Sometimes Rose (Doctor/Rose)
Title: Sometimes Rose
Author: rebelsaint
Rating: R
Fandom: Doctor Who, Doctor/Rose, brief mention of Doctor/Rose/Jack
Spoilers: everything from Rose to Doomsday
Summary: Rose's life before, during, and after her time with the Doctor.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad, ain't it?
Sometimes Rose wanted more. She loved her mum, Mickey was nice, her job at Henrik's... well, at least it was a job. But she felt like there should be more to life than work, family, and Friday nights at the pub. Occasionally she'd become restless, without knowing why, and she'd stop by the travel agency down the street, staring longingly at the posters on the walls. "See France." "Visit Barcelona." "Japan - Land of the Rising Sun." On one of these occasions, she promised herself that she would start saving so she could visit some of these places. Some day, she promised herself, she'd see far off lands.
Sometimes Rose wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Running off on a whim to travel through time and space with a complete stranger, without so much as a "see you later" to her mum, when had that ever been a good idea? But the Doctor showed her so much, took her to places that she'd never imagined, taught her more about life than she ever could have learned on Earth. At least not in London, in the Powell Estates. No matter how much her mum yelled or Mickey wanted her to come home, she couldn't stay. Not after what she'd seen. It was worth it.
Sometimes Rose ran for her life. Sometimes it was for the Doctor's, and later, sometimes for Jack's. It didn't matter who was chasing them or why, it only mattered that the Doctor's hand was in hers, that they were together and at the end of the day, that they were safe.
Sometimes Rose wanted to cry because of the things she'd seen. People - even if they had blue skin, or three eyes, or were furry and five-legged - could be unbelievably cruel to each other. She'd had to fight back tears of frustration on more than one occasion, and had seen the Doctor struggle to rein in his temper numerous times. They fought for what was right, and more often than not, they'd win out over the injustice of the universe, but at a price. Even if they'd only saved one person, it was a worthwhile battle.
Sometimes Rose had to laugh. Whether it was at something the Doctor had said or done, or at something they'd encountered on a trip, it didn't matter. Her face would light up and she'd laugh - truly laugh - bringing joy to the Doctor, until he couldn't help but smiling. And seeing him smile would always keep her grinning, which would in turn make the Doctor happy. It was like a never-ending cycle. One neither of them wanted to stop.
Sometimes Rose missed the Doctor. Not that she really missed him, because he was always near, but once in a while she longed to hear a Northern accent and smell that comforting leather and wool scent. Of course, pinstripes and big hair weren't a bad trade off, mind you, but a girl took a while to adjust. She loved them - him, she reminded herself - equally, could never choose between them, but it seemed the previous version had been taken from her too soon. Sometimes it was when he wouldn't shut up that she missed his former self the most; sometimes that was when she didn't miss him at all.
Sometimes Rose found herself shoved face forward against the console, jeans and knickers around her ankles as the Doctor thrust hard and fast into her. More often she found herself lying in his bed while he tinkered with some spare part or buried his bespectacled face in a book, waiting for him to tire of whatever he was doing and join her. He would kiss her slowly and thoroughly, hands and mouth roaming over her body until she could barely breathe, much less think. Twice they hadn't even made it inside before he was claiming her, pressed against the side of the TARDIS in some secluded spot, her legs wrapped around his hips and the sounds around them muffling her cries. Once - it seemed so long ago to Rose, but she didn't regret it, not for a second - Jack had joined in and all three of them had been sore for days.
Sometimes Rose wondered if the Doctor felt the same way she did. He wasn't human, as he was fond of pointing out in random situations. He'd seen and done so much more than she ever would - he'd made that abundantly clear - but then he would look at her in the way that made her knees weak, and she'd fall all over again. It didn't really matter if he didn't say the words, he showed her in a thousand tiny ways and that was enough. There was enough of him to go around, after all, having two hearts and thirteen lives.
Sometimes Rose worried. About the Doctor's latest injury, about Mickey in that alternate universe, about her mum alone at home. But lately the thing that had occupied her mind was the constant threat on the horizon. The storm that was approaching. The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon. She tried to shrug it off, confident in the knowledge that the Doctor would protect her, do everything possible to keep her from harm. That knowledge didn't stop the uneasy feeling, but the Doctor easily turned her attention elsewhere.
Sometimes Rose would wake suddenly in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Daleks and Cybermen battled over the Earth, while talking trees and alien werewolves wandered in and out of the tableau. Her dreams were often strange and confusing, merging people she'd met and places she'd been in ways that didn't make sense. Once in a while, she'd dream of places she hadn't been, but the Doctor was always there, helping as only he could, with some new girl by his side. She was just glad he wasn't alone; he deserved better than that.
Sometimes Rose climbed to the roof of a building she had and yet had never lived in. She would sit against a low wall sprayed with graffiti - Bad Wolf here, Bad Wolf there - and stare out at a city that she knew and yet didn't. She would lie on her back and soak in the sun, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the zeppelins, and feel the Earth rotate. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go...
Sometimes Rose felt as though the Doctor was with her. Sometimes she felt incredibly alone. But sometimes - well, usually - it didn't matter, as long as both of them were living fantastic lives.
