Fic: Making things right
Title: Making things right
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose, Eleven/Rose
Rating: PG
Excerpt: She glances up at him, forgetting she still has the mascara marks on her cheeks. “Yes, quite upset about something, I’d say.” He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and hands it to her. “Um. Thanks,” Rose says softly as she takes it and dabs her eyes. The man clears his throat and says in a slightly somber voice “…I’m sorry, by the way.”
Word count: 3,503
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. “Not nobody, not nohow…”
A/N: Prompted by challenge 21 at then_theres_us (Photos--Pics under the cut).
Timeline: Directly after Girl In The Fireplace.
She ran through the streets of London. Her feet and legs were numb from pounding against the asphalt and her neck and shoulder ached from the pendulous weight of her backpack. However, she was dimly aware that the pain in her chest was caused by something more than just her heart and lungs bursting against the effort. She was crying, too, and the bitter cold wind that rushed against her face pushed her tears into her ears and left thick tracks of mascara around her eyes.
It didn’t matter. There was no one here to see it.
She ran until she could no longer stand. She ran until she no longer recognized the streets. She wanted to run until she could no longer think or remember. She wasn’t so lucky.
She didn’t care where she was. She just had to get away.
Horrible, nasty thoughts scratched at the inside of her brain like tunneling voles. She’d been running as much from her own thoughts as she had wanted to gain some distance away from him. But some part of her she knew that she could run forever and still not outrun herself.
At least she had that much on him.
She knew they’d be worried. She didn’t give a damn. She knew she was safe-she was still wearing the Tardis key around her neck. But let him just try to explain this to my mum, she thought bitterly. She hoped he might even get a slap out of it again. She pictured herself doing the slapping-as that really was who ought to be doing it. She berated herself for taking the coward’s way out, for taking the cue from him-by being withholding and evasive. But it just hurt so much and she didn’t quite know how to sort this out or who would understand her. Her thoughts and feelings swirled around her like the Time Vortex itself, threatening to pull her down…
She collapses onto a bench at a lonely bus stop at twilight and cries into the backpack on her lap until finally she gets sick of that, too. She watches as the bustle of the early evening city develops around her-like it had finally caught up with her. It was as if she had Hermione’s Time Turner or her very own Victorian time machine sled (courtesy of H. G. Wells and not a certain Timelord, thank you, very much) where she could watch the years change around her and all of the people melt in and out of existence. Slowly, she allows herself to come back to the world and let the nightmare in her mind fade into the background.
She can feel the spinning of the earth beneath her feet just like him now, but at least the horrible thoughts had been pushed away, for a little while.
Maybe that’s why he runs? Maybe it’s the adrenaline that holds them at bay?
Breathing the cold night air felt like coming alive all over again. But as her breathing regulated and her muscles still she begins to stiffen and chill.
“A bit bracing tonight, isn’t it?” a male voice asks very near to her. She startles. Despite sitting clear out in the open, she’d assumed her perception filter would hold.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, miss. You just look, well I mean you’re so…um. Are you quite ok?”
She takes a hard look at him, attempting to evaluate if she needs to flee, fight or give the man her spare change-an unfortunate reality of snap character assessment specific to city living. She soon notes that his dress is just as awkward and harmless as the voice that accompanied it: A sort of tallish, slender man, about her age, with floppy hair and a choice in jackets that would make the Harris Tweed Authority blush with pride. The crowning touch is a little red bow tie, which she has to admit, suited his look and was kinda cute. Assessment made: He was a bit of a geek, actually.
There was nothing wrong with that. She likes geeks.
“M’fine, thanks,” she mumbles, self-consciously.
“Yeah, you see, I don’t buy that at all, I’m afraid. You really ought to work on your lying.”
Rose chuckles in spite of herself. “Oh, I dunno. Seems to work ok for me back home.”
“Well, then those people are just easily fooled idiots. Complete morons you must hang around with, you.”
Rose giggles at his directness, and he continues. “For anyone with eyes could see that you’re quite upset about something.” She glances up at him, forgetting she still has the mascara marks on her cheeks. “Yes… quite upset about something, I’d say.” He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and hands it to her.
“Um. Thanks,” Rose says softly as she takes it and dabs her eyes.
The man clears his throat and says in a slightly somber voice “…I’m sorry, by the way.”
“F’what?” Rose asks, suddenly with the odd feeling that this man could see into her soul.
