Fic: Reassurance
Reassurance, Ten/Rose, PG
She stares for a moment into the depths of his kind, warm eyes and steadies. She thinks that maybe just that shade of brown will always mean love to her. (1,076 words)
A/N: Sequel to Brown Eyelashes: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/268620.html. Prompt 2 of Challenge 52.
Rose comes to a stuttering halt in the middle of the Louisianan thrift shop, her sentence forgotten as she stands stock-still. It’s nothing. It’s completely harmless, she thinks, but as she eyes the sad little television set, a forgotten remnant of the 1950’s, she can’t help the shiver that vibrates just underneath her skin, chilling muscle and bone.
“What?” asks the Doctor, his fingers moving from her clenched hand to the smooth skin of her wrist, stroking just above the thready beat of her pulse. “You’ve gone cold, Rose.” His voice is full of soothing concern.
“No, it’s nothing,” she says forcing her eyes away, but he’s not a fool and he never has been.
His eyes alight on the ancient telly then leap back and forth between her face and the empty green screen. He swallows convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like some sort of possessed fishing float, and she knows he’s remembering, too. It’s only been one week since their encounter with the Wire, only been seven short days where he’s had to reassure himself constantly that her face is still there by giving gentle touches and coming into her room at night to sit with her and once with a soft, sweet kiss.
“It’s not the same.” She’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure. “Different manufacturer, different country,” he says as if an American telly holds no threat. “No Mr. Magpie lurking in the background,” he continues. “No Wire. She’s gone. She’s definitely gone, Rose. Erased. Kaput. Finito.” His words sound desperate.
She forces herself to look at the TV again. “When I was there…when I was gone…it was like I was trying to fight to even find myself.” The words come slowly at first and then tumble out in a stream she can’t hope to stop. “I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. There was no one to demand answers from and no one to defend myself against. It was just…grey. You’d think it would have been all darkness and emptiness, but it was like standing in a fog and I couldn’t see anything and all of the sounds were muffled. It smelt like burnt rice pudding and I could feel the air on my skin, but it crawled.”
She looks away from the television set and back to him. She stares for a moment into the depths of his kind, warm eyes and steadies. She thinks that maybe just that shade of brown will always mean love to her. “I was searching for those eyes, lost in my mind. My hands kept opening and closing, searching for yours without me ever being in charge of them. And there was nothing right in that world because you weren’t there,” she adds softly. “You weren’t with me and you should always be with me. The Doctor and Rose, together.”
She breaks off speaking, thoughts gone again as suddenly as they’d rushed through her. The Doctor clutches her hand between his, rubbing to bring warmth back to it or sense back to her, she isn’t sure which. Slowly she turns towards him and a tiny smile curves her lips. “Then I felt that.” She stares down at their hands. “I felt you take my hand and I’d know your touch anywhere, even as lost as I was, and I could hear you, not your words, but I knew your voice. I will always hear you call. You were so angry, so worried, Doctor. You were so scared, but I knew you’d find me in that place, wherever it was I’d gone.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should have let her touch you, never should have let her get anywhere near you. I-.”
“Shh,” Rose says raising her free hand to place a finger gently across his lips. “It’s no one’s fault. This is the life we live. The life we’ve chosen. I’d rather have it, have you, than be safe and secure and warm in my bed at Mum’s with beans on toast and a job in a shop to look forward to every morning.”
“But I-.”
“No,” she says. “No. No guilt. No remorse. I choose this. I choose you.”
“Even with all the monsters?”
She smiles slowly. “The monsters are just the bits in between.”
“You weren’t the only one who got lost that day,” he admits. He’s looking at the floor, as if the admission itself frightens him.
“I know.” She tilts his chin up, makes him look into her eyes, and curves her lips softly upwards, begging him to believe that she’s okay without a word even though she isn’t sure she is. At least she knows she will be.
He can’t help but respond to her smile. He never could, even when he wore a different face with decidedly bigger ears and black leather instead of brown pinstripes, so she makes her smile bigger and wider because she doesn’t want him thinking she’s still afraid and it warms her heart when she sees him getting lost in it. He steps into her then, hugging her tightly to his body and she loses herself in him in turn. No thoughts intrude as she breathes him in and revels at just being close.
When he pulls back it’s only a little bit and he looks about the shop furtively. No one’s around so he leans toward her and presses his lips to hers. She swallows a startled sound of surprise and kisses him back, sighing into his mouth and wrapping her arms around him again. She doesn’t know how long it lasts. Time slides by her like sand slipping through her fingers on a wind-tossed beach. They part eventually in a way that isn’t like parting at all because his arm settles about her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip, and she snakes her arm around him.
Warmth and contentment fill her. This is right, the two of them, together, happy, safe. She glances back at the old telly and suddenly it’s no more and no less than just that, a television in a second hand shop. There might be trouble tomorrow and if there are monsters they will meet them as they always do, hand in hand and a bit too gleefully to be normal, but for right now they are gone and that’s enough for both of them.