Author: rebelsaint
Rating: R
Fandom: Doctor Who, Doctor/Rose, brief mention of Doctor/Rose/Jack
Spoilers: everything from Rose to Doomsday
Summary: Rose's life before, during, and after her time with the Doctor.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad, ain't it?
Sometimes Rose wanted more. She loved her mum, Mickey was nice, her job at Henrik's... well, at least it was a job. But she felt like there should be more to life than work, family, and Friday nights at the pub. Occasionally she'd become restless, without knowing why, and she'd stop by the travel agency down the street, staring longingly at the posters on the walls. "See France." "Visit Barcelona." "Japan - Land of the Rising Sun." On one of these occasions, she promised herself that she would start saving so she could visit some of these places. Some day, she promised herself, she'd see far off lands.
Sometimes Rose wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Running off on a whim to travel through time and space with a complete stranger, without so much as a "see you later" to her mum, when had that ever been a good idea? But the Doctor showed her so much, took her to places that she'd never imagined, taught her more about life than she ever could have learned on Earth. At least not in London, in the Powell Estates. No matter how much her mum yelled or Mickey wanted her to come home, she couldn't stay. Not after what she'd seen. It was worth it.
Sometimes Rose ran for her life. Sometimes it was for the Doctor's, and later, sometimes for Jack's. It didn't matter who was chasing them or why, it only mattered that the Doctor's hand was in hers, that they were together and at the end of the day, that they were safe.
Sometimes Rose wanted to cry because of the things she'd seen. People - even if they had blue skin, or three eyes, or were furry and five-legged - could be unbelievably cruel to each other. She'd had to fight back tears of frustration on more than one occasion, and had seen the Doctor struggle to rein in his temper numerous times. They fought for what was right, and more often than not, they'd win out over the injustice of the universe, but at a price. Even if they'd only saved one person, it was a worthwhile battle.
Sometimes Rose had to laugh. Whether it was at something the Doctor had said or done, or at something they'd encountered on a trip, it didn't matter. Her face would light up and she'd laugh - truly laugh - bringing joy to the Doctor, until he couldn't help but smiling. And seeing him smile would always keep her grinning, which would in turn make the Doctor happy. It was like a never-ending cycle. One neither of them wanted to stop.
Sometimes Rose missed the Doctor. Not that she really missed him, because he was always near, but once in a while she longed to hear a Northern accent and smell that comforting leather and wool scent. Of course, pinstripes and big hair weren't a bad trade off, mind you, but a girl took a while to adjust. She loved them - him, she reminded herself - equally, could never choose between them, but it seemed the previous version had been taken from her too soon. Sometimes it was when he wouldn't shut up that she missed his former self the most; sometimes that was when she didn't miss him at all.
Sometimes Rose found herself shoved face forward against the console, jeans and knickers around her ankles as the Doctor thrust hard and fast into her. More often she found herself lying in his bed while he tinkered with some spare part or buried his bespectacled face in a book, waiting for him to tire of whatever he was doing and join her. He would kiss her slowly and thoroughly, hands and mouth roaming over her body until she could barely breathe, much less think. Twice they hadn't even made it inside before he was claiming her, pressed against the side of the TARDIS in some secluded spot, her legs wrapped around his hips and the sounds around them muffling her cries. Once - it seemed so long ago to Rose, but she didn't regret it, not for a second - Jack had joined in and all three of them had been sore for days.
Sometimes Rose wondered if the Doctor felt the same way she did. He wasn't human, as he was fond of pointing out in random situations. He'd seen and done so much more than she ever would - he'd made that abundantly clear - but then he would look at her in the way that made her knees weak, and she'd fall all over again. It didn't really matter if he didn't say the words, he showed her in a thousand tiny ways and that was enough. There was enough of him to go around, after all, having two hearts and thirteen lives.
Sometimes Rose worried. About the Doctor's latest injury, about Mickey in that alternate universe, about her mum alone at home. But lately the thing that had occupied her mind was the constant threat on the horizon. The storm that was approaching. The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon. She tried to shrug it off, confident in the knowledge that the Doctor would protect her, do everything possible to keep her from harm. That knowledge didn't stop the uneasy feeling, but the Doctor easily turned her attention elsewhere.
Sometimes Rose would wake suddenly in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Daleks and Cybermen battled over the Earth, while talking trees and alien werewolves wandered in and out of the tableau. Her dreams were often strange and confusing, merging people she'd met and places she'd been in ways that didn't make sense. Once in a while, she'd dream of places she hadn't been, but the Doctor was always there, helping as only he could, with some new girl by his side. She was just glad he wasn't alone; he deserved better than that.
Sometimes Rose climbed to the roof of a building she had and yet had never lived in. She would sit against a low wall sprayed with graffiti - Bad Wolf here, Bad Wolf there - and stare out at a city that she knew and yet didn't. She would lie on her back and soak in the sun, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the zeppelins, and feel the Earth rotate. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go...
Sometimes Rose felt as though the Doctor was with her. Sometimes she felt incredibly alone. But sometimes - well, usually - it didn't matter, as long as both of them were living fantastic lives.