Fic: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (17/17)
Title: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (17/17)
Rating: I'm going with PG-13 but I'm not really good with ratings
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jack, Tosh, Ianto, Gwen, Owen, Pete, Jackie, Mickey, Jake, Martha, other characters
Spoilers: Anything up till the end of season three is fair game
Summary: The sequel to Mrs. Jones You've Got a Lovely Daughter and part of my Homesick In Heaven series.
Rose is back, has been for awhile now, and the Doctor is none the wiser. She's making a go of it and life is good...as good as it can be without him by her side. But what happens when forces beyond her control bring the two of them back together? What happens when the Doctor finds out she's been hiding from him all these months? Will Rose reveal her deepest, darkest secrets to him before it's too late?
Author's Note: And so we come to the end of this long journey. It's been an interesting ride for me, one that I've at times both enjoyed and hated. It's also my very first completed multi-chaptered fic ever, which is reason enough for a celebration. Yay me! :)
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I have a few people I need to thank:
To
magpye, and Blvdgirl on fanfiction.net, for reading some of the early drafts of this story and giving me their opinions on it. To snowfox3, also on fanfiction.net, for beta'ing the original draft of this massive fic. To Foalen on Teaspoon, for leaving some brutally honest reviews and making me really think about some of my decisions. To
rachelbeann, for letting me complain about uncooperative characters and for being so kind as to allow me to let her see spoilers so I could get another opinion on things I was uncertain about.
To those of you that have read or reviewed this story, thank you. Though I would've written this even if no one else but myself was interested in the plot, it certainly helped to know that someone else was enjoying it too. I hope that the ending lives up to your expectations.
Finally, to
sinecure...I've said it before and I'll say it again, this fic wouldn't be nearly as good as it is without your help, support, and constant patience. I'm frankly surprised you haven't turned tail and run by now, but you haven't, and I am eternally grateful for that. Thank you.
(Readers take note:
sinecure deserves at least half credit for this chapter.)
~~~
It crosses his mind more than once while he's setting the coordinates that maybe, agreeing to bring Rose back home to her mum was not his brightest idea of late. Jackie deserves to see that her daughter is all right, deserves to ascertain her safety with her own eyes, but he's not quite ready to share Rose with anyone just yet.
That and there are still so many things they need to discuss. So many things they need to work out before jumping back into their old life together...if she even wants that anymore. He hopes she does, thinks she does, what with all the hand holding they just engaged in. But he's never been very good at reading humans and their emotions and he doesn't want to make the mistake of assuming.
At least they're being civil to each other now. No, more than that, they're talking and things seem to be going well between them. As the TARDIS rematerializes, he glances at Rose, and his heart skips a beat to see her standing there...here, with him, in his beloved ship once again. It's almost like it used to be, something, a short while ago he would've thought fell under the category of impossible.
Perhaps, it's time he remove that particular word from his vocabulary, at least when it comes to him and Rose.
They've managed so many times to make the impossible possible, finding their way back to each other despite insurmountable odds. Impossible planets and rockets at 10 Downing Street, his escape from the Wraith and her finding a way to cross the void to the universe of her birth.
"How'd you do it?" he asks her abruptly, halting her halfway down the ramp to the door. He has so many questions, questions that have been whirling around in his head since he first saw her back at Torchwood, Jack's Torchwood. This is the first real opportunity he's had to ask her them and he thinks that, after all this time, he deserves answers.
She watches him, one hand on the railing, the other by her side, looking completely at home standing there. Looking like she belongs here, which, in his eyes, she does.
Her brow furrows in uncertainty. "Do what?"
Joining her by the doors, he keeps his hands buried deep in his pockets, the only way he can stop himself from reaching out and touching her. "Get back to the right universe. How'd you do it? It should've been impossible. Still should be impossible, yet, here we are."
He watches as her expression goes from happily content to carefully neutral in zero-point-two seconds, and he thinks it must be a record. "There was a rip, and a bridge, that's what Mickey called it anyway," she replies without hesitation, "and Torchwood still has the hoppers."
The way she's looking at him, so calm and collected, almost like a trained reaction, he wonders how long she's been waiting for him to bring this up. It's not like he didn't want to sooner but things kept cropping up, preventing him from having this conversation with her. Her attitude toward him, his own hurt and anger, the Wraith, all of it kept him sufficiently distracted and just a bit busy, but not anymore. She's safe now, Pete's Earth is safe, and, after all the hugging and snuggling, he knows, despite any hurdles they may face along the way, there is still hope for them yet.
Right now he needs answers, needs to understand what happened. Like how there could possibly be a bridge--not just a rip, but a bridge as well--between the universes when he's the only Time Lord left in existence. "That's impossible." He shakes his head. "There can't be a bridge...can't even be a gap. I fixed all of them. You were there when the last one closed."
She shrugs, dismissing his words as if he weren't the expert on these matters. "Maybe you missed one."
"No," he insists, ignoring the look in her eyes, the one that's telling him not to push the matter. "I wouldn't have missed something this important." Why does she suddenly seem so reluctant to discuss this? What exactly is she hiding from him?
She shifts her gaze towards the door, away from him. "Well, then maybe a new one formed." Shrugging again, she starts down the ramp, obviously feeling the matter's closed. "I hardly see how it matters--"
"It matters," he insists roughly, "because two worlds could've collapsed." Grabbing her by the arm, he jerks her around to face him. Something about the way she's acting...she's not being completely honest with him. "Did you do this? You and your bloody Torchwood?"
Her eyes narrow, her mouth tightening into a thin, angry line. "No, Doctor. Why would I?" her voice is clipped and harsh; it's the situation with the Wraith all over again, only this time, it's all his fault. "You wouldn't risk destroying two universe's jus' to get back to me. Why would I do the same for you?"
He blinks once, twice, the underlying hurt in her words, giving him pause. She can't have meant that she wanted him to risk it, could she?
Before he can ask, she's shaking her head and her voice softens, "I didn't--" She takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes are pleading with him, begging him to accept what she's saying, to understand how she feels. "I don't wanna fight with you anymore."
Now that, he understands. Releasing his grip on her arm, he realizes that he must've been holding her tighter than he thought. There's a slight pinking to her flesh and he runs an apologetic thumb over the sore spot. "I...I'm sorry."
Lowering her gaze from his, she gently removes her arm from his grasp, rubbing at the mark. "Don't worry about it. It was an accident," she says, giving him a quick smile before continuing down the ramp and out the door.
The trust thing is going to take awhile to figure out, he thinks with a sigh. Following behind her, he steps outside of the TARDIS and looks around, finding himself standing, not in front of the Tyler mansion like he figured, but inside of it. "Oh," he exclaims, more than a little startled, when he realizes where they are.
