In those last days... (the night of 24 March 2007)
The Doctor had couched it in the best possible terms, giving Chase and Ace the general sense of the very bad things probably about to go down, and nothing more--if they hadn't heard it, he wasn't about to go into a blow-by-blow report, and that was the very reason they were going to get the hell out of the house. As for him...he talked things over with Chase, agreed to meet up with him later, and booked it.
His parents had never fought. Not like that. But the metaphor was perfectly real, and he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to see Jack, because he knew just what would happen anyway.
Jane had finished her cooking and preparation and after a long day, she retired to the bedroom, making her way into a very decent nightgown, especially knowing that Mr. Darcy was currently bedding down just next door, likely exhausted, the poor man.
She tidied up the room, having a hushed conversation with Stuart about the ball as she climbed into bed, kissing his cheek and laughing softly and warmly, enjoying a peck here and there as he rubbed her stomach. It was a nice night, regardless of the long day it had been.
Atalanta at his heels, the Doctor walked fast, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach, trying to focus on the ball instead, something that wasn't futile rage at the situation, at Jack for putting him in it, and...just...bloody hell. He couldn't even think coherently. At least Jane would give him a place to bunk down where he could be angry without scaring the hell out of Rob. So he reached her door and knocked, firmly, once, then twice.
Jane heard the knock on the door and she rose up, kissing Stu's temple (he had fallen asleep fifteen minutes back) and she did not wish to disturb him. She tugged on her robe, drawing open the door and listening to the crickets in the night. There was a small torch fashioned out of a flashlight that hung by their porch and it illuminated the Doctor's face. "Papa?" Jane inquired, with a whisper. "Whatever is the matter? Is there an emergency?"
He leaned slightly, heavily, against her doorway. "Sorry to wake you," he said, sotto voce. "But I can't be at home right now, I'm afraid, and I wondered..." He cleared his throat a bit. "If you could put me up. Things...aren't well."
Jane furrowed her brow and reached out onto the porch, taking him in by the elbow and gently leading him inside, closing the door behind him. "Come in," she said softly. "What went wrong?"
She led him to the couch as she fetched two cups and a tray of cookies.
Cookies. How did Jane have cookies? It boggled the Doctor's mind a little. But he wasn't about to complain. Atalanta followed him in with a slow soft padding sound and curled up in a chair, eyes mournful for a moment.
Sitting down, he sighed and rubbed his face with his hands for a moment, then folded his hands, trying to think. "Jack...and House...are going to fight. And if they don't split up...I will be very, very surprised indeed," he said finally. "And I do not care to hear it, so I let Rob and Ace out and here was where I thought to come first."
Jane had been baking for many hours and she poured tea for the both of them as she regarded him with the same worried look in her eyes and sat beside him, resting a hand upon his back and rubbing it very softly in circles. "Poor Jack and Dr. House!" she remarked, eyes filled with concern.
The Doctor looked up and ate a cookie without even thinking about it, as he did have a lot on his mind. "Jack brought it on himself," he said, and the look on his face was that determined no-prisoners expression for half a moment before he took a sip of tea. "He did something quite...inexcusable."
Jane licked her dried lips as she frowned. "Whatever could have been so very inexcusable as to cause such a fuss?" she inquired, always having the deepest of belief in humanity.
"He..." The Doctor wasn't certain he should tell her, actually, but he didn't care to lie, and she had asked. "He did reveal some things on the radio, to the public, that were quite private," he said, hoping she'd get what he meant, she was married, after all.
"Oh!" Jane remarked, her eyes wide as she glanced nervously over her shoulder at the spare room, then looked back at the Doctor, rubbing his back and resuming the comforting motion. "And they are to dissolve over such a thing?"
She could not even fathom something like that. "Do they not love each other?" she asked, her voice small.
"It was quite...explicit. And they are both stubborn and possessive." The Doctor caught the look and didn't quite understand. He blinked a few times and tried to breathe normally. "I would think so."
Jane leaned her cheek against his shoulder, wondering what was the true issue at heart. "Mr. Darcy arrived today," she explained softly. "He is asleep in our spare room."
There was an odd noise as the Doctor did clear his throat and look startled at once. "Oh," he whispered. "The same Mr Darcy...who did, " he nearly said 'marry', "come to live near you at Long-bourn?"
Jane nodded, very much serious about such a thing. "He is so devastated and shocked, the poor man," she whispered. "I only wanted to ease him into this place, as you and Lizzy did for me."
"But of course," the Doctor said gently. "I..." He cleared his throat again. "If I had known you had a guest, I would not have disturbed you at this hour. Particularly one who would be in such a mental state as he is, I am sure."
He thought he should get up to leave, but something said he shouldn't or couldn't. And his dog was asleep on the chair, and for some reason that baffled him, all he wanted to do was curl up and cry.
Jane regarded him and leaned in closer. "Nonsense," she murmured softly. "You will remain here for the night and I shall fetch you a blanket to keep you warm and Atalanta may spend the night with Lady and Kojak." She offered him an innocent smile, warm and pure. "What is truly the matter, Papa? What ails you so?"
The Doctor cleared his throat again once more and let out a long sigh. "The things Jack said...were rather intimate things. Things to do with..." He flushed and took a sip of tea, in no mood to think up a good euphemism. "Well. The sorts of things that are private. And I am beginning to understand a few things, and I was trying to forgive Jack myself. And now I daresay my home is, to a certain extent, ruined." He nearly choked on the next sip of tea.
