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Three Times Rose Tyler's Hand Found His, Nine/Rose, g
The lethargic shop girl that she once claimed to be was long gone, from the moment she’d run through those magic doors. She wants to tell him he is her life, he is her home. 572
01. “Mum would love this one,” Rose grabs yet another postcard, and from over her shoulder the Doctor has little interest in the batch of souvenirs she’s clutching. Instead, his eyes linger on her face and the subtle way her cheek twitches when she laughs at the cliche tourist lines etched across the card, and he’s oblivious to the cluster of people edging their way past, some less kindly than others.
She grabs another, pastel colors smeared across the Roman landscape, before twirling the cart around. She purses her lips, scanning the new row of potential cards before nodding in satisfaction.
“Right, this ought to do it.”
She puts her hand on his arm, tugging him along, letting her fingers glide down the faded leather until they fill the spaces between his, and they’re off to the register, twenty-odd postcards in hand.
...
02. Her eyes light up as she scans the lush landscape, the red and violet hues stretching far past the horizon into the afternoon mist. Words escape her, and she stands appraising the view with a smile full of shock and awe, and he doesn’t rush her, doesn’t insist they get exploring. Instead he stands beside his companion, basking in her wonder and admiration, and it’s now he realizes how isolated he once felt, always alone and always running.
When she finally faces him, he’s holding out his hand, a small exotic flower freshly plucked from the ground starring back at her. She giggles like a schoolgirl, giving an exaggerated, “For me?”
He smiles so wide his ears buck up. She laces it effortlessly behind her ear, asking how it looks as she tilts her head side to side.
“Beautiful.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she mocks, taking his hand tightly, and off they run, together.
...
03. He can’t look away as she pulls her hair into a messy bun, his attention on the curve of her back and the way she shifts her weight, stepping carefully through the foliage. She’s wearing one of his jumpers, the oversized sleeves folded lazily up to her elbows as the hem conceals her shorts. She makes her way to the water’s edge gingerly, dipping a toe in.
“It’s fine,” she motions him forward, sitting on an uprooted log and dangling her bare feet in the lake. Taking up a seat beside her, their arms brushing, he can’t help notice how nature fails to mask the intoxicating smell of her hair.
“Nice, isn’t it,” he says, and she hums in agreement.
“I was starting to think trouble follows you everywhere.”
He gives her a sad smile in reply. “You only need to say, and I’ll take you home.”
She looks up at him, frowning, as though the idea had never crossed her mind. Brow furrowed, she wants to tell him how he saved her life; how he took a no-name girl and made her someone who itches for the exhilaration only he can provide. He’d rescued her from the mundane, from the structure and the rules of everyday life, showing her a life full of fascinating planets and timeless adventure. The lethargic shop girl that she once claimed to be was long gone, from the moment she’d run through those magic doors. She wants to tell him he is her life, he is her home.
Instead, she hooks her fingers under his palm, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Never.”
The lethargic shop girl that she once claimed to be was long gone, from the moment she’d run through those magic doors. She wants to tell him he is her life, he is her home. 572
01. “Mum would love this one,” Rose grabs yet another postcard, and from over her shoulder the Doctor has little interest in the batch of souvenirs she’s clutching. Instead, his eyes linger on her face and the subtle way her cheek twitches when she laughs at the cliche tourist lines etched across the card, and he’s oblivious to the cluster of people edging their way past, some less kindly than others.
She grabs another, pastel colors smeared across the Roman landscape, before twirling the cart around. She purses her lips, scanning the new row of potential cards before nodding in satisfaction.
“Right, this ought to do it.”
She puts her hand on his arm, tugging him along, letting her fingers glide down the faded leather until they fill the spaces between his, and they’re off to the register, twenty-odd postcards in hand.
...
02. Her eyes light up as she scans the lush landscape, the red and violet hues stretching far past the horizon into the afternoon mist. Words escape her, and she stands appraising the view with a smile full of shock and awe, and he doesn’t rush her, doesn’t insist they get exploring. Instead he stands beside his companion, basking in her wonder and admiration, and it’s now he realizes how isolated he once felt, always alone and always running.
When she finally faces him, he’s holding out his hand, a small exotic flower freshly plucked from the ground starring back at her. She giggles like a schoolgirl, giving an exaggerated, “For me?”
He smiles so wide his ears buck up. She laces it effortlessly behind her ear, asking how it looks as she tilts her head side to side.
“Beautiful.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she mocks, taking his hand tightly, and off they run, together.
...
03. He can’t look away as she pulls her hair into a messy bun, his attention on the curve of her back and the way she shifts her weight, stepping carefully through the foliage. She’s wearing one of his jumpers, the oversized sleeves folded lazily up to her elbows as the hem conceals her shorts. She makes her way to the water’s edge gingerly, dipping a toe in.
“It’s fine,” she motions him forward, sitting on an uprooted log and dangling her bare feet in the lake. Taking up a seat beside her, their arms brushing, he can’t help notice how nature fails to mask the intoxicating smell of her hair.
“Nice, isn’t it,” he says, and she hums in agreement.
“I was starting to think trouble follows you everywhere.”
He gives her a sad smile in reply. “You only need to say, and I’ll take you home.”
She looks up at him, frowning, as though the idea had never crossed her mind. Brow furrowed, she wants to tell him how he saved her life; how he took a no-name girl and made her someone who itches for the exhilaration only he can provide. He’d rescued her from the mundane, from the structure and the rules of everyday life, showing her a life full of fascinating planets and timeless adventure. The lethargic shop girl that she once claimed to be was long gone, from the moment she’d run through those magic doors. She wants to tell him he is her life, he is her home.
Instead, she hooks her fingers under his palm, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Never.”