The Substance of Things Hoped For, 14/29
Title: The Substance of Things Hoped For (14/29)
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Rose slept for the majority of the return trip to London; and paused only long enough to eat a light supper at home before going upstairs and crawling into bed. Peter made sure the dishes were tidied away and the doors all secured before following her upstairs, pausing at the door to briefly enjoy the sight of Rose dozing, the red duvet pulled right up to her chin, before moving to join her in bed.
When he awoke the next morning Rose was curled into him, and the duvet covered them both. He sighed; he had another week of leave he could use, if he wanted-no questions asked. But he had work which had to be done, and it wasn’t fair to rely on Elias and a few others to oversee his staff simply because he wanted to stay in bed with his wife. Besides, the tale they’d told his staff in order for him to have taken emergency leave…the sudden death and funeral of a friend would be traumatic, yes, but not enough to merit his taking so much time off.
Rose, too, had to go to work; he was fairly well sure that Pete wouldn’t be quite so willing to give Rose another day off, not when there were still so many unanswered questions about how she and Mickey had been teleported. She was going to be exhausted again that evening-most likely would be exhausted every night that week-and he once again spared a dark thought for Torchwood. They’d been very good to Rose, it was true-but they also drove her far too hard for his liking.
“Mo gradh,” he whispered, running his hand over Rose’s arm. “Time to wake up.”
Rose turned further into him.
“Rose, love, we have to get out of bed.”
“Don’ wanna,” she muttered against his chest, the words slurred together.
He glanced over her head, trying to read the clock; it looked like it said six oh eight, but the numbers were a bit fuzzy without his glasses. If he was going to make the eight o’clock shift brief, he needed to get moving. And the latest Rose was usually willing to get into work was nine…
“I know,” he whispered, hugging her briefly. “But we have to.”
“No.”
He sighed. “Alright; I have to shower, but I’ll not bother you again until I’m done.”
“’k.”
Rose was back to dozing by the time he extracted himself from the bed; he shook his head, and made his way to the en-suite, flicking on the light before hastily closing the door. He grimaced as he caught sight of himself in the mirror-he’d have to shave before he could go to work, which added several minutes onto his morning routine. At least Rose would be able to sleep a bit longer.
It was seven by the time he made it back out of the en-suite; Rose was still asleep. He hurried downstairs, made a pot of coffee, and returned upstairs five minutes later.
“Rose, time to get up.” He set a mug of coffee, prepared with milk and sugar, on the bedside table.
She rolled over, wincing in the light from the loo.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern washing through him. Rose really had been sleeping a lot of late…
“Headache,” she replied groggily.
He leaned down, brushing a kiss over her forehead, then went to fill a glass with water. Returning, he presented her with the glass and two capsules of paracetamol; Rose propped herself up, and took the medicine without complaint.
“Y’need to eat, Rose,” he said softly, his fingers drifting across her cheek.
“I know.”
“I can get you something, if you like. Before I get dressed.” He snuck a glance at the clock; he was rapidly running out of time to make it to the briefing. But if Rose was sick, the briefing could hang.
“’ll be fine,” she said, taking another sip of water. She glanced over to the clock, and then turned back to him. “You need to get going.”
“Not if you’re sick.”
“’m not sick. Just a headache-too much sleep.”
“Alright,” he said, reluctantly standing as Rose glared at him. “There’s coffee just there, for after you eat.”
She wordlessly climbed out of bed, shuffling over to the door, then making her way downstairs. He picked up his own mug of coffee, took a sip, and then set about getting dressed for work.
Rose was back in the room, eating a banana, when he turned away from the wardrobe; he fought back a grimace, hating the smell of the fruit almost as much as he hated the taste of it. Rose looked guilty, not missing his reaction, and carefully set the offending object aside. “Sorry.”
“Does it help? The banana?”
“Yeah.”
“Then don’t apologise.” He turned his attention back to his tie, deftly flicking the tail of it over and around to attain the knot he preferred. Rose was sipping coffee when he finished, and he gave her a small smile.
“You’ll be home tonight?” she asked, setting the mug aside, walking over to him.
“Should be-depends on what happens today, of course.”
“’course.” She straightened his tie for him before resting her palms against the starched cotton of his shirt. “Should be home by six, myself. If not earlier.”
“’k.” He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. “We’ll order in, if you like.”
“Tired of cooking?” Rose’s lips curved in a smile.
“A bit. I’ve been craving Thai, as well, and we both know I can’t make that to save my life.”
Rose grinned. “Right.”
He grabbed his jacket from the hanger, pulling it on before reaching for his coffee and closing the wardrobe doors. “I have to go, Rose.”
“’k.”
He leaned over, surprising her with the ferocity of his kiss. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” She cupped his jaw, gazing up at him, then stepped back. “You’re going to be late.”
He glanced at the clock, wincing as he saw she was awfully close to being right. “You’ll be ok?”
“I’ll be fine. See you tonight.”
“Love you.” He hurried out of the room, flying down the stairs, only barely managing to avoid tripping over his still-untied shoelaces. The mug was carelessly placed in the kitchen sink, his laces were tied, and then he was out the door and off to work.
