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The Only Cure For Grief, Ten/Rose (characters: Rose, Jackie, alt!Pete, Mickey), G
They had all thought that things would be different after that day on the beach. It wasn’t as though they didn’t feel for her - though none of them had been able to hear the exchange, the outcome of the scene had been clear - but they genuinely thought that that one last meeting, the one last chance to see him, would help to placate her. 1,764
"The only cure for grief is action." - George Henry Lewes
In the days between Canary Wharf and the dream, Rose barely spoke to Pete or Mickey or Jackie. She was not actively avoiding them, was not snapping and crying like she had a year ago when he had sent her away. That would have been easier to stomach, more understandable; it would have meant that she was coping, or that she was taking time before she was ready to start the coping process. None of them quite knew what to do with the Rose who sat in their midst day after day, staring into the distance, nodding along with their conversations, contributing a “yeah” or a “that sounds nice” when prompted. Neither Mickey nor Jackie had ever seen her act this way, and Pete, still trying to reconcile the fact of having a daughter of any kind, seemed generally terrified by the whole thing.
That was part of the reason the three of them were so ready to do whatever she asked of them that night: it was the first time in such a long time that she had spoken more than a few words or looked any of them in the eye, and regardless of what resulted from the dream, they all felt it in that moment like the lifting of a huge weight. In that moment, voice hesitant but earnest and silhouette softened by firelight, she was more their Rose than she had been in weeks. (For much longer than that, really, but not even Mickey felt comfortable bringing that up in light of recent events.)
Jackie sat in the backseat with Rose all the way to Norway, glancing sideways more than a few times but careful to avoid physical contact or conversation. A few nights ago she and Pete had laid awake discussing Rose’s situation, and Pete had encouraged Jackie to share some of her stories of breakups she’d gotten over, loves lost, or even what it was like to lose him. “Mother-daughter bonding,” he’d enthused; “It might really do her some good.” In the car Jackie thought back to that conversation, but as she watched her daughter bounce her leg restlessly and stare hard out the window she knew that now was not the right time for such a talk.
“I knew it,” Rose murmured at one point, about halfway through the trip.
“Knew what, sweetheart?” Jackie ventured after several beats of silence.
“He’d come back.” Rose closed her eyes and leaned her head back for an instant, a smile ghosting across her face. “I knew he’d come back for me.”
And then she lurched forward to peer out the window again, and Jackie knew that the time for that particular talk would never come. Oh, she could talk about loss and heartache and men, but this… This was simply not the same.
---
They had all thought that things would be different after that day on the beach. It wasn’t as though they didn’t feel for her - though none of them had been able to hear the exchange, the outcome of the scene had been clear - but they genuinely thought that that one last meeting, the one last chance to see him, would help to placate her.
Pete was looking forward to establishing a bit of normalcy and a sense of family in the house, especially with another Tyler on the way. Mickey knew better than to assume he could step back into his former role in Rose’s life, but he was eager to have his friend back. Even Jackie, who had cradled her sobbing daughter and stroked her hair all the way back to England, had been secretly relieved to see such a level of emotion and felt sure that she would heal now, that she would slowly grow back into the Rose they knew.
They were all completely blindsided by how wrong they were.
Rose never came out of her room for meals, and the food set aside for her was left sitting out until Jackie finally threw it away, more often than not. She avoided Pete at Torchwood and carried herself as if daring anyone else there to look her in the eye (no one did). She ignored all of Mickey’s calls, and the night he showed up at her window and caught her standing in the middle of the room, looking dazed and with tears streaming down her face, she screamed at him through the glass until he left. Jackie knew enough to let Rose have some time, but as days and then weeks and then over a month went by she began to feel increasingly on edge about her daughter’s behavior.
“Talk to her,” Pete pled with her one night at dinner. “If anyone can get through to her it’s you, Jacks. We can’t go on like this and you know it.”
“I can’t,” Jackie insisted. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Well just…tell her she’s got to get over it!” He exploded, shoving back from the table. “It’s about time she bloody got over him. She could find someone else.”
Jackie’s only answer was to shake her head.
