Fic - A Life Well Lived - (6/?) - Ten/Rose - T
Date Published: July 6th, 2008
Title: A Life Well Lived
Rating: T
Characters: Ten/Rose, Jackie, Pete, various others
WARNING: Spoilers, there are spoilers in this story, as in, if you haven't seen season four, particularly the last episode, you really don't want to be reading this.
Genre(s): Romance, angst
Word Count: This part: 2,743
Summary: The life he never had.
Disclaimer: The names, images and logos identifying the BBC and their products and services are subject to copyright, design rights and trade marks of the BBC. Used without permission for non-profit, non-commercial personal use.
Fic Type: Multi-Chaptered. WIP.
Beta(s): sherarara, hippiebanana132, clinicallybored, rosie_not_rose and jlrpuck. Thanks everyone, absolutely, for helping me out, you guys are great! *squish*
Author's Note: Okay. So it took me a month. No, I didn't lose my muse, I lost my laptop, and all the time in the world :P But I still wrote, in short bursts, and here's the next chapter. Hooray!
Excerpt: “If I...” she starts, and he tightens his hold on her hand. She looks up at him. “If I accept this, it means... you're not coming back.”
A Life Well Lived
Six
It's late. Jackie's had so much wine she's practically falling asleep, and even the Doctor will admit he's more affected by alcohol than he once used to be. As time ticks on, he becomes increasingly aware of Rose's absence until, after her father reappears at the table smelling suspiciously of cigarette smoke, he decides he should go and look for her.
He excuses himself from the table, leaving a semi-drunken Jackie in the all too capable hands of Pete, and goes off in search of Rose. Pete nods his head towards the left and, taking that as a clue, the Doctor makes a left after he's gone up the stairs. He finds himself in another living room, grander than the one by the entrance, with a huge bookshelf stacked with books taking up one of the walls. High armchairs sit facing a quiet fire in a grate, and thin curtains twitch in a lazy breeze.
Light from the moon outside streams in and, standing on the balcony past the open French windows, he spots the familiar silhouette of Rose.
“Hello,” he says quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets and stepping out into the cool night air. “You disappeared.”
She glances back over her shoulder, giving him a cursory look. She doesn't say anything.
The Doctor senses his presence isn't all too welcome, but this is the second time today she's wandered off and left him on his own, and he's going to get to the bottom of it before it gets in the way of whatever progression they need to make.
He stands straight beside her, the wind taking up his hair and blowing his fringe into his eyes. The grounds spread out before him, willow trees and lakes and statues scattered here or there, and in the distance he's certain he can make out the distinct mewling of a peacock.
“It really is beautiful here,” he comments quietly, turning to Rose. The light from the moon gives her a haunting complexion, but it's strangely beautiful against the shadows. “Rose?”
She nods, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Yeah, I know. After everything settled down Dad asked Mum if she wanted to move, but I s'pose living on a council estate most of your life makes you want something like this. She didn't want to leave.”
“And you?” he asks, detecting something unsaid in her words and shifting closer to her. “What did you want?”
She bows her head, her hesitation making the Doctor wonder if she's grappling with the truth.
“I didn't want any of it,” she admits eventually, looking up and turning her head so she can see him. “Mum was... she seemed to settle so easily and accept everything.”
“And you didn't?”
“Not at first. I mean, working at Torchwood, great, yeah, but... it was nowhere near what I was really trying to make up for.” She turns to him fully now, and the Doctor can't tell if her eyes are glistening because of tears or moonlight. “And you were right, about what you said before. Working there has changed me, it's made me... colder. I guess you have to be when you work somewhere like that, when you see what I see every day.”
“But I see it too!” he finds himself arguing, wishing he had never compared her to Yvonne. “Rose, when you were with me... what we saw together, that didn't change you, not one bit.”
“Yeah, but,” she shrugs, “we weren't working. When I was with you I was there by choice, not 'cause I had to make a living.”
“So...” He needs to get to what's really troubling her. It's good, he decides, that she's opening up to him; they're talking now in ways they never used to before.
She doesn't say anything, instead turning away, and his hand drifts to her back in comfort. “Tell me,” he pleads quietly.
“I don't like it here,” she says simply, quietly.
He's surprised, and his head tips to one side in interest. “You don't?”
“You're kidding me, right?” There's almost something accusing in her tone, but he can tell that she's trying to tame it. “I was trapped here. I told you, a long time ago, that I was never gonna leave you, and I still stand by that. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm here because I have to be, that I've got to spend the next... sixty years or whatever as a normal person. After being out there, up in the stars, it's...” She falls quiet, as though realising she's saying things that don't deserve to be said. “It's hard to go back,” she finishes.
