Fic: The Narrow Path (3/4?, PG-13, Ten/Rose)
Title: The Narrow Path
Author: slpy650
Beta: tempusdominus10 Thank you!
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is the property of the BBC, not me.
Summary: She went deep into the ship. Further than she’d ever gone. She didn’t know what she was expecting.
Author's Note: Rose and the Doctor try to fix things.
Previous Chapters: One (ichi), Two (ni)
III.
His eyes widened in shock, Rose thought, at her state.
“I lost my brolly,” she tried to explain, and then noticed the redness of his eyes. The wetness on his face.
“Are you -” she looked at him in confusion. “Have you been crying?”
Crying?
Really?
Why couldn’t she keep her big gob shut?
Before she’d finished her sentence she’d realized how ridiculous it was. Of course the Doctor wasn’t crying - it was raining for Christ’s sake. The light from the candle was bright enough to show that his hair was limp and damp like it’d been hastily towel dried. And his suit jacket was soaked through. His black umbrella sat inverted and useless in the corner, evidence of the failed battle he’d obviously fought to reach the hut. Okay, so his eyes were red and he’d been covering them with his hands (classic weeping pose), but he could have just been rubbing them out of frustration (at her).
And really, what man had she ever known that had gone off for a good post-fight cry? It hadn’t even been a fight - a disagreement, more like. And if the look on his face was anything to go by - like she’d just slapped him Jackie-style - the Doctor had definitely not been crying.
So, naturally she could have been wrong, but even so, she found she just couldn’t gag her response when he narrowed his eyes and bit out, “It’s raining, actually.” A flash of lightning illuminated the hard edge of his jaw which had somehow looked softer if the candlelight.
“Oh, is it? Hadn’t noticed,” she shot back, hands automatically landing on her wet, robe-clad hips.
Tact, Rose realized as they stared daggers at each other, was something she lacked when it came to the Doctor. ‘Oh, no, Doctor! I’ve stabbed you in the heart again! Let me rub in some salt and vinegar and eat it!’ She’d not intended for her apology to go over quite like this, but she wouldn’t mess it up again - she was determined to take the high road. If he was going to be Mr. Standoffish then so be it, but she’d make sure he’d hear her apology even if it killed them both in the process. She cleared her throat, schooled her features to look somewhat apologetic, and prepared to speak. But he spoke first.
“What are you doing here?” Not a question; more of a harsh accusation. It threw her off.
“Was lookin’ for you,” Rose answered a bit uncertainly, as if he cared. Their gazes still locked across the small hut, but the initial bite had faded from her amber globes.
Her resolve was unexpectedly slipping, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps the high road was overrated. Lots of honorable people retreated with their dignity still intact. She couldn’t think of one off the top of her head, but she was sure there were some. Accept a temporary defeat, cut your losses, and all that. Perfectly acceptable, she thought, warily eyeing the clearly irate Time Lord who sat before her.
But then he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed. Her initial irritation was fanned again, flaring dangerously. Was he trying to make her feel like a naughty child who’d annoyed her parent to their last tether? Because it was working. Screw the high road! The lower, the better! She opened her mouth for a scathing reply…but he interrupted her again.
“Please tell me you didn’t close the door.”
He still wasn’t looking at her - as if that action alone would push him past the brink of simple annoyance to full on madness - but she stared at him like he’d already tumbled over that edge. Yes, surely he was mad.
“What?” She turned around to look at the doorway - yep, still door-less. She looked back at him, still holding the bridge of his nose. “There…is no door, Doctor.”
Hands dropping to the table with a clack of thunder, the Doctor looked up at Rose as if she were something exceptionally dim with which he was fast losing patience. “When you entered this room - did you close the door behind you?”
Oh. That door.
He looked serious. So this must be serious. So she should take this seriously. “Erm…” she tried to think. “…Yes.”
The Doctor’s sudden groan made her jump. As she watched him drag his hands through his hair like she’d told him the universe was coming to an end, her annoyance disappeared instantly and she reached out to him, moving to close the distance between them. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
He leapt from the bench before she could touch him, did an unnecessary whirl so they were separated by the table, then began digging in earnest through his trouser pockets. She gaped at him while he pulled out object after object, giving each a glance before tossing them on the table. When it became clear this would continue without explanation, Rose found her voice.
“Doctor.”
“Hmm?” Like sometime in the last ten seconds he’d forgotten she was there.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to fix this room.” Like it was obvious.
