True Love's Gifts 5/13
The Fourth Day of Christmas
“No Jake, listen to me.” Rose interrupted him yet again, trying to explain to her upset co-worker that she wasn’t in London at the moment. “ I’m not home. I am nowhere near home. I’m….Jake, will you just listen already?”
Rose rolled her eyes dramatically, more for the Doctor’s amusement, and mouthed that Jake was upset.
The Doctor quirked his left eyebrow at her and she shrugged, returning to her conversation with her friend and coworker.
“Jake, we can’t come in to work,” she repeated again, this time with desperation.
“Look Rose, I know that you two are working things out and I know that Pete gave you the time off, but I really need you on this team.” He sounded desperate and she felt a twinge of guilt that the Doctor had talked Pete into giving her three days off. Christmas never seemed to be a time of solitude and peace at Torchwood.
“Jake,” she sighed, wondering if maybe they could catch a zeppelin home and cut this magnificent weekend short.
She was about to suggest this to the Doctor when her mobile was taken out of her hands. She looked at him in shock and with a bit of anger, but his words soon soothed her wrath. “Look Jake, it’s the Doctor. Rose and I aren’t coming in.” Pause. “I understand that, Jake, but Rose and I aren’t in London. We aren’t even in the country.” Pause. “You don’t need to know that, Jake.” Rose could tell the Doctor’s irritation with the conversation was growing, his voice was becoming more clip. “Jake, just talk to Pete about this, he cleared the time off. We’ll see you in two days.” Before Jake could reply, the Doctor snapped Rose’s phone off.
“No more distractions,” he said, firmly taking her hand and moving them back down the street.
“No more distractions,” she replied effortlessly.
They moved down the street making their way through the crowded throngs of pedestrians. Rose had thought that they were out for a quick stroll, just a bit of meandering, but the Doctor seemed intent on arriving somewhere. He had pulled her away from shop windows when she stopped to glance in; he had gotten irritated when she took a phone call from her mother, just a quick check-in; and then the phone call from Jake seemed to push him past his patience.
Just what was he up to?
It was nearing noon and she was getting hungry. Dare she mention stopping at a café? He still seemed so agitated after the conversation with Jake and she had a feeling that, if she let him, she would be treated to a diatribe of the evils of work, Torchwood, and co-workers -- not necessarily in that order.
She pulled on his hand and stopped, knowing that he would stop with her.
“What Rose, we’re going to be late.” His voice was sharp and full of agitation, as he stopped and turned to face her. Her first instinct was to fight back, to let her own frustration with the Torchwood call and with his attitude to rise up. But she had learned quite a bit the past two months, and she knew how to pick her battles now.
“Hey,” she said, her voice soft, as she moved her free hand up to cup his face.
He instinctively leaned into the touch and shut his eyes. Her hand then smoothed out the worry lines that had seemed to appear there in the past five minutes. “It’s okay. We aren’t going home. These few days are about you and me.”
“But you thought about going home.” He sounded like a petulant child and Rose fought back a smile.
“For about a nanosecond,” she said, and leaned up to place a small brief kiss on his lips. “Rather be here with you, not that Jake’s offer of chasing aliens through an abandoned warehouse didn’t sound enticing,” she teased.
He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again. Before their lips touched however the bell of a nearby church rang noon and the Doctor jumped back as if he had been scalded.
“We’re late!” he announced and, grabbing her hand again, he ran with her through the streets.
“Late for what?” she called out to him as they rounded a corner.
“Lunch.”
They arrived ten minutes later at a tall wrought iron gate with a large “Closed” sign hanging on it. Rose looked around, confused. “Doctor, we’re at the zoo.”
“I know. Excellent isn’t it?” His voice bubbled over with excitement and Rose grinned, despite her confusion.
“They’re closed Doctor,” she tried again.
“Ah, so it would seem,” he said with a grin as he brandished a key from inside his pocket. “But not if you happen to mention Torchwood, Vitex, and Pete Tyler-mostly Pete Tyler.” He added after a moment’s pause.
“You didn’t,” Rose moaned, embarrassed that he would use her father’s name to get them special privileges.
“Of course I didn’t,” he answered with a scoff. “Your dad did.”
“Dad knew about all this?” she asked, shocked.
“Of course he did. We couldn’t get in here without him, could we?” He opened the gate and ushered her in, closing and locking the gate behind them.
“Now,” he continued, “if I am right, and I am always right, we need to go this way.”
He took her hand and pulled her to the left. He led her to the nearest building, which Rose identified as the aviary before he pulled her in. There, in the center of the aviary, was a blanket and a picnic basket.
She made her way towards the blanket, taking in the displays and exhibits that surrounded her. Rose felt the Doctor’s eyes on her as she took in the scene, he had stayed near the door, letting her have a moment on her own to take in the beauty. Rose was surprised to find that one of the curious peacocks that were milling around the picnic area, had not found their way into the basket or set up home on the blanket.
Placed on the basket was a white card. Rose immediately identified it as the Doctor’s handwriting and leaned in to read the increasingly familiar note:
On the fourth day of Christmas the Doctor gave to me, a picnic with peacocks.
Rose surveyed the note again and turned to the Doctor questioningly. His eyes begged for approval and he asked in a quiet voice, “Do you like it?”
She smiled, nodded, and turned to him. He had gone to so much trouble to give her a spectacular Christmas that she felt herself overwhelmed with emotion for this man. She hugged him, and tried to convey all the love that she felt towards him in that one embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him softly.
"You’re welcome, Rose Tyler,” he said after she broke of the kiss. “Now, I do believe that we should tuck in before the birds decide that our meal is more preferable than the seed I left out for them.”