---
“You’ve got to come out, sweetheart,” Jackie finally called through the bedroom door after dinner one evening, pausing on her way to the basement. “You don’t…you don’t have to talk. Just be with us.” She waited for a response, for anything-a yell, a sigh, a warning to leave her alone-but none came. “Please, Rose,” she whispered as she continued on her way.
There was a choked gasp and a flurry of motion as Jackie stepped into the laundry room, but there was no way to leave except the door through which Jackie had just come, so Rose was caught standing awkwardly beside the washer as Jackie switched on the light and gaped at her daughter.
“Rose…what are you doing?” Jackie asked under her breath after a moment of tense silence.
Rose shook her head, eyes on the ground, and moved to slip past her mother, who blocked her way by leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“You’ve got to talk to me sometime, sweetheart,” she said with a sternness she did not feel. “Now what are you doing down here, hiding away in the laundry room of all things?”
“Washing my clothes,” came the biting reply. “Can you move?”
Jackie hesitated, almost moved, almost let it go on. “No,” she said just as Rose looked ready to shove her aside. “You’ve got to wait for your clothes; I’m not going to pick up after you. So go on. Wash your clothes.”
Rose’s eyes widened in anger or surprise. And then she turned on her heel, clacked back to the washer-in heels, Jackie noticed, and realized she must have been down here for hours, since she got home from work-and hoisted herself on top of the machine. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, rested her chin on her arms, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Jackie hovered in the doorway, alternating between looking at Rose and looking away. Part of her felt somehow as though she were intruding on a private moment, but another, admittedly bigger part understood that this was the closest she had come to a conversation with her daughter in over a month, and she didn’t want to let that pass. Still, Rose had shown absolutely no desire to interact with her mother, and there was no reason to think that would change now. She had just turned to go when a small voice called her further into the room.
“I do this a lot.” Rose swiped at her nose, trying and failing to hide a sniffle. “The washer’s old, you know, so it moves, it sort of…rattles. Sitting on it feels…feels like being in the TA-”
Before she could finish, Jackie was standing beside the washer, gingerly wrapping her in a hug which she leaned into as she dissolved into tears.
“He lied to me, Mum,” Rose managed between sobs. “He said he wouldn’t do this to me, he said he wouldn’t leave me, not me, and I thought we were…He asked me how long I would stay, and I thought he wanted…and so I said forever, Mum, because I really thought I could, and I thought that was what he wanted me to say!”
“Rose-”
“I would do anything for him, Mum! I thought he knew, and I thought he would…I thought he was going to say it, on the beach, when I said, oh God, I…”
“Shh.” Jackie held her daughter close, stroking her hair and waiting for her hysteria to subside.
At length, Rose’s breathing calmed and she brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes. “I feel like such a fool, Mum. I never thought I'd lose him, and now I have, and...What am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Jackie replied quietly.
“What would you do?”
Jackie couldn’t help but laugh shortly at the question. “Oh, Rose. I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never had a man like your Doctor. Never had someone who loved me that way.” Rose stiffened and Jackie tightened her embrace. “Except your dad,” she went on, more softly. “And there was nothing I could do when I lost him. Only luck that I’ve got a second chance with him.”
Rose looped her arms around Jackie, leaning her cheek against her mother’s. She drew a shuddering breath and exhaled in a rush. “I thought he-I thought he did love me,” she whispered. “I thought he’d find a way back for me. I thought he’d have come for me by now.”
They stayed like that, silent, neither caring enough about the awkward position to let go. “Well,” Jackie commented finally, “he may be a Time Lord but he’s still a man, love. If he’s that important to you, maybe it’s time you start working to get to him.”
Rose pulled back abruptly, studying her mother’s face to see if she was being serious. Then she jumped down from the washer, kissed Jackie on the cheek, and raced out of the room as fast as her heels could carry her.
“Where are you going now?” Jackie yelled after her, bewildered.
“Work!” came the distant reply. “Thank you, Mum!”
Jackie stood with her hands on her hips as the front door and then a car door slammed shut, followed by an engine roaring to life and the crunch of flying gravel. “That’s my Rose,” Jackie whispered to the empty room. She left the washer running when Pete called her upstairs.