“For whatever or whomever it was that upset you so.”
“Mmmm,” says Rose, thinking again of the upset that propelled her through the streets of London on her own. “Thanks.” She smiles a little smile. “Yours is likely to be the only apology I’ll ever get,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Is it something you want to talk about? Maybe I can help? Impartial listener and all that? Maybe what you need is a total stranger to get it all off your chest to? Hmm?”
She laughs nervously at his attention. “Don’t y’have someplace you need to be?”
“Nope. Nowhere and no place. Just right here. And even if I did I wouldn’t leave a beautiful girl like you out here, upset and all alone. Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly, would it?”
Rose snorts and waves her hand. “M’sorry. It’s just. Well, you sound so different from someone I know. ‘Gentlemanly.’ Daresay I do believe you are.”
“Not something you’re used to?”
“Not as such.” The tears threatened to spill again and she picks at her sleeve. “At least not right now.” She motions for him that he could sit next to her on the bench and he slowly sits down. She shudders in the cold breeze.
“Allow me,” he says and he swiftly removes his jacket and deposits it onto her shoulders. She blushes and smiles at her strange benefactor, now noticing the matching red braces to his bow tie. She wriggles into the warmth of the coat, grateful for his kindness and how well tweed holds in body heat. She thanks him again.
“Trouble at home?” he said, indicating her backpack.
“Uh, no. I’m afraid it’s even more domestic than that.” She struggled to find a category to place it in, but what the hell did it matter, he was a stranger after all. “I guess you could say man trouble.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Um…Well, I… What I mean is… Oh. I dunno?” She lets her hands fall uselessly into her lap.
“So how’s this for starters: You like some bloke and he doesn’t give you the time of day?”
“I’d say you’re halfway there. It’s… complicated.”
“Ummm. Sounds so.” The streetlights snap on suddenly as the last lingering finger of light from the sunset dies away, and she is finally able to see his face more clearly. She can’t be sure, due to the cast of the artificial light, but his eyes look greenish to her, and kindly. There was something else there too, but she wasn’t so sure. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks.
“Ahh,” she groans and brings her hand to her face, rubbing at the headache behind her eyebrow, attempting to put the situation into words that made sense-or would make sense-to a total stranger (and a non-time traveler). “I went traveling with this bloke and he and I got, well… close. But there was nothin’ definite and nothin’ spoken between us, but we were best mates. We went somewhere recently and there was this…” she halts, remembering, “…girl. Real flash, she was. And he left me behind for her-left me in the lurch-left me in a really bad way, actually. And when he showed back up again he was all like nothing had ever happened! But I’m just so confused, and hurt. ‘Cause I thought me and him were…” She jams the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. “Oohhhhh.” She groans, frustrated. “But I’ve said these words before! Why is it that I always come back to this?”
“What words?” He asks gently, staring into his lap.
“I just thought he really loved me, and then he went and did something like this to me. But it’s not like we’re together or anything. I’ve no real claim over him, no real right at all. Sometimes I think he loves me. I see it in the way he looks at me sometimes, or the little things he does for me. But sometimes I wonder if I’m just being a fool. Cause at times like this he can just be so---“
“Selfish?”
“Yeah. Although I was gonna say alien.” They both laugh. Yeah, but I’m the only one who knows why I’m laughing, she thinks.
“Do you love him?” He asks quietly.
“I’d be too terrified to admit it to him for fear of losing him or what we have, but yeah. More’n anything.”
His eyes close and he sits for a moment, then he nods slowly. “Yeah… I peg you for the kind of gal who would rip the universe apart just to get back to the person you loved.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I guess I would. For him, I would. Definitely.”
“Really? An arse like him? Leaving you behind while he went fannying about with some other bird?”
“I know, right? I must sound like some sort of lunatic. A real lonely heart’s case, huh? Do I seem a complete nutter to you?”
“Oh, I dunno. Confused, yes. Crazy? Not so much. You seem pretty level headed. Doubtless there are good qualities about this bloke that you fancy-although they might escape you now.”
“But the truth is he is pretty wonderful. I’ve never met anyone quite like him and I doubt I ever will again. He’s shown me the stars and given me a whole new life. I dunno where I’d be now if I hadn’t met him. He’s wickedly funny and smart-ever so smart-brilliant, even. Sometimes I feel like a total ignoramus around him, but he never makes me feel that way, it’s just me. And he does some really amazing and incredible things that you couldn’t possibly imagine. He cares so much about people-all sorts. And he can be so sweet-when he’s not being an alien, that is!”