“No Jake, listen to me.” Rose interrupted him yet again, trying to explain to her upset co-worker that she wasn’t in London at the moment. “ I’m not home. I am nowhere near home. I’m….Jake, will you just listen already?”
Rose rolled her eyes dramatically, more for the Doctor’s amusement, and mouthed that Jake was upset.
The Doctor quirked his left eyebrow at her and she shrugged, returning to her conversation with her friend and coworker.
“Jake, we can’t come in to work,” she repeated again, this time with desperation.
“Look Rose, I know that you two are working things out and I know that Pete gave you the time off, but I really need you on this team.” He sounded desperate and she felt a twinge of guilt that the Doctor had talked Pete into giving her three days off. Christmas never seemed to be a time of solitude and peace at Torchwood.
“Jake,” she sighed, wondering if maybe they could catch a zeppelin home and cut this magnificent weekend short.
She was about to suggest this to the Doctor when her mobile was taken out of her hands. She looked at him in shock and with a bit of anger, but his words soon soothed her wrath. “Look Jake, it’s the Doctor. Rose and I aren’t coming in.” Pause. “I understand that, Jake, but Rose and I aren’t in London. We aren’t even in the country.” Pause. “You don’t need to know that, Jake.” Rose could tell the Doctor’s irritation with the conversation was growing, his voice was becoming more clip. “Jake, just talk to Pete about this, he cleared the time off. We’ll see you in two days.” Before Jake could reply, the Doctor snapped Rose’s phone off.
“No more distractions,” he said, firmly taking her hand and moving them back down the street.
“No more distractions,” she replied effortlessly.
They moved down the street making their way through the crowded throngs of pedestrians. Rose had thought that they were out for a quick stroll, just a bit of meandering, but the Doctor seemed intent on arriving somewhere. He had pulled her away from shop windows when she stopped to glance in; he had gotten irritated when she took a phone call from her mother, just a quick check-in; and then the phone call from Jake seemed to push him past his patience.
Just what was he up to?
It was nearing noon and she was getting hungry. Dare she mention stopping at a café? He still seemed so agitated after the conversation with Jake and she had a feeling that, if she let him, she would be treated to a diatribe of the evils of work, Torchwood, and co-workers -- not necessarily in that order.
She pulled on his hand and stopped, knowing that he would stop with her.
“What Rose, we’re going to be late.” His voice was sharp and full of agitation, as he stopped and turned to face her. Her first instinct was to fight back, to let her own frustration with the Torchwood call and with his attitude to rise up. But she had learned quite a bit the past two months, and she knew how to pick her battles now.
“Hey,” she said, her voice soft, as she moved her free hand up to cup his face.
He instinctively leaned into the touch and shut his eyes. Her hand then smoothed out the worry lines that had seemed to appear there in the past five minutes. “It’s okay. We aren’t going home. These few days are about you and me.”
“But you thought about going home.” He sounded like a petulant child and Rose fought back a smile.
“For about a nanosecond,” she said, and leaned up to place a small brief kiss on his lips. “Rather be here with you, not that Jake’s offer of chasing aliens through an abandoned warehouse didn’t sound enticing,” she teased.
He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again. Before their lips touched however the bell of a nearby church rang noon and the Doctor jumped back as if he had been scalded.
“We’re late!” he announced and, grabbing her hand again, he ran with her through the streets.
“Late for what?” she called out to him as they rounded a corner.
“Lunch.”
They arrived ten minutes later at a tall wrought iron gate with a large “Closed” sign hanging on it. Rose looked around, confused. “Doctor, we’re at the zoo.”
“I know. Excellent isn’t it?” His voice bubbled over with excitement and Rose grinned, despite her confusion.
“They’re closed Doctor,” she tried again.
“Ah, so it would seem,” he said with a grin as he brandished a key from inside his pocket. “But not if you happen to mention Torchwood, Vitex, and Pete Tyler-mostly Pete Tyler.” He added after a moment’s pause.
“You didn’t,” Rose moaned, embarrassed that he would use her father’s name to get them special privileges.
“Of course I didn’t,” he answered with a scoff. “Your dad did.”
“Dad knew about all this?” she asked, shocked.
“Of course he did. We couldn’t get in here without him, could we?” He opened the gate and ushered her in, closing and locking the gate behind them.
“Now,” he continued, “if I am right, and I am always right, we need to go this way.”
He took her hand and pulled her to the left. He led her to the nearest building, which Rose identified as the aviary before he pulled her in. There, in the center of the aviary, was a blanket and a picnic basket.
She made her way towards the blanket, taking in the displays and exhibits that surrounded her. Rose felt the Doctor’s eyes on her as she took in the scene, he had stayed near the door, letting her have a moment on her own to take in the beauty. Rose was surprised to find that one of the curious peacocks that were milling around the picnic area, had not found their way into the basket or set up home on the blanket.
Placed on the basket was a white card. Rose immediately identified it as the Doctor’s handwriting and leaned in to read the increasingly familiar note:
On the fourth day of Christmas the Doctor gave to me, a picnic with peacocks.
Rose surveyed the note again and turned to the Doctor questioningly. His eyes begged for approval and he asked in a quiet voice, “Do you like it?”
She smiled, nodded, and turned to him. He had gone to so much trouble to give her a spectacular Christmas that she felt herself overwhelmed with emotion for this man. She hugged him, and tried to convey all the love that she felt towards him in that one embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him softly.
"You’re welcome, Rose Tyler,” he said after she broke of the kiss. “Now, I do believe that we should tuck in before the birds decide that our meal is more preferable than the seed I left out for them.”