They had all thought that things would be different after that day on the beach. It wasn’t as though they didn’t feel for her - though none of them had been able to hear the exchange, the outcome of the scene had been clear - but they genuinely thought that that one last meeting, the one last chance to see him, would help to placate her. 1,764
"The only cure for grief is action." - George Henry Lewes
In the days between Canary Wharf and the dream, Rose barely spoke to Pete or Mickey or Jackie. She was not actively avoiding them, was not snapping and crying like she had a year ago when he had sent her away. That would have been easier to stomach, more understandable; it would have meant that she was coping, or that she was taking time before she was ready to start the coping process. None of them quite knew what to do with the Rose who sat in their midst day after day, staring into the distance, nodding along with their conversations, contributing a “yeah” or a “that sounds nice” when prompted. Neither Mickey nor Jackie had ever seen her act this way, and Pete, still trying to reconcile the fact of having a daughter of any kind, seemed generally terrified by the whole thing.
That was part of the reason the three of them were so ready to do whatever she asked of them that night: it was the first time in such a long time that she had spoken more than a few words or looked any of them in the eye, and regardless of what resulted from the dream, they all felt it in that moment like the lifting of a huge weight. In that moment, voice hesitant but earnest and silhouette softened by firelight, she was more their Rose than she had been in weeks. (For much longer than that, really, but not even Mickey felt comfortable bringing that up in light of recent events.)
Jackie sat in the backseat with Rose all the way to Norway, glancing sideways more than a few times but careful to avoid physical contact or conversation. A few nights ago she and Pete had laid awake discussing Rose’s situation, and Pete had encouraged Jackie to share some of her stories of breakups she’d gotten over, loves lost, or even what it was like to lose him. “Mother-daughter bonding,” he’d enthused; “It might really do her some good.” In the car Jackie thought back to that conversation, but as she watched her daughter bounce her leg restlessly and stare hard out the window she knew that now was not the right time for such a talk.
“I knew it,” Rose murmured at one point, about halfway through the trip.
“Knew what, sweetheart?” Jackie ventured after several beats of silence.
“He’d come back.” Rose closed her eyes and leaned her head back for an instant, a smile ghosting across her face. “I knew he’d come back for me.”
And then she lurched forward to peer out the window again, and Jackie knew that the time for that particular talk would never come. Oh, she could talk about loss and heartache and men, but this… This was simply not the same.
---
They had all thought that things would be different after that day on the beach. It wasn’t as though they didn’t feel for her - though none of them had been able to hear the exchange, the outcome of the scene had been clear - but they genuinely thought that that one last meeting, the one last chance to see him, would help to placate her.
Pete was looking forward to establishing a bit of normalcy and a sense of family in the house, especially with another Tyler on the way. Mickey knew better than to assume he could step back into his former role in Rose’s life, but he was eager to have his friend back. Even Jackie, who had cradled her sobbing daughter and stroked her hair all the way back to England, had been secretly relieved to see such a level of emotion and felt sure that she would heal now, that she would slowly grow back into the Rose they knew.
They were all completely blindsided by how wrong they were.
Rose never came out of her room for meals, and the food set aside for her was left sitting out until Jackie finally threw it away, more often than not. She avoided Pete at Torchwood and carried herself as if daring anyone else there to look her in the eye (no one did). She ignored all of Mickey’s calls, and the night he showed up at her window and caught her standing in the middle of the room, looking dazed and with tears streaming down her face, she screamed at him through the glass until he left. Jackie knew enough to let Rose have some time, but as days and then weeks and then over a month went by she began to feel increasingly on edge about her daughter’s behavior.
“Talk to her,” Pete pled with her one night at dinner. “If anyone can get through to her it’s you, Jacks. We can’t go on like this and you know it.”
“I can’t,” Jackie insisted. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Well just…tell her she’s got to get over it!” He exploded, shoving back from the table. “It’s about time she bloody got over him. She could find someone else.”
Jackie’s only answer was to shake her head.