The Doctor sighs through his nose, dropping his hand. “I see.”
He'd always assumed, in his young foolish ways, that she was happier here. He knew for a fact she was better off, he remembers feeling that acutely when they said goodbye at Bad Wolf Bay. He knew that this life was a better life for her, that it was the life that she truly deserved. That didn't stop him being selfish when she tried to convince him she wanted him more than any kind of normal life, and it didn't stop the hurt from stinging that little bit more when he lost her anyway.
“I thought...” he starts, trying to rationalise just letting her go. She had a point, those years ago, when she challenged him about the universes fracturing. Then, he wouldn't have dared to do such a thing to get her back. If given the same option now... he's not so sure he'd take the safe path again. “Oh, I don't know what I thought.”
“It's like, when you left me before, I knew there was a way back through, I just had to find it. That's why I stuck around at Torchwood, so I could find my way back to you.”
“You never settled here,” he realises suddenly, and the way she drops her gaze from him confirms what he's thinking. “You made do, day to day, because you thought... you could find a way back. That's what kept you going. But you haven't been living, these past couple of years, have you? You've just been... experimenting in Torchwood, punching bigger and bigger holes in the universe like - ”
“And you're angry because of that?” she disputes, frowning.
“No,” he lies, “I just... I wish I'd known. That... that by you being here, the universe was even more in danger.”
“Oh, no.” Rose pushes herself away from the balcony, away from him, and she glares at him like he's the monster she's been grappling with for the past few years. “You're not blaming me for this, for anything that happened. I didn't do anything wrong. I just did what you were too scared to.”
There's a sour silence in the air once her words abate, their gaze locking in the cool night.
The Doctor can feel his clenched teeth relax, can feel his body giving up: she's right.
“Yes,” he admits quietly, determinedly keeping her eye contact. “You're right. You did and said the things I was too scared to do. And Rose, you have no idea how thankful I am that you did. Because now...” He trails off, his voice becoming soft, and he steps towards her. He can see her take a breath, perhaps in nervousness, but he reaches down for her hand anyway and looks her dead in the eye. “Now, maybe, I can do and say the things I've always wanted. You've given me that, Rose, you've given me that freedom.”
He watches as the words register in her mind, and already her gaze becomes softer, more open to him.
He's surprised when she reaches out to his heart, placing her fingertips over the solitary beating beneath his chest. She exhales loudly, her breath catching in the air.
“If I...” she starts, and he tightens his hold on her hand. She looks up at him. “If I accept this, it means... you're not coming back.”
She sounds so lost that he has to fight, hard, to stop himself from enveloping her in a hug and kissing all the worry out of her.
“I'm here,” he says instead. “And no, Rose. I'm not coming back.”
She nods, understanding, then glances away from him as tears rise in her eyes. When she can't fight them, and they begin to leak from behind her eyes and dribble down her cheeks, the Doctor sighs in sympathy and pulls her to him, finding strength in her as he comforts her.
She grabs him around the shoulders, pulling at him like she can't hug him hard enough, and soon she's shaking in his arms.
He rubs her back and lays his head on hers, staring out across the grounds as it's cleansed by the light of the moon. She leaves mascara stains on his brand new shirt, but he doesn't care. He just stands with her as, finally, she mourns the loss of a man she's been trying to stay with for the past four years of her life. Perhaps now, they'll be able to start something new.
-oOo-
He suggests bed not long after, and she silently agrees. She lets him take her by the hand and lead her away, back through the living room, along the hallway, through another door and eventually to their adjoining rooms.
“Thanks,” she says with a sniff once they're in her room, but she doesn't smile.
The Doctor stands above her, gazing at the way her features almost blur in the soft lamp-light. He sighs, then sits next to her on the bed, unsure of the feelings that have suddenly bloomed in his chest.
“Look, Rose, I know it's - ”
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. When he looks up at her, she's grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him towards her, into a kiss that's searing and sends tingles right the way through him. Somewhere in his mind there's a voice that tells him she's just using him for comfort, that she's trying to escape the terrible honesty of feeling alone.
But another voice argues that he's doing exactly the same, so instead of pulling away, he kisses her back, hands moving to her back and waist to keep her close to him.