“What?”
“You can’t leave.” Like that cleared it up.
“Right…What?”
He threw an empty candy wrapper atop the growing pile of junk on the table and sighed in exasperation. Because of her or because he hadn’t yet found what he was searching for, she didn’t’ know.
“It’s this room,” he said shortly, and then: “Ha!”
His brown eyes lit up, hand stilling within his pocket. For the first time since the monastery, he grinned at her, and she returned it without hesitation. With a flourish he pulled out a half-sucked lollipop shoved back into its wrapper and held it up like he’d found the key to all his problems.
“Doctor…” Rose began but found she didn’t know what to say.
“Here you are, take it,” he said before she could ponder things much more. Rose took the lollipop with a bemused smirk.
“And don’t eat it!” he warned her like she’d been about to stuff it in her mouth. “And we’ll need…” he rifled through the junk. “Really should’a thought to bring my coat - it’s much better stocked, but...” He cleared his throat. “Right - this, this, and this,” he shoved several more things into her arms. A torch, a couple rubber band balls, some alien-looking gizmos covered in oil (he had those in his pockets?), and a-
“Wait,” he eyed her armful critically. “What’s that?” He snatched away what appeared to be a tiny ceramic dog glued to a rusted spring from her arms and looked at it like he’d never seen it before. With a raised brow he tossed it over his shoulder. Spinning back to the table, he took the lone candle and sat it with surprising gentleness on the floor.
“Right! Set those on the bench,” he instructed before a broad sweep of his arm cleaned the remaining rubbish from the table.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
It was like an emotional rollercoaster with him. She’d come to apologize, then to tear him a new one, as her mother would say, and now she was helping him ‘fix this room,’ their apparent differences forgotten. It was disconcerting to say the least and not a little bit aggravating. Not to mention she was beginning to feel a tad vulnerable. They were both equally wet, but while the Doctor was missing only his coat, she still had nothing on but the robe the TARDIS had given her.
“Doctor, what is going on?” Rose asked, trying to get into a more helpful frame of mind. She carefully laid out her armful on the bench. Meanwhile, the Doctor had squeezed himself beneath the table, fingers searching, dancing along its underside. Rose crouched to watch him, mindful to keep her wet robe wrapped around her legs.
“This room’s broken. Hasn’t worked properly for, oh - two or three years…”
“You haven’t been able to fix it for three years?”
“I’d say more like two, actually. Maybe two and a half… or…two and three quarters,” he amended absently.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why haven’t you been able to fix it for two or three years?”
“Oh.” She saw his hands pause. “Never tried.”
Rose knew she was gawking at him, but she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried. He wasn’t paying her any attention anyways, now, hands resuming their search.
Two or three years? Something on the TARDIS had been broken for two or three years and he hadn’t even attempted to repair it? She was biting the inside of her cheek, trying to keep herself from demanding that he explain himself. She knew something was up but decided her best course of action was just to go along with whatever he had planned and hope he gave her the opportunity for a little gentle prying.
“Okay then, what’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, well the door you’ve already experienced -”
“The door?”
“It doesn’t operate from the inside once it’s been closed. It in fact ceases to exist. Well - at least in this dimension. Still haven’t figured out where it ends up, but that’s shoddy trans-dimensional engineering for you.”
“Oh…” Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait - so then, the TARDIS didn’t lock me in here?” She was beyond confused.
The Doctor snickered. “I wouldn’t say that. You shouldn’t have even been able to find this room, but I’m guessing she led you straight to it. Twice.” He didn’t sound amused.
“Yeah, it...she did -”
“Ah ha!”
There was a soft click and then a low hum. Rose looked up to watch as the top of the table seemed to roll back like a conveyor belt, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits hidden beneath.
The Doctor crawled from under the table to observe his handiwork, and Rose leaned in closer for a better look.
“What’s it for?”
“It controls the room.” He snatched his sonic screwdriver from his back pocket and gave it a twirl as he scrutinized the mess before him.
“Can you turn the rain off?” Rose asked hopefully.
Lightning struck close, the clap of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the hut. Rose jumped, looking out the doorway again, half-expecting to see trees split in two or the start of a fire. When her eyes returned to the Doctor, she was startled to meet his piercing gaze.
“No. I can’t.” There was an edge to his voice that had Rose questioning how easy he’d been with her, like their familiar dynamic was all show. He was attempting to distract her…he was still pissed at her.
