Fic
Hello (waves nervously), brought you something else to read. And I'm hoping posting here will encourage me to get on and finish the ruddy thing. (Unless you'd rather I didn't... ) would appreciate constructive criticism!
title: Essential Maintenance
author: mimarie
rated:T - definately not worse, probably overcautious.
characters nine, rose, jack
summary: Those mixed messages can be terribly problematic
parts 1 & 2 of what should be 4. I think.
Essential Maintenance
1
Best seat in the place. Comfortable. Feet on the console. Just right to keep one eye on Jack as he practices the art of splicing temporally incompatible technologies that is Tardis maintenance. With obligatory disparaging comments - just to remind him whose baby he’s manhandling - he’s smug enough, no need to let him get complacent.
Can’t help but notice, Rose is leaning again. She can’t relax into anything recently, although she’s looking pretty focussed right now, staring at Jack’s - he shifts slightly, verifying respective angles - yes, well... Doesn’t look like the view’s cheering her up though.
He’d thought that side trip to Raxacoricofallapatorious might take her mind off it. But she hasn’t stopped thinking. And where does Rose think best? Fair enough, calcium decay stinks. And on a planetary scale... The fight for the bathroom wasn’t pretty - but please, there are limits. Besides, the human olfactory system’s not that sensitive. Have to admit though, it hasn’t smelled so good in there for decades.
So, she’s brooding. She’ll survive.
How they were, together, before, did she think that was it? Was she going to be Mrs Mickey Smith? Have a whole bunch of cute kids and turn into her mother... It was her choice. She could have gone after him. But she wouldn’t do that. Not his Rose. It wouldn’t be fair.
A second chance
That’d be nice
She’s got to work through it on her own. Accept the consequences of her actions -
Always moving on...
Jack’s suggestion hadn’t turned out as badly as he’d feared. Just letting off steam; alive, and together. Don’t imagine team-building involved quite that much alcohol at the Time Agency - but the dancing was fun. She giggled herself stupid, watching. Hell, she tried, but she couldn’t walk straight, let alone waltz. Didn’t stop her taking charge. ‘Modern dance lessons, year eight’ - enjoying her moment. But she knew where Jack’s hands were supposed to be and if the struts hadn’t insisted on getting in the way she would have moved them for him herself - she said.
And Jack - was positively restrained, finding the level and teasing just enough to keep her buoyant. Rose got off lightly. Shouldn’t have let him buy the drinks. All that eye contact and his ‘accidental’ slip - still, easy enough to keep him off balance with Rose there laughing her lovely flushed face off- surprising she didn’t need carrying to the loo...
But so much for hoping Mickey would fade with the hangover. Need to move - soon as Jack finishes checking the reconnections - take her somewhere distracting.
Although - she’s beginning to look fairly distracted already. Still staring. Following his movements intently. Great. Just great. Bye-bye Mickey the idiot, hello Jack the flexible? Wonderful. Now if he repeats that stupid conversation... He can change his mind if the motivation’s right. She knows that. Oh - the sentiment’s true as ever, but... He is good to have around. Useful in a crisis, comes through when it counts.
And that makes trusting him any more logical? He’s damaged; unpredictable, doesn’t even trust himself. Not to mention familiar enough with the technology to be a serious liability.
Or - maybe an asset? It should really have been a harder decision. But it’s not as if he had any place else to go. Besides, couldn’t have him getting separated and not able to get back in. Rose had a key. Now Jack has one too. Simple logic. Nothing more. Good old logic.
No more being alone with Rose, though - things change, it’s the nature of the universe - reaction, entropy, evolution- but wherever they’d been heading before - not so simple now.
His bloody sonic blaster and that banana - and what’s wrong with having a sonic screwdriver anyway... I’ve got moves but I wouldn’t want to boast - Good grief. Captain envy? Surprising she could breathe, all those hormones... had the rescue been too early or too late? She’d seen what was there, she must have - as if she didn’t know already.
I could save the world but lose you... She knew. But not a couple. Not like that. Don’t need to consult. She’ll deny just it as quickly.
It had been fantastic; maybe he does overuse it, but he doesn’t think she’d argue. Easy and comfortable but close enough to keep it interesting. And then she’s thinking about dating and dancing - maybe one for two there, aborted or possessive, what is it about the bloody man, always pushing his buttons - and the complication’s that much harder to ignore. Not that just being around her isn’t more than a little complicated anyway, but - there’s complicated, and complicated.
And she’s staring at Jack. Her choice - her consequences? So much for wanting her distracted. Damaged and unpredictable and quite possibly existing solely to prove that the shortest distance between two points is anything but a straight line. And distracting. Stretching over the console - not so hard to see what she’s looking at. She’s made her feelings quite clear on the subject of being conned, won’t fall for the spiel again so easily. But - too late now to start regretting that he’s not as shallow as he looked.
Humans. Definitely spending too much time with humans. Always so involved. Can’t get past their libidos to consider aesthetic qualities objectively. He’s nothing special; healthy teeth and bones, decent skin, well balanced musculature, good posture, strong shoulders, thick hair and clear eyes, interested smile and a way of looking…
See? Complication. Let it out and suddenly it’s unstoppable.
Well at least if she’s going to provide her own distraction he can stop worrying about her going off to look for Mickey. Although, she still doesn’t look particularly happy...
_
“So, what’s up then. Boyfriend busy with another woman?”
She can feel the blush spreading from her ears. Damn, staring again? It’s the longest they’re ever still for, doing this. Kind of restful, really. Good view, too, but easy to drift off, thinking...
“Can get awkward, that kind of thing, he only lives up the corridor.”
“Doctor. I -”
“Only - d’you think it might be a reaction, what with Mickey an’ all. You’ve been off somewhere since we left Cardiff, and - are you sure you’re not just - you know - reacting.”
Can see he doesn’t get much practice at domestic. Subtle as a sledgehammer. Although, at least now she knows which one of them she was watching this time. Let him out of his misery?
“It’s been over with Mickey for ages. I was just thinking -”
“Not just thinking. D’you mind keeping the volume down on that stare, he’s trying to concentrate over there, it might be a bit much for his ego.”
“Doctor...”
“Ok. Seriously, you alright? I was beginning to think you’d dissolve.”
“I haven’t spent that long in there - Ok, so, maybe - but it’s daft. You don’t really want to know. I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Asked, didn’t I? Look at me, all ears.”
