Touching Time 4/7
Greetings fic fans. I am justifying vomiting the rest of this up here all at once as a way to get this story out of my hair so I can swiftly move on to whatever comes out of my pen next. Also, people asked and I am a sucker. And someone said there might be cookies. :D
TITLE: Touching Time
CHARACTERS: Ten/Rose, nothing but Ten/Rose
RATING: Teen (Adultish for later chapters)
SPOILERS: Up to Idiots Lantern, but very nonspecifically
SUMMARY: You want talky, angsty, witty-banter Ten? You've got him. Now with 30% more romance and UST!
DISCLAIMER: Insert humorous note about how I don't own the characters nor make any money off them right here.
BETA: The lovely and talented jaradel, but at the end of the day any errors and all silliness are entirely my fault.
A/N: A sequel to Flowers on Air. Not vital to have read that, but references are made to the action in that story.
This Chapter: Our Heroes discuss fine American literature.
"So what book did you bring?" The Doctor's query sounded to Rose like some sort of demented chat-up line. She'd been watching telly with the volume down extremely low, in the hopes that he couldn't hear through the wall that she was very much indulging in an extremely guilty pleasure.
"The Scarlet Letter. Thought that if I was going to travel with you I should make an effort to improve myself."
"You don't need improving," he said frankly, as if he was talking about a computer upgrade. "Hawthorne, eh?"
Rose turned the television off and turned to face the wall behind her bed. "Yeah, found it in the library."
"Bit of a gloomy Gus. Melville was a lot more fun."
"To read?" Rose sort of already knew that wasn't going to be the answer. She'd never actually seen the Doctor read anything for pleasure, though books abounded on the TARDIS. She had a feeling that whenever he wanted to know something, his first choice was to just go to the source and experience it first-hand.
"No, to party with." The 'of course' remained silent. "So tell me about it."
"About partying with Herman Melville?"
"No, about that book." He sounded like he was trying to come off as casual but was in reality getting quite over-excited. Rose imagined him on the other side of the wall engaging in his full panoply of tics. The image made her grin from ear to ear.
"What, you haven't read it?" she teased.
"All the books in the entire Universe and I'm supposed to have read the whole lot? I'm old, Rose, but I'm not that old."
"It was in your library." And so it was, a leather-bound edition, just the right size to easily slip into her rucksack and comfortable enough to hold and read poolside.
"It was a gift, from an old friend. I just never got 'round to it. I think you may have noticed that I'm a busy chap."
"Well, it's been a bit of a slog if I'm honest," said Rose. "If I weren't stuck here with only your sparkling conversation to entertain me, I might never have finished it."
"Have you then? Finished it?"
"Yes, unfortunately," she sighed. "And we've got what...?"
His answer came before she'd even begun to count on her fingers. "Thirty-nine point one two eight three hours to go."
"You got a timer set over there or something?"
"If you could see me, I'd be tapping my temple with my finger as if to say, I'm so clever, I don't need a watch to tell the time. But since you can't, I'll just have to say it proper. I'm so clever, I don't need a watch to tell the time."
"Mmm. I always forget." It was so easy to forget. He looked like a man, (usually) talked like a man, certainly smelled like a man in some fairly tantalizing ways, and it was so easy to forget that he was not human at all, that he had extra senses and abilities and a way of thinking about the Universe that she would never be able to fully understand. Loving him as a man was easy. Loving him as a Time Lord was something that Rose was not entirely certain she was up to.
"So, what's it about then, eh? And if you could stretch it out for thirty-nine or so hours, that'd be brilliant."
"I could read you the whole thing ten times in thirty-nine hours." Rose regretted her words as soon as they exited her mouth.
"Oh yes please," the Doctor fairly shouted.
"No. Sorry Doctor, I'm--I'm ever so fond of you but I don't think so, no. I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version."
"Well go on then."
Rose took a deep breath, suddenly feeling herself every bit the uneducated girl from the council estate and unsure whether she had really gotten anything worthwhile from this dense book. "Right, so, basically there's this guy and this lady who are secretly in love, and he even gets her up the duff which shocks the pants off of all these horrid stuck-up prigs she lives with and they make her wear this big red 'A' for adulterer around. But the guy, he thinks they can never ever be together for all these daft reasons, so he just lets all this happen to her and never says a thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, like he's a vicar sort of, but it's not like they're Catholics or anything so he can get married. And she's already married, but her husband disappeared before she even met this other bloke, so she might as well be a widow. So these two are hopelessly in love, though beats me what she sees in him, and she has this baby and he just totally ignores her and lets everyone go on thinking she's a total slut. But the whole time this jerk is torturing himself--literally, with like whips and stuff--over her. And he could go be with her any time he wanted, run away with her, go somewhere where no one knew either of them and be a family together. But he doesn't."