“Come on, then,” he said, donning his specs and settling himself on the bench opposite her. “Make yourself useful and grab that torch.”
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
The shit hit the fan quite suddenly.
The Doctor was quiet while he worked - speaking only to ask for certain items that Rose would quickly hand over or to give the occasional directive on where she should point the light. An unsettling silence grew between them like a festering wound, and it was slowly driving Rose crazy. The storm seemed to be getting stronger, and a bitterly cold wind was starting to find its way inside their little shelter. Shivering, Rose studied the Doctor for any signs that his anger might be tempering, but he was being as enigmatic as she’d ever seen him. God, she might as well just suck it up and get it over with. Apologize and hope he stopped with the silent treatment, because any more of this and she was going to seriously lose it.
“Doctor.”
He didn’t answer, but Rose thought she saw his shoulders tense.
“About before -”
“Hand me that lollipop, would you?”
Only slightly flustered, she searched for the little red treat on the bench beside her and handed it to him. He pulled off its wrapper with his teeth and stuck it in his mouth.
“Tzzp,” he said, holding out his hand.
“What?”
The lollipop left his mouth with a wet smack. “Tape.”
As she handed over the tape with a shaky breath, she caught him shooting her a glance over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were almost black in the poor lighting, and she was reminded of a similar gaze - when her eyes had locked to his as he’d stood out in the rain. She remembered the feel of the breeze against her bare legs - soft and warm compared to the chilling wind howling by the doorway now. The look on his face - she’d thought he was embarrassed, but now she couldn’t get that look out of her head, and she suddenly had to know. What had he been thinking as he’d watched her, as he’d seen her stripping in this very hut?
“It’s fine, Rose. All forgotten.”
She frowned, watching as he used the tape to secure the lollipop very gently to a circuit that was beginning to throw sparks.
“But -”
“Forget it. I have.” His tone said there’d be no leeway.
Rose blinked.
He was just going to pretend like this had never happened. The trip to the monastery, what she’d said to him back in her room, what he’d seen in this hut…but that was good, wasn’t it? That’s what she’d wanted. More than she’d even hoped for, in fact. Now she didn’t have to apologize. Except, she felt like if she didn’t mend whatever had broken between them she was going to be sick. And as the Doctor began to scowl and the lollipop began to smoke dangerously, something occurred to Rose that made her feel she truly was the stupid ape he’d always said she was.
“Trying to fix this room.”
The door was broken.
“You can’t leave.”
She couldn’t leave.
He’d been avoiding her alright - literally locked himself in a room that was meant to be impossible for her to find. He didn’t want to see her; didn’t want to talk with her; didn’t want her here. He was only fixing the room now because she’d foolishly stumbled in on him. God, how could she be so dumb?
Nausea swept over her, and she was surprised the Doctor hadn’t looked up at her in alarm. Her heart was pounding out like a drum, blood rushing from her head in a sickening wave as she watched him in a daze. She vaguely recognized his features turning from concentrated to frustrated, and it was another moment before she understood he was looking at her and saying something.
“What?” she whispered.
“The light!” he snapped, annoyed.
Rose looked down at the torch in her hand, the beam uselessly illuminating her pink wellies. Ah, yes, the light. She’d let the light drop. Funny, that. Gripping the handle until her knuckles whitened, she held the torch back in place, shivering slightly. She took a deep, trembling breath and tried to process her feelings as detachedly as she could, but there was almost no time for her revelation to sink in.
An angry burst of cold, wet wind blew straight through the entryway of the hut, immediately chilling Rose to the bone and spraying rain onto the exposed control panel.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” the Doctor cried.
Sparks hissed from the circuit he’d been working on, flying across the panel. In another second the whole thing went up in a burning flash that rivaled that of the earlier lightning strikes. Rose jumped up in surprise, lifting an arm to block the blinding light. Black smoke began to fill the tiny room, a stench of burnt metal with a top note of strawberry sweetness.
The Doctor was cursing - something Rose rarely heard him do - and as she lowered her arm to survey the damage, she saw why. The initial exploded circuit had set off a chain reaction, the surrounding circuits beginning to spit angry sparks and emit columns of acrid smoke. The Doctor began a frenzied search in his pockets, yelling at her in the process. “Bicarb! I need bicarb! Rose, do you have any bicarb?!”