The room is spacious, nothing like her old one on the Powell Estates. It's well decorated with expensive looking furniture scattered about, and a convenient en suite opposite the bed. It's not exactly her style but he's already seen just how much the woman standing before him has changed since they last knew each other. The only thing that seems to have remained the same is her scent of preference.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he lets the aroma of Rose surround him: fresh vanilla, with the slightest hint of honey. Oh, how he's missed that, how he's missed her. His eyelids flutter closed for the briefest of moments and when he opens them again he finds her watching him, a bemused look on her face.
He sticks his fists in his pockets and snaps his gaze from her, taking another, unnecessary, look around the room, as though he's seeing it for the first time. Trying not to shuffle his feet or mumble he asks, "Your ah...your room?"
"Yeah, ta." She grins wickedly before crossing to a large, wooden dresser. "Gonna shower quick. Meet me downstairs? I'll only be a mo."
Standing there, not really sure what to do with himself, he watches as she pulls out a few articles of clothing--including a pair of lacy knickers, he realizes with a start--then turns to lay them on the bed. "I'll just, ah..." and now he is mumbling and shuffling his feet. Waving his hand in the general direction of the door, he walks as casually as he can in that direction.
"Had one of those visions here too," she says absentmindedly.
Startled, he turns back to her and sees her gaze settling on the pile of pillows by the headboard as her fingers caress the pale pink duvet. "Strongest one," she adds, almost to herself, then shrugs and looks at him briefly, before her eyes slide past him and focus on the bathroom door.
He opens his mouth to ask her about it, but before he can, she raises and lowers her shoulders, shaking the feeling off like she's shrugging off a jacket. "Tell mum I'll be down in a tic, yeah?" she says quickly, as hurries past him and into the bathroom.
Staring at the closed door, he waits until he hears the water running in the shower and then pulls out the sonic screwdriver. He can't brush it off as easily as she just did. If there is an alien influence involved in these hallucinations, he may be able to find some trace of it here. Especially if the worst of them occurred in this room.
Starting where he's standing seems as good a place as any, so, taking his time, he slowly makes his way around the room, watching for any unusual readings. It takes a bit to cover the whole room, and when he finally picks it up, it's so faint that he almost passes it over as leftover residue from her working around alien tech, but he doesn't. When the readings get stronger the closer he gets to her bed, he knows he's hit on something.
They seem to be focused somewhere around the left side of the bed, right where--if she's like any other human he's ever met and she prefers one side of the bed over the other--she probably sleeps every night. There's something familiar about the energy, something he feels he should recognize, but he can't quite place.
The tickle in the back of his mind gets even stronger as he leans over the bed, trying to get a fix on what is causing the readings. If he could just...
There's the sudden feeling that he's no longer alone. The hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end and he can hear the distinct sound of a sudden intake of breath. He stills his breathing, slowly straightens up, and peers around the room, looking for the source of his unease.
Moving away from the bed, turning this way and that, seeking out what could be hidden from his sight in the shadows behind the furniture, serves nothing more than to confirm what he already suspects: there's nothing there. He's completely alone. Scratching at the back of his neck, he begins to pace.
There was something, he's sure of it. Something that was there, but not quite there. Something...almost a whisper, a ghost of a presence. Like a...no, that doesn't fit. Gelth? No, that can't be it either.
Continuing to pace, hand occasionally rising unconsciously to ruffle through his hair, he tries to unravel the ever-deepening mystery of what's been happening to Rose. Because he's certain of one thing: that the two incidents are related. They have to be. It's far too much of a coincidence for his taste for her to be hallucinating and him to feel a presence in her room that's not there.
He's so lost in thought, that he's still at it twenty minutes later when he runs smack dab into Rose. She's freshly showered, still dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. This time he knows exactly where the gasp comes from.
His eyes lock on hers, and he finds he can't look away, doesn't want to look away, especially when the surprised gaze turns warm and welcoming, a soft smile dancing across her mouth. He can feel the heat radiating off her skin, see the steam drifting around her like morning fog clinging to the ground. Never, in all the time that he's known Rose, has he ever been this aware of her body in relation to his own, and they've been far closer than this in the past.
Something's changed between them. Or, at least, something's changed in him.
He finds he wants nothing more than to lean down just the few inches separating them and kiss her. But its more than a want, it's a need. A deep, aching need in the pit of his stomach, with a grip of steel that isn't about to let go.
For the first time in their relationship, he's figuring out just how strong his feelings for her are, how strong they've always been. He's wasted so much of their time together avoiding it because of stupid Time Lord laws that don't even matter, and he realizes, he doesn't want to pretend anymore. No longer satisfied with the way things are, the way they've been, he wants more. And that more is standing next to him, naked but for a towel, drops of water sliding down her smooth skin.
Unsure of what her reaction will be, but deciding to take the plunge and wear his hearts on his sleeve for once, he tilts his head until he can feel their breath mingling, holding her gaze with his. Before he can second-guess himself, he raises his hand, tangling his fingers in the wet strands of her hair, and dips his mouth down to hers. The kiss is soft and gentle at first, but when she responds with a sigh, his need is becomes stronger, and it quickly changes to something far more.
His lips move over hers with an urgency he's never felt before, fueling the fire he can feel building inside of him, as he takes something from her he hadn't even realized until now that he'd been missing.
~~~
His lips are cool and soft as they move over hers. Gentle at first, they quickly become slightly demanding, surprising her with the passion behind them. He feels just like she remembers from Cassandra's kiss, only this is all her, and it makes all the difference in the world. This, she thinks, is what she was always meant to be doing. Kissing the Doctor, molding her lips to his, feeling his tongue press into her mouth, caressing the inside of it.
She doesn't ever want to stop.
Leaning into his touch, aware of his other arm wrapping around her and pulling her closer, she feels all the tension, all the stress just melt away. She reaches up, threading her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place.
She doesn't want to let go.
One arm trapped between their bodies, she can feel his hearts beating and she doesn't think they've ever galloped quite so fast before. They're pounding nearly as fast as hers is and she feels a thrill go through her, a shiver run up her spine, that she's affecting him this much.
The kiss is hurried and rushed, yet slow and sensual. It's caressing and exploring, mapping out every last corner of her mouth and his. It's learning each other and tasting each other, and he tastes like tea and bananas. Not exactly an unexpected combination, but it's all him and he tastes wonderful.
Craving more contact, craving his body pressed tight against hers, she tries to pull her arm out from between them, forgetting entirely about the towel and its precarious position around her chest, protecting her modesty. By the time she remembers, it's too late and the sudden rush of cold air on warm skin elicits a sudden, sharp intake of breath.
