Who Fic - The Art of Being Human - Chapter Six
The Art of Being Human - Chapter 6/11 PG-13, Ten/Rose, John Smith/Rose
AU. It is the autumn of 1913 and Rose has found herself the wife of a man who doesn’t really exist. Between the fear that she may truly learn to love John and the ever present knowledge of his true identity, Rose is forced to re-evaluate both her life and loves. And all the while the Family of Blood draws nearer to their prey...
Author's Note: Huge huge HUGE apologies for the massive gap between chapters! Real life just came up and bit me in the ass in a rather major way in the past few weeks and my muse completely hated this chapter and wouldn't cooperate at ALL. Majorly frustrating. I've been writing lots of stuff for then_theres_us to get my writing mojo back into gear and apparently it's worked because - hurrah! - new chapter for you all. Anyway, the exciting stuff all starts to happen from here so I hope you forgive me for the long wait and enjoy the final few chapters of this. I think there will be between 3-5 more to go after this one and maybe an epilogue but I'm still not 100%. Enjoy and much grovelling apologies and love, sapph xoxox
Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Epilogue
~*~
One thing Rose learned very quickly about John was that he was certainly no Time Lord. The Doctor might have had all the restraint of the most prudish saint when it came to matters of true physical intimacy, but John was very much a man and he very much enjoyed being with his wife.
That was not to say that he wasn’t still quite reserved in regards to sex. Rose had had to stop herself several times from trying out anything too ‘twenty-first century’ with him in the bedroom lest she scandalise the poor man. It honestly made her laugh when she managed to shock him merely by having the gall to touch him back the way that he touched her, especially when she’d been so skittish around him for so long.
Now that she’d finally given in to his affections however, Rose felt a great amount of relief. Just as she had seized the opportunity to find out more about the Doctor through John’s dreams, so too now did she seize the opportunity to be with him in a more physical capacity. Maybe she would regret her actions later but right now she was making the most of things as they were.
And who knew - John’s feelings had to come from somewhere didn’t they? Who was to say that they weren’t just a result of the Doctor’s own feelings for her leaking through? The thought made her pulse quicken, and quite aside from holding herself back with John, she began to truly let go when she was with him.
If this was the only chance she was ever going to get to love her Doctor, unabashed and with no boundaries then she was going to take it - whatever the consequences.
The final days of October disappeared like sand through an hourglass and as they travelled into November together John remained utterly, blissfully happy. Every time he caught her eye he would just beam - teeth and all! In the face of such obvious delight Rose couldn’t help but smile back at him. She was happy too, and truly content for the first time since she’d landed here. In addition, she was also finally comfortable enough to get around in this time without feeling like a fool.
Take her wardrobe. Rose still wasn’t completely proficient with the whole hats and gloves situation but after two months straight of going to church every Sunday she was finally getting there. Church too had become a lot more enjoyable. After weeks of trying to mumble unfamiliar songs and prayers under her breath Rose was now getting to know some of the more popular hymns and prayers and was quite happy to join in when the service called for it.
The first Sunday in November found her amongst the crowd of people leaving the small church, arm in arm with John and elated at the fact that the final hymn they’d sung had been one that she’d known. Normally John was shy about singing (he hummed a lot as he shaved but drew the line there) but in church he didn’t hesitate to raise his fine, tenor voice to meet hers. Rose loved listening to him and was on the verge of telling him so when they stepped out into a light drizzle of rain.
Frowning, Rose used her free hand to fuss with her suddenly soggy hat and John quickly put his on too before remembering that he actually had an umbrella.
“I’ve been thinking about Christmas,” he said abruptly as he fumbled with it.
“Sorry?” Rose said, certain she had misheard him over the rain and through the brim of her hat.
“Christmas,” John repeated as he finally managed to open the umbrella. They ducked underneath it together and Rose noticed that for once he wasn’t smiling, but rather looked quite nervous. Unused to seeing that particular expression on his face she jostled him a little, trying to get a smile out of him.
“What about it?”
“Well it’s only...well I was hoping that perhaps...” John stuttered out only to be interrupted by the Headmaster who had stopped in the rain and all to bid them good morning. As usual he all but ignored Rose and instead spoke to John almost exclusively. Doing her best not to start rolling her eyes or tapping her foot impatiently Rose cast her eyes about for a distraction and almost immediately saw Joan exiting the church, huddled underneath her own battered umbrella.
“Joan!” she called out. The Matron turned and upon spotting Rose she made her way over, carefully skirting puddles as she went.