"Why not, do you think?" The Doctor's tone was getting a bit too GCSE for Rose's taste.
"Beats me. He thinks he doesn't deserve her, or that God or whatever is judging him, he cares what all these other prats think about him 'cause he's some hotshot preacher and he likes it that everyone fancies him for that. He's got all these ideas about why they can't be together, and in the end he just dies all stupidly 'cause of...some other stuff. But the point is, all his ideas about could and should, all they do is make absolutely everyone in to right miseries." Rose fervently hoped that her interpretation was not completely wrong and off the wall, but then again if the Doctor hadn't read it, how would he know?
"This guy, this vicar," she continued, "he's got a good heart at first, but he's so caught up in the way he thinks life should be, he never lets himself enjoy life the way it actually is. And this poor woman, she loves him so much, she never tells anyone it was him that got her in trouble, and she wastes her life like that. I think it's the saddest thing I've ever read."
There was a moment of silence and Rose reclined slightly on to the pillows of the bed.
"But still," the Doctor finally said, "don't you think Hester's a better person for it, at the end of it all?"
Rose was examining some of her split ends and contemplating getting her little scissors out of her manicure kit. "Oh, I don't know--hang on! You have read it, haven't you?" She sat upright again and stared daggers at the wall.
"Might have done. Once or twice," came the answer, all innocence and charm.
"You made like you hadn't and you let me gibber on and on so you could have a go? That's very nice, Doctor. Are you that bored?" Rose balled both her hands up in to little fists. What was he on about, making fun of a young girl's flawed interpretation of a very difficult piece of literature? And after she'd really begun to feel a connection with the book, as difficult as it had been to read, he had to ruin it.
"I wasn't trying to have a go. I'm legitimately interested in your take on it." His voice was smooth like honey, and calm.
"Can't have been worth much," she pouted. "I'm hardly what you'd call a scholar."
"Nonsense. You're brilliant! Couldn't stand to be with you if you weren't," he sniffed.
Maybe not so brilliant, Rose thought to herself. Maybe just stubborn, and foolish, as she'd said before in the desert. He'd already tried to send her away by force once, and even with hundreds of thousands of years between them it could not stop her from making good on her promise to be with him forever. Or at least the human version of forever. Perhaps without a whole lot of schooling, and of debatable prudence, Rose Tyler was nothing if not determined. In Rose, the Doctor had met an immovable object who more than equaled his unstoppable force. She would simply refuse to let him be her Reverend Dimmesdale, and that would be an end on it.
(To Chapter 5)
TITLE: Touching Time
CHARACTERS: Ten/Rose, nothing but Ten/Rose
RATING: Teen (Adultish for later chapters)
SPOILERS: Up to Idiots Lantern, but very nonspecifically
SUMMARY: You want talky, angsty, witty-banter Ten? You've got him. Now with 30% more romance and UST!
DISCLAIMER: Insert humorous note about how I don't own the characters nor make any money off them right here.
BETA: The lovely and talented jaradel, but at the end of the day any errors and all silliness are entirely my fault.
A/N: A sequel to Flowers on Air. Not vital to have read that, but references are made to the action in that story.
This Chapter: Our Heroes discuss fine American literature.
"So what book did you bring?" The Doctor's query sounded to Rose like some sort of demented chat-up line. She'd been watching telly with the volume down extremely low, in the hopes that he couldn't hear through the wall that she was very much indulging in an extremely guilty pleasure.
"The Scarlet Letter. Thought that if I was going to travel with you I should make an effort to improve myself."
"You don't need improving," he said frankly, as if he was talking about a computer upgrade. "Hawthorne, eh?"
Rose turned the television off and turned to face the wall behind her bed. "Yeah, found it in the library."
"Bit of a gloomy Gus. Melville was a lot more fun."
"To read?" Rose sort of already knew that wasn't going to be the answer. She'd never actually seen the Doctor read anything for pleasure, though books abounded on the TARDIS. She had a feeling that whenever he wanted to know something, his first choice was to just go to the source and experience it first-hand.
"No, to party with." The 'of course' remained silent. "So tell me about it."
"About partying with Herman Melville?"
"No, about that book." He sounded like he was trying to come off as casual but was in reality getting quite over-excited. Rose imagined him on the other side of the wall engaging in his full panoply of tics. The image made her grin from ear to ear.
"What, you haven't read it?" she teased.
"All the books in the entire Universe and I'm supposed to have read the whole lot? I'm old, Rose, but I'm not that old."
"It was in your library." And so it was, a leather-bound edition, just the right size to easily slip into her rucksack and comfortable enough to hold and read poolside.
"It was a gift, from an old friend. I just never got 'round to it. I think you may have noticed that I'm a busy chap."