The Doctor tears his lips from hers and gives her a questioning look, then notices her sudden nakedness and takes two abrupt steps backward. "Oh," he says in a squeak, face turning red and eyes quickly dropping to the floor.
She can feel the tinge of her own embarrassment stain her cheeks as she reaches down to pluck the towel off the floor. Though it was a bit unexpected, she can't say the thought had never crossed her mind...especially just now, with their tongues locked in that infinite dance of passion. But he's obviously not ready to take that step, she thinks, watching him flitting his eyes over every available object in the room except her, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.
Grinning in spite of herself--it's alright if he's not ready to cross that line just yet, she can wait--she quickly wraps the towel around the source of his nervousness and secures it firmly in place. When she clears her throat to signal the all clear he doesn't respond, and she notices that, in the space of time it took her to cover herself up, his eyes glazed over, like they do when something particularly brilliant has come to him. His mumblings have taken on a less random tone, and become more focused, though she doesn't understand any of what he's saying.
"Doctor?"
He jerks his head up and looks at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was even there. "That's it," he exclaims, finally focusing on her, his face slowly splitting into a grin, giving her his mega-watt, I-just-figured-it-out smile.
"What's 'it'?" she asks, humoring him. When he's done, when he's figured it all out, he'll share whatever it is that's so fascinating it can keep him from kissing her again. And then she'll return the favor and snog that brilliant mouth of his senseless.
"It wasn't...what exactly did you see, Rose?" He shortens the gap between them. "The hallucination here. The strong one. What did you see?"
Feeling an uncomfortable weight settle back over her shoulders, she blinks at him. Why does he have to want to discuss that of all things? She wants to put it behind her now, forget that it ever happened and never think about it again. It's not like she's going to have any more of them anyway, because she isn't. Not now that she's safe with him.
But he's watching her, waiting, looking like it's extremely important that she tell him. She shrugs, trying not to think about it too much, trying not to let it get to her. "I saw you. Here, in this room."
Her lack of clothing makes her shiver in the chill air. She wants him to envelop her body in his warm arms again, pull her tight to his chest. She doesn't want to rehash what she's already told him.
"But what was I doing?" He's brimming with excitement, practically bouncing in place, and completely oblivious to her discomfort.
"Staring at me."
"Where were you?" he asks, gesturing wildly around the room. "Where was I?"
Crossing her arms over her chest, she frowns at him. She knows this is important to him, but, really, can't he let her get some clothes on first? "I was in bed. You were..." she swallows down the twinge of fear that remembrance brings. "You were right there," she points in the general direction of where she'd seen him. "Right next to the bed, staring at me."
The Doctor claps his hands together once, making her jump. "As I was saying, that's it!" He rocks back and forth on his heels, obviously quite proud of himself, grinning like an idiot, while she stands there freezing.
She can feel goose flesh breaking out over her skin and she runs her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm them a little. "What're you on about?"
"The hallucination," he explains quickly. "Well, it wasn't exactly a hallucination." He smiles proudly at her. "It was a future echo. More like a...glimpse of something that hasn't happened yet. Or hadn't at the time. It has now, because it was me. You were actually seeing me. In the future...well, the future for past you, not present you."
Taking it all in, she's a bit surprised that she actually understood all of it, that his inane ramblings actually made sense to her this time. He could've stopped with future echo and she would've been fine, but she didn't have the heart to stop him from his animated mini lecture. She knows how much he enjoys slipping into teaching mode, and, frankly, she loves to watch him like that. 'Course, she loves to watch him do just about anything, but that's beside the point.
"So it really was you 'n not some sort of illusion?"
"Yup!" he says, popping the 'p'. Oh, he is just too full of himself.
That settled, she takes a step closer to him. He's owed a great big, heart-stopping snog and she intends to make sure he cashes in right now. But before she can, he goes all outer spacey on her again, jerking his head to the side and spouting some nonsense about artron energies and huon particles. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fumbles around, then pulls it back out brandishing the sonic screwdriver, and waving it in her direction.
With a sigh, she holds still, letting him scan her, knowing that until he's satisfied his curiosity about whatever this new tangent is, he's not going to notice her kissing him. Bloody hell, she could probably drop the towel to the floor and stand there starkers in front of him, and he wouldn't notice.
It only takes a few seconds, and when he's done, he drops the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, and stares at her, his eyes void of the mirth they just held. "Oh, Rose." He reaches out a hand to caress her cheek, voice low and gentle. "I...there's something...you need to--" He pauses and swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Rose, you've changed somehow. Your readings--I knew something was a bit off when I scanned you on the TARDIS, but I didn't--I don't know what it is but it's not from the alcohol or lack of sleep, like I thought. It's something else."
She's already knows what he's talking about, knows because it's one of the reasons why she didn't search him out the very second she made it back to his universe universe.
"I can figure out what it is," he rushes to assure her. "Just let me run some tests. I'll take some blood and run it through the TARDIS computer systems--"
"You don't need to," she interrupts, casting her eyes to the floor. She doesn't think she can face him when she says this, when she tells him what she should've told him months ago. She was so afraid to before, but there're too many secrets between the two of them, too many things keeping them apart, and she can't stand it any longer.
He threads his fingers in her hair again, a painful reminder of the kiss they just shared. "But I do," he insists, absently rubbing his thumb along her cheekbones and sending shivers through her. She treasures away the touch, because, this may very well be the last time he touches her like this. Or at all. "I need to find out what's wrong with you."
Raising her eyes to his, feeling a sense of bravery she doesn't really understand and a sudden desire to look him in the eyes, to gauge his reaction, she sighs and curls her fingers around his hand.
"I can't die."
He doesn't respond at first, just stares at her, fingers clenching in her hair, eyebrows furrowing. He looks frightened, no, terrified. Shaking his head vehemently, he steps away from her, mouth tight. "What do you mean, you can't die?" His voice is cold and sharp, and it scares her.
Fighting back tears, she drops his hand and turns away. His response is all the answer she needs; she doesn't doubt how he feels about her now. Maybe not telling him would've been better, because now that she has, she can't take it back, no matter how much she might want to. Disgust is all she'll see from him now, his anger all she'll hear when he speaks to her. Just like with Jack. Exactly like Jack, she thinks, angrily brushing a tear from her lashes.
Moving as quickly as she can away from him, she yanks her closet door open and pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When she can finally manage to answer him, her words are short and clipped. "I mean I am unable to die. I can't die. I don't die. I won't die. Ever." Holding her clothes to her shivering body, she spins around to face him, eyes overflowing with hurt and the tears she's trying so desperately to hold back. "I haven't actually died, not yet. I could be wrong, but, unless I test the theory, we'll just go with 'I. can't. die'."
