"It was just another unspoken “I love you”."
Title: "Uncertainty"
Author: judexseven / Callie James
Pairing/Character: Rose/Ten.Five
Rating: Soft PG
Spoilers: Up to and including "Journey's End".
Summary: Rose does some introspective thinking.
Disclaimer: Although I might as well have owned the characters with the end of "Journey's End", you'd be mistaken to believe it. I only own a Ten action figure and the Dalek that came with him that I like to make spin in circles a lá Donna Noble.
Notes: Just a quick little one-shot from my darling Rose's eyes. Written on a particularly dead day at the office.
Dedications: With all my love to echoingvista and uptheapples, as usual, and to fireworkfiasco for being generally awesome.
I’m not sure what I see when I look at him.
I mean, physically, I recognise him. I recognise the long, lean lines of his body. I know the deep, wise, sparkling brown eyes. I know the great hair. I see the familiar, quirked, amused smile when I do something ridiculous.
But when his temper flares and he becomes more like the old Doctor, the one who scared me sometimes, I realise that I’m still not entirely sure who he is.
It’s been nearly two months since my Doctor-or rather, the Doctor-left me on that damned beach with this man. A month since the man I loved with my whole heart and soul left me with a man who looks like him, sounds like him, thinks like him, even feels like him.
I’ve warmed to “my” Doctor, Mum says. She points out that we’re acting like old friends now, which is a definite step-up from the days following that afternoon on the beach.
She’d be surprised to learn how much I’ve warmed up to this half-human, half-Time Lord version of my soulmate. When he first moved into the flat Dad got me, it was awkward to the extreme-he slept on the couch (with no complaints, bless him) and we barely shared more than pleasantries as we got ready for work. We’d travel together, parting ways at the reception desk at Torchwood, not seeing each other again until the workday was over.
Slowly, though, as the days turned into weeks, I realised I generally liked this new-new-new Doctor, the man who unapologetically and un-ironically goes by “John Smith” in public. With the exception of the tantrums that sparked more often than I remembered, he really was a clone of the Doctor. I started inviting him to my little corner office for lunch, or stopping by with tea (no coffee-he’d never gotten the taste for it) and biscuits during my late afternoon snack run. After work, on our way to the bus, we’d stop for ice cream or some other treat-apparently, Donna had left him with quite a sweet tooth.
One night, about three weeks after he came to stay with me, I was restless and unable to sleep. I guess the Time Lord part of him could still read me as well as he’d always been able to, because he appeared in my room with tousled hair and a sympathetic smile and offered to sleep by my side. “Sometimes all you need to sleep is the rhythm of a heartbeat,” he’d stated, “and I’ve got a good strong one.”
He never slept on the couch again.
As of right now, we haven’t gone past literal sleeping together. But the intimacies of our relationship have expanded-there are kisses in the morning and before bed. We hold hands when we walk the streets together, and the number of inside jokes we laugh about at work would probably be inappropriate if it weren’t us-Torchwood gives us a bit of a pass on the giggles because of our reputations.
There are some nights, though, over Chinese food or pizza, during movies or simple conversations, where innocence is thrown to the wind and the kisses become more than chaste. There’s a desperate, aching urgency to them, with hands and bodies pressed close and hearts pounding in an ancient universal rhythm.
I’m always the one who stops, though. And I know it hurts him when I do-he wants so dreadfully for me to accept him. He loves me as much, if not more, than the Doctor does, and I’m not sure he knows that I know that.
I think I will accept him sooner rather than later. The admiration I feel on a daily basis is getting stronger, and I’m not sure I can deny much longer the fact that it’s becoming a true, all-consuming love.
I’m not sure who this Doctor is when I look at him, but I’m starting to understand that it’s not just him who needs me-the Doctor knew when he left this man here that I needed him. It was just another unspoken “I love you”.
Classic Doctor.
Author: judexseven / Callie James
Pairing/Character: Rose/Ten.Five
Rating: Soft PG
Spoilers: Up to and including "Journey's End".
Summary: Rose does some introspective thinking.
Disclaimer: Although I might as well have owned the characters with the end of "Journey's End", you'd be mistaken to believe it. I only own a Ten action figure and the Dalek that came with him that I like to make spin in circles a lá Donna Noble.
Notes: Just a quick little one-shot from my darling Rose's eyes. Written on a particularly dead day at the office.
Dedications: With all my love to echoingvista and uptheapples, as usual, and to fireworkfiasco for being generally awesome.
I’m not sure what I see when I look at him.
I mean, physically, I recognise him. I recognise the long, lean lines of his body. I know the deep, wise, sparkling brown eyes. I know the great hair. I see the familiar, quirked, amused smile when I do something ridiculous.
But when his temper flares and he becomes more like the old Doctor, the one who scared me sometimes, I realise that I’m still not entirely sure who he is.
It’s been nearly two months since my Doctor-or rather, the Doctor-left me on that damned beach with this man. A month since the man I loved with my whole heart and soul left me with a man who looks like him, sounds like him, thinks like him, even feels like him.
I’ve warmed to “my” Doctor, Mum says. She points out that we’re acting like old friends now, which is a definite step-up from the days following that afternoon on the beach.
She’d be surprised to learn how much I’ve warmed up to this half-human, half-Time Lord version of my soulmate. When he first moved into the flat Dad got me, it was awkward to the extreme-he slept on the couch (with no complaints, bless him) and we barely shared more than pleasantries as we got ready for work. We’d travel together, parting ways at the reception desk at Torchwood, not seeing each other again until the workday was over.
Slowly, though, as the days turned into weeks, I realised I generally liked this new-new-new Doctor, the man who unapologetically and un-ironically goes by “John Smith” in public. With the exception of the tantrums that sparked more often than I remembered, he really was a clone of the Doctor. I started inviting him to my little corner office for lunch, or stopping by with tea (no coffee-he’d never gotten the taste for it) and biscuits during my late afternoon snack run. After work, on our way to the bus, we’d stop for ice cream or some other treat-apparently, Donna had left him with quite a sweet tooth.
One night, about three weeks after he came to stay with me, I was restless and unable to sleep. I guess the Time Lord part of him could still read me as well as he’d always been able to, because he appeared in my room with tousled hair and a sympathetic smile and offered to sleep by my side. “Sometimes all you need to sleep is the rhythm of a heartbeat,” he’d stated, “and I’ve got a good strong one.”
He never slept on the couch again.
As of right now, we haven’t gone past literal sleeping together. But the intimacies of our relationship have expanded-there are kisses in the morning and before bed. We hold hands when we walk the streets together, and the number of inside jokes we laugh about at work would probably be inappropriate if it weren’t us-Torchwood gives us a bit of a pass on the giggles because of our reputations.
There are some nights, though, over Chinese food or pizza, during movies or simple conversations, where innocence is thrown to the wind and the kisses become more than chaste. There’s a desperate, aching urgency to them, with hands and bodies pressed close and hearts pounding in an ancient universal rhythm.
I’m always the one who stops, though. And I know it hurts him when I do-he wants so dreadfully for me to accept him. He loves me as much, if not more, than the Doctor does, and I’m not sure he knows that I know that.
I think I will accept him sooner rather than later. The admiration I feel on a daily basis is getting stronger, and I’m not sure I can deny much longer the fact that it’s becoming a true, all-consuming love.
I’m not sure who this Doctor is when I look at him, but I’m starting to understand that it’s not just him who needs me-the Doctor knew when he left this man here that I needed him. It was just another unspoken “I love you”.
Classic Doctor.