“Hello Rose,” she said, smiling. “Did you enjoy the sermon this morning?”
Rose shrugged. Up until now she’d never been to church and therefore couldn’t really be counted upon to judge such things. “It was alright I suppose,” she conceded before glancing up at the rain with a grimace. “It might’ve been nice if the Almighty waited ’til after we got back inside to turn on the waterworks though.”
Joan chuckled as she too eyed the rain. “They do say he moves in mysterious ways.”
“Yeah,” Rose said moodily, shooting a glance at Rocastle who was still waylaying John. It was a shame that she didn’t really believe in God otherwise right now she’d be praying for John to start channelling some of the Doctor’s rudeness and excuse himself abruptly from the conversation. She really wanted to get back inside so they could dry off and get comfortable again. She also knew that John had some new dreams to recount as well and she was itching to hear them but his good manners meant that they could be here for ages yet.
Joan’s eyes followed Rose’s, flickering over Rocastle and John’s boring small talk before returning her gaze to Rose. She offered a sympathetic lift of the eyebrows and Rose rolled her eyes in response. Men. Joan smiled gently and then a gleam entered her eyes as she leant forward to gently interrupt the two men.
“Excuse me, Headmaster,” she said, her soft voice somehow clear and audible even above the drumming of rain. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you?”
Rocastle blinked at the interruption but quickly recovered his wits. “Oh yes. Very well Matron. I bid you good day Mr Smith,” he nodded his head in farewell to each of them in turn. “Mrs Smith.”
“Good day,” John tipped his hat cordially. Rose was a little hastier.
“Yeah bye,” she said quickly and all but manhandled John away, snugged up against his side under the umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet.
“I wonder what the Matron had to speak to the Headmaster about?” John wondered as they tramped through the rain together, Rose secretly thrilling at the way Joan had come through for her. She so owed her a cup of tea after that. “Perhaps one of the boys has been taken ill? I know that Jenkins wasn’t himself on Friday and several of the other boys have been sniffling and carrying on in class...”
“What, Charlie Jenkins? He’s probably just got a cold coming on,” Rose said dismissively. “Half the boys are goin’ about sniffing at the moment. Must be something going around.”
“Yes it does seem that way doesn’t it?” John admitted and then frowned. “I do hope that it doesn’t spread to the staff. There is nothing I hate more than being unwell.”
“Not even having to listen to Rocastle go on about class schedules in the pouring rain?” Rose said archly and when John shot her a reproachful look she couldn’t help but add, “Oh go on, you can’t tell me that you like getting talked at all the time by him.”
“Regardless of whether I like it or not he is still my employer,” John said in as stern a voice as he could muster after he’d just misjudged the depth of a puddle and ended up doing an inelegant little skip-shuffle sideways into her to avoid soaking his trouser bottoms. “And yours as well I might add.”
“Yeah and don’t I know it,” Rose muttered condescendingly. “My lord and master more like.”
They walked along in silence for several paces before Rose realised that John was watching her, waiting for her to elaborate. Sighing a little, she did so.
“You’re going to think it’s stupid but it’s just...well he pretty much ignores me unless I’ve done something wrong. Or he’ll say hello, goodbye if he has to but that’s it. He’s never spoken more than a half dozen proper words to me at a time.”
“Really? I-I actually hadn’t noticed,” John said, and he looked honestly surprised.
“Yeah well. That’s probably cos he’s usually too busy talking to you for you to notice,” Rose said, but not unkindly. “Joan and me though - Matron Redfern I mean - we’ve got a bit of a partnership going on now. Look out for each other, help get you away from Rocastle before he bores you to tears...”
John looked delightfully scandalised. “Have you been actively conspiring to keep me away from the Headmaster?”
Rose grinned. “Well yeah. But only cos I want you all to myself.”
That made John laugh and he dared to stop and kiss her softly before they continued on, hurrying along through the rain.
Later, as they dried themselves out in front of the fireplace, Rose suddenly remembered.
“What were you saying before about Christmas?” she pressed.
“Sorry?” John frowned from where he stood wringing out his socks, but then his eyes lit up in remembrance. “Oh yes! I was going to ask...actually I’ve lost it now. Erm...”
“Don’t stress then,” Rose soothed, too used to him losing his train of thought mid-sentence to be worried. “It’ll come back.”
John frowned even deeper than before. “No but I remember - it was important, it was...Christmas, Christmas, Christmas...Oh! I remember now! I-look I know that you probably don’t want to stay down here for the holidays but I’ve been thinking about train tickets lately...”