The smoke was choking, the back of Rose’s throat beginning to sting. “Why would I have bicarb?” she coughed back at him.
“You like to bake!”
“Doesn’t mean I carry around baking ingredients wherever I go!”
“Shit!”
Overwhelmed by the smoke, she bent over retching, stinging tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt the Doctor’s arm encircle her waist and lead her from the hut, the cool rain now refreshing and welcome. Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and squinted through the dark at the Doctor, his form still as he watched the smoke pour from the hut. She took a few panting breaths before she turned on him.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Oi!” He turned angry eyes on her. “You try fixing an electrical panel in a rainstorm and tell me how you get on, then!”
“Well we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t come in here to ‘fix’ this damn room in the first place!”
“If you hadn’t showed up I would have done just fine!”
“Wha - how the hell can you blame this on me?”
The Doctor turned from her abruptly, stalking around to the back of the hut. Rose watched him until his back disappeared around the corner and then followed him grudgingly. Still holding the torch, she shone it in his direction to see him attempting to reach for the huts roof, but it was too high and there was nothing around with which to use as a step.
“Need some help?” she asked sardonically.
He shot her a glare. “Just, just -” he started then sighed. “There could be another way to repair the room, but it won’t just fix the door, it will restart the whole system. It’ll be a blank slate in here.” He said it like it was a bad thing.
“Okay, then. If it gets me out of here, great. What do we gotta do?”
“The switch is on top of the hut hidden beneath a panel, but I can’t seem to get up there,” he said quickly.
“Yeah…”
“But you could if I gave you a boost.”
“…Oh,” she thought a second. “Oh! But I - I mean. I’ve only got on, you know.” And embarrassingly, she felt a flush flaming her face and neck. The Doctor’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a second, like he was trying to decide something important, but before Rose could wonder what it might be, he’d fished something out of his back pocket and shoved it in her hand like it’d burned him.
It was a long moment before she recognized the fabric held between her fingers. The little pink flowers were almost childish. She remembered debating on whether or not to wear them, but then decided her jeans would cover them well enough whatever situation they might find themselves in. Then she’d promised herself that she’d do a load of laundry as soon as possible. She had to force herself to look up at him, her heart beginning another furious beat.
“Doctor,” Rose nearly choked, “why are my knickers in your pocket?”
To be continued…
Author: slpy650
Beta: tempusdominus10 Thank you!
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is the property of the BBC, not me.
Summary: She went deep into the ship. Further than she’d ever gone. She didn’t know what she was expecting.
Author's Note: Rose and the Doctor try to fix things.
Previous Chapters: One (ichi), Two (ni)
III.
His eyes widened in shock, Rose thought, at her state.
“I lost my brolly,” she tried to explain, and then noticed the redness of his eyes. The wetness on his face.
“Are you -” she looked at him in confusion. “Have you been crying?”
Crying?
Really?
Why couldn’t she keep her big gob shut?
Before she’d finished her sentence she’d realized how ridiculous it was. Of course the Doctor wasn’t crying - it was raining for Christ’s sake. The light from the candle was bright enough to show that his hair was limp and damp like it’d been hastily towel dried. And his suit jacket was soaked through. His black umbrella sat inverted and useless in the corner, evidence of the failed battle he’d obviously fought to reach the hut. Okay, so his eyes were red and he’d been covering them with his hands (classic weeping pose), but he could have just been rubbing them out of frustration (at her).
And really, what man had she ever known that had gone off for a good post-fight cry? It hadn’t even been a fight - a disagreement, more like. And if the look on his face was anything to go by - like she’d just slapped him Jackie-style - the Doctor had definitely not been crying.
So, naturally she could have been wrong, but even so, she found she just couldn’t gag her response when he narrowed his eyes and bit out, “It’s raining, actually.” A flash of lightning illuminated the hard edge of his jaw which had somehow looked softer if the candlelight.
“Oh, is it? Hadn’t noticed,” she shot back, hands automatically landing on her wet, robe-clad hips.
Tact, Rose realized as they stared daggers at each other, was something she lacked when it came to the Doctor. ‘Oh, no, Doctor! I’ve stabbed you in the heart again! Let me rub in some salt and vinegar and eat it!’ She’d not intended for her apology to go over quite like this, but she wouldn’t mess it up again - she was determined to take the high road. If he was going to be Mr. Standoffish then so be it, but she’d make sure he’d hear her apology even if it killed them both in the process. She cleared her throat, schooled her features to look somewhat apologetic, and prepared to speak. But he spoke first.