Fingers stiff with tension and mind numb with pain, she loses her grip, dropping her jeans to the floor. Sniffling, she bends to pick them up, and feels the towel loosening around her chest. She grabs for it quickly with her free hand, clutching the ends together, then straightens up, holding the towel and her clothing in front of her like a shield.
"But," he begins, striding across the room toward her, brow still lowered in confusion, "that's impossible. That is...that is not possible, Rose."
She snorts out a laugh, but it is in no way amused. "I think...I think you should really re-assess the meaning of that word, Doctor. Just because you don't know how something works, doesn't make it impossible." Turning with a jerk, she heads to the bathroom to change and to escape from his accusing glare.
A firm pressure on her shoulder stops her, but she doesn't turn around, can't stand to face him again. Why won't he just let her go? She wants nothing more than to be on the other side of that door, the thick wooden barrier serving as armor between him and her heart.
"Rose," her name comes out a sigh. She can feel him move closer to her, so close that his warm breath wafts over her chilled skin. So close, his suit jacket and trousers brush against her goose-bump-pebbled skin.
She tightens her grip on her clothes. "You don't have to say it. I know," she says, feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach as she braces herself for the rejection she knows is coming. "Jack told me."
His fingers dig into her shoulder. "Jack," he bites out, spinning her around, his eyes blazing. "What, exactly, did Jack tell you?"
She doesn't answer. If he isn't going to let her get to the bathroom, fine, she'll dress right here in front of him. If he doesn't like it, he can leave. Dropping her jeans to the floor, she quickly pulls her t-shirt over her head and shoulders before the towel can fall. She immediately feels a bit warmer, though that could be the sudden awareness that the Doctor is watching her every move.
Now, he notices her nakedness?
Rolling her eyes, being careful not to look at him directly, she yanks the towel from under her shirt and holds it to her waist as she retrieves her jeans from the floor. Giving the Doctor a pointed look, she waits for him to turn away, to give her the privacy she needs, but he doesn't. His eyes remains on her, dark and unreadable, making her stomach flutter despite everything. Under his watchful gaze, she steps into the cool, crisp denim, pulling them up as far as she can with the barrier wrapped around her waist. She tosses the towel aside, not caring anymore if he catches a glimpse of anything. He's already seen her completely naked, after all, and this is really just a hint of flesh.
When she finally braves another look at him she finds he's still watching her, but his eyes aren't on her face anymore.
She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat, feeling more naked under his gaze now than when she'd been completely starkers. Grabbing the ends of her t-shirt, she yanks it down, but that only serves to make her nipples all the more obvious in the chilly room.
When his eyes dart back up to her face, she shifts uncomfortably under his heated stare. Then he clears his throat, sticking his hands in his pocket. Back to Doctor default mode, it seems. "Jack?" he encourages softly.
Why can't he just let it go all ready? It's not like anything she says is going to make one bit of difference to him at this point. "He told me what you said about him," she answers, knowing that if she doesn't, he'll just keep pressing the matter until she does. "That he's wrong and you can't stand to be around him." She runs a hand through her tangled hair. It's drying too fast, and without a good brushing, will turn into a rat's nest.
Sidestepping the Doctor, she moves to her makeup table and picks up her brush. Working it through her hair, she watches him warily in the mirror.
"Yeah," he agrees, eyes on her reflection. He shrugs his shoulders. "What does that have to do with you, and--oh" His expression clears when the realization of what she's trying to say hits him. "Oh, no, no, no, Rose. You're not like Jack. Not at all like Jack. He's a fixed point in time, I can..." he pauses, rubbing the back of his head, and she can tell he's searching for the right words. "I feel him as a--there's a wrongness to him because he--" cutting off his own words, he strides over to her, taking the brush from her hand and setting it back on her vanity. "Rose, would I have been touching you all this time--kissing you--if I felt you were wrong?"
Her eyes widen as he takes her slack hand, places a gentle kiss to her palm. "I don't..." she falters, feeling her heart soar with hope, oh, so much hope. Is it possible that he isn't rejecting her after all? "I don't know."
He leans close to her, eyes dark and heated with something she's never seen before. Never thought she'd see. "You are not wrong to me, Rose Tyler." He presses his lips against her forehead, then her cheek. "And even if you were?" He pulls back, catching her gaze with his. "It wouldn't matter to me. I'd still want you." His eyes, so open and full of honesty, force her to accept the truth of his words, then drop to her lips. "And I do want you, Rose." He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and trails a hand down her arm, taking her by the elbow to draw her closer. Leaning his forehead against hers, he exhales shakily and whispers, "Do you want me?"
She shudders at the husky tone to his words, the obvious meaning behind them. She can feel his forehead against hers, his warm breath on her cool cheeks, his hand on her chilled flesh. She can see the truth in his eyes and her heart begins to thump in double-time at the need on his face. "Yes," she whispers back.
He smiles breathlessly, there for only a moment before it's gone again, hidden in the depths of his intense gaze, now focused on her lips. "That's good. That's very, very good."
She could stay here like this forever, safe in the knowledge that, for now, he still wants her. Wants her more than she could've ever imagined. But her mum is downstairs, her family and mates, and if she doesn't make an appearance soon, they're gonna come looking for her. Besides, the sooner she ties up the loose ends here, the sooner they can get back to their proper universe. Together.
As if sensing her thoughts, the Doctor pulls back, eyes still dark as night, a look of reluctance on his face. "Suppose we should," he nods towards the bedroom door. "Not that I don't want to stay here, but...can't exactly have you all to myself with your mum near, can I?" There's a twinkle in his eye and a gruffness to his voice that leaves her mind reeling with the possibilities.
"Right," she squeaks, then clears her throat. "Say our goodbyes. Then?"
"Well, I had hoped, Rose Tyler," he holds out his elbow for her, "that we might do some traveling, me and you. Of we go?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
"Into time..." she smiles up at him, hooking her arm in his.
"And space." He walks with her to the door, with a bounce in his step. "Oh, the places I want to take you, Rose. Srevania and the seven moons of Bak-Vlah."
Resting her head against his shoulder, Rose lets his infectious excitement wash over her. She can't wait. Srevania? Bak-Vlah? A mud planet with deadly snakes the size of large trees? Anywhere he wants to go, she'll follow.
"And--oh, oh, definitely have to take you to La'San!"
A feeling of dread shreds through her happiness and she falters, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Did you know they put five bananas in their banana cream pies? Five bananas, Rose!" The Doctor turns to her, grinning broadly, waiting for her acknowledgment of how wonderful that is.
She nods, leaning heavily against his side, trying to keep herself upright. Her head is spinning, her smile slowly fading from her lips, and she's pretty sure she's about to be ill.