"Well, it's been a bit of a slog if I'm honest," said Rose. "If I weren't stuck here with only your sparkling conversation to entertain me, I might never have finished it."
"Have you then? Finished it?"
"Yes, unfortunately," she sighed. "And we've got what...?"
His answer came before she'd even begun to count on her fingers. "Thirty-nine point one two eight three hours to go."
"You got a timer set over there or something?"
"If you could see me, I'd be tapping my temple with my finger as if to say, I'm so clever, I don't need a watch to tell the time. But since you can't, I'll just have to say it proper. I'm so clever, I don't need a watch to tell the time."
"Mmm. I always forget." It was so easy to forget. He looked like a man, (usually) talked like a man, certainly smelled like a man in some fairly tantalizing ways, and it was so easy to forget that he was not human at all, that he had extra senses and abilities and a way of thinking about the Universe that she would never be able to fully understand. Loving him as a man was easy. Loving him as a Time Lord was something that Rose was not entirely certain she was up to.
"So, what's it about then, eh? And if you could stretch it out for thirty-nine or so hours, that'd be brilliant."
"I could read you the whole thing ten times in thirty-nine hours." Rose regretted her words as soon as they exited her mouth.
"Oh yes please," the Doctor fairly shouted.
"No. Sorry Doctor, I'm--I'm ever so fond of you but I don't think so, no. I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version."
"Well go on then."
Rose took a deep breath, suddenly feeling herself every bit the uneducated girl from the council estate and unsure whether she had really gotten anything worthwhile from this dense book. "Right, so, basically there's this guy and this lady who are secretly in love, and he even gets her up the duff which shocks the pants off of all these horrid stuck-up prigs she lives with and they make her wear this big red 'A' for adulterer around. But the guy, he thinks they can never ever be together for all these daft reasons, so he just lets all this happen to her and never says a thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, like he's a vicar sort of, but it's not like they're Catholics or anything so he can get married. And she's already married, but her husband disappeared before she even met this other bloke, so she might as well be a widow. So these two are hopelessly in love, though beats me what she sees in him, and she has this baby and he just totally ignores her and lets everyone go on thinking she's a total slut. But the whole time this jerk is torturing himself--literally, with like whips and stuff--over her. And he could go be with her any time he wanted, run away with her, go somewhere where no one knew either of them and be a family together. But he doesn't."
"Why not, do you think?" The Doctor's tone was getting a bit too GCSE for Rose's taste.
"Beats me. He thinks he doesn't deserve her, or that God or whatever is judging him, he cares what all these other prats think about him 'cause he's some hotshot preacher and he likes it that everyone fancies him for that. He's got all these ideas about why they can't be together, and in the end he just dies all stupidly 'cause of...some other stuff. But the point is, all his ideas about could and should, all they do is make absolutely everyone in to right miseries." Rose fervently hoped that her interpretation was not completely wrong and off the wall, but then again if the Doctor hadn't read it, how would he know?
"This guy, this vicar," she continued, "he's got a good heart at first, but he's so caught up in the way he thinks life should be, he never lets himself enjoy life the way it actually is. And this poor woman, she loves him so much, she never tells anyone it was him that got her in trouble, and she wastes her life like that. I think it's the saddest thing I've ever read."
There was a moment of silence and Rose reclined slightly on to the pillows of the bed.
"But still," the Doctor finally said, "don't you think Hester's a better person for it, at the end of it all?"
Rose was examining some of her split ends and contemplating getting her little scissors out of her manicure kit. "Oh, I don't know--hang on! You have read it, haven't you?" She sat upright again and stared daggers at the wall.
"Might have done. Once or twice," came the answer, all innocence and charm.
"You made like you hadn't and you let me gibber on and on so you could have a go? That's very nice, Doctor. Are you that bored?" Rose balled both her hands up in to little fists. What was he on about, making fun of a young girl's flawed interpretation of a very difficult piece of literature? And after she'd really begun to feel a connection with the book, as difficult as it had been to read, he had to ruin it.
"I wasn't trying to have a go. I'm legitimately interested in your take on it." His voice was smooth like honey, and calm.
"Can't have been worth much," she pouted. "I'm hardly what you'd call a scholar."
"Nonsense. You're brilliant! Couldn't stand to be with you if you weren't," he sniffed.
Maybe not so brilliant, Rose thought to herself. Maybe just stubborn, and foolish, as she'd said before in the desert. He'd already tried to send her away by force once, and even with hundreds of thousands of years between them it could not stop her from making good on her promise to be with him forever. Or at least the human version of forever. Perhaps without a whole lot of schooling, and of debatable prudence, Rose Tyler was nothing if not determined. In Rose, the Doctor had met an immovable object who more than equaled his unstoppable force. She would simply refuse to let him be her Reverend Dimmesdale, and that would be an end on it.
(To Chapter 5)