“What are you doing here?” Not a question; more of a harsh accusation. It threw her off.
“Was lookin’ for you,” Rose answered a bit uncertainly, as if he cared. Their gazes still locked across the small hut, but the initial bite had faded from her amber globes.
Her resolve was unexpectedly slipping, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps the high road was overrated. Lots of honorable people retreated with their dignity still intact. She couldn’t think of one off the top of her head, but she was sure there were some. Accept a temporary defeat, cut your losses, and all that. Perfectly acceptable, she thought, warily eyeing the clearly irate Time Lord who sat before her.
But then he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed. Her initial irritation was fanned again, flaring dangerously. Was he trying to make her feel like a naughty child who’d annoyed her parent to their last tether? Because it was working. Screw the high road! The lower, the better! She opened her mouth for a scathing reply…but he interrupted her again.
“Please tell me you didn’t close the door.”
He still wasn’t looking at her - as if that action alone would push him past the brink of simple annoyance to full on madness - but she stared at him like he’d already tumbled over that edge. Yes, surely he was mad.
“What?” She turned around to look at the doorway - yep, still door-less. She looked back at him, still holding the bridge of his nose. “There…is no door, Doctor.”
Hands dropping to the table with a clack of thunder, the Doctor looked up at Rose as if she were something exceptionally dim with which he was fast losing patience. “When you entered this room - did you close the door behind you?”
Oh. That door.
He looked serious. So this must be serious. So she should take this seriously. “Erm…” she tried to think. “…Yes.”
The Doctor’s sudden groan made her jump. As she watched him drag his hands through his hair like she’d told him the universe was coming to an end, her annoyance disappeared instantly and she reached out to him, moving to close the distance between them. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
He leapt from the bench before she could touch him, did an unnecessary whirl so they were separated by the table, then began digging in earnest through his trouser pockets. She gaped at him while he pulled out object after object, giving each a glance before tossing them on the table. When it became clear this would continue without explanation, Rose found her voice.
“Doctor.”
“Hmm?” Like sometime in the last ten seconds he’d forgotten she was there.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to fix this room.” Like it was obvious.
“What?”
“You can’t leave.” Like that cleared it up.
“Right…What?”
He threw an empty candy wrapper atop the growing pile of junk on the table and sighed in exasperation. Because of her or because he hadn’t yet found what he was searching for, she didn’t’ know.
“It’s this room,” he said shortly, and then: “Ha!”
His brown eyes lit up, hand stilling within his pocket. For the first time since the monastery, he grinned at her, and she returned it without hesitation. With a flourish he pulled out a half-sucked lollipop shoved back into its wrapper and held it up like he’d found the key to all his problems.
“Doctor…” Rose began but found she didn’t know what to say.
“Here you are, take it,” he said before she could ponder things much more. Rose took the lollipop with a bemused smirk.
“And don’t eat it!” he warned her like she’d been about to stuff it in her mouth. “And we’ll need…” he rifled through the junk. “Really should’a thought to bring my coat - it’s much better stocked, but...” He cleared his throat. “Right - this, this, and this,” he shoved several more things into her arms. A torch, a couple rubber band balls, some alien-looking gizmos covered in oil (he had those in his pockets?), and a-
“Wait,” he eyed her armful critically. “What’s that?” He snatched away what appeared to be a tiny ceramic dog glued to a rusted spring from her arms and looked at it like he’d never seen it before. With a raised brow he tossed it over his shoulder. Spinning back to the table, he took the lone candle and sat it with surprising gentleness on the floor.
“Right! Set those on the bench,” he instructed before a broad sweep of his arm cleaned the remaining rubbish from the table.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
It was like an emotional rollercoaster with him. She’d come to apologize, then to tear him a new one, as her mother would say, and now she was helping him ‘fix this room,’ their apparent differences forgotten. It was disconcerting to say the least and not a little bit aggravating. Not to mention she was beginning to feel a tad vulnerable. They were both equally wet, but while the Doctor was missing only his coat, she still had nothing on but the robe the TARDIS had given her.
“Doctor, what is going on?” Rose asked, trying to get into a more helpful frame of mind. She carefully laid out her armful on the bench. Meanwhile, the Doctor had squeezed himself beneath the table, fingers searching, dancing along its underside. Rose crouched to watch him, mindful to keep her wet robe wrapped around her legs.