...coming soon, Devil or Angel.
Rating: I'm going with PG-13 but I'm not really good with ratings
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jack, Tosh, Ianto, Gwen, Owen, Pete, Jackie, Mickey, Jake, Martha, other characters
Spoilers: Anything up till the end of season three is fair game
Summary: The sequel to Mrs. Jones You've Got a Lovely Daughter and part of my Homesick In Heaven series.
Rose is back, has been for awhile now, and the Doctor is none the wiser. She's making a go of it and life is good...as good as it can be without him by her side. But what happens when forces beyond her control bring the two of them back together? What happens when the Doctor finds out she's been hiding from him all these months? Will Rose reveal her deepest, darkest secrets to him before it's too late?
Author's Note: And so we come to the end of this long journey. It's been an interesting ride for me, one that I've at times both enjoyed and hated. It's also my very first completed multi-chaptered fic ever, which is reason enough for a celebration. Yay me! :)
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I have a few people I need to thank:
To
magpye, and Blvdgirl on fanfiction.net, for reading some of the early drafts of this story and giving me their opinions on it. To snowfox3, also on fanfiction.net, for beta'ing the original draft of this massive fic. To Foalen on Teaspoon, for leaving some brutally honest reviews and making me really think about some of my decisions. To
rachelbeann, for letting me complain about uncooperative characters and for being so kind as to allow me to let her see spoilers so I could get another opinion on things I was uncertain about.
To those of you that have read or reviewed this story, thank you. Though I would've written this even if no one else but myself was interested in the plot, it certainly helped to know that someone else was enjoying it too. I hope that the ending lives up to your expectations.
Finally, to
sinecure...I've said it before and I'll say it again, this fic wouldn't be nearly as good as it is without your help, support, and constant patience. I'm frankly surprised you haven't turned tail and run by now, but you haven't, and I am eternally grateful for that. Thank you.
(Readers take note:
sinecure deserves at least half credit for this chapter.)
~~~
It crosses his mind more than once while he's setting the coordinates that maybe, agreeing to bring Rose back home to her mum was not his brightest idea of late. Jackie deserves to see that her daughter is all right, deserves to ascertain her safety with her own eyes, but he's not quite ready to share Rose with anyone just yet.
That and there are still so many things they need to discuss. So many things they need to work out before jumping back into their old life together...if she even wants that anymore. He hopes she does, thinks she does, what with all the hand holding they just engaged in. But he's never been very good at reading humans and their emotions and he doesn't want to make the mistake of assuming.
At least they're being civil to each other now. No, more than that, they're talking and things seem to be going well between them. As the TARDIS rematerializes, he glances at Rose, and his heart skips a beat to see her standing there...here, with him, in his beloved ship once again. It's almost like it used to be, something, a short while ago he would've thought fell under the category of impossible.
Perhaps, it's time he remove that particular word from his vocabulary, at least when it comes to him and Rose.
They've managed so many times to make the impossible possible, finding their way back to each other despite insurmountable odds. Impossible planets and rockets at 10 Downing Street, his escape from the Wraith and her finding a way to cross the void to the universe of her birth.
"How'd you do it?" he asks her abruptly, halting her halfway down the ramp to the door. He has so many questions, questions that have been whirling around in his head since he first saw her back at Torchwood, Jack's Torchwood. This is the first real opportunity he's had to ask her them and he thinks that, after all this time, he deserves answers.
She watches him, one hand on the railing, the other by her side, looking completely at home standing there. Looking like she belongs here, which, in his eyes, she does.
Her brow furrows in uncertainty. "Do what?"
Joining her by the doors, he keeps his hands buried deep in his pockets, the only way he can stop himself from reaching out and touching her. "Get back to the right universe. How'd you do it? It should've been impossible. Still should be impossible, yet, here we are."
He watches as her expression goes from happily content to carefully neutral in zero-point-two seconds, and he thinks it must be a record. "There was a rip, and a bridge, that's what Mickey called it anyway," she replies without hesitation, "and Torchwood still has the hoppers."
The way she's looking at him, so calm and collected, almost like a trained reaction, he wonders how long she's been waiting for him to bring this up. It's not like he didn't want to sooner but things kept cropping up, preventing him from having this conversation with her. Her attitude toward him, his own hurt and anger, the Wraith, all of it kept him sufficiently distracted and just a bit busy, but not anymore. She's safe now, Pete's Earth is safe, and, after all the hugging and snuggling, he knows, despite any hurdles they may face along the way, there is still hope for them yet.
Right now he needs answers, needs to understand what happened. Like how there could possibly be a bridge--not just a rip, but a bridge as well--between the universes when he's the only Time Lord left in existence. "That's impossible." He shakes his head. "There can't be a bridge...can't even be a gap. I fixed all of them. You were there when the last one closed."
She shrugs, dismissing his words as if he weren't the expert on these matters. "Maybe you missed one."
"No," he insists, ignoring the look in her eyes, the one that's telling him not to push the matter. "I wouldn't have missed something this important." Why does she suddenly seem so reluctant to discuss this? What exactly is she hiding from him?
She shifts her gaze towards the door, away from him. "Well, then maybe a new one formed." Shrugging again, she starts down the ramp, obviously feeling the matter's closed. "I hardly see how it matters--"
"It matters," he insists roughly, "because two worlds could've collapsed." Grabbing her by the arm, he jerks her around to face him. Something about the way she's acting...she's not being completely honest with him. "Did you do this? You and your bloody Torchwood?"
Her eyes narrow, her mouth tightening into a thin, angry line. "No, Doctor. Why would I?" her voice is clipped and harsh; it's the situation with the Wraith all over again, only this time, it's all his fault. "You wouldn't risk destroying two universe's jus' to get back to me. Why would I do the same for you?"
He blinks once, twice, the underlying hurt in her words, giving him pause. She can't have meant that she wanted him to risk it, could she?
Before he can ask, she's shaking her head and her voice softens, "I didn't--" She takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes are pleading with him, begging him to accept what she's saying, to understand how she feels. "I don't wanna fight with you anymore."
Now that, he understands. Releasing his grip on her arm, he realizes that he must've been holding her tighter than he thought. There's a slight pinking to her flesh and he runs an apologetic thumb over the sore spot. "I...I'm sorry."
Lowering her gaze from his, she gently removes her arm from his grasp, rubbing at the mark. "Don't worry about it. It was an accident," she says, giving him a quick smile before continuing down the ramp and out the door.
The trust thing is going to take awhile to figure out, he thinks with a sigh. Following behind her, he steps outside of the TARDIS and looks around, finding himself standing, not in front of the Tyler mansion like he figured, but inside of it. "Oh," he exclaims, more than a little startled, when he realizes where they are.