But mainly eloquent eyebrows - does he know how transparent that look is? Ok, he wants it -
“I know I said I’m over Mickey- and I am, have been since - but I hurt him. I really hurt him. And I didn’t even think about it, ‘til he said he’d got a new girlfriend and then - I’ve been getting in the way of his life. Expecting him to jump when I wanted something. And he does, he deserves better. It’s this - all this - all these possibilities, I was thinking - if there was another timeline, another me who stayed with Mickey, am I - would we be happy? I mean, this here, now, this is it for me, where I am, I know this is where I’m supposed to be, but if not, if I wasn’t this me, here - am I - would I have been happy, with him?”
“Blimey. That’s where all the Radox went? You do know it doesn’t work like that. This is you. Here. Now. Like you said, where you’re supposed to be.”
Is that all it takes? Worth the prune look for a smile like that.
“I know, divergent timelines not co-existing - I do listen. I’m feeling a bit guilty, Ok?”
“He got to visit Cardiff, met Jack, insulted him a few times, who’d want to miss that? And you made the right choice once you realised. You don’t want to go back to - then - do you?”
“What, swap all this for a personal limpet? What d’you think. Besides, wouldn’t it make the whole Slitheen thing awkward - crossing timelines or something? Course I don’t. And what do you mean, am I reacting?” He’s wishing he hadn’t started this, isn’t he. Come on, let’s hear him dance around that one.
“He’s a bit prettier than Adam, that’s all. Thought you might be getting carried away again.”
“Oh, right. Don’t credit me with more brain than hormones, will you. I’ve stayed vertical this long - I think I can resist Captain Harkness’ charms, thank you very much. Although...” Trying to hold the thoughtful look, watching his eyes become wary - no good, can’t stop the smirk breaking through -
“-There is no such thing as too much flattery. He’ll probably give you lessons if you ask him nicely.”
“Oi, there’s nothing wrong with my manners.”
“I’ll make you a list if you want.”
“Oh, lovely. But you want to watch out- I start taking lessons; you might end up with two of him.”
“Nah, if he got you all to himself the last thing on his mind’d be your social skills. I wasn’t that drunk - Ok, but I’m not likely to forget that last one in a hurry. The look on your face -”
“You were in charge of the music, you and your tired legs, I wasn’t expecting salsa. Anyway, not my fault I’m irresistible. Or maybe he just likes older men.” He stops her words with a gesture “I know, yes, and I’m older than anyone. ‘s a good job I don’t bruise easily, can’t think why I keep you around...”
“’cause you’d only get into trouble without me? That and my sparkling personality.”
“Possibly. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Even with him? You nearly jumped out of your skin when he pulled you in by your bum, good job I was there - don’t know what might have happened otherwise.” She catches his sideways look. “And what’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking -”
“Come on, spill.”
“Nah, wouldn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.”
“Doctor. What?”
“Have you ever done any drafting, you know, drawing?”
“Don’t change the subject on me, what were you laughing about?”
“Have you?”
“Well, at school, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Did you use one of those bendy rulers?”
“Yeah, I did a Kellogg’s box, used one to join the straight bits of the chicken together. You can bend it both ways at the same time, a flexible curve, that’s it. But what’s that got to do with -”
“Oh...” Her cheeks are suddenly burning, feels like her ears might have gone up too this time. Ok, when he said ‘flexible’ maybe she hadn’t grasped every possibility immediately, gas-mask-zombie-plague a bit of a distraction there, but - look at him, smug git, does he really think she’s that naïve? He’s enjoying this too much, just like he’s been enjoying flirting with Jack. Any one else and she’d know exactly where this was leading.
But he isn’t, is he. There is no one else like him. Anywhere. And just when she thinks she’s worked him out he’s something new. Hard to believe he doesn’t know what he’s doing, even so, him and his psychology. Course, he is playing catch up here. Persuading him to dance the second time was easy, all she’d had to do was mention about Big Ben - surprised she didn’t have to ask him to let Jack stay - although maybe he thinks drawing constant attention to his flexibility is enough to put her off...
And she’s naïve? Slow off the mark maybe, but - no. He wasn’t like this before. Ok, flirting, but - it’s got to be bloody Jack. It can’t just be the innuendo - that’s his default setting; if in doubt seduce it - no, there’s a current running through every interaction, a slow spreading itch of awareness. And now Jack’s being thoughtful, caring; could just be another line of attack - throw her off guard. It’s certainly unexpected. That and the Doctor flirting right back at him.
Might have been interesting to be invisible the other night, see where those hands would’ve ended up - Bet that’d’ve thrown Margaret off her stride - ‘D’you mind? We’re busy shagging, can you come back to open the rift in, say, fifteen minutes?’ -
She sniggers at the idea, watching the laughter still dancing in his eyes, and lets the moment draw out between them, his amusement dissolving in her challenge - he’s beginning to look uncomfortable, grin fading, slowly taking the rest of his expression with it - why is it his nose always looks straighter when he’s worried...
“I ought to check - on Jack. What he’s - doing over there.”
And there he goes. Damn but that’s getting predictable. He’s alright while it’s funny, but the first hint she’s serious - He’s getting his messages a bit mixed though. Shouldn’t bring the subject up if he’s not prepared to answer questions. And if he’s going to start it -
He’s very aware of Jack. Noticed the staring. And actually said something. Jealous? It is a good view, be a shame to waste it...
_
_
It’s late, whatever that means here. It feels late. That’ll do. Jack’s been gone a while, angling his neck ‘til it cracked and muttering about a bath. He stayed to finish up, but he was tired, rubbing his eyes - bet the rest of that cucumber’s gone in the morning, and he’d better not use all the Radox.
And he’s doing his usual. He’ll be sitting there for hours - fiddling with dials and switches, conversing with the engines’ gurgle, staring at the stars. He has plans for the morning -mutually agreed as the point when they’ve absorbed enough caffeine and/or tannin to stop moaning about how energetic he is for the time of day. The planet’s called Klaeothe. More of a moon, he says, although technically - was that interstitial vertices, maybe? ‘Incredible place; self-sustaining quasi-hyperaesthetic crystalline poly-’ -somethings that metamorphose with every successive revolution - ‘sentient rocks’ Jack had mouthed at her cross-eyed look -
He doesn’t really do sightseeing for its own sake, and Jack likes places with people. More interested in trouble, the pair of them. Although trouble with those two... usually better than rocks. But this is for her. And it’s nice, him thinking about her like that, but thinking’s decidedly overrated - a reaction now - that would be good. It’s great; just not enough. Can he see that?