“Train tickets?” Rose blinked. “We going somewhere?”
“Yes. Well that’s just the thing you see,” John admitted, red-faced. “It’s all so very...expensive to travel to London, especially at that time of year and I was wondering...was rather hoping...I mean if you’d rather not then I completely understand, of course I do but it’s just...rather...w-well...”
“John,” Rose interrupted gently. “Stop babbling. Just tell me yeah?”
“Oh.” He said uncomfortably. “Yes. Well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind spending Christmas here? At Farringham? Or in the village perhaps? I know your mother will be expecting us to spend the holidays with her but I was rather hoping we could spend Christmas together. Without her. Not that I don’t enjoy your mothers company!” he added hastily. “But the tickets to London will be so awfully expensive and we can always go back in the summer for a visit if you’d like. I just...I think it would be rather nice to have a Christmas to ourselves - don’t you?”
He gazed imploringly at her. If it had been the Doctor she would have suspected that he was just trying to get out of seeing her mother. With John...well she was actually quite glad he’d suggested it. She had a feeling that train tickets took a while to be ordered here (or whatever you had to do to get them) and she didn’t need John ordering them and wasting money when she knew that they definitely weren’t going to be able to find her mother in London.
Well. Not unless the Doctor was flying them there in the TARDIS.
“Okay,” she said simply and John stared at her in amazement. “What?”
“I-I just...well I thought you might be a little more upset with me,” he stammered. “I know you don’t like it when people upset your mother and I’ve always been...inadvertently...well. Very good. At that.”
Rose regarded John’s red face a moment and then grinned in realisation.
“You’re scared of my mum.”
John spluttered. “Scared? O-of your...? Of course I’m not. Preposterous. She’s a...lovely. Lady.”
He cleared his throat awkwardly and Rose couldn’t help but laugh.
“You are such a bad liar,” she said fondly before remembering, “Oh, she sends her best to you actually.”
“Who?”
“My mum.”
John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Rose said. “I spoke to her the other week.”
“Spoke?” John’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you mean on the telephone? Did the Headmaster give you permission to make a personal telephone call or...” he choked off his words then and suddenly looked quite ill. “Oh my goodness,” he breathed, horror struck. “Please do not say that you and the Matron have been sneaking around behind his back making telephone calls to London!”
“What?” Rose managed before she realised her mistake. For a moment she was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack herself in the head for being so stupid. “No! No, no, no. I got a letter from her and it’s...kind of like...talking to her. Anyway it’s fine yeah? I’ll just have to write back and tell her we aren’t coming for Christmas because we can’t get train tickets. Otherwise she might start buying Turkeys and all sorts...”
“Heaven forbid,” John murmured and Rose swatted his arm gently on Jackie’s behalf and they set their shoes next to each other neatly in front of the fire to dry and then settled in for an afternoon of reading.
It wasn’t until much later that Rose realised - and when she did it hit her like a ton of bricks.
Christmas was well and truly after the date that she was due to open up the watch.
~*~
The inclement weather brought on a sudden but not altogether unexpected outbreak of colds amongst the students (and Rocastle too, much to Rose’s delight), but even long hours spent in the infirmary with Joan weren’t enough to stop John from seeking her out at odd times of the day to ask her opinion on various preparations for their Christmas together.
He seemed very determined to make the holiday special for her and so of course every time he mentioned it Rose felt that old familiar guilt creeping up on her once again. She had been torn about having to open the watch and end John’s brief tenure of life for quite some time already. Now she was starting to consider keeping him human for longer than the three months so that he could celebrate his Christmas with her as he so desperately wanted to.
On the one hand, she’d never actually promised the Doctor that she’d open the watch after three months exactly. Another month wouldn’t hurt would it? After Christmas she could open the watch and then maybe she could go and do New Years somewhere spectacular with the Doctor - a new beginning for both of them and they could move on again like they always did.
Except she didn’t know how keeping John alive for more than three months might affect the Doctors consciousness - what if being suppressed in the watch for too long damaged or hurt him? The Doctor was already so broken, she couldn’t bear the thought of him being further damaged - and at her own hand no less.
In the same breath though, neither too did she want to just open the watch with little or no ceremony and then move on, pretending like poor John had never even existed. It was too cold she thought, too impersonal an end to this man who loved so sweetly and thought so deep.