The room is spacious, nothing like her old one on the Powell Estates. It's well decorated with expensive looking furniture scattered about, and a convenient en suite opposite the bed. It's not exactly her style but he's already seen just how much the woman standing before him has changed since they last knew each other. The only thing that seems to have remained the same is her scent of preference.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he lets the aroma of Rose surround him: fresh vanilla, with the slightest hint of honey. Oh, how he's missed that, how he's missed her. His eyelids flutter closed for the briefest of moments and when he opens them again he finds her watching him, a bemused look on her face.
He sticks his fists in his pockets and snaps his gaze from her, taking another, unnecessary, look around the room, as though he's seeing it for the first time. Trying not to shuffle his feet or mumble he asks, "Your ah...your room?"
"Yeah, ta." She grins wickedly before crossing to a large, wooden dresser. "Gonna shower quick. Meet me downstairs? I'll only be a mo."
Standing there, not really sure what to do with himself, he watches as she pulls out a few articles of clothing--including a pair of lacy knickers, he realizes with a start--then turns to lay them on the bed. "I'll just, ah..." and now he is mumbling and shuffling his feet. Waving his hand in the general direction of the door, he walks as casually as he can in that direction.
"Had one of those visions here too," she says absentmindedly.
Startled, he turns back to her and sees her gaze settling on the pile of pillows by the headboard as her fingers caress the pale pink duvet. "Strongest one," she adds, almost to herself, then shrugs and looks at him briefly, before her eyes slide past him and focus on the bathroom door.
He opens his mouth to ask her about it, but before he can, she raises and lowers her shoulders, shaking the feeling off like she's shrugging off a jacket. "Tell mum I'll be down in a tic, yeah?" she says quickly, as hurries past him and into the bathroom.
Staring at the closed door, he waits until he hears the water running in the shower and then pulls out the sonic screwdriver. He can't brush it off as easily as she just did. If there is an alien influence involved in these hallucinations, he may be able to find some trace of it here. Especially if the worst of them occurred in this room.
Starting where he's standing seems as good a place as any, so, taking his time, he slowly makes his way around the room, watching for any unusual readings. It takes a bit to cover the whole room, and when he finally picks it up, it's so faint that he almost passes it over as leftover residue from her working around alien tech, but he doesn't. When the readings get stronger the closer he gets to her bed, he knows he's hit on something.
They seem to be focused somewhere around the left side of the bed, right where--if she's like any other human he's ever met and she prefers one side of the bed over the other--she probably sleeps every night. There's something familiar about the energy, something he feels he should recognize, but he can't quite place.
The tickle in the back of his mind gets even stronger as he leans over the bed, trying to get a fix on what is causing the readings. If he could just...
There's the sudden feeling that he's no longer alone. The hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end and he can hear the distinct sound of a sudden intake of breath. He stills his breathing, slowly straightens up, and peers around the room, looking for the source of his unease.
Moving away from the bed, turning this way and that, seeking out what could be hidden from his sight in the shadows behind the furniture, serves nothing more than to confirm what he already suspects: there's nothing there. He's completely alone. Scratching at the back of his neck, he begins to pace.
There was something, he's sure of it. Something that was there, but not quite there. Something...almost a whisper, a ghost of a presence. Like a...no, that doesn't fit. Gelth? No, that can't be it either.
Continuing to pace, hand occasionally rising unconsciously to ruffle through his hair, he tries to unravel the ever-deepening mystery of what's been happening to Rose. Because he's certain of one thing: that the two incidents are related. They have to be. It's far too much of a coincidence for his taste for her to be hallucinating and him to feel a presence in her room that's not there.
He's so lost in thought, that he's still at it twenty minutes later when he runs smack dab into Rose. She's freshly showered, still dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. This time he knows exactly where the gasp comes from.
His eyes lock on hers, and he finds he can't look away, doesn't want to look away, especially when the surprised gaze turns warm and welcoming, a soft smile dancing across her mouth. He can feel the heat radiating off her skin, see the steam drifting around her like morning fog clinging to the ground. Never, in all the time that he's known Rose, has he ever been this aware of her body in relation to his own, and they've been far closer than this in the past.
Something's changed between them. Or, at least, something's changed in him.
He finds he wants nothing more than to lean down just the few inches separating them and kiss her. But its more than a want, it's a need. A deep, aching need in the pit of his stomach, with a grip of steel that isn't about to let go.
For the first time in their relationship, he's figuring out just how strong his feelings for her are, how strong they've always been. He's wasted so much of their time together avoiding it because of stupid Time Lord laws that don't even matter, and he realizes, he doesn't want to pretend anymore. No longer satisfied with the way things are, the way they've been, he wants more. And that more is standing next to him, naked but for a towel, drops of water sliding down her smooth skin.
Unsure of what her reaction will be, but deciding to take the plunge and wear his hearts on his sleeve for once, he tilts his head until he can feel their breath mingling, holding her gaze with his. Before he can second-guess himself, he raises his hand, tangling his fingers in the wet strands of her hair, and dips his mouth down to hers. The kiss is soft and gentle at first, but when she responds with a sigh, his need is becomes stronger, and it quickly changes to something far more.
His lips move over hers with an urgency he's never felt before, fueling the fire he can feel building inside of him, as he takes something from her he hadn't even realized until now that he'd been missing.
~~~
His lips are cool and soft as they move over hers. Gentle at first, they quickly become slightly demanding, surprising her with the passion behind them. He feels just like she remembers from Cassandra's kiss, only this is all her, and it makes all the difference in the world. This, she thinks, is what she was always meant to be doing. Kissing the Doctor, molding her lips to his, feeling his tongue press into her mouth, caressing the inside of it.
She doesn't ever want to stop.
Leaning into his touch, aware of his other arm wrapping around her and pulling her closer, she feels all the tension, all the stress just melt away. She reaches up, threading her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place.
She doesn't want to let go.
One arm trapped between their bodies, she can feel his hearts beating and she doesn't think they've ever galloped quite so fast before. They're pounding nearly as fast as hers is and she feels a thrill go through her, a shiver run up her spine, that she's affecting him this much.
The kiss is hurried and rushed, yet slow and sensual. It's caressing and exploring, mapping out every last corner of her mouth and his. It's learning each other and tasting each other, and he tastes like tea and bananas. Not exactly an unexpected combination, but it's all him and he tastes wonderful.
Craving more contact, craving his body pressed tight against hers, she tries to pull her arm out from between them, forgetting entirely about the towel and its precarious position around her chest, protecting her modesty. By the time she remembers, it's too late and the sudden rush of cold air on warm skin elicits a sudden, sharp intake of breath.