“You say he cares so much about people and then he went and did this thing to you. His behaviour does seem rather indefensible. But as ‘alien’ as he might be-as you put it-there’s got to be a reason for what he did.”
“Like what? No, tell me-you’re a bloke-would you ever do anything like that to someone you cared about? What could possibly make someone do something like that?”
“Maybe he was scared.” He offers.
“Scared?!” She asks incredulously. “Scared of what?”
“Getting too close, maybe. If he’s a bloke with eyes in his head, I can pretty much guarantee you that he does have feelings for you and if your traveling relationship is so-precarious as you characterize it-then maybe he’s loathe to mess it up, too. Still, I admit him running off with someone else and leaving you behind is a bit extreme.”
“Y’don’t think I could’ve done anything to push him away?” Rose asks, doubting her self-righteousness. “I had a friend with me at the time… a sort of ex, with me-but we’re just friends now. I wonder if maybe that had something to do---”
“NO.” It comes firmly, almost startling her so he tries again, more softly. “No… I doubt he was jealous. Even if he was, still no excuse… So-“ He shifts and sits up straight, pulling down his shirt, “on behalf of the entire male half of the species, I apologize.”
Rose giggles in peals of laughter. “Oh, you don’t have to. It’s not your fault!”
“Oh, but it is. It is,” he says, seriously. “It’s quite necessary. Very necessary, even. ‘Cause you see, his actions offend me and they’ve done injury to you. And that offends me, too.”
“You’re sweet to say so. I just wish he would, too.”
“He’ll come around.” He says, rubbing his fingers against his thumb. “Just give him some time.”
She snorts again. “Time. Yeah, ‘cause that’s just what he needs.”
“Ok, then: A big boot up the arse.”
She laughs and he laughs with her. Rose smiles. Somehow, she feels lighter. “You’re right,” she says, “you’re a good listener.”
“For you, anything.”
“You don’t even know my name!”
“I don’t have to know it to know that you’re special.”
“M’name’s Rose.” She turns to him and pulls a stray chunk of hair around her ear.
“Rose.” He says softly. She likes the way he said her name. “Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John.” She giggles again and shakes his hand. She is almost sorry to let it go.
“You a traveling knight or something, John?”
He chuckles. “Oh no. Got out of the knighthood ages ago. Lousy pay, and I’m allergic to dragon saliva. The skin welts up with contact… It’s not pretty.”
She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Well then, my next guess would be a shrink?”
“I guess you could say something like that, at least. I do try and make people better.”
She guffaws. “Oh yeah? I know somebody like that, calls himself the Doctor.”
“Oooh!” he singsongs. “The Doc-tor. Well that’s not pretentious much…”
“No, not much!” She laughs.
“Is that your boyfrie-I mean, the complicated domestics, non-gentlemanly pillock who put you in this state of upset?”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “Oh, but what about you? I’m so sorry! Here I am rattling on about m’self. At least I know your name, but is this what you normally do on a Friday evening after work, John? Troll the streets of London looking for troubled young women with prat boyfriends to dump all their problems on you?”
He laughs. “No, Rose, it ‘tisn’t what I normally do on my Friday evenings, no.”
“Just thought you’d make an exception in my case?” she asks, tongue between her teeth.
He looks at her sadly for a moment. “Yes. An exception. Only for you.”
“So spill something, John.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Tell me something about yourself. How ‘bout you? Nice, gentlemanly guy like you got a girlfriend?”
“No,” he says, sadly. “I did once but… not anymore. I lost her. I lost her because I was stupid. I lost her because I was selfish. I lost her because... Oh, so many things. I guess you could say that it’s---”
“Complicated?” she teases.
“Yeah. Very complicated.” He nods gravely.
“Domestics always are, aren’t they?”
“I think I might have a lot in common with your Doctor bloke.”
“Oh yeah?” She highly doubted that.
“'Domestics,' as you say. I’m afraid I’m rather rubbish at them too.”
“Great catch like you? I’m sure you won’t be single long. And if you are so sorry about how you lost your girl-go out and find her. I bet she’d take you back in a heartbeat… Thanks f’this, by the way.” She shrugs out of his coat and hands it back to him. After he puts it on, he absently strokes his arm, feeling her warmth in the coat, lost in thought.