The thoughts preyed on her and she was still undecided on the issue of Christmas, searching vainly for another way that she could possibly make it up to John when she discovered the perfect thing - and completely by accident.
Rose had discovered quite early in her travels that it didn’t matter what century you were in or what planet you were on, there were certain constants in most, if not all cultures.
And one of them was dancing.
Not just metaphorical dancing either, but proper dancing, alone and with partners or groups of people, with music and maybe a drink or two and some nibbles if you were lucky. She had to admit that she was also partial to the tradition in the royal court on Galahdrahl wherein the males had to give the women a token of some kind in order to have a dance with her. Usually it was a small precious stone or a sprig of leaves from the Luna-de-Luna plant - the symbol for love on Galahdrahl.
The Doctor had surprised her enormously on that trip by magicking a fragrant blossom seemingly out of thin air and then tucking it charmingly behind her ear. Of course then he’d dragged her out onto the floor and they’d upset the proceedings by clumping right through the middle of all the other couples in a ridiculous sort of dance that had ended up being something like a cross between a tarantella, a salsa and a polka.
How they hadn’t managed to get arrested that night Rose didn’t know. It had been fun though.
After yet another long morning of mopping brows and spooning cough medicine down sickly children’s throats however, Rose was heading down to the library and chanced to see a notice that had been pinned up on the stairwell noticeboard. The second she registered the word ‘dance’ she stepped up eagerly to peruse it.
John was in his shirtsleeves and had a mouth full of pear when she came barrelling into their room several minutes later, brandishing the notice at him excitedly, her librarian duties forgotten.
“John, John - did you see?” Shoving the slightly crumpled piece of paper at him without preamble, she huddled in at his side as he read it, still chewing thoughtfully on his pear. “I saw it on the notice board on the stairs. There’s gonna be a dance in the village next Tuesday night.”
“So there is,” John said mildly, having finally swallowed his mouthful. He scanned the flyer again and Rose waited for the penny to drop. As comprehension slowly dawned on his face, John glanced down at her. “Oh. Would you like to...?”
“Well,” Rose said, leaning up against his side with a coy smile. “Yeah. That is if you can even dance.”
John laughed but then tailed off uncertainly. “I’m not sure actually,” he admitted before wondering aloud, “Did we dance at our wedding?”
“Course we did!” Rose said instantly, but then added with a little less certainty, “Must’ve done. We’ve definitely danced. Right?”
John looked unconvinced but then he smiled down at her, beamed really, and Rose couldn’t help but smile back. His happiness, just like the Doctor’s, was infectious.
And just like the Doctor, he was apparently prone to completely random flights of fancy. Dropping his half eaten pear suddenly, John took her hand and swung her into an impromptu waltz around the room, both of them laughing gaily.
“You can dance!” she said, delighted.
“I surprise even myself sometimes,” he smiled, even as he accidentally bumped them both gently into a desk. “Oh...sorry!”
“S’alright.” Putting her arms around his waist, Rose squeezed him in a brief hug and then jumped up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”
“Whatever for?” he asked in bemusement.
“For saying you’ll be my date for the dance!” Rose told him, grinning. “Come on slow coach, you’d better finish your pear before the maids come up with our lunch. What’re you eating for anyway, this close to lunchtime?”
“Is it lunch already?” John wondered with a guilty look at the pear. “Oh dear. I hope I haven’t ruined my appetite.”
And so it was settled. Get the village dance out of the way and then Rose could re-evaluate whether Christmas was going to be a feasible option or not. She still wasn’t altogether sure that she was going to be able to open the watch except by a supreme force of will. Briefly she had entertained the idea of opening it while John was asleep but just as quickly she had banished the thought. As much as she didn’t want to have to say goodbye to John, opening it when he was asleep would just be too cruel, too cowardly.
Neither of which she wanted to be.
Setting that particular dilemma to the back of her head for now, Rose made use of the writing set John had bought her to write a dummy letter to her mother explaining why they couldn’t come for Christmas. Once she’d finished it she asked John to read it over for her and after correcting the few grammatical and spelling errors she’d made he handed it back to her looking sincerely grateful.
“This is wonderful Rose,” he told her earnestly. “Thank you. I wouldn’t know how to even begin to tell your mother that we aren’t coming for Christmas.”
“It’s just my mum. No big deal,” Rose shrugged it off and went to seal the letter in its envelope but John stopped her, blotting the page one more time to make sure the ink wouldn’t smudge before carefully folding it and then placing it into the envelope himself, every movement in that careful and deliberate way that he had.