Jane frowned, patting his back as she withdrew the tea from him. "Papa!" she remarked, worriedly, her tone normal. "You seem all a mess."
"I'll be fine," the Doctor insisted in a whisper. He drew up his legs onto the couch. "It is just...an unmitigated disaster, I fear. Not one that we can't come back from, but I just don't think...I don't have the energy anymore." The last sentence was blurted, and it came out without him noticing, terrifying him.
Jane embraced him at that, bringing him closer and curling up with the Doctor as a rumble went through her stomach and she winced mildly, whispering softly and soothingly. "Shh, Papa, it is all right. It will turn out for the best, I promise!"
He noticed the wince and worried about it but was too miserable in that moment to say anything. And he did not think it would turn out for the best. All right, maybe. But not the best. "I'm...so angry," he said quietly, almost amazed.
"Angry? At whom?" she almost did not want to know and merely kept close, closing her eyes tightly.
"Jack. But more than Jack. At...at getting old." He stared off into the darkness, as if seeing things that were not there.
Jane eased back, sitting cross-legged and perfectly straight as she peered at him. "You sound like Stuart," she said, hardly impressed.
The Doctor would have said that he was not there to impress her, but that would have been rude. "What do you mean?"
"You are both so preoccupied with the notion of being old that you are frittering away your youths by worrying about it," she spoke, very much calmly and eyeing the whole situation. "It does you no favours, a young man like yourself."
"But I am not young," the Doctor did protest. "Jane, I do look quite young now, but I assure you, underneath I am both a boy and a doddering old man of nearly a thousand years who is very, very tired and just wants to be happy." He paused, then added, softer, "Though happiness never does come without effort or price, I suppose."
Jane rested her elbow against the sofa, resting her chin against her hand as she peered upon him sadly. "My poor Papa," she expressed in a quiet, innocent whisper. "Doesn't hardly know who to be."
Mentally, the Doctor scrabbled at the sides of the trap of self-pity. "I suppose not," he said finally. "It's...this is just a setback, we shall be fine in the end. It is the now that takes some doing to get through."
Jane nodded thoughtfully, reaching over to tug Atalanta into her arms, kissing her head and rubbing her back. "Hello, puppy," she greeted warmly, setting her upon the Doctor. "Go cheer your Master," she encouraged.
As she sat back, she thought about the situation. "Are you truly only worried of growing old?"
Fortunately the Doctor's chest was mostly healed and he did not wince at Atalanta on his lap, stroking her gently as she licked his wrist. "I am worried of many things. But this is old without a backup plan, and to me that is a very new thing."
Jane nodded and watched and sighed, hating to see him in such a manner. "If there is nothing else I can do for you, you should rest."
It was not visible, but he had resolved quite a few things at least, and at least now he was calm enough to sleep. Maybe early in the morning he would take Chase some cookies. He yawned widely. "Yes. Should...be rested for the ball." And he did yawn again, a few more times.
Jane nodded, rising to her feet, a hand on her rumbling stomach (perhaps she was still hungry) and awarded a kiss upon the Doctor's head. "A big day, yes," she agreed.
The Doctor reached for his tea and sipped the last of it slowly. "Will your Mr Darcy be attending?" he asked. "I daresay he is a man I would like to meet."
Damn it, he'd left his suit at home. Definitely did have to go back, then.
Jane smiled kindly, though he was in no way her Mr. Darcy, for that honour belonged to dear absent Lizzy. "I do not know. His mood was rather ill and I would not want to press." She leaned against the sofa, regarding the door thoughtfully. "He makes me feel ashamed," Jane admitted.
The Doctor's brow furrowed and he looked up, worried. "Ashamed? Whyever for?"
"For the small home," she spoke quietly, this time, so Stuart would not hear. "For not marrying Mr. Bingley. For offering him none of what he would expect."
He looked back at Jane for a long moment, then said, "Then perhaps it is he who is at fault instead of you. For he has not yet come to terms with the limitations of where we are now. And that there was no way that you could do any of what he expects, even if you wished to, which you do not."
Jane pursed her lips thoughtfully, staring into the distance as she nodded. "Of course," she agreed, though she was not sure she believed it. She winced and made her way towards the room. "I'd best lie down," she murmured.
"Do you need assistance?" the Doctor asked, getting to his feet and coming to her side.
Jane shook her head. "My stomach continues to rumble, as though I have skipped my dinner!" she remarked. "It is most distracting."
The Doctor tried to think of all of the symptoms of pregnancy that he knew of, but couldn't place that one. "Perhaps you should have a drink of water and go back to bed," he agreed, and leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Thank you so much for letting me in."
Jane gave a soft sound, giving him a beatific smile up at him, embracing him once more. "Take the sofa and any blankets and pillows you wish." She opened the door and pressed a finger to her lips as she crept in and took up pillows, staring fondly at her sleeping and snoring husband.
The Doctor took several blankets and curled up on the sofa, Atalanta snuggling under them with him. He might have cried, just a little, but it was impossible to hear, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep anyhow. It was something that had to get out before he set to the task of the ball, and put his best foot forward there instead of the anger.