“Go and get some sleep.” He leans back in his chair, feet up. Obviously preoccupied, but his eyes are warm.
“Go on, go. Sleep.” He pushes her gently, the simple contact comfort in itself.
She’s yawning. He’s right. It might even help. They may not be on earth time, but her body clock still says sleep as regularly - although they’re almost as predictable, this late. She wishes him goodnight and carries his smile with her into the corridor.
Automatic left turn out of the door, does he notice which way she’s going? The bathroom’s closer to her bedroom going the other way, but this is her inevitable route, every night. He hasn’t said anything. And it’s not like she’s hiding it.
Essential Maintenance
2
It’s comfortable and probably distressingly domestic, another human idiocy; marking time with tiny rituals.
There are three likely places to find Jack. But when it feels this late the possibilities narrow to one - Ok, there is the bathroom, but all he’s getting if he’s still in there is a shouted ‘goodnight’ through the door.
It’s not so far tonight, must have done something to please the old girl, can’t imagine what, teasing him like that - and isn’t it weird but even though the rooms shuffle so effortlessly, the implied illogic in the arrangement rarely fails to suit her mood. Maybe she’s not the only one aware that this is home. There it is - the slightly acrid mustiness tangible almost before she reaches for the handle -
He reads. It seemed so unlikely she’d wondered what he’d got hidden under the cover the first time she walked in on him; leather bound volume resting on his knees, mug balanced on the arm of the largest chair the library possesses. Although, the more time she spends talking to him the easier it is to see him there.
He says it gives him something to dream about.
As she opens the door he bisects the novel over the chair’s fat arm. Meets her eye with a challenge.
“So, what are we playing today, Doctor baiting? Do we make it up as we go along or were you going to tell me the rules?”
“Can’t I just have been enjoying the view?”
“You know, if you really want to make him jealous - I know lots of good games.”
His tone matches his words, but his eyes - does he do that on purpose? No one should be able to turn a look that intense on so easily. She swallows, dragging her gaze away.
“I was going to apologise, but I figured you might be more offended.”
“Probably.”
His smile for her now is gentle - artless. Warming places that the old conman special wouldn’t recognise. And if there are some in common well- that’s for her to know.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It’s tempting. He always seems to know how to make her feel better. Strange to be painfully aware of him physically one moment and laughing like a loon the next -
“No point. What’s there to say? But - I could keep you company, if you like.” His brow twitches, face suddenly wary and she grins, loving that she can provoke this reaction in him.
“You know, if you wanted to talk.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well” He shifts, looking a little uncomfortable as he retrieves his paperback. “You’re Ok. Long day tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”
“You sound just like him. Do I look that tired?” She yawns suddenly, the accompanying stretch cracking her shoulders.
“Yes? Goodnight Rose. Sleep well sweetheart.”
She smiles at him. Feeling guilty now for taking such liberties, however happily he offers to provide them.
“’night Jack.” He’s still looking at her, and he’s so - curled up in an armchair with Great Expectations, mug of cocoa, hair still damp and piney smelling, bare feet tucked under him - she’d go for edible but not out loud - just so very - a quick pace across the room and she bends, dropping a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Goodnight, Jack.” She turns to leave.
“Does he get a kiss goodnight too? Or do you save that for the gorgeous ones?”
“What? Catch me wasting kisses on someone who doesn’t even want them?” The urge to slide into his lap, just let him make her feel wanted seizes her, and she clutches at the nearest safe topic.
“You been to Klaeothe before?”
“’S not even in my guide book. But - sentient rocks, can’t go far wrong with that.”
“Yeah. S’pose so. Sleep well, Jack.”
“Don’t forget to dream about me.”
_
He’s still there when she passes the doorway, bathed in green light, feet up on the console, so still he could be sleeping. What would he do? And what would change -
“Goodnight Rose.” He doesn’t move. Poised, a mere component of his fabulous machine.
“Doctor -” Just a kiss. One little -
“Rose?”
“Goodnight.” Sleep tonight. Think tomorrow. Sentient rocks.
_
Some of these routines still feel oddly out of place here. Cleaning teeth and washing, exchanging jeans, jumper and underwear for a long, loose t-shirt and brushing her hair. There wasn’t room to bring bedding in the rucksack, and honestly - she hadn’t been thinking about sleeping when she’d packed. Much too mundane. Nestled in her bright, silk-smooth blankets the ambient lighting dims responsively as she sinks toward sleep. Thoughts playing vaguely in her mind, so much bigger inside: the idea fleeting into dream, such a small blue box for three people to live in - hardly room to move without touching - how close they must look from outside...
And then she’s awake. The dim light is crimson, and it’s hot. Sticky, hair caught in the crease of her neck, she’s thrown off the covers in her sleep and the t-shirt’s damp and twisted, clinging tightly to her breasts and ribcage.
What’s happening? A picture of Jack flat on his back, face drawn in concentration, but still managing to look faintly smug - was that being allowed to fondle the Tardis, or the knowledge he made a terrific view - what the hell has he done?
Flapping the clammy material away from her skin, she pauses. Somewhere, distant, a brisk tread echoes and then voices, more accent than word.
She flops back onto the bed. It’s really too hot to move, and they’ll get her if they need her. Pretty sure they can hold a tool belt between them. Only - Jack wouldn’t - say anything, would he? Can’t always be with them - no, but - this feels suddenly a little too close for comfort. It can’t hurt to find out what’s going on. Maybe they could do with a drink? Iced water would be good, right now...
_
She hears them as she stops at the last corner, balancing the tray -
“So. What did you do? I dread to think where your mind wanders off to. You don’t get distracted when you’re doing this. It’s not like we can pull over and call the AA.”
“I already said I’m sorry. I thought I’d put everything back where it came from.”
“Well obviously you didn’t. And now you’re going to fix it. Check every connection and don’t think you’re getting to touch anything of mine again unless I’m standing over you watching.”
At least he sounds fairly alright about it. It’s not as it he’s never - turning to push the door with her back - even the walls are hot, but thank you Tardis the fridge is still working.