Rose watched intently as he sealed the envelope, watched the nimble precision of his fingers and found herself unconsciously licking her lips. This incarnation of the Doctor had beautiful hands - musician’s hands one of Jackie’s friends had called them once - and Rose knew first hand just how beautiful they felt in hers, on her, in her...
She was sure her cheeks were flushing and she didn’t dare tear her eyes away from his hand even after he’d placed the envelope down on the desk. John paused, still bent over and then slowly turned his face towards her and met her eyes. Painfully slow, he took his hand from the desk and cupped her cheek gently. Rose took a moment to prepare herself, tilting her face invitingly towards his.
The kiss was a good one, sweet and heady with just a hint of pear to flavour it. Rose pressed into it a little and the taste intensified ever so slightly...
And then there was the sound of a door opening and they parted hastily.
“Oh! Begging your pardon Mr and Mrs Smith!” Jenny said, horrified, from the door.
John leapt back from the desk and then hovered awkwardly, red faced and clearing his throat every few seconds. Rose however remained composed.
“Its fine,” she assured the maid. “Come on in.”
Jenny smiled nervously at them both as she came in and after setting down their lunch tray she began straightening her apron and cap compulsively. “If you, erm, need anything further just let me know won’t you? Ma’am, Sir.”
She bobbed an awkward curtsey before scuttling out of the room. Once she was gone however John and Rose caught each other’s gaze and then they both broke out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
Lunch was a raucous affair that day, full of laughter and silliness. Rose was still giggling long after John had walked her to the library before the commencement of afternoon classes. It had been a glorious day, a happy day, and it continued to be perfectly lovely all the way up to bedtime.
That night John made love to her with quiet reverence and afterwards Rose snuggled into him happily, settled down and fell easily into the world of dreams with him.
~*~
“Do it.”
Rose trembled. It lay there, in the palm of her hand. So incongruous it seemed, the deceptively simple outer shell belying the complex mechanisms at work within.
“Do it.” Her hand trembled even harder and she worried she might drop it. Dark eyes fixed her piercingly from under a familiar mop of hair. “Do it Rose.”
She took a shuddering breath and thumbed the catch. Held the air within her lungs. Abruptly pulled her hand away from it and exhaled with a small sob.
“I c-can’t!”
“Yes you can. You’ve got to.” His hands - cool and smooth, covering hers, urging her on. His eyes pleading. “Please Rose. You’re the only one who can. Please.”
“But...it’s like I’m killing part of you,” she protested.
His eyes were fathomless. “I know.”
“Don’t ask me,” and now she was the one pleading, begging. “Don’t make me end it. Please...”
He merely watched her, such sadness in his eyes that she was in tears just looking at him.
“All things,” he told her softly. “Must end.”
~*~
She woke trembling so badly that John too was wrested from his slumber. He must have thought she was crying because he shushed her and then touched her face as if to wipe away tears.
“Rose?” he whispered, stroking her arm gently beneath the covers once he’d ascertained that she was just shaking and not sobbing. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer but instead kissed him fiercely, pushing and shoving at him until he rolled onto his back and she could straddle him. John gasped at the aggressiveness of her touch but responded anyway and all too soon they were moving together in the darkness.
If he was shocked at her forwardness he never said a word. For that matter, neither of them spoke of that particular late night encounter in the morning or indeed, ever again.
In the end, they never really got a chance to.
~*~
The spate of colds intensified over the next day or two but soon enough they had run their course and the boys were all back in class, only a few lingering with the sniffles including one Charles Jenkins who’d taken more trips to the infirmary than any other student. Luckily, Rose happened to run into the village postman while she’d been in there running an errand and amongst everything else he had for the school there was a letter from home come for the poor lad. She gave it to him while he waited for his check up and he was a lot more chipper by the time he left.
“I reckon he’s probably more home sick than anything,” Rose noted as she left the infirmary with Joan. The older woman looked at her strangely, a small smile playing on her lips.
“How odd,” she said. “I was thinking much the same.”
Rose was about to respond when John appeared out of nowhere with a large stack of books, his eyes faraway as he made his way down the corridor.
“Good morning Mr Smith!” Joan greeted him cheerfully and he jumped and turned to them, startled by the intrusion into his thoughts. As he turned a book fell from the top of his stack and to the floor and he blinked at the two of them before puzzling down at the offending book as though wondering how it had gotten down there.