The Doctor tears his lips from hers and gives her a questioning look, then notices her sudden nakedness and takes two abrupt steps backward. "Oh," he says in a squeak, face turning red and eyes quickly dropping to the floor.
She can feel the tinge of her own embarrassment stain her cheeks as she reaches down to pluck the towel off the floor. Though it was a bit unexpected, she can't say the thought had never crossed her mind...especially just now, with their tongues locked in that infinite dance of passion. But he's obviously not ready to take that step, she thinks, watching him flitting his eyes over every available object in the room except her, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.
Grinning in spite of herself--it's alright if he's not ready to cross that line just yet, she can wait--she quickly wraps the towel around the source of his nervousness and secures it firmly in place. When she clears her throat to signal the all clear he doesn't respond, and she notices that, in the space of time it took her to cover herself up, his eyes glazed over, like they do when something particularly brilliant has come to him. His mumblings have taken on a less random tone, and become more focused, though she doesn't understand any of what he's saying.
"Doctor?"
He jerks his head up and looks at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was even there. "That's it," he exclaims, finally focusing on her, his face slowly splitting into a grin, giving her his mega-watt, I-just-figured-it-out smile.
"What's 'it'?" she asks, humoring him. When he's done, when he's figured it all out, he'll share whatever it is that's so fascinating it can keep him from kissing her again. And then she'll return the favor and snog that brilliant mouth of his senseless.
"It wasn't...what exactly did you see, Rose?" He shortens the gap between them. "The hallucination here. The strong one. What did you see?"
Feeling an uncomfortable weight settle back over her shoulders, she blinks at him. Why does he have to want to discuss that of all things? She wants to put it behind her now, forget that it ever happened and never think about it again. It's not like she's going to have any more of them anyway, because she isn't. Not now that she's safe with him.
But he's watching her, waiting, looking like it's extremely important that she tell him. She shrugs, trying not to think about it too much, trying not to let it get to her. "I saw you. Here, in this room."
Her lack of clothing makes her shiver in the chill air. She wants him to envelop her body in his warm arms again, pull her tight to his chest. She doesn't want to rehash what she's already told him.
"But what was I doing?" He's brimming with excitement, practically bouncing in place, and completely oblivious to her discomfort.
"Staring at me."
"Where were you?" he asks, gesturing wildly around the room. "Where was I?"
Crossing her arms over her chest, she frowns at him. She knows this is important to him, but, really, can't he let her get some clothes on first? "I was in bed. You were..." she swallows down the twinge of fear that remembrance brings. "You were right there," she points in the general direction of where she'd seen him. "Right next to the bed, staring at me."
The Doctor claps his hands together once, making her jump. "As I was saying, that's it!" He rocks back and forth on his heels, obviously quite proud of himself, grinning like an idiot, while she stands there freezing.
She can feel goose flesh breaking out over her skin and she runs her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm them a little. "What're you on about?"
"The hallucination," he explains quickly. "Well, it wasn't exactly a hallucination." He smiles proudly at her. "It was a future echo. More like a...glimpse of something that hasn't happened yet. Or hadn't at the time. It has now, because it was me. You were actually seeing me. In the future...well, the future for past you, not present you."
Taking it all in, she's a bit surprised that she actually understood all of it, that his inane ramblings actually made sense to her this time. He could've stopped with future echo and she would've been fine, but she didn't have the heart to stop him from his animated mini lecture. She knows how much he enjoys slipping into teaching mode, and, frankly, she loves to watch him like that. 'Course, she loves to watch him do just about anything, but that's beside the point.
"So it really was you 'n not some sort of illusion?"
"Yup!" he says, popping the 'p'. Oh, he is just too full of himself.
That settled, she takes a step closer to him. He's owed a great big, heart-stopping snog and she intends to make sure he cashes in right now. But before she can, he goes all outer spacey on her again, jerking his head to the side and spouting some nonsense about artron energies and huon particles. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fumbles around, then pulls it back out brandishing the sonic screwdriver, and waving it in her direction.
With a sigh, she holds still, letting him scan her, knowing that until he's satisfied his curiosity about whatever this new tangent is, he's not going to notice her kissing him. Bloody hell, she could probably drop the towel to the floor and stand there starkers in front of him, and he wouldn't notice.
It only takes a few seconds, and when he's done, he drops the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, and stares at her, his eyes void of the mirth they just held. "Oh, Rose." He reaches out a hand to caress her cheek, voice low and gentle. "I...there's something...you need to--" He pauses and swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Rose, you've changed somehow. Your readings--I knew something was a bit off when I scanned you on the TARDIS, but I didn't--I don't know what it is but it's not from the alcohol or lack of sleep, like I thought. It's something else."
She's already knows what he's talking about, knows because it's one of the reasons why she didn't search him out the very second she made it back to his universe universe.
"I can figure out what it is," he rushes to assure her. "Just let me run some tests. I'll take some blood and run it through the TARDIS computer systems--"
"You don't need to," she interrupts, casting her eyes to the floor. She doesn't think she can face him when she says this, when she tells him what she should've told him months ago. She was so afraid to before, but there're too many secrets between the two of them, too many things keeping them apart, and she can't stand it any longer.
He threads his fingers in her hair again, a painful reminder of the kiss they just shared. "But I do," he insists, absently rubbing his thumb along her cheekbones and sending shivers through her. She treasures away the touch, because, this may very well be the last time he touches her like this. Or at all. "I need to find out what's wrong with you."
Raising her eyes to his, feeling a sense of bravery she doesn't really understand and a sudden desire to look him in the eyes, to gauge his reaction, she sighs and curls her fingers around his hand.
"I can't die."
He doesn't respond at first, just stares at her, fingers clenching in her hair, eyebrows furrowing. He looks frightened, no, terrified. Shaking his head vehemently, he steps away from her, mouth tight. "What do you mean, you can't die?" His voice is cold and sharp, and it scares her.
Fighting back tears, she drops his hand and turns away. His response is all the answer she needs; she doesn't doubt how he feels about her now. Maybe not telling him would've been better, because now that she has, she can't take it back, no matter how much she might want to. Disgust is all she'll see from him now, his anger all she'll hear when he speaks to her. Just like with Jack. Exactly like Jack, she thinks, angrily brushing a tear from her lashes.
Moving as quickly as she can away from him, she yanks her closet door open and pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When she can finally manage to answer him, her words are short and clipped. "I mean I am unable to die. I can't die. I don't die. I won't die. Ever." Holding her clothes to her shivering body, she spins around to face him, eyes overflowing with hurt and the tears she's trying so desperately to hold back. "I haven't actually died, not yet. I could be wrong, but, unless I test the theory, we'll just go with 'I. can't. die'."