“- Is that what you like? I’d figured you for kinky, but I thought you’d join in. You’re really not tempted - seriously, you don’t fancy filling a human sandwich?”
Now there’s something a girl in nothing but a t-shirt needs to hear while she’s balancing glasses. Maybe she should just wait here for a minute...
“Down, boy. Connections, Jack remember? You’ll need to lay down to get under the console.”
“I know, assume the position. Promises, promises.”
And they’re laughing. Always bloody at it, aren’t they. Faint chink of metal on metal -
“Although - if you’re really only planning to watch that must mean I get to touch -”
There’s a sudden creak and a startled exhalation - Really should go in but that would mean having to move - possibly when her legs come back.
“I told you...”
“Yeah, yeah. Get off. I’m only looking. Ok? You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the view too - not how long you spend staring at her.”
“You do enough ogling for the lot of us. What’s the matter, can’t decide which one to try it on with first?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out...”
“Typical.”
“That’s right. Typical. Selfish, hedonistic Jack. I can see something I want real bad - and I’m not doing a thing about it. Hey, just like you. But at least I can admit how I feel.”
“Yeah, Right. Rose is humanoid and alive and you haven’t had sex in what? A week? Two? And she knows how I feel. Don’t bloody look at me like that. She knows what she needs to know. And we’re fine. We were Ok before -”
“Before I turned up? Sorry about that.”
“That’s not what I meant. Just fix the environmental circuits and we can get back to bed - Good grief, do you ever stop?”
“Not if I can help it.”
The chuckle fades into quiet shuffling and clinking - why does it have to be so hard to decide what to take seriously with them. Of course it might be easier if they weren’t both so -
“- So, what does Rose need to know?”
“I thought we’d dropped this. It doesn’t matter.”
“It might to her. And it obviously does to you. Don’t try ‘need to know’ on me - I’m part of this crew aren’t I? Your dynamic affects me too.”
“There’s nothing to tell. ‘Our dynamic’- is the word platonic in your vocabulary? Or did you scare it away with innuendo? Rose and I - we’re just fine how we are. It’s less complicated like this.”
And what does that mean? Complicated? She wants to leave, to go in, to do something; anything has to be better than trying not to clink or breathe too loudly -
“Rose is fine. She doesn’t need your kind of -”
She can almost hear him gesturing. He’s exasperated. Can Jack hear how near the end of his tether - how far does he want to push him? What’s he trying to do?
“Come on. My kind of what? Attention? Interest? The occasional compliment...”
“You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you. And I give Rose compliments -”
“I don’t need to be told, I live here, remember? You only give her compliments if you can qualify them - ‘for a human...’ Nice, that, makes her feel special, I bet. You don’t want me to tell her how it looks from out here. You’re scared she’ll make a move...”
“Out there? - If you think you’re in any place you could call objective you’re deluding yourself. No. I’m not talking about this - just back off.”
“I’m deluding myself? That’s good. You said just now - hey, don’t change the subject.”
“Jack. Don’t do this.”
“Come on, back off or what? You going to pretend we haven’t had this conversation too?”
“That was different. I didn’t know you.”
“And now you do?” Quieter. The faintest catch in his voice. “Maybe - but all that means is you know I’m right.”
Is he doing this for her? Why would he?
“You don’t understand. Just leave it alone. Go back to bed.”
“What about the circuits?”
“I’ll do it.”
“So what did you drag me out of bed, like this for, scenery?”
“Yeah. That’s right. I fancied an ogle, take my mind off Rose. Just go to bed.”
The sarcasm may be targeted at Jack but the ripples smart too, even at a distance.
“Come with me. Talk to me.”
Doesn’t he ever give in? She’s got to move, in or out, can’t get caught here.
“So you can kiss it all better? There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed Jack.”
There’s movement, what are they doing, and why can’t she see through the stupid door -
“Doc, I’m not trying - I just want to -”
There’s an audible thump, and a huff of breath. It’s quiet. Too quiet, and then there’s a hushed moan - That’s enough. What the hell has he done - maybe they won’t know she was there already if she just -
The red light casts more shadow than illumination - she moves slowly, bare soles curling away from the grating. Follows the quiet almost-sound of movement.
So, she’s not the only one feeling the heat - the Doctor’s jacket is hanging limply over his chair, unusual for him to notice it - she can’t help but wonder what Jack’s not wearing - and where the hell are they? Best keep her voice down, if they’re fixing the wiring the last thing they need is a shock -
“Doctor? I thought you’d like a drink. I brought ice. What’s with the heating, Jack’s repairs not...”
Oh fuck. He’ll not be wearing pretty much everything then.
Not sure this is really a good time to be concentrating on Jack’s underwear, the Doctor’s got to be around here somewhere, they were talking just now - he actually owns underwear? And white boxers at that, thought commando was more his style. Is that the Doctor there - What are they doing? Stupid bloody light on all these struts and rails, it looks like he’s holding him up - oh, that’s a nice angle. Jack wears boxers - why’s he leaning on that strut? - Could be cotton, pretty sure they’re white, even in this light - he’s moving and there’s that noise again. Is he in pain? He didn’t hit him, did he? - Oh that’s a nice fit, especially round his - stupid bloody shadows on his bum - that - that’s not a shadow. Oh my god they’re...
“I think - I should - um.” Backing up. Neither of them says a word. Jack doesn’t look as though he can speak, and the Doctor’s stare is almost demonic, frozen in the weird red light.
“I - Right.” Time to go. Have to stop staring first, but definitely- Time to go. Go to bed. Bed... Dear god. Are they going to -
Her feet obviously have more sense than the rest of her because they’re moving.
Partway back to her room she realises she’s still carrying the tray, three glasses half filled with icy slush clinking merrily against the tall green jug. The first three glasses she’d found on the drainer. Grouped together, no two matching. One. Two. Three. Unnerved by her own detachment, she sits the tray on the floor and pushes it carefully to the side of the corridor before continuing.
The space under her blankets is humid but at least there are no shadows under there. She folds herself around the pillow, clasping her shoulders as she burrows blindly into the safety of her own scent. Face buried, she shivers and wills herself to focus on not moving, not rocking. The burning wetness at her eyelids overflows, sodden fabric clinging to her cheek. She thinks about being asleep. Thinks about laughing, imagination tickled by a pair of wandering hands and chokes down a sob.