She stares for a moment into the depths of his kind, warm eyes and steadies. She thinks that maybe just that shade of brown will always mean love to her. (1,076 words)
A/N: Sequel to Brown Eyelashes: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/268620.html. Prompt 2 of Challenge 52.
Rose comes to a stuttering halt in the middle of the Louisianan thrift shop, her sentence forgotten as she stands stock-still. It’s nothing. It’s completely harmless, she thinks, but as she eyes the sad little television set, a forgotten remnant of the 1950’s, she can’t help the shiver that vibrates just underneath her skin, chilling muscle and bone.
“What?” asks the Doctor, his fingers moving from her clenched hand to the smooth skin of her wrist, stroking just above the thready beat of her pulse. “You’ve gone cold, Rose.” His voice is full of soothing concern.
“No, it’s nothing,” she says forcing her eyes away, but he’s not a fool and he never has been.
His eyes alight on the ancient telly then leap back and forth between her face and the empty green screen. He swallows convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like some sort of possessed fishing float, and she knows he’s remembering, too. It’s only been one week since their encounter with the Wire, only been seven short days where he’s had to reassure himself constantly that her face is still there by giving gentle touches and coming into her room at night to sit with her and once with a soft, sweet kiss.
“It’s not the same.” She’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure. “Different manufacturer, different country,” he says as if an American telly holds no threat. “No Mr. Magpie lurking in the background,” he continues. “No Wire. She’s gone. She’s definitely gone, Rose. Erased. Kaput. Finito.” His words sound desperate.
She forces herself to look at the TV again. “When I was there…when I was gone…it was like I was trying to fight to even find myself.” The words come slowly at first and then tumble out in a stream she can’t hope to stop. “I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. There was no one to demand answers from and no one to defend myself against. It was just…grey. You’d think it would have been all darkness and emptiness, but it was like standing in a fog and I couldn’t see anything and all of the sounds were muffled. It smelt like burnt rice pudding and I could feel the air on my skin, but it crawled.”
She looks away from the television set and back to him. She stares for a moment into the depths of his kind, warm eyes and steadies. She thinks that maybe just that shade of brown will always mean love to her. “I was searching for those eyes, lost in my mind. My hands kept opening and closing, searching for yours without me ever being in charge of them. And there was nothing right in that world because you weren’t there,” she adds softly. “You weren’t with me and you should always be with me. The Doctor and Rose, together.”
She breaks off speaking, thoughts gone again as suddenly as they’d rushed through her. The Doctor clutches her hand between his, rubbing to bring warmth back to it or sense back to her, she isn’t sure which. Slowly she turns towards him and a tiny smile curves her lips. “Then I felt that.” She stares down at their hands. “I felt you take my hand and I’d know your touch anywhere, even as lost as I was, and I could hear you, not your words, but I knew your voice. I will always hear you call. You were so angry, so worried, Doctor. You were so scared, but I knew you’d find me in that place, wherever it was I’d gone.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should have let her touch you, never should have let her get anywhere near you. I-.”
“Shh,” Rose says raising her free hand to place a finger gently across his lips. “It’s no one’s fault. This is the life we live. The life we’ve chosen. I’d rather have it, have you, than be safe and secure and warm in my bed at Mum’s with beans on toast and a job in a shop to look forward to every morning.”
“But I-.”
“No,” she says. “No. No guilt. No remorse. I choose this. I choose you.”
“Even with all the monsters?”
She smiles slowly. “The monsters are just the bits in between.”
“You weren’t the only one who got lost that day,” he admits. He’s looking at the floor, as if the admission itself frightens him.
“I know.” She tilts his chin up, makes him look into her eyes, and curves her lips softly upwards, begging him to believe that she’s okay without a word even though she isn’t sure she is. At least she knows she will be.
He can’t help but respond to her smile. He never could, even when he wore a different face with decidedly bigger ears and black leather instead of brown pinstripes, so she makes her smile bigger and wider because she doesn’t want him thinking she’s still afraid and it warms her heart when she sees him getting lost in it. He steps into her then, hugging her tightly to his body and she loses herself in him in turn. No thoughts intrude as she breathes him in and revels at just being close.
When he pulls back it’s only a little bit and he looks about the shop furtively. No one’s around so he leans toward her and presses his lips to hers. She swallows a startled sound of surprise and kisses him back, sighing into his mouth and wrapping her arms around him again. She doesn’t know how long it lasts. Time slides by her like sand slipping through her fingers on a wind-tossed beach. They part eventually in a way that isn’t like parting at all because his arm settles about her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip, and she snakes her arm around him.
Warmth and contentment fill her. This is right, the two of them, together, happy, safe. She glances back at the old telly and suddenly it’s no more and no less than just that, a television in a second hand shop. There might be trouble tomorrow and if there are monsters they will meet them as they always do, hand in hand and a bit too gleefully to be normal, but for right now they are gone and that’s enough for both of them.