“Your girl,” Rose continues. “The one you lost. Do you know where she is now?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why don’t you pull the universe apart to get to her? You seem like a really lovely guy, John. If she’s really something special don’t you think you deserve to be happy? I bet you if you showed up tonight and told her how you felt, she’d forgive you.”
“You really think so?”
“I know I would. Hearing the truth is always better than just sweeping it under the table and pretending nothing ever happened.”
“You’re a very wise woman, Rose…”
“So will you go to her? Will you go tonight? Will you tell her you’re sorry?”
“Yeah, Rose. For you, I will.” Cautiously, he places his hand over hers. They sit like this for a few minutes, in silence, and Rose feels like she is almost gathering strength from his touch.
Finally, she stands and slings her backpack over her shoulder. Just now she felt she could go back to the Powell Estates and face anything. Including a certain alien Doctor.
“Please, let me hail you a cab.” John says.
“Oh m’really ok, that won’t be necessary.”
“Sure it is,” he persists. “Who knows what’s running around this city right now? Crazy people, terrorists, aliens-crazy alien terrorists?” She laughs. “I insist,” he says firmly.
“A gentleman to the very last, aren’t you, John? Y’know, I’m beginning to think you’re not some therapist after all...”
“No?” He asks, with a slightly worried expression as he nervously pushes his floppy hair around.
“No. You’re really some superhero addicted to helping damsels in distress! This is just your ‘mild mannered disguise.’”
He exhales a coughing laugh. “Ah, you really are something, Rose. You’ve seen the heart of me, I’m afraid!” He leans in conspiratorially to her, “I suppose my secret is safe with you: I wasn’t telling the truth earlier,” He confesses. “I really am that traveling knight, tilting at windmills and righting great wrongs! And beautiful maids in distress are a bit like Jolly Jammers for me-I just can’t resist getting my hands all sticky as I polish off the box-Oh…! Well… Deary me-that came out a bit bungled, didn’t it?”
Rose giggles at his defective metaphor. “Well, I know what you mean, I think! And, kind Sir John, I accept your apology on behalf of my prat alien-ish friend, and I thank you for your gallantry.” She curtseys with a comic flourish and he chuckles. “However…" She trails off, looking like she's trying to decide something, then quickly says: "I do believe in the olden days a woman would give her champion a token of her affection for her gallant knight to wear into battle. And as my gallant knight, I give you this…”
Suddenly, she grabs him by his tweed lapels and presses her lips to his in a kiss. Startled, John first stiffens, but then relaxes, melting into her, his hands tentatively resting on her hip, his other hand curling in her wild blonde hair. As kisses go, it’s a pretty good one. She’s only ever kissed complete strangers at New Year’s Eve, but never like this-at least, not completely sober and standing on the city street! She’d love to be kissing the Doctor like this-well, maybe someday…
If he can mess around then so can I, she thinks.
As they break apart-her head reeling just a bit, for it has been awhile since her last really good kiss-she says to his (rather large) chin, “Thanks for making me feel special, John. It’s just what I needed.”
“No Rose, thank you,” breathes John. “Thank you for everything.” He hails her cab.
Deposited safely inside her cab, Rose looks up and begins to notice the people moving around her again. Time has once again caught her up in its wake. She drifts back into the present, clicking into place, into history, into her own timeline. She has no idea what the future will bring with the Doctor, or how this rift between them will heal, but for now, just having talked to John has been helpful, much more helpful than having spoken with anyone else she knows who knows her situation or the Doctor. As for the kiss, well-that was just her little secret. She’d just needed to know she was still enough for someone to notice.
The Doctor-the Eleventh Doctor-stands on the curb of the street watching the cab, Rose and his past disappear into the anonymous darkness of the city, his hearts filled with a curious mixture of profound sadness and relief. He wonders if on some level she would understand that it was really him, finally making things right. He had certainly meant every word he’d said. She was owed an explanation and an apology for that horrible mistake he’d made years ago and had never quite put right-until now, perhaps. But he’d never expected the kiss, of course-but that was Rose, always surprising him to the very last.