Kissing Rose feels fantastic. It's like exploring something he knows like the back of his hand, and when he feels her open her mouth against him, coaxing his tongue to slide along hers, shivers ripple down his skin. His body - his human body - seems to know how to act, which is just as well, because left to his own devices he'd probably get up and start babbling about this or that.
As it is he can settle with brushing his nose against hers, nibbling her bottom lip, moving his attention from her mouth to her jawline and feeling the intense thrill of pleasing her twitch between his legs.
Oh. Oh, God.
He pulls away from her, wondering when it was that his shirt became more unbuttoned and her hand slipped underneath it to his skin. He glances to Rose, who looks ruffled and thoroughly kissable, and has to hold in a groan. This... this is new.
Rose looks worried. “You okay?” she asks, moving her hand away to rest it in her lap.
He nods, his head slightly clouded by the pheromones he can smell rising from her skin. “I... yeah.”
She frowns, but it's sympathetic. “You don't look it.”
The Doctor sits back, a heavy feeling settling on his shoulders, and he absently runs a hand across his jawline. He frowns at the stubble there, thicker and coarser than it should be. His mouth still tastes of Rose, of dinner and wine and -
“Did you smoke?”
“Used to...” she says slowly, and there's something guarded in her reaction. She shrugs. “Had some when Dad found me on the balcony. I don't make a habit of it.”
He nods absently, that at least explaining the extra layer of taste on his tongue. Then, breaking himself out of thought, he looks back to Rose. “You should sleep,” he says. “It's late.”
She laughs.”Don't think you've slept since you got here. And... I don't really feel like sleeping...” Her hand slides along the bed to his and there's mischief in her gaze.
He moves his hand from her reach and stares at the closed door. “Don't,” he warns.
She tenses, he can feel the slight shift of weight on the bed beside him.
“Fine,” she says simply, with a slight biting edge to her tone. “I won't.”
He knows he's annoyed her, but he also knows they can't jump in to anything together, it wouldn't be the sensible thing to do. They're going to have to take this slowly. The trouble is, he doesn't really know what it is he's doing.
“Goodnight, Rose,” he offers simply, getting up off the bed.
He senses hesitation in the air, but she returns the gesture, and he leaves the room.
He heads through the bathroom, glancing briefly at the toothbrushes sitting in the cup by the sink. Shaking his head, the Doctor continues to his own room. It's strange, standing in here on his own, and as he gazes around the room that's been unslept in he can't help but feel a pang for his old room, the room he'll never see again.
He goes to the window and draws the curtains, looking up briefly into the night sky.
“You'll be okay,” he says to himself, even though he knows that he won't. The Doctor closes his eyes, takes a moment to transport himself to his old body, the one with the TARDIS. He summons the feeling of loneliness, of standing in the control room with no one around, except his loyal ship. He misses her song, the constant thrum of another presence in his mind. In some ways he's lonelier now than he ever was, but he doesn't want to dwell on that for too long.
He has other things to worry about.
He strips down to his underwear, peeling off the brand new clothes and folding them into neat squares and placing them on the chair at the other side of the room. He tugs at the covers and slips between the sheets, ghost-like, and tries to get used to the strange feel of the mattress beneath him.
If this were a planet in the middle of nowhere and he were thrown into yet another adventure, this would be fine. It's the knowledge that he's here for the duration that unsettles him slightly. He can cope, day by day, because he can convince himself he's just here for a quick visit, and he can enjoy being with Rose and her family living in this strange, strange house when he thinks he'll be leaving soon.
But he won't be leaving soon. He needs clothes, a much bigger collection than what they bought today, and a house, and a job, and money. He has to, as Rose put it, live like a normal person. He'll even have to get a mortgage.
The idea in itself is somewhat terrifying, but he smiles at the memory of years ago, of the words being exchanged with Rose.
“What about me? I'd have to get one too. I dunno, could... could be the same one, we could both... I dunno... share. Or not, you know. Whatever.”
He remembers the awkward feeling that had arisen with her words and he wishes he didn't feel it now. But his heart glows when he reminds himself that he has her, no matter what, that she's lying next door (probably not in the best of moods with him) and that she'll be there in the morning.
He tries to shake off the awkwardness, tries to see past the looming facts of being human and start accepting that this is where he's going to be for the rest of his life.
It could be worse, he reasons.
The Doctor closes his eyes, finally giving in to the pull of sleep. He drifts off easily enough, thoughts on Rose and a future he can explore with her. But it's only a couple of hours later when he wakes in a cold sweat, burning images of his dream imprinting in his mind's eye and the word 'Daleks' leaving his lips in a terrified whisper.
End this Part
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