“What’s wrong with you this morning? Cat got your tongue? Joan said hello to you.” Rose teased him gently as she tried to bend down to retrieve the book. Unfortunately corsets only allowed so much bending and thus she got stuck halfway down, grunting with the effort to reach.
John, sensing her plight, stretched out a foot and placed it carefully on the book. “Hold on I’ve got it...I’ve...” Rose toppled over suddenly and he paused. “Oh dear. Wait...perhaps if I...”
“Oh for goodness sake,” Joan said good-naturedly as she took the stack of books from his arms and bundled them against her chest. “There. Now help your wife up.”
John gratefully ducked down and picked up the errant book before helping Rose up.
“Thanks,” she said, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she readjusted her corset so the boning sat a little more comfortably. “You’ve got no idea how uncomfortable these things are. And they make it impossible to bend over.”
“I don’t know why you insist on wearing one every day,” Joan admitted to Rose who was reaching out a curious hand for John’s book. After inspecting it briefly she tucked it under her arm, already thinking about where in the shelves she had to return it to. “It’s too much of a bother as far as I’m concerned. Erm, Mr Smith, we appear to be holding your books.”
John blinked owlishly at her. “Oh,” he said in some surprise. “So you are.”
“Were they...going in any particular direction?” Joan prompted gently and John though for a long moment before leaping into action.
“Yes erm...this way. No,” he turned abruptly back the way he’d been headed. “This way.”
He drifted down the stairs vaguely and Rose shared a grin with Joan as they followed him.
“Is he always like that?” Joan asked in an undertone, clearly amused.
“Not all the time,” Rose admitted back quietly. “He just daydreams a lot. Never thinks about what he’s supposed to be...”
John turned to them abruptly and they both jumped guiltily but he only looked at the books they were holding and made a small noise of distress.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. I should be carrying those, not the two of you.”
“They’re not that heavy,” Rose protested but Joan was quick to mediate.
“How about we all take several each?” she suggested.
“Division of labour?” John guessed.
“Precisely,” Joan smiled approvingly and began divvying them up between the three of them, John insisting on taking a slightly larger stack than the two women. That sorted, the three of them continued on towards the library in companionable silence, John stealing the occasional glance over at Rose and smiling shyly.
“Rose tells me that you’re taking her to the village dance tomorrow night,” Joan ventured, wistfully eyeing the noticeboard as they passed it. “You know it’s been ages since I’ve been to a dance only no one’s asked me of course...”
“Really? Did you want to come? Hey you could come with us!” Rose exclaimed excitedly before turning beseechingly to John. “Don’t you reckon?”
John looked from Rose to Joan, startled at this sudden development. “I er, um...”
“It’s very kind of you to offer,” Joan graciously interrupted John’s stuttering. “But wouldn’t that seem a little...well, odd? An old widow like me being taken to a dance by a married couple?”
“Oh who cares what people think?” Rose said dismissively as she began to lead them down the stairs again. “Anyway, you’re not that old. Old people are all cranky and just whinge all the time. You’ve still got a bit of fire in you yet.”
Joan blushed furiously, flustered. “Only because you’ve been leading me astray!”
To both women’s surprise, it was John who spoke up next. “Yes so I’ve been hearing.”
“Oh dear,” Joan said, looking worried. “What has she been telling you?”
“More than enough for me to realise that she has the same effect on you as she does on me,” John said, a smile in his voice.
Rose glanced back up the stairs at them, frowning. “What’s that?”
Joan looked almost embarrassed when she admitted, “You...well you make me feel younger.”
“Quite! She’s got the most remarkable effect in that way hasn’t she?” John agreed and Rose flushed and then scoffed at them both.
“Rubbish.”
“Oh but we don’t mean it unkindly,” Joan protested, turning briefly to John for support. “I know that I haven’t laughed so much in years until I met you.”
“Nor I,” John added and Joan shot Rose a significant look.
“Oh come on,” Rose laughed it off dismissively. “You two’re gonna give me the biggest ego in the British Isles if you keep carrying on like this.” As she spoke they finally reached the ground floor and made their way into the library where she began to set about re-shelving the books she held.
“But it’s not just the two of us Rose,” Joan pressed as she followed her in. “You can see it in the way you take care of the boys as well. I’ve said it before.”
Rose shook her head in derision and held out a hand for John’s books. He began to hand them to her one at a time as she found their spots on the shelves. “What, cleaning up their cuts and scrapes? Anyone can do that.”
