse answers, leaving Peter to carry the conversation with Annie and lighten the mood.
It had been a disaster, and much of it was Rose’s fault. If she’d only tried to be social, instead of playing the Vitex heiress role, he was sure she and Annie would have got along.
The drive back to his house from Carlisle had been nearly silent, the car filled with tension; Rose had had her arms crossed each time he’d glanced over, her head bowed, or gazing out the window. Not once had she reached out to him; not once had she met his eye. She knew he was furious with her, knew she had messed things up-he was sure of it.
Rose preceded him into the house, moving directly to the stairs; he closed the door with a rare delicacy, convinced he’d break it if he slammed it as he wanted to. He turned the lock, gazing down the hall, his jaw clenched. Intellect told him to stay below stairs, to calm down, but his emotions insisted he go upstairs and have it out with Rose, immediately.
As usually happened where Rose was involved, emotion won. He took the stairs two at a time before striding down the hall, intent on calling Rose to task for her behaviour.
Rose met him at the door, her head ducked; she tried to shoulder her way past him.
“What’re you doing?” he demanded.
“Lemme go.” Rose tried to shoulder past him again, intent on making it out of the bedroom.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” He didn’t bother to hide the frustration in his voice. Sometimes, the years between the two of them seemed like multiple decades instead of just the one.
She pushed against him, trying to shove him out of her way. “Out.”
Peter’s temper spiked. “Out?” He angled himself in the doorway, ensuring she couldn’t escape. “You are not going anywhere until you give me an explanation for today.”
Rose raised her head, looking utterly dumbstruck. “I…what? You want me to explain today?”
“I think it’s the least you could do-you behaved like a child!” He was almost shaking with anger.
She gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m out of here.” She ducked her shoulder, using it to try to lodge him out of the doorway; he braced his weight on the doorjambs, ensuring she wouldn’t succeed.
“You’re running away again?” He kept his voice low, knowing he was goading her, absolutely unable to resist doing so.
She took a step back, squaring her shoulders before taking a deep breath to speak. “I’m not the one who had a one-on-one party in front of my partner, making them feel excluded. I’m not the one who made it clear that I preferred the company of an ex-girlfriend to the company of an existing one.”
She hadn’t looked at him as she spoke, her voice quavering. She was, instead, staring down, to the side, somewhere in the vicinity of his left knee.
Peter relaxed from blocking the doorway, too shocked to do much of anything else. Was that what she had thought? He was vaguely aware of Rose pushing past him, and was only pulled out of his haze by the rapid sound of Rose’s feet on the stairs.
He ran after her, taking the stairs so fast he nearly tumbled down them. Rose was at the door, and he hurried forward, slamming his palm against it and pressing it shut.
“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Let me go, Peter.”
“Not until you explain what you just said.”
“Let. Me. Go. I need time to think,” Rose said through clenched teeth.
“Tell me what you meant!”
Rose spun to face him. “I mean, Peter-” She ground his name out, fury radiating from her, “that you were happier to spend time chatting up your ex than in trying to help us get to know each other.”
“You’re a grown-up, Rose-you don’t need me to do that for you.”
Rose ignored him, continuing, “And then, after she’s done asking every insulting question she can think of, you go back to blithely ignoring me, shooting me these...these...looks, like I’ve dribbled on my shirt, like you’ve no idea at all why you’ve brought me along to your little party.”
“She was asking you questions to find out about you!”
“She was asking every question on this earth that reminded me that I don’t belong here!” Rose yelled. “And if you’d not been so busy fawning over your perfect Annie, you might have remembered that!”
“She isn’t the first person to ask you questions like that, Rose! Don’t pretend you’ve no idea how to answer them!”
He watched as Rose’s entire body tensed. “You git. You unbelievable git.” Rose 's voice was low, her face pale; he noted her hands were shaking.
“What?”
“You’ve not heard a bloody thing I’ve said. Get out of my way.”
“No.”
“Please.”
He froze, the note of desperation in Rose’s voice bringing him back to himself.
“No, Rose. What happened up there?” He softened his voice, desperate to know why Rose had acted the way she had at tea-so out of character for the normally vivacious woman he loved.
Rose tucked her chin, looking at her shoes, her arms folded against her chest. He took a step towards her; she shifted back, away from him.
She was shutting down-shutting him out. And that almost hurt more than her fury, her attempt to flee.
“Rose.”
“I’ve told you what’s wrong. Leave me be.”
“You-” He paused, trying to collect his swirling thoughts, to fight down the sickening sense disappointment. “You didn’t like Annie.”
He could see Rose clench her fists, her entire body quivering from the tension. “No, Peter. Perhaps if you’d paid attention you’d have caught the plot.”