That kiss: The only one she would ever truly give him, and the memory of which he would carry into battle and into the darkest desperations of his days. That kiss would sustain him for many years to come. It would have to…
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose, Eleven/Rose
Rating: PG
Excerpt: She glances up at him, forgetting she still has the mascara marks on her cheeks. “Yes, quite upset about something, I’d say.” He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and hands it to her. “Um. Thanks,” Rose says softly as she takes it and dabs her eyes. The man clears his throat and says in a slightly somber voice “…I’m sorry, by the way.”
Word count: 3,503
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. “Not nobody, not nohow…”
A/N: Prompted by challenge 21 at then_theres_us (Photos--Pics under the cut).
Timeline: Directly after Girl In The Fireplace.
She ran through the streets of London. Her feet and legs were numb from pounding against the asphalt and her neck and shoulder ached from the pendulous weight of her backpack. However, she was dimly aware that the pain in her chest was caused by something more than just her heart and lungs bursting against the effort. She was crying, too, and the bitter cold wind that rushed against her face pushed her tears into her ears and left thick tracks of mascara around her eyes.
It didn’t matter. There was no one here to see it.
She ran until she could no longer stand. She ran until she no longer recognized the streets. She wanted to run until she could no longer think or remember. She wasn’t so lucky.
She didn’t care where she was. She just had to get away.
Horrible, nasty thoughts scratched at the inside of her brain like tunneling voles. She’d been running as much from her own thoughts as she had wanted to gain some distance away from him. But some part of her she knew that she could run forever and still not outrun herself.
At least she had that much on him.
She knew they’d be worried. She didn’t give a damn. She knew she was safe-she was still wearing the Tardis key around her neck. But let him just try to explain this to my mum, she thought bitterly. She hoped he might even get a slap out of it again. She pictured herself doing the slapping-as that really was who ought to be doing it. She berated herself for taking the coward’s way out, for taking the cue from him-by being withholding and evasive. But it just hurt so much and she didn’t quite know how to sort this out or who would understand her. Her thoughts and feelings swirled around her like the Time Vortex itself, threatening to pull her down…
She collapses onto a bench at a lonely bus stop at twilight and cries into the backpack on her lap until finally she gets sick of that, too. She watches as the bustle of the early evening city develops around her-like it had finally caught up with her. It was as if she had Hermione’s Time Turner or her very own Victorian time machine sled (courtesy of H. G. Wells and not a certain Timelord, thank you, very much) where she could watch the years change around her and all of the people melt in and out of existence. Slowly, she allows herself to come back to the world and let the nightmare in her mind fade into the background.
She can feel the spinning of the earth beneath her feet just like him now, but at least the horrible thoughts had been pushed away, for a little while.
Maybe that’s why he runs? Maybe it’s the adrenaline that holds them at bay?
Breathing the cold night air felt like coming alive all over again. But as her breathing regulated and her muscles still she begins to stiffen and chill.
“A bit bracing tonight, isn’t it?” a male voice asks very near to her. She startles. Despite sitting clear out in the open, she’d assumed her perception filter would hold.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, miss. You just look, well I mean you’re so…um. Are you quite ok?”
She takes a hard look at him, attempting to evaluate if she needs to flee, fight or give the man her spare change-an unfortunate reality of snap character assessment specific to city living. She soon notes that his dress is just as awkward and harmless as the voice that accompanied it: A sort of tallish, slender man, about her age, with floppy hair and a choice in jackets that would make the Harris Tweed Authority blush with pride. The crowning touch is a little red bow tie, which she has to admit, suited his look and was kinda cute. Assessment made: He was a bit of a geek, actually.
There was nothing wrong with that. She likes geeks.
“M’fine, thanks,” she mumbles, self-consciously.
“Yeah, you see, I don’t buy that at all, I’m afraid. You really ought to work on your lying.”
Rose chuckles in spite of herself. “Oh, I dunno. Seems to work ok for me back home.”
“Well, then those people are just easily fooled idiots. Complete morons you must hang around with, you.”
Rose giggles at his directness, and he continues. “For anyone with eyes could see that you’re quite upset about something.” She glances up at him, forgetting she still has the mascara marks on her cheeks. “Yes… quite upset about something, I’d say.” He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and hands it to her.
“Um. Thanks,” Rose says softly as she takes it and dabs her eyes.
The man clears his throat and says in a slightly somber voice “…I’m sorry, by the way.”
“F’what?” Rose asks, suddenly with the odd feeling that this man could see into her soul.