She thinks about not hearing the soft rhythmic pace moving closer.
title: Essential Maintenance
author: mimarie
rated:T - definately not worse, probably overcautious.
characters nine, rose, jack
summary: Those mixed messages can be terribly problematic
parts 1 & 2 of what should be 4. I think.
Essential Maintenance
1
Best seat in the place. Comfortable. Feet on the console. Just right to keep one eye on Jack as he practices the art of splicing temporally incompatible technologies that is Tardis maintenance. With obligatory disparaging comments - just to remind him whose baby he’s manhandling - he’s smug enough, no need to let him get complacent.
Can’t help but notice, Rose is leaning again. She can’t relax into anything recently, although she’s looking pretty focussed right now, staring at Jack’s - he shifts slightly, verifying respective angles - yes, well... Doesn’t look like the view’s cheering her up though.
He’d thought that side trip to Raxacoricofallapatorious might take her mind off it. But she hasn’t stopped thinking. And where does Rose think best? Fair enough, calcium decay stinks. And on a planetary scale... The fight for the bathroom wasn’t pretty - but please, there are limits. Besides, the human olfactory system’s not that sensitive. Have to admit though, it hasn’t smelled so good in there for decades.
So, she’s brooding. She’ll survive.
How they were, together, before, did she think that was it? Was she going to be Mrs Mickey Smith? Have a whole bunch of cute kids and turn into her mother... It was her choice. She could have gone after him. But she wouldn’t do that. Not his Rose. It wouldn’t be fair.
A second chance
That’d be nice
She’s got to work through it on her own. Accept the consequences of her actions -
Always moving on...
Jack’s suggestion hadn’t turned out as badly as he’d feared. Just letting off steam; alive, and together. Don’t imagine team-building involved quite that much alcohol at the Time Agency - but the dancing was fun. She giggled herself stupid, watching. Hell, she tried, but she couldn’t walk straight, let alone waltz. Didn’t stop her taking charge. ‘Modern dance lessons, year eight’ - enjoying her moment. But she knew where Jack’s hands were supposed to be and if the struts hadn’t insisted on getting in the way she would have moved them for him herself - she said.
And Jack - was positively restrained, finding the level and teasing just enough to keep her buoyant. Rose got off lightly. Shouldn’t have let him buy the drinks. All that eye contact and his ‘accidental’ slip - still, easy enough to keep him off balance with Rose there laughing her lovely flushed face off- surprising she didn’t need carrying to the loo...
But so much for hoping Mickey would fade with the hangover. Need to move - soon as Jack finishes checking the reconnections - take her somewhere distracting.
Although - she’s beginning to look fairly distracted already. Still staring. Following his movements intently. Great. Just great. Bye-bye Mickey the idiot, hello Jack the flexible? Wonderful. Now if he repeats that stupid conversation... He can change his mind if the motivation’s right. She knows that. Oh - the sentiment’s true as ever, but... He is good to have around. Useful in a crisis, comes through when it counts.
And that makes trusting him any more logical? He’s damaged; unpredictable, doesn’t even trust himself. Not to mention familiar enough with the technology to be a serious liability.
Or - maybe an asset? It should really have been a harder decision. But it’s not as if he had any place else to go. Besides, couldn’t have him getting separated and not able to get back in. Rose had a key. Now Jack has one too. Simple logic. Nothing more. Good old logic.
No more being alone with Rose, though - things change, it’s the nature of the universe - reaction, entropy, evolution- but wherever they’d been heading before - not so simple now.
His bloody sonic blaster and that banana - and what’s wrong with having a sonic screwdriver anyway... I’ve got moves but I wouldn’t want to boast - Good grief. Captain envy? Surprising she could breathe, all those hormones... had the rescue been too early or too late? She’d seen what was there, she must have - as if she didn’t know already.
I could save the world but lose you... She knew. But not a couple. Not like that. Don’t need to consult. She’ll deny just it as quickly.
It had been fantastic; maybe he does overuse it, but he doesn’t think she’d argue. Easy and comfortable but close enough to keep it interesting. And then she’s thinking about dating and dancing - maybe one for two there, aborted or possessive, what is it about the bloody man, always pushing his buttons - and the complication’s that much harder to ignore. Not that just being around her isn’t more than a little complicated anyway, but - there’s complicated, and complicated.
And she’s staring at Jack. Her choice - her consequences? So much for wanting her distracted. Damaged and unpredictable and quite possibly existing solely to prove that the shortest distance between two points is anything but a straight line. And distracting. Stretching over the console - not so hard to see what she’s looking at. She’s made her feelings quite clear on the subject of being conned, won’t fall for the spiel again so easily. But - too late now to start regretting that he’s not as shallow as he looked.
Humans. Definitely spending too much time with humans. Always so involved. Can’t get past their libidos to consider aesthetic qualities objectively. He’s nothing special; healthy teeth and bones, decent skin, well balanced musculature, good posture, strong shoulders, thick hair and clear eyes, interested smile and a way of looking…
See? Complication. Let it out and suddenly it’s unstoppable.
Well at least if she’s going to provide her own distraction he can stop worrying about her going off to look for Mickey. Although, she still doesn’t look particularly happy...
_
“So, what’s up then. Boyfriend busy with another woman?”
She can feel the blush spreading from her ears. Damn, staring again? It’s the longest they’re ever still for, doing this. Kind of restful, really. Good view, too, but easy to drift off, thinking...
“Can get awkward, that kind of thing, he only lives up the corridor.”
“Doctor. I -”
“Only - d’you think it might be a reaction, what with Mickey an’ all. You’ve been off somewhere since we left Cardiff, and - are you sure you’re not just - you know - reacting.”
Can see he doesn’t get much practice at domestic. Subtle as a sledgehammer. Although, at least now she knows which one of them she was watching this time. Let him out of his misery?
“It’s been over with Mickey for ages. I was just thinking -”
“Not just thinking. D’you mind keeping the volume down on that stare, he’s trying to concentrate over there, it might be a bit much for his ego.”
“Doctor...”
“Ok. Seriously, you alright? I was beginning to think you’d dissolve.”
“I haven’t spent that long in there - Ok, so, maybe - but it’s daft. You don’t really want to know. I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Asked, didn’t I? Look at me, all ears.”