---
“You’ve got to come out, sweetheart,” Jackie finally called through the bedroom door after dinner one evening, pausing on her way to the basement. “You don’t…you don’t have to talk. Just be with us.” She waited for a response, for anything-a yell, a sigh, a warning to leave her alone-but none came. “Please, Rose,” she whispered as she continued on her way.
There was a choked gasp and a flurry of motion as Jackie stepped into the laundry room, but there was no way to leave except the door through which Jackie had just come, so Rose was caught standing awkwardly beside the washer as Jackie switched on the light and gaped at her daughter.
“Rose…what are you doing?” Jackie asked under her breath after a moment of tense silence.
Rose shook her head, eyes on the ground, and moved to slip past her mother, who blocked her way by leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“You’ve got to talk to me sometime, sweetheart,” she said with a sternness she did not feel. “Now what are you doing down here, hiding away in the laundry room of all things?”
“Washing my clothes,” came the biting reply. “Can you move?”
Jackie hesitated, almost moved, almost let it go on. “No,” she said just as Rose looked ready to shove her aside. “You’ve got to wait for your clothes; I’m not going to pick up after you. So go on. Wash your clothes.”
Rose’s eyes widened in anger or surprise. And then she turned on her heel, clacked back to the washer-in heels, Jackie noticed, and realized she must have been down here for hours, since she got home from work-and hoisted herself on top of the machine. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, rested her chin on her arms, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Jackie hovered in the doorway, alternating between looking at Rose and looking away. Part of her felt somehow as though she were intruding on a private moment, but another, admittedly bigger part understood that this was the closest she had come to a conversation with her daughter in over a month, and she didn’t want to let that pass. Still, Rose had shown absolutely no desire to interact with her mother, and there was no reason to think that would change now. She had just turned to go when a small voice called her further into the room.
“I do this a lot.” Rose swiped at her nose, trying and failing to hide a sniffle. “The washer’s old, you know, so it moves, it sort of…rattles. Sitting on it feels…feels like being in the TA-”
Before she could finish, Jackie was standing beside the washer, gingerly wrapping her in a hug which she leaned into as she dissolved into tears.
“He lied to me, Mum,” Rose managed between sobs. “He said he wouldn’t do this to me, he said he wouldn’t leave me, not me, and I thought we were…He asked me how long I would stay, and I thought he wanted…and so I said forever, Mum, because I really thought I could, and I thought that was what he wanted me to say!”
“Rose-”
“I would do anything for him, Mum! I thought he knew, and I thought he would…I thought he was going to say it, on the beach, when I said, oh God, I…”
“Shh.” Jackie held her daughter close, stroking her hair and waiting for her hysteria to subside.
At length, Rose’s breathing calmed and she brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes. “I feel like such a fool, Mum. I never thought I'd lose him, and now I have, and...What am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Jackie replied quietly.
“What would you do?”
Jackie couldn’t help but laugh shortly at the question. “Oh, Rose. I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never had a man like your Doctor. Never had someone who loved me that way.” Rose stiffened and Jackie tightened her embrace. “Except your dad,” she went on, more softly. “And there was nothing I could do when I lost him. Only luck that I’ve got a second chance with him.”
Rose looped her arms around Jackie, leaning her cheek against her mother’s. She drew a shuddering breath and exhaled in a rush. “I thought he-I thought he did love me,” she whispered. “I thought he’d find a way back for me. I thought he’d have come for me by now.”
They stayed like that, silent, neither caring enough about the awkward position to let go. “Well,” Jackie commented finally, “he may be a Time Lord but he’s still a man, love. If he’s that important to you, maybe it’s time you start working to get to him.”
Rose pulled back abruptly, studying her mother’s face to see if she was being serious. Then she jumped down from the washer, kissed Jackie on the cheek, and raced out of the room as fast as her heels could carry her.
“Where are you going now?” Jackie yelled after her, bewildered.
“Work!” came the distant reply. “Thank you, Mum!”
Jackie stood with her hands on her hips as the front door and then a car door slammed shut, followed by an engine roaring to life and the crunch of flying gravel. “That’s my Rose,” Jackie whispered to the empty room. She left the washer running when Pete called her upstairs.