“This room’s broken. Hasn’t worked properly for, oh - two or three years…”
“You haven’t been able to fix it for three years?”
“I’d say more like two, actually. Maybe two and a half… or…two and three quarters,” he amended absently.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why haven’t you been able to fix it for two or three years?”
“Oh.” She saw his hands pause. “Never tried.”
Rose knew she was gawking at him, but she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried. He wasn’t paying her any attention anyways, now, hands resuming their search.
Two or three years? Something on the TARDIS had been broken for two or three years and he hadn’t even attempted to repair it? She was biting the inside of her cheek, trying to keep herself from demanding that he explain himself. She knew something was up but decided her best course of action was just to go along with whatever he had planned and hope he gave her the opportunity for a little gentle prying.
“Okay then, what’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, well the door you’ve already experienced -”
“The door?”
“It doesn’t operate from the inside once it’s been closed. It in fact ceases to exist. Well - at least in this dimension. Still haven’t figured out where it ends up, but that’s shoddy trans-dimensional engineering for you.”
“Oh…” Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait - so then, the TARDIS didn’t lock me in here?” She was beyond confused.
The Doctor snickered. “I wouldn’t say that. You shouldn’t have even been able to find this room, but I’m guessing she led you straight to it. Twice.” He didn’t sound amused.
“Yeah, it...she did -”
“Ah ha!”
There was a soft click and then a low hum. Rose looked up to watch as the top of the table seemed to roll back like a conveyor belt, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits hidden beneath.
The Doctor crawled from under the table to observe his handiwork, and Rose leaned in closer for a better look.
“What’s it for?”
“It controls the room.” He snatched his sonic screwdriver from his back pocket and gave it a twirl as he scrutinized the mess before him.
“Can you turn the rain off?” Rose asked hopefully.
Lightning struck close, the clap of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the hut. Rose jumped, looking out the doorway again, half-expecting to see trees split in two or the start of a fire. When her eyes returned to the Doctor, she was startled to meet his piercing gaze.
“No. I can’t.” There was an edge to his voice that had Rose questioning how easy he’d been with her, like their familiar dynamic was all show. He was attempting to distract her…he was still pissed at her.
“Come on, then,” he said, donning his specs and settling himself on the bench opposite her. “Make yourself useful and grab that torch.”
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
The shit hit the fan quite suddenly.
The Doctor was quiet while he worked - speaking only to ask for certain items that Rose would quickly hand over or to give the occasional directive on where she should point the light. An unsettling silence grew between them like a festering wound, and it was slowly driving Rose crazy. The storm seemed to be getting stronger, and a bitterly cold wind was starting to find its way inside their little shelter. Shivering, Rose studied the Doctor for any signs that his anger might be tempering, but he was being as enigmatic as she’d ever seen him. God, she might as well just suck it up and get it over with. Apologize and hope he stopped with the silent treatment, because any more of this and she was going to seriously lose it.
“Doctor.”
He didn’t answer, but Rose thought she saw his shoulders tense.
“About before -”
“Hand me that lollipop, would you?”
Only slightly flustered, she searched for the little red treat on the bench beside her and handed it to him. He pulled off its wrapper with his teeth and stuck it in his mouth.
“Tzzp,” he said, holding out his hand.
“What?”
The lollipop left his mouth with a wet smack. “Tape.”
As she handed over the tape with a shaky breath, she caught him shooting her a glance over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were almost black in the poor lighting, and she was reminded of a similar gaze - when her eyes had locked to his as he’d stood out in the rain. She remembered the feel of the breeze against her bare legs - soft and warm compared to the chilling wind howling by the doorway now. The look on his face - she’d thought he was embarrassed, but now she couldn’t get that look out of her head, and she suddenly had to know. What had he been thinking as he’d watched her, as he’d seen her stripping in this very hut?
“It’s fine, Rose. All forgotten.”
She frowned, watching as he used the tape to secure the lollipop very gently to a circuit that was beginning to throw sparks.
“But -”
“Forget it. I have.” His tone said there’d be no leeway.
Rose blinked.
He was just going to pretend like this had never happened. The trip to the monastery, what she’d said to him back in her room, what he’d seen in this hut…but that was good, wasn’t it? That’s what she’d wanted. More than she’d even hoped for, in fact. Now she didn’t have to apologize. Except, she felt like if she didn’t mend whatever had broken between them she was going to be sick. And as the Doctor began to scowl and the lollipop began to smoke dangerously, something occurred to Rose that made her feel she truly was the stupid ape he’d always said she was.