But mainly eloquent eyebrows - does he know how transparent that look is? Ok, he wants it -
“I know I said I’m over Mickey- and I am, have been since - but I hurt him. I really hurt him. And I didn’t even think about it, ‘til he said he’d got a new girlfriend and then - I’ve been getting in the way of his life. Expecting him to jump when I wanted something. And he does, he deserves better. It’s this - all this - all these possibilities, I was thinking - if there was another timeline, another me who stayed with Mickey, am I - would we be happy? I mean, this here, now, this is it for me, where I am, I know this is where I’m supposed to be, but if not, if I wasn’t this me, here - am I - would I have been happy, with him?”
“Blimey. That’s where all the Radox went? You do know it doesn’t work like that. This is you. Here. Now. Like you said, where you’re supposed to be.”
Is that all it takes? Worth the prune look for a smile like that.
“I know, divergent timelines not co-existing - I do listen. I’m feeling a bit guilty, Ok?”
“He got to visit Cardiff, met Jack, insulted him a few times, who’d want to miss that? And you made the right choice once you realised. You don’t want to go back to - then - do you?”
“What, swap all this for a personal limpet? What d’you think. Besides, wouldn’t it make the whole Slitheen thing awkward - crossing timelines or something? Course I don’t. And what do you mean, am I reacting?” He’s wishing he hadn’t started this, isn’t he. Come on, let’s hear him dance around that one.
“He’s a bit prettier than Adam, that’s all. Thought you might be getting carried away again.”
“Oh, right. Don’t credit me with more brain than hormones, will you. I’ve stayed vertical this long - I think I can resist Captain Harkness’ charms, thank you very much. Although...” Trying to hold the thoughtful look, watching his eyes become wary - no good, can’t stop the smirk breaking through -
“-There is no such thing as too much flattery. He’ll probably give you lessons if you ask him nicely.”
“Oi, there’s nothing wrong with my manners.”
“I’ll make you a list if you want.”
“Oh, lovely. But you want to watch out- I start taking lessons; you might end up with two of him.”
“Nah, if he got you all to himself the last thing on his mind’d be your social skills. I wasn’t that drunk - Ok, but I’m not likely to forget that last one in a hurry. The look on your face -”
“You were in charge of the music, you and your tired legs, I wasn’t expecting salsa. Anyway, not my fault I’m irresistible. Or maybe he just likes older men.” He stops her words with a gesture “I know, yes, and I’m older than anyone. ‘s a good job I don’t bruise easily, can’t think why I keep you around...”
“’cause you’d only get into trouble without me? That and my sparkling personality.”
“Possibly. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Even with him? You nearly jumped out of your skin when he pulled you in by your bum, good job I was there - don’t know what might have happened otherwise.” She catches his sideways look. “And what’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking -”
“Come on, spill.”
“Nah, wouldn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.”
“Doctor. What?”
“Have you ever done any drafting, you know, drawing?”
“Don’t change the subject on me, what were you laughing about?”
“Have you?”
“Well, at school, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Did you use one of those bendy rulers?”
“Yeah, I did a Kellogg’s box, used one to join the straight bits of the chicken together. You can bend it both ways at the same time, a flexible curve, that’s it. But what’s that got to do with -”
“Oh...” Her cheeks are suddenly burning, feels like her ears might have gone up too this time. Ok, when he said ‘flexible’ maybe she hadn’t grasped every possibility immediately, gas-mask-zombie-plague a bit of a distraction there, but - look at him, smug git, does he really think she’s that naïve? He’s enjoying this too much, just like he’s been enjoying flirting with Jack. Any one else and she’d know exactly where this was leading.
But he isn’t, is he. There is no one else like him. Anywhere. And just when she thinks she’s worked him out he’s something new. Hard to believe he doesn’t know what he’s doing, even so, him and his psychology. Course, he is playing catch up here. Persuading him to dance the second time was easy, all she’d had to do was mention about Big Ben - surprised she didn’t have to ask him to let Jack stay - although maybe he thinks drawing constant attention to his flexibility is enough to put her off...
And she’s naïve? Slow off the mark maybe, but - no. He wasn’t like this before. Ok, flirting, but - it’s got to be bloody Jack. It can’t just be the innuendo - that’s his default setting; if in doubt seduce it - no, there’s a current running through every interaction, a slow spreading itch of awareness. And now Jack’s being thoughtful, caring; could just be another line of attack - throw her off guard. It’s certainly unexpected. That and the Doctor flirting right back at him.
Might have been interesting to be invisible the other night, see where those hands would’ve ended up - Bet that’d’ve thrown Margaret off her stride - ‘D’you mind? We’re busy shagging, can you come back to open the rift in, say, fifteen minutes?’ -
She sniggers at the idea, watching the laughter still dancing in his eyes, and lets the moment draw out between them, his amusement dissolving in her challenge - he’s beginning to look uncomfortable, grin fading, slowly taking the rest of his expression with it - why is it his nose always looks straighter when he’s worried...
“I ought to check - on Jack. What he’s - doing over there.”
And there he goes. Damn but that’s getting predictable. He’s alright while it’s funny, but the first hint she’s serious - He’s getting his messages a bit mixed though. Shouldn’t bring the subject up if he’s not prepared to answer questions. And if he’s going to start it -
He’s very aware of Jack. Noticed the staring. And actually said something. Jealous? It is a good view, be a shame to waste it...
_
_
It’s late, whatever that means here. It feels late. That’ll do. Jack’s been gone a while, angling his neck ‘til it cracked and muttering about a bath. He stayed to finish up, but he was tired, rubbing his eyes - bet the rest of that cucumber’s gone in the morning, and he’d better not use all the Radox.
And he’s doing his usual. He’ll be sitting there for hours - fiddling with dials and switches, conversing with the engines’ gurgle, staring at the stars. He has plans for the morning -mutually agreed as the point when they’ve absorbed enough caffeine and/or tannin to stop moaning about how energetic he is for the time of day. The planet’s called Klaeothe. More of a moon, he says, although technically - was that interstitial vertices, maybe? ‘Incredible place; self-sustaining quasi-hyperaesthetic crystalline poly-’ -somethings that metamorphose with every successive revolution - ‘sentient rocks’ Jack had mouthed at her cross-eyed look -
He doesn’t really do sightseeing for its own sake, and Jack likes places with people. More interested in trouble, the pair of them. Although trouble with those two... usually better than rocks. But this is for her. And it’s nice, him thinking about her like that, but thinking’s decidedly overrated - a reaction now - that would be good. It’s great; just not enough. Can he see that?