“I don’t mean their cuts and bruises Rose,” Joan said patiently. “It’s their hearts and minds that you nurture. You’re such a wonderful influence on them. You remind them not to take themselves so seriously.”
Rose burnt red at Joan’s praise, especially when John agreed with a loud, “Hear, hear!”
“I just try an’ make them feel better,” Rose mumbled as she shelved another book. “It’s not anything special. Just words.”
“But it is special,” Joan insisted. “You speak to them as though they’re your equal and they respect you for it. It’s quite remarkable. I’ve never seen anyone interact with children the way that you do. Well, with all people for that matter!”
If only you knew, Rose thought wryly. Quite a few of the ‘people’ she’d met in her travels hadn’t even been human. She tried not to focus too much on that though as it made her lose track of where she was up to in her re-shelving.
John however was busily agreeing with Joan saying, “She is rather something isn’t she?” with a proud smile and Rose began blushing all over again. She was completely unused to such extravagant praise - especially for such a simple task as comforting a kid with a scraped knee or making her husband smile. It was ridiculous.
But the praise wasn’t anywhere near over yet. That very night Charlie Jenkins took a feverish turn for the worst and to Rose’s horror she was called upon to nurse him. Under Rocastle’s watchful eye she nervously packed up some bits and pieces from the infirmary and he escorted her to the sickly boys’ dormitory himself.
Casting her mind back to her own childhood sicknesses and what Jackie had done to make her feel better, Rose spent several hours trying to cheer him up while she did her best to break his fever before it rose too high. When Jenkins was finally comfortable enough to sleep she promised to come back in the morning to check up on him and left him to sleep off the worst of it.
“Thank you for your help this evening Mrs Smith,” Rocastle said, surprisingly gracious as he walked her back to her room. “I know it’s quite late for me to be calling upon you but what with Matron Redfern unaccounted for...”
Rose managed a weak smile. “It’s no troubles.”
Rocastle nodded and then straightened himself a little more. Rose steeled herself for a lecture.
“You’ve done very well here,” he told her. “In all of your duties. The library has never been tidier and Matron tells me that you are a quick study and very good with the boys. I can see now that she is all too right to praise your efforts. Well done Mrs Smith.”
“I try sir,” Rose laughed awkwardly. It was the most that Rocastle had ever said to her and certainly the nicest he’d ever been to her. It was a little unsettling to say the least.
“Well,” Rocastle said and then nodded in farewell. “Good night Mrs Smith.”
He went to walk away but Rose stopped him. “It’s just Rose,” she requested, ignoring the surprised look that he gave her. “Mrs Smith makes me sound sort of...old. I’m just Rose.”
Rocastle still looked bewildered by her request as he bade her good night once again and then turned to leave. Rolling her eyes for the millionth time at the ridiculousness of relationships between men and woman at this end of the century Rose opened the door to her room and found John over by the window, shoulders hunched as he fiddled with something mounted on a brass stand.
“John? What you doing?” she asked curiously as she shut the door quietly behind herself.
He turned to her instantly, his face shining, and eagerly beckoned her over to where he stood with a handsome brass telescope. “Oh Rose. The sky is so clear tonight! I’ve been able to see all the stars - come and see!”
Going to the window Rose obediently brought her eye down to the lens and smiled at the tiny pinpricks of light she could see through it. She’d seen better telescopes than this (and had actually gotten a lot more up close and personal with the stars than this) but it was still beautiful. As she peered through the lens she felt John’s hands resting lightly on her waist from behind and she smiled a little as she straightened up and into his arms, only just noticing that his dream journal lay open on the desk nearby. Peering at it she could just make out a star map.
“I fell asleep,” John explained, noticing her gaze. “Whilst I waited for you to come back from the dormitories and I dreamt of the stars. When I woke up the first thing that I noticed was the telescope and I thought...well it seemed to be rather an omen wouldn’t you say?”
Rose looked over her shoulder at him and he smiled brightly. But just as Rose smiled back at him there was a strange flash of bright green light from the sky outside.
“What was that?” she demanded, head snapping around instantly. The light however had already begun to fade. She escaped from his embrace and clamoured around the telescope, nearly knocking it over in her haste to reach the window. Once there she plastered herself up against it, nose bumping annoyingly against the glass.
“Probably just a meteorite,” John explained soothingly, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders gently. “Rocks from outer space falling to the ground. Nothing to worry about.”
“Looked close,” Rose said, heart thundering. “And green.”