Fingers stiff with tension and mind numb with pain, she loses her grip, dropping her jeans to the floor. Sniffling, she bends to pick them up, and feels the towel loosening around her chest. She grabs for it quickly with her free hand, clutching the ends together, then straightens up, holding the towel and her clothing in front of her like a shield.
"But," he begins, striding across the room toward her, brow still lowered in confusion, "that's impossible. That is...that is not possible, Rose."
She snorts out a laugh, but it is in no way amused. "I think...I think you should really re-assess the meaning of that word, Doctor. Just because you don't know how something works, doesn't make it impossible." Turning with a jerk, she heads to the bathroom to change and to escape from his accusing glare.
A firm pressure on her shoulder stops her, but she doesn't turn around, can't stand to face him again. Why won't he just let her go? She wants nothing more than to be on the other side of that door, the thick wooden barrier serving as armor between him and her heart.
"Rose," her name comes out a sigh. She can feel him move closer to her, so close that his warm breath wafts over her chilled skin. So close, his suit jacket and trousers brush against her goose-bump-pebbled skin.
She tightens her grip on her clothes. "You don't have to say it. I know," she says, feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach as she braces herself for the rejection she knows is coming. "Jack told me."
His fingers dig into her shoulder. "Jack," he bites out, spinning her around, his eyes blazing. "What, exactly, did Jack tell you?"
She doesn't answer. If he isn't going to let her get to the bathroom, fine, she'll dress right here in front of him. If he doesn't like it, he can leave. Dropping her jeans to the floor, she quickly pulls her t-shirt over her head and shoulders before the towel can fall. She immediately feels a bit warmer, though that could be the sudden awareness that the Doctor is watching her every move.
Now, he notices her nakedness?
Rolling her eyes, being careful not to look at him directly, she yanks the towel from under her shirt and holds it to her waist as she retrieves her jeans from the floor. Giving the Doctor a pointed look, she waits for him to turn away, to give her the privacy she needs, but he doesn't. His eyes remains on her, dark and unreadable, making her stomach flutter despite everything. Under his watchful gaze, she steps into the cool, crisp denim, pulling them up as far as she can with the barrier wrapped around her waist. She tosses the towel aside, not caring anymore if he catches a glimpse of anything. He's already seen her completely naked, after all, and this is really just a hint of flesh.
When she finally braves another look at him she finds he's still watching her, but his eyes aren't on her face anymore.
She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat, feeling more naked under his gaze now than when she'd been completely starkers. Grabbing the ends of her t-shirt, she yanks it down, but that only serves to make her nipples all the more obvious in the chilly room.
When his eyes dart back up to her face, she shifts uncomfortably under his heated stare. Then he clears his throat, sticking his hands in his pocket. Back to Doctor default mode, it seems. "Jack?" he encourages softly.
Why can't he just let it go all ready? It's not like anything she says is going to make one bit of difference to him at this point. "He told me what you said about him," she answers, knowing that if she doesn't, he'll just keep pressing the matter until she does. "That he's wrong and you can't stand to be around him." She runs a hand through her tangled hair. It's drying too fast, and without a good brushing, will turn into a rat's nest.
Sidestepping the Doctor, she moves to her makeup table and picks up her brush. Working it through her hair, she watches him warily in the mirror.
"Yeah," he agrees, eyes on her reflection. He shrugs his shoulders. "What does that have to do with you, and--oh" His expression clears when the realization of what she's trying to say hits him. "Oh, no, no, no, Rose. You're not like Jack. Not at all like Jack. He's a fixed point in time, I can..." he pauses, rubbing the back of his head, and she can tell he's searching for the right words. "I feel him as a--there's a wrongness to him because he--" cutting off his own words, he strides over to her, taking the brush from her hand and setting it back on her vanity. "Rose, would I have been touching you all this time--kissing you--if I felt you were wrong?"
Her eyes widen as he takes her slack hand, places a gentle kiss to her palm. "I don't..." she falters, feeling her heart soar with hope, oh, so much hope. Is it possible that he isn't rejecting her after all? "I don't know."
He leans close to her, eyes dark and heated with something she's never seen before. Never thought she'd see. "You are not wrong to me, Rose Tyler." He presses his lips against her forehead, then her cheek. "And even if you were?" He pulls back, catching her gaze with his. "It wouldn't matter to me. I'd still want you." His eyes, so open and full of honesty, force her to accept the truth of his words, then drop to her lips. "And I do want you, Rose." He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and trails a hand down her arm, taking her by the elbow to draw her closer. Leaning his forehead against hers, he exhales shakily and whispers, "Do you want me?"
She shudders at the husky tone to his words, the obvious meaning behind them. She can feel his forehead against hers, his warm breath on her cool cheeks, his hand on her chilled flesh. She can see the truth in his eyes and her heart begins to thump in double-time at the need on his face. "Yes," she whispers back.
He smiles breathlessly, there for only a moment before it's gone again, hidden in the depths of his intense gaze, now focused on her lips. "That's good. That's very, very good."
She could stay here like this forever, safe in the knowledge that, for now, he still wants her. Wants her more than she could've ever imagined. But her mum is downstairs, her family and mates, and if she doesn't make an appearance soon, they're gonna come looking for her. Besides, the sooner she ties up the loose ends here, the sooner they can get back to their proper universe. Together.
As if sensing her thoughts, the Doctor pulls back, eyes still dark as night, a look of reluctance on his face. "Suppose we should," he nods towards the bedroom door. "Not that I don't want to stay here, but...can't exactly have you all to myself with your mum near, can I?" There's a twinkle in his eye and a gruffness to his voice that leaves her mind reeling with the possibilities.
"Right," she squeaks, then clears her throat. "Say our goodbyes. Then?"
"Well, I had hoped, Rose Tyler," he holds out his elbow for her, "that we might do some traveling, me and you. Of we go?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
"Into time..." she smiles up at him, hooking her arm in his.
"And space." He walks with her to the door, with a bounce in his step. "Oh, the places I want to take you, Rose. Srevania and the seven moons of Bak-Vlah."
Resting her head against his shoulder, Rose lets his infectious excitement wash over her. She can't wait. Srevania? Bak-Vlah? A mud planet with deadly snakes the size of large trees? Anywhere he wants to go, she'll follow.
"And--oh, oh, definitely have to take you to La'San!"
A feeling of dread shreds through her happiness and she falters, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Did you know they put five bananas in their banana cream pies? Five bananas, Rose!" The Doctor turns to her, grinning broadly, waiting for her acknowledgment of how wonderful that is.
She nods, leaning heavily against his side, trying to keep herself upright. Her head is spinning, her smile slowly fading from her lips, and she's pretty sure she's about to be ill.
...coming soon, Devil or Angel.