“Go and get some sleep.” He leans back in his chair, feet up. Obviously preoccupied, but his eyes are warm.
“Go on, go. Sleep.” He pushes her gently, the simple contact comfort in itself.
She’s yawning. He’s right. It might even help. They may not be on earth time, but her body clock still says sleep as regularly - although they’re almost as predictable, this late. She wishes him goodnight and carries his smile with her into the corridor.
Automatic left turn out of the door, does he notice which way she’s going? The bathroom’s closer to her bedroom going the other way, but this is her inevitable route, every night. He hasn’t said anything. And it’s not like she’s hiding it.
Essential Maintenance
2
It’s comfortable and probably distressingly domestic, another human idiocy; marking time with tiny rituals.
There are three likely places to find Jack. But when it feels this late the possibilities narrow to one - Ok, there is the bathroom, but all he’s getting if he’s still in there is a shouted ‘goodnight’ through the door.
It’s not so far tonight, must have done something to please the old girl, can’t imagine what, teasing him like that - and isn’t it weird but even though the rooms shuffle so effortlessly, the implied illogic in the arrangement rarely fails to suit her mood. Maybe she’s not the only one aware that this is home. There it is - the slightly acrid mustiness tangible almost before she reaches for the handle -
He reads. It seemed so unlikely she’d wondered what he’d got hidden under the cover the first time she walked in on him; leather bound volume resting on his knees, mug balanced on the arm of the largest chair the library possesses. Although, the more time she spends talking to him the easier it is to see him there.
He says it gives him something to dream about.
As she opens the door he bisects the novel over the chair’s fat arm. Meets her eye with a challenge.
“So, what are we playing today, Doctor baiting? Do we make it up as we go along or were you going to tell me the rules?”
“Can’t I just have been enjoying the view?”
“You know, if you really want to make him jealous - I know lots of good games.”
His tone matches his words, but his eyes - does he do that on purpose? No one should be able to turn a look that intense on so easily. She swallows, dragging her gaze away.
“I was going to apologise, but I figured you might be more offended.”
“Probably.”
His smile for her now is gentle - artless. Warming places that the old conman special wouldn’t recognise. And if there are some in common well- that’s for her to know.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It’s tempting. He always seems to know how to make her feel better. Strange to be painfully aware of him physically one moment and laughing like a loon the next -
“No point. What’s there to say? But - I could keep you company, if you like.” His brow twitches, face suddenly wary and she grins, loving that she can provoke this reaction in him.
“You know, if you wanted to talk.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well” He shifts, looking a little uncomfortable as he retrieves his paperback. “You’re Ok. Long day tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”
“You sound just like him. Do I look that tired?” She yawns suddenly, the accompanying stretch cracking her shoulders.
“Yes? Goodnight Rose. Sleep well sweetheart.”
She smiles at him. Feeling guilty now for taking such liberties, however happily he offers to provide them.
“’night Jack.” He’s still looking at her, and he’s so - curled up in an armchair with Great Expectations, mug of cocoa, hair still damp and piney smelling, bare feet tucked under him - she’d go for edible but not out loud - just so very - a quick pace across the room and she bends, dropping a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Goodnight, Jack.” She turns to leave.
“Does he get a kiss goodnight too? Or do you save that for the gorgeous ones?”
“What? Catch me wasting kisses on someone who doesn’t even want them?” The urge to slide into his lap, just let him make her feel wanted seizes her, and she clutches at the nearest safe topic.
“You been to Klaeothe before?”
“’S not even in my guide book. But - sentient rocks, can’t go far wrong with that.”
“Yeah. S’pose so. Sleep well, Jack.”
“Don’t forget to dream about me.”
_
He’s still there when she passes the doorway, bathed in green light, feet up on the console, so still he could be sleeping. What would he do? And what would change -
“Goodnight Rose.” He doesn’t move. Poised, a mere component of his fabulous machine.
“Doctor -” Just a kiss. One little -
“Rose?”
“Goodnight.” Sleep tonight. Think tomorrow. Sentient rocks.
_
Some of these routines still feel oddly out of place here. Cleaning teeth and washing, exchanging jeans, jumper and underwear for a long, loose t-shirt and brushing her hair. There wasn’t room to bring bedding in the rucksack, and honestly - she hadn’t been thinking about sleeping when she’d packed. Much too mundane. Nestled in her bright, silk-smooth blankets the ambient lighting dims responsively as she sinks toward sleep. Thoughts playing vaguely in her mind, so much bigger inside: the idea fleeting into dream, such a small blue box for three people to live in - hardly room to move without touching - how close they must look from outside...
And then she’s awake. The dim light is crimson, and it’s hot. Sticky, hair caught in the crease of her neck, she’s thrown off the covers in her sleep and the t-shirt’s damp and twisted, clinging tightly to her breasts and ribcage.
What’s happening? A picture of Jack flat on his back, face drawn in concentration, but still managing to look faintly smug - was that being allowed to fondle the Tardis, or the knowledge he made a terrific view - what the hell has he done?
Flapping the clammy material away from her skin, she pauses. Somewhere, distant, a brisk tread echoes and then voices, more accent than word.
She flops back onto the bed. It’s really too hot to move, and they’ll get her if they need her. Pretty sure they can hold a tool belt between them. Only - Jack wouldn’t - say anything, would he? Can’t always be with them - no, but - this feels suddenly a little too close for comfort. It can’t hurt to find out what’s going on. Maybe they could do with a drink? Iced water would be good, right now...
_
She hears them as she stops at the last corner, balancing the tray -
“So. What did you do? I dread to think where your mind wanders off to. You don’t get distracted when you’re doing this. It’s not like we can pull over and call the AA.”
“I already said I’m sorry. I thought I’d put everything back where it came from.”
“Well obviously you didn’t. And now you’re going to fix it. Check every connection and don’t think you’re getting to touch anything of mine again unless I’m standing over you watching.”
At least he sounds fairly alright about it. It’s not as it he’s never - turning to push the door with her back - even the walls are hot, but thank you Tardis the fridge is still working.
“- Is that what you like? I’d figured you for kinky, but I thought you’d join in. You’re really not tempted - seriously, you don’t fancy filling a human sandwich?”