“Oh it would have been many miles away,” John reassured her as he pressed a little closer against her back. “The green tinge is no doubt due to an atmospheric condition of some kind. Or perhaps there was copper sulphate...amongst...the other minerals...in the...rock...”
Rose smiled a little as John trailed off, mumbling nonsense into her neck as he trailed soft kisses over her skin.
“You tryin’ to seduce me with science talk?” she asked and as she felt him smile wickedly against her neck her thundering pulse suddenly had quite another reason behind it.
“Perhaps,” he admitted coyly and Rose smiled weakly before reaching up to still his movements.
“I’m a bit tired tonight John,” she lied, stroking his head comfortably. “Maybe tomorrow?”
John paused where he was but then placed one final kiss to her neck and pulled back. “Quite right I suppose.” He said, sighing. “I should turn in as well. It’s going to be a big day tomorrow what with classes and then firing practice after that and then the village dance...”
As he spoke he tottered off to retrieve his pyjamas but Rose lingered by the window a little longer, itching to go out and see if she could find out where exactly this meteor might have landed. As far as she knew, meteorites didn’t burn green as they fell and the apparent closeness of it worried her.
What if it was the Family and they’d finally managed to track them down? She’d have to keep a closer eye on the fob watch just in case, and maybe take a trip to the TARDIS tomorrow to make sure that she was all locked up and safe. Maybe too she could go into the village and ask at the local farms to see if anyone else had seen where the meteorite had fallen?
“Rose?” John called from where he stood by the bed. “Are you coming to bed?”
Glancing uneasily at the mantel, Rose had a sudden and absurd compulsion to take the watch and sleep with it underneath her pillow so it would be safe.
“Rose?” John said again and reluctantly she left the time piece where it was and readied herself for bed. Once they were both under the covers she cuddled into John instinctively but although he fell asleep quite quickly she was to find no rest. She dozed on and off all night but not deep enough to dream and she snuck out of bed dozen times to check on the watch, paranoid that it might disappear while she was sleeping.
Come morning she was all but exhausted but John was well rested and he smiled when he woke to find her still nestled in his arms.
“Why good morning Mrs Smith,” he murmured sleepily to her and Rose grinned wearily as he kissed her nose by Braille.
“Morning Mr Smith,” she returned, easily playing along with the familiar game.
“Big day today,” John yawned and then smacked his lips as he snuggled into her a little more.
“Yep,” Rose agreed, tightly gripping the front of his pyjamas with one hand and his waist with the other. “Big day coming right up.”
“Excellent,” John mumbled softly and then he was snoring softly again.
Endearing as John’s sleeping habits were however, Rose was no more going to be able to go back to sleep now than fly to the moon. At least figuratively speaking. Of course when the Doctor was back she really would be able to go to the moon if she wanted...but that was beside the point. She lay stiff and tense in the bed with him until the maids came knocking with their breakfast tray.
Rose had never been much of one for believing in premonitions or prophecies but she did believe in her own intuition and she was beyond certain that the mysterious green meteorite the night before had something to do with the Family. Or at least some sort of alien, which meant that their cover might soon be blown.
As she watched John yawn and stretch within the grip she still had on him from before she felt a blind panic beginning to swell within her at the possibility that she might have to let him go sooner than she had anticipated. A whimper built in her chest and she choked it back, terrified that she might burst into tears for grief of a man who wasn’t even dead yet.
She wasn’t ready yet.
“John?” she choked out as he went to sit up and he paused and rolled to face her, squinting through sleep heavy lids. “Can I just say I...I...”
“Mmmn?” he pressed and her tongue filled her mouth, heavy and impossibly thick.
She kissed him instead of speaking, plunged her fingers into his hair and pressed into the warm, long length of his body until it became unbearable.
When she pulled back abruptly for air they both gasped softly.
“Are you alright?” John said once he’d caught his breath enough.
Rose leant her forehead against his. “Yeah.” She told him. “I am. I will be.”
I hope, she added silently.
His hand was on her face then, exploring the swell of her cheek and he sighed into her mouth.
“I wish sometimes that I could look inside your mind and see how you think.”
She mirrored him, their arms tangling as she touched his cheek too, felt the scratch of stubble and his ribs pushing against the back of her arm as his chest rose and fell.
“Yeah,” she agreed in a whisper. “Me too.”
John kissed her again, tenderly, as if it might be able to help.
She kissed him tentatively back and then began to inch her leg over his hip.
Outside, the maid grew tired of waiting and left their breakfast at the door for them to find.
And so began John Smith's last day on earth.
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