“For whatever or whomever it was that upset you so.”
“Mmmm,” says Rose, thinking again of the upset that propelled her through the streets of London on her own. “Thanks.” She smiles a little smile. “Yours is likely to be the only apology I’ll ever get,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Is it something you want to talk about? Maybe I can help? Impartial listener and all that? Maybe what you need is a total stranger to get it all off your chest to? Hmm?”
She laughs nervously at his attention. “Don’t y’have someplace you need to be?”
“Nope. Nowhere and no place. Just right here. And even if I did I wouldn’t leave a beautiful girl like you out here, upset and all alone. Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly, would it?”
Rose snorts and waves her hand. “M’sorry. It’s just. Well, you sound so different from someone I know. ‘Gentlemanly.’ Daresay I do believe you are.”
“Not something you’re used to?”
“Not as such.” The tears threatened to spill again and she picks at her sleeve. “At least not right now.” She motions for him that he could sit next to her on the bench and he slowly sits down. She shudders in the cold breeze.
“Allow me,” he says and he swiftly removes his jacket and deposits it onto her shoulders. She blushes and smiles at her strange benefactor, now noticing the matching red braces to his bow tie. She wriggles into the warmth of the coat, grateful for his kindness and how well tweed holds in body heat. She thanks him again.
“Trouble at home?” he said, indicating her backpack.
“Uh, no. I’m afraid it’s even more domestic than that.” She struggled to find a category to place it in, but what the hell did it matter, he was a stranger after all. “I guess you could say man trouble.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Um…Well, I… What I mean is… Oh. I dunno?” She lets her hands fall uselessly into her lap.
“So how’s this for starters: You like some bloke and he doesn’t give you the time of day?”
“I’d say you’re halfway there. It’s… complicated.”
“Ummm. Sounds so.” The streetlights snap on suddenly as the last lingering finger of light from the sunset dies away, and she is finally able to see his face more clearly. She can’t be sure, due to the cast of the artificial light, but his eyes look greenish to her, and kindly. There was something else there too, but she wasn’t so sure. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks.
“Ahh,” she groans and brings her hand to her face, rubbing at the headache behind her eyebrow, attempting to put the situation into words that made sense-or would make sense-to a total stranger (and a non-time traveler). “I went traveling with this bloke and he and I got, well… close. But there was nothin’ definite and nothin’ spoken between us, but we were best mates. We went somewhere recently and there was this…” she halts, remembering, “…girl. Real flash, she was. And he left me behind for her-left me in the lurch-left me in a really bad way, actually. And when he showed back up again he was all like nothing had ever happened! But I’m just so confused, and hurt. ‘Cause I thought me and him were…” She jams the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. “Oohhhhh.” She groans, frustrated. “But I’ve said these words before! Why is it that I always come back to this?”
“What words?” He asks gently, staring into his lap.
“I just thought he really loved me, and then he went and did something like this to me. But it’s not like we’re together or anything. I’ve no real claim over him, no real right at all. Sometimes I think he loves me. I see it in the way he looks at me sometimes, or the little things he does for me. But sometimes I wonder if I’m just being a fool. Cause at times like this he can just be so---“
“Selfish?”
“Yeah. Although I was gonna say alien.” They both laugh. Yeah, but I’m the only one who knows why I’m laughing, she thinks.
“Do you love him?” He asks quietly.
“I’d be too terrified to admit it to him for fear of losing him or what we have, but yeah. More’n anything.”
His eyes close and he sits for a moment, then he nods slowly. “Yeah… I peg you for the kind of gal who would rip the universe apart just to get back to the person you loved.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I guess I would. For him, I would. Definitely.”
“Really? An arse like him? Leaving you behind while he went fannying about with some other bird?”
“I know, right? I must sound like some sort of lunatic. A real lonely heart’s case, huh? Do I seem a complete nutter to you?”
“Oh, I dunno. Confused, yes. Crazy? Not so much. You seem pretty level headed. Doubtless there are good qualities about this bloke that you fancy-although they might escape you now.”
“But the truth is he is pretty wonderful. I’ve never met anyone quite like him and I doubt I ever will again. He’s shown me the stars and given me a whole new life. I dunno where I’d be now if I hadn’t met him. He’s wickedly funny and smart-ever so smart-brilliant, even. Sometimes I feel like a total ignoramus around him, but he never makes me feel that way, it’s just me. And he does some really amazing and incredible things that you couldn’t possibly imagine. He cares so much about people-all sorts. And he can be so sweet-when he’s not being an alien, that is!”