“Trying to fix this room.”
The door was broken.
“You can’t leave.”
She couldn’t leave.
He’d been avoiding her alright - literally locked himself in a room that was meant to be impossible for her to find. He didn’t want to see her; didn’t want to talk with her; didn’t want her here. He was only fixing the room now because she’d foolishly stumbled in on him. God, how could she be so dumb?
Nausea swept over her, and she was surprised the Doctor hadn’t looked up at her in alarm. Her heart was pounding out like a drum, blood rushing from her head in a sickening wave as she watched him in a daze. She vaguely recognized his features turning from concentrated to frustrated, and it was another moment before she understood he was looking at her and saying something.
“What?” she whispered.
“The light!” he snapped, annoyed.
Rose looked down at the torch in her hand, the beam uselessly illuminating her pink wellies. Ah, yes, the light. She’d let the light drop. Funny, that. Gripping the handle until her knuckles whitened, she held the torch back in place, shivering slightly. She took a deep, trembling breath and tried to process her feelings as detachedly as she could, but there was almost no time for her revelation to sink in.
An angry burst of cold, wet wind blew straight through the entryway of the hut, immediately chilling Rose to the bone and spraying rain onto the exposed control panel.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” the Doctor cried.
Sparks hissed from the circuit he’d been working on, flying across the panel. In another second the whole thing went up in a burning flash that rivaled that of the earlier lightning strikes. Rose jumped up in surprise, lifting an arm to block the blinding light. Black smoke began to fill the tiny room, a stench of burnt metal with a top note of strawberry sweetness.
The Doctor was cursing - something Rose rarely heard him do - and as she lowered her arm to survey the damage, she saw why. The initial exploded circuit had set off a chain reaction, the surrounding circuits beginning to spit angry sparks and emit columns of acrid smoke. The Doctor began a frenzied search in his pockets, yelling at her in the process. “Bicarb! I need bicarb! Rose, do you have any bicarb?!”
The smoke was choking, the back of Rose’s throat beginning to sting. “Why would I have bicarb?” she coughed back at him.
“You like to bake!”
“Doesn’t mean I carry around baking ingredients wherever I go!”
“Shit!”
Overwhelmed by the smoke, she bent over retching, stinging tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt the Doctor’s arm encircle her waist and lead her from the hut, the cool rain now refreshing and welcome. Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and squinted through the dark at the Doctor, his form still as he watched the smoke pour from the hut. She took a few panting breaths before she turned on him.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Oi!” He turned angry eyes on her. “You try fixing an electrical panel in a rainstorm and tell me how you get on, then!”
“Well we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t come in here to ‘fix’ this damn room in the first place!”
“If you hadn’t showed up I would have done just fine!”
“Wha - how the hell can you blame this on me?”
The Doctor turned from her abruptly, stalking around to the back of the hut. Rose watched him until his back disappeared around the corner and then followed him grudgingly. Still holding the torch, she shone it in his direction to see him attempting to reach for the huts roof, but it was too high and there was nothing around with which to use as a step.
“Need some help?” she asked sardonically.
He shot her a glare. “Just, just -” he started then sighed. “There could be another way to repair the room, but it won’t just fix the door, it will restart the whole system. It’ll be a blank slate in here.” He said it like it was a bad thing.
“Okay, then. If it gets me out of here, great. What do we gotta do?”
“The switch is on top of the hut hidden beneath a panel, but I can’t seem to get up there,” he said quickly.
“Yeah…”
“But you could if I gave you a boost.”
“…Oh,” she thought a second. “Oh! But I - I mean. I’ve only got on, you know.” And embarrassingly, she felt a flush flaming her face and neck. The Doctor’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a second, like he was trying to decide something important, but before Rose could wonder what it might be, he’d fished something out of his back pocket and shoved it in her hand like it’d burned him.
It was a long moment before she recognized the fabric held between her fingers. The little pink flowers were almost childish. She remembered debating on whether or not to wear them, but then decided her jeans would cover them well enough whatever situation they might find themselves in. Then she’d promised herself that she’d do a load of laundry as soon as possible. She had to force herself to look up at him, her heart beginning another furious beat.
“Doctor,” Rose nearly choked, “why are my knickers in your pocket?”
To be continued…