He bristled at the patronising tone to her voice. “Educate me, then, Rose.”
“I already did, but since you seem too thick to have caught it I’ll say it exactly one more time. Your...” Rose swallowed. “Annie didn’t pay attention to how her questions made her guest feel. Even I know that a good hostess needs to be aware of that, and I was raised on an estate by a single mum, barely able to make rent. You with me so far?”
“You didn’t like the questions.”
“Forget it.” Rose’s voice was flat. “Annie can do no wrong, Rose can do no right. I get it, you get it, are we done?”
“That’s not what I said, Rose.”
“That’s what you keep implying, Peter!”
“Why’d you shut down?”
“You care now? You couldn’t be arsed to bother with me up there, why start now?”
“I was trying to save tea!”
“You could have fooled me.”
“And what did you think I was doing, Rose?” he asked, weary of arguing with her.
“I...I don’t know.”
“You must have some idea, since you seem convinced I was deliberately ignoring you.”
“Of all the things I’ve said, you choose that to actually listen to? For a smart man, you aren’t half stupid sometimes.”
“That’s ironic, coming from you.”
“Let me spell it out for you, then. In the land of Peter, I clearly don’t measure up with Annie.”
“I’ve never said that.”
“No, you haven’t. But you certainly demonstrated it today.”
“You’d rather I sat there and let the conversation founder?”
“Why not-you do it every other chance you get. But for Annie, it’s all charm and smiles and nice as pie.”
“Are you jealous of her?” He couldn’t believe it-couldn’t believe that this brilliant woman in front of him would be jealous of Annie.
“Of course I am, you ignorant sod! How could I not compare myself to her, find myself wanting at every turn? She appears to never have done a thing wrong in her life-and she certainly has the knack for holding your undivided attention!”
“She’s an old friend, Rose! I don’t get jealous of Mickey, do I?”
“Well. You’re just that good, aren’t you? I wonder at you being with me at all.”
Peter reached down, grabbing Rose by the arms. “I love you, Rose. All of you. Always.”
“Then why’d you make me feel so small?” The fury had gone out of Rose, and was replaced with bewilderment. Her voice quavered briefly as she finished the question.
He paused, trying to find a good answer. Some of what Rose was going through was no doubt down to her own insecurities-just as he’d experienced with Mickey, once he’d heard the full story of his history with Rose. But some of it...he had ignored Rose, giving up on her at tea, eager to chat up Annie, and frustrated that Rose’s reaction to her was getting in the way with catching up with his old friend.
“Lemme go,” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to, Rose,” he replied, desperate for her to understand that he’d not consciously ignored her. Not that he was sure that unknowingly ignoring her was much better.
Rose had ducked her chin again, and was gazing down at her shoes.
“Rose. I swear. I’d never...not intentionally. I’m sorry.”
The last of the tension left Rose’s body, and her shoulders drooped. “’s alright.”
He recognized her tactic-- she was trying to cut the conversation short, to avoid fighting anymore. “We need to talk about this,” he said quietly, stepping back from her.
“Can’t we do it later?” Her voice remained low.
“No, Rose. Now.”
“’m tired.”
“I know.” He took another step back, willing her to follow him; they really did need to talk about it. Annie was an old and dear friend-and while he’d not expected her and Rose to be best mates instantly, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with having the two women resent each other.
He didn’t want to have to choose between his oldest friend and the woman he loved. He’d had to do it once before, with Loreen, and it had been a disaster.
There was a moment where he thought Rose might take her chance and run, her hand resting on the doorknob. She gazed at the brass under her hand, clearly thinking; he didn’t miss the tear that escaped down her cheek, nor the sniffle she tried to hide before she came to her decision.
Oh, Rose.
She set her shoulders, raised her chin; she met his eye, in spite of hers being filled with tears. He took a step towards her, to give her a hug; she took a step back, against the door, ducking her chin again.
He sighed, turning, walking into the parlour; he heard Rose shuffle behind him, following him into the room. The blanket was still on the floor from where they’d picnicked the night before; life had seemed a lot easier as they’d curled in front of the fire, talking about their future together.
She settled into a corner of the sofa, tucking herself into it, curling almost into a ball; he sat on the floor in front of her, shoving the coffee table aside carelessly.
“I don’t compare you to Annie, Rose,” he said, trying to meet her eye.
Rose nodded.
“I don’t.”
“You think you don’t,” she finally said, softly.
“I don’t.”
“You do! All the time! Annie did this-isn’t she wonderful? Annie suggested that-isn’t it divine? Never mind that I’d suggested the same thing a day before and you hated it.”
“I’ve known her for years, Rose.”
“I know. Just as I know that she’s the one who saved you in Uni; the one who was your rock through every rough patch you’ve had. And I’m happy she was there for you, Peter, really and truly.”