“You say he cares so much about people and then he went and did this thing to you. His behaviour does seem rather indefensible. But as ‘alien’ as he might be-as you put it-there’s got to be a reason for what he did.”
“Like what? No, tell me-you’re a bloke-would you ever do anything like that to someone you cared about? What could possibly make someone do something like that?”
“Maybe he was scared.” He offers.
“Scared?!” She asks incredulously. “Scared of what?”
“Getting too close, maybe. If he’s a bloke with eyes in his head, I can pretty much guarantee you that he does have feelings for you and if your traveling relationship is so-precarious as you characterize it-then maybe he’s loathe to mess it up, too. Still, I admit him running off with someone else and leaving you behind is a bit extreme.”
“Y’don’t think I could’ve done anything to push him away?” Rose asks, doubting her self-righteousness. “I had a friend with me at the time… a sort of ex, with me-but we’re just friends now. I wonder if maybe that had something to do---”
“NO.” It comes firmly, almost startling her so he tries again, more softly. “No… I doubt he was jealous. Even if he was, still no excuse… So-“ He shifts and sits up straight, pulling down his shirt, “on behalf of the entire male half of the species, I apologize.”
Rose giggles in peals of laughter. “Oh, you don’t have to. It’s not your fault!”
“Oh, but it is. It is,” he says, seriously. “It’s quite necessary. Very necessary, even. ‘Cause you see, his actions offend me and they’ve done injury to you. And that offends me, too.”
“You’re sweet to say so. I just wish he would, too.”
“He’ll come around.” He says, rubbing his fingers against his thumb. “Just give him some time.”
She snorts again. “Time. Yeah, ‘cause that’s just what he needs.”
“Ok, then: A big boot up the arse.”
She laughs and he laughs with her. Rose smiles. Somehow, she feels lighter. “You’re right,” she says, “you’re a good listener.”
“For you, anything.”
“You don’t even know my name!”
“I don’t have to know it to know that you’re special.”
“M’name’s Rose.” She turns to him and pulls a stray chunk of hair around her ear.
“Rose.” He says softly. She likes the way he said her name. “Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John.” She giggles again and shakes his hand. She is almost sorry to let it go.
“You a traveling knight or something, John?”
He chuckles. “Oh no. Got out of the knighthood ages ago. Lousy pay, and I’m allergic to dragon saliva. The skin welts up with contact… It’s not pretty.”
She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Well then, my next guess would be a shrink?”
“I guess you could say something like that, at least. I do try and make people better.”
She guffaws. “Oh yeah? I know somebody like that, calls himself the Doctor.”
“Oooh!” he singsongs. “The Doc-tor. Well that’s not pretentious much…”
“No, not much!” She laughs.
“Is that your boyfrie-I mean, the complicated domestics, non-gentlemanly pillock who put you in this state of upset?”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “Oh, but what about you? I’m so sorry! Here I am rattling on about m’self. At least I know your name, but is this what you normally do on a Friday evening after work, John? Troll the streets of London looking for troubled young women with prat boyfriends to dump all their problems on you?”
He laughs. “No, Rose, it ‘tisn’t what I normally do on my Friday evenings, no.”
“Just thought you’d make an exception in my case?” she asks, tongue between her teeth.
He looks at her sadly for a moment. “Yes. An exception. Only for you.”
“So spill something, John.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Tell me something about yourself. How ‘bout you? Nice, gentlemanly guy like you got a girlfriend?”
“No,” he says, sadly. “I did once but… not anymore. I lost her. I lost her because I was stupid. I lost her because I was selfish. I lost her because... Oh, so many things. I guess you could say that it’s---”
“Complicated?” she teases.
“Yeah. Very complicated.” He nods gravely.
“Domestics always are, aren’t they?”
“I think I might have a lot in common with your Doctor bloke.”
“Oh yeah?” She highly doubted that.
“'Domestics,' as you say. I’m afraid I’m rather rubbish at them too.”
“Great catch like you? I’m sure you won’t be single long. And if you are so sorry about how you lost your girl-go out and find her. I bet she’d take you back in a heartbeat… Thanks f’this, by the way.” She shrugs out of his coat and hands it back to him. After he puts it on, he absently strokes his arm, feeling her warmth in the coat, lost in thought.