Now there’s something a girl in nothing but a t-shirt needs to hear while she’s balancing glasses. Maybe she should just wait here for a minute...
“Down, boy. Connections, Jack remember? You’ll need to lay down to get under the console.”
“I know, assume the position. Promises, promises.”
And they’re laughing. Always bloody at it, aren’t they. Faint chink of metal on metal -
“Although - if you’re really only planning to watch that must mean I get to touch -”
There’s a sudden creak and a startled exhalation - Really should go in but that would mean having to move - possibly when her legs come back.
“I told you...”
“Yeah, yeah. Get off. I’m only looking. Ok? You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the view too - not how long you spend staring at her.”
“You do enough ogling for the lot of us. What’s the matter, can’t decide which one to try it on with first?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out...”
“Typical.”
“That’s right. Typical. Selfish, hedonistic Jack. I can see something I want real bad - and I’m not doing a thing about it. Hey, just like you. But at least I can admit how I feel.”
“Yeah, Right. Rose is humanoid and alive and you haven’t had sex in what? A week? Two? And she knows how I feel. Don’t bloody look at me like that. She knows what she needs to know. And we’re fine. We were Ok before -”
“Before I turned up? Sorry about that.”
“That’s not what I meant. Just fix the environmental circuits and we can get back to bed - Good grief, do you ever stop?”
“Not if I can help it.”
The chuckle fades into quiet shuffling and clinking - why does it have to be so hard to decide what to take seriously with them. Of course it might be easier if they weren’t both so -
“- So, what does Rose need to know?”
“I thought we’d dropped this. It doesn’t matter.”
“It might to her. And it obviously does to you. Don’t try ‘need to know’ on me - I’m part of this crew aren’t I? Your dynamic affects me too.”
“There’s nothing to tell. ‘Our dynamic’- is the word platonic in your vocabulary? Or did you scare it away with innuendo? Rose and I - we’re just fine how we are. It’s less complicated like this.”
And what does that mean? Complicated? She wants to leave, to go in, to do something; anything has to be better than trying not to clink or breathe too loudly -
“Rose is fine. She doesn’t need your kind of -”
She can almost hear him gesturing. He’s exasperated. Can Jack hear how near the end of his tether - how far does he want to push him? What’s he trying to do?
“Come on. My kind of what? Attention? Interest? The occasional compliment...”
“You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you. And I give Rose compliments -”
“I don’t need to be told, I live here, remember? You only give her compliments if you can qualify them - ‘for a human...’ Nice, that, makes her feel special, I bet. You don’t want me to tell her how it looks from out here. You’re scared she’ll make a move...”
“Out there? - If you think you’re in any place you could call objective you’re deluding yourself. No. I’m not talking about this - just back off.”
“I’m deluding myself? That’s good. You said just now - hey, don’t change the subject.”
“Jack. Don’t do this.”
“Come on, back off or what? You going to pretend we haven’t had this conversation too?”
“That was different. I didn’t know you.”
“And now you do?” Quieter. The faintest catch in his voice. “Maybe - but all that means is you know I’m right.”
Is he doing this for her? Why would he?
“You don’t understand. Just leave it alone. Go back to bed.”
“What about the circuits?”
“I’ll do it.”
“So what did you drag me out of bed, like this for, scenery?”
“Yeah. That’s right. I fancied an ogle, take my mind off Rose. Just go to bed.”
The sarcasm may be targeted at Jack but the ripples smart too, even at a distance.
“Come with me. Talk to me.”
Doesn’t he ever give in? She’s got to move, in or out, can’t get caught here.
“So you can kiss it all better? There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed Jack.”
There’s movement, what are they doing, and why can’t she see through the stupid door -
“Doc, I’m not trying - I just want to -”
There’s an audible thump, and a huff of breath. It’s quiet. Too quiet, and then there’s a hushed moan - That’s enough. What the hell has he done - maybe they won’t know she was there already if she just -
The red light casts more shadow than illumination - she moves slowly, bare soles curling away from the grating. Follows the quiet almost-sound of movement.
So, she’s not the only one feeling the heat - the Doctor’s jacket is hanging limply over his chair, unusual for him to notice it - she can’t help but wonder what Jack’s not wearing - and where the hell are they? Best keep her voice down, if they’re fixing the wiring the last thing they need is a shock -
“Doctor? I thought you’d like a drink. I brought ice. What’s with the heating, Jack’s repairs not...”
Oh fuck. He’ll not be wearing pretty much everything then.
Not sure this is really a good time to be concentrating on Jack’s underwear, the Doctor’s got to be around here somewhere, they were talking just now - he actually owns underwear? And white boxers at that, thought commando was more his style. Is that the Doctor there - What are they doing? Stupid bloody light on all these struts and rails, it looks like he’s holding him up - oh, that’s a nice angle. Jack wears boxers - why’s he leaning on that strut? - Could be cotton, pretty sure they’re white, even in this light - he’s moving and there’s that noise again. Is he in pain? He didn’t hit him, did he? - Oh that’s a nice fit, especially round his - stupid bloody shadows on his bum - that - that’s not a shadow. Oh my god they’re...
“I think - I should - um.” Backing up. Neither of them says a word. Jack doesn’t look as though he can speak, and the Doctor’s stare is almost demonic, frozen in the weird red light.
“I - Right.” Time to go. Have to stop staring first, but definitely- Time to go. Go to bed. Bed... Dear god. Are they going to -
Her feet obviously have more sense than the rest of her because they’re moving.
Partway back to her room she realises she’s still carrying the tray, three glasses half filled with icy slush clinking merrily against the tall green jug. The first three glasses she’d found on the drainer. Grouped together, no two matching. One. Two. Three. Unnerved by her own detachment, she sits the tray on the floor and pushes it carefully to the side of the corridor before continuing.
The space under her blankets is humid but at least there are no shadows under there. She folds herself around the pillow, clasping her shoulders as she burrows blindly into the safety of her own scent. Face buried, she shivers and wills herself to focus on not moving, not rocking. The burning wetness at her eyelids overflows, sodden fabric clinging to her cheek. She thinks about being asleep. Thinks about laughing, imagination tickled by a pair of wandering hands and chokes down a sob.
She thinks about not hearing the soft rhythmic pace moving closer.