“Right.” He heard the bitterness in his voice.
“I’m grateful for whatever things set you on the path to me, Peter. Just as I’m grateful for everything I’ve lived through, because it ended with me here, in Kendal. But...but it’s hard, living up to this woman who you put on a pedestal; who was your saviour.”
“Why do you insist on living up to her? You’re you, she’s her-you’re different people!”
“Maybe because I feel like to do otherwise would make me unworthy of being with you!”
“Rose, I really can only say this so many ways-and I mean it every time. I love you. I want to be with you. Annie is from my past-you are my now, my future.” He leaned forward, his hand resting against the sofa cushion, just inches from Rose’s leg.
“I...I just...I felt so small,” Rose offered, her voice tiny. “And the questions...it was like she’d found out how to make me feel like nobody. And you...I was hoping you’d help me, and you just...you ignored me.”
He closed the distance between them, his hand finding hers. “I...I really didn’t mean to. I just thought...”
He’d thought she wasn’t trying; that she couldn’t be bothered.
“I didn’t think,” he admitted, finally. It was so rare for him to see Rose intimidated by anything-the thought simply hadn’t crossed his mind.
He leaned forward, ducking his head to meet her averted gaze. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he whispered, bringing his hand to her cheek, wiping away the stray tear which had fallen.
Rose closed her eyes, more tears falling; her chin trembled as she struggled to keep her emotions in check in front of him. He moved to sit on the sofa, pulling Rose against him; she didn’t protest, collapsing against him as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he whispered against her hair, feeling her tears begin to soak into his shirt.
The penny dropped: she’d been running off, not to think, but to cry-a proper cry.
He’d made Rose cry-his beloved Rose, who he’d do anything for. And he’d not even realized he was doing it. He’d assumed she would be fine meeting Annie, that the happy, self-confident woman he’d come to rely on to be his bedrock wouldn’t have any doubts or insecurities. He’d forgotten that even she had her breaking point.
He just wished hadn’t learned that he was the one who could break her, and without really thinking about it.
He continued to hold her against him as she cried, hating himself just a little bit more with each minute that passed. He’d had a lovely lunch, in spite of her reticence; she’d had a miserable time, had been relying on him to help her, and he’d not even noticed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, brushing a kiss over her head. He rocked her, desperate to give comfort to her. He only wanted her to be as fond of Annie as he was, but he seemed to have gone the complete wrong way about it. Had he ruined any chance of the two women becoming friends? Or of at least getting to know each other, and see why he loved them both, even if differently?
Rose brought her hand to her face, sniffling, wiping her eyes. He loosened his hold on her, sitting back so he could see her. She avoided his gaze.
“Are you alright, Rose? Truly?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, sniffling again. She hastily wiped her nose, took another swipe at her eyes.
“I am sorry, Rose.”
“’s alright.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you being passive aggressive, in fine Carlisle form?” He tried to add some levity to the words.
“No.”
“I…I feel terrible, Rose. I…honestly didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“I’ll try never to do it again.”
“I know.”
He captured her left hand with his. “I’m sorry.” It felt so inadequate, but he didn’t think he’d be able to stop saying it.
She raised her eyes to his. “It’s…I’ll be fine, Peter. Now I’ve had a cry."
He bent down, kissing her knuckles, and was surprised when she continued.
“Still hurts, but you didn’t mean to do it. So ‘s alright. You’re forgiven.”
He cradled her jaw, his right thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek. “It’s unforgiveable to me, Rose.”
“I’ll be fine, Peter. I promise.” She took a deep breath, glancing down at her hands. “And I...I need to get past bein’ jealous of your Annie.”
He glanced up, surprised at Rose for saying it. She was staring intently at the sofa cushion, her cheeks flushed.
“She’s not ‘My Annie,’ Rose.” He kept his voice gentle, tilting his head down so he could catch Rose’s eye.
“She is. I just...she’s part of your life. An important part. You’re lucky to have her.” Rose raised her eyes, then, catching his gaze. She was sincere. And trying to take the sentiment to heart.
“You too, though. You have no idea how important you are to me.” He continued to stroke her cheek, several more moments passing in silence.
Rose finally gave a deep sigh, turning to brush her lips over his palm.
“We alright, then?” he asked, softly. He’d not be able to forgive himself for a long time, but he hoped Rose would still be able to be with him.
Rose nodded. “We will be, yeah.” Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she hurried out, “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Overreactin’.”
“You weren’t overreacting, Rose.” Another brush of his lips across her knuckles. “I’m sorry for being a git. An unbelievable one, at that.”
The corner of Rose’s mouth quirked, and he sighed in relief. They’d be alright.
~ - ~
Chapter 31