“Your girl,” Rose continues. “The one you lost. Do you know where she is now?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why don’t you pull the universe apart to get to her? You seem like a really lovely guy, John. If she’s really something special don’t you think you deserve to be happy? I bet you if you showed up tonight and told her how you felt, she’d forgive you.”
“You really think so?”
“I know I would. Hearing the truth is always better than just sweeping it under the table and pretending nothing ever happened.”
“You’re a very wise woman, Rose…”
“So will you go to her? Will you go tonight? Will you tell her you’re sorry?”
“Yeah, Rose. For you, I will.” Cautiously, he places his hand over hers. They sit like this for a few minutes, in silence, and Rose feels like she is almost gathering strength from his touch.
Finally, she stands and slings her backpack over her shoulder. Just now she felt she could go back to the Powell Estates and face anything. Including a certain alien Doctor.
“Please, let me hail you a cab.” John says.
“Oh m’really ok, that won’t be necessary.”
“Sure it is,” he persists. “Who knows what’s running around this city right now? Crazy people, terrorists, aliens-crazy alien terrorists?” She laughs. “I insist,” he says firmly.
“A gentleman to the very last, aren’t you, John? Y’know, I’m beginning to think you’re not some therapist after all...”
“No?” He asks, with a slightly worried expression as he nervously pushes his floppy hair around.
“No. You’re really some superhero addicted to helping damsels in distress! This is just your ‘mild mannered disguise.’”
He exhales a coughing laugh. “Ah, you really are something, Rose. You’ve seen the heart of me, I’m afraid!” He leans in conspiratorially to her, “I suppose my secret is safe with you: I wasn’t telling the truth earlier,” He confesses. “I really am that traveling knight, tilting at windmills and righting great wrongs! And beautiful maids in distress are a bit like Jolly Jammers for me-I just can’t resist getting my hands all sticky as I polish off the box-Oh…! Well… Deary me-that came out a bit bungled, didn’t it?”
Rose giggles at his defective metaphor. “Well, I know what you mean, I think! And, kind Sir John, I accept your apology on behalf of my prat alien-ish friend, and I thank you for your gallantry.” She curtseys with a comic flourish and he chuckles. “However…" She trails off, looking like she's trying to decide something, then quickly says: "I do believe in the olden days a woman would give her champion a token of her affection for her gallant knight to wear into battle. And as my gallant knight, I give you this…”
Suddenly, she grabs him by his tweed lapels and presses her lips to his in a kiss. Startled, John first stiffens, but then relaxes, melting into her, his hands tentatively resting on her hip, his other hand curling in her wild blonde hair. As kisses go, it’s a pretty good one. She’s only ever kissed complete strangers at New Year’s Eve, but never like this-at least, not completely sober and standing on the city street! She’d love to be kissing the Doctor like this-well, maybe someday…
If he can mess around then so can I, she thinks.
As they break apart-her head reeling just a bit, for it has been awhile since her last really good kiss-she says to his (rather large) chin, “Thanks for making me feel special, John. It’s just what I needed.”
“No Rose, thank you,” breathes John. “Thank you for everything.” He hails her cab.
Deposited safely inside her cab, Rose looks up and begins to notice the people moving around her again. Time has once again caught her up in its wake. She drifts back into the present, clicking into place, into history, into her own timeline. She has no idea what the future will bring with the Doctor, or how this rift between them will heal, but for now, just having talked to John has been helpful, much more helpful than having spoken with anyone else she knows who knows her situation or the Doctor. As for the kiss, well-that was just her little secret. She’d just needed to know she was still enough for someone to notice.
The Doctor-the Eleventh Doctor-stands on the curb of the street watching the cab, Rose and his past disappear into the anonymous darkness of the city, his hearts filled with a curious mixture of profound sadness and relief. He wonders if on some level she would understand that it was really him, finally making things right. He had certainly meant every word he’d said. She was owed an explanation and an apology for that horrible mistake he’d made years ago and had never quite put right-until now, perhaps. But he’d never expected the kiss, of course-but that was Rose, always surprising him to the very last.
That kiss: The only one she would ever truly give him, and the memory of which he would carry into battle and into the darkest desperations of his days. That kiss would sustain him for many years to come. It would have to…