He parked in the garage with minutes to spare; he’d not have time to meet with anyone before going into the briefing. He didn’t miss the surprised glances as he walked down the hall, and fought back a slightly hysterical giggle as the briefing room fell silent upon his entry.
“Carlisle,” Campbell, standing at the lectern, said mildly.
“Sorry I’m late, sir.”
The DCS gave him a brief nod, and then resumed speaking.
Elias pinned him down almost immediately once the briefing ended, cornering him quite literally. “You could have taken another week off!” he hissed, glancing around as though he suspected someone might eavesdrop.
“Aye, but Rose had to be at work today. And so why not come back? I dinnae need leave-and for the death of a friend, even three weeks seems a bit much.”
“Good to have you back, Peter,” Campbell offered, coming to stand off to his right, effectively forcing Elias to take a step back and to the side.
“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.”
Campbell nodded. “All well, then?”
“Aye, thank you.”
“Good. I’ll see that your warrant is returned with all due haste.” Campbell glanced over to Elias, almost smiling. “You were missed.”
The DCS didn’t wait for a reply, instead turning on his heel and walking to the door.
Peter turned back to Elias, and extended his hand. Off Elias’s blank look, he elaborated, “My warrant, darling.”
He grinned at Elias’s less-than-amused glare.
He spent much of his day being briefed on major developments or general concerns on the active cases under his team’s care; he had a brief respite from playing catch-up when he and Elias went to lunch, visiting the restaurant across the street from the Yard. It was a hidden gem, tucked away down an innocuous flight of stairs, and was the watering hole of choice for most of the detective corps; Elias had seen fit to reserve one of the few proper booths in the place, and grinned as he saw Peter’s exasperated expression.
“Oh, c’mon, Peter. I’m not going to interrogate you. Just thought you might enjoy hiding a wee bit.”
“If you truly wanted us to hide, Elias, we’d be down at the coffee shop.”
“Their food is miserable since they were bought out.”
Peter arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
“It is! I’ve taken to eating down there this past week-got bloody sick of everyone asking how you were holding up-and had a chance to try most things on the menu.” Elias made a noise of distaste. “Soup’s the best thing going, and really-a man can only have it so often before expiring from starvation.”
“I’m sure Ruby’s seen you’re well-fed at home.”
Elias grinned. “That she has.”
They both ordered the chicken tikka for lunch; it was easily the best in town, in Peter’s opinion, and he savoured the heat of it, enjoying the fact that he could actually taste his food once again. Elias was near to laughing at him when he finished; he’d downed the meal with haste, and apparently had been a bit vocal in his appreciation of the food to boot.
“That’s almost embarrassing, Peter. People are going to wonder just what we’ve been up to back here.”
“Just make sure your trousers are zipped when we leave, and I think we’ll be ok.”
Elias shook his head, and carried on with his meal.
It was over their post-meal coffee that Elias finally broached the topic of Rose. “How’s she doing?”
Peter sighed, watching as he turned his coffee cup on its saucer. “Well enough, I suppose. I’m not sure who's had it worse, truth be told. She feels far, far more guilt than she ought.”
“And how are you?”
“Well enough. Not sure I’ll ever really recover, though. It’ll always be there, in the back of my head, the thought that she might up and vanish again. But…there’s nothing for it. I’m sure she still worries, every time, that I’ll get shot when I venture out to a scene.”
“There’s no being rid of the memories; there’s just learning to live with them.” Elias’s eyes were dark, his voice filled with resignation.
“Spoken like a true veteran.”
Elias took a sip of his coffee, then asked, “What are they doing for Rose?”
Peter leaned back with a sigh, kicking his feet out in front of him. “Counselling. Not much else to do, really-other than keep monitoring her.”
“What’re the odds they’ll ever find out what happened?”
Peter paused to think for a moment, before replying off his gut instinct. “I say…eighty-twenty they never figure it out.”
“Can you live with that?”
“I seriously doubt I have a choice in the matter,” Peter replied drily, swirling the dregs of coffee in his cup, before swallowing the liquid.
“But can you live with it?”
“I’ll find a way to.” He hesitated, torn between telling Elias Rose was thinking of changing jobs, or just letting the conversation move on.
Elias, observant bastard that he was, picked up on it. “What?”
“Rose…Rose was talking about changing jobs.”
“She what?”
“She said something about it last weekend, about moving to an administrative position. I…I want her to. But…I’d feel terrible if she did it because she thinks it the right thing to do, not because she wants to.”
“Has she mentioned it since?”
“Nae.”
“Have you asked her about it since?”
“Nae. I told her to take time, to think about it; I don’t want her to feel that I’m pressuring her.”
Elias nodded. “If she mentions it again, you might suggest she talk with Rue; she spent far more time thinking about changing divisions than I might have led you to believe.”
Ruby had left fieldwork several years before, accepting a DCI slot in one of the specialised branches. Peter hadn’t really considered how much thought Ruby might have put into the change; he’d figured she’d had her reasons, and that she’d share them if she felt so inclined. She seemed happy, running the communications side of the counter-intelligence unit, but he supposed she probably missed being the person to go out into the field, to actually listen to the subjects instead of simply coordinating the monitoring of them.
“I’ll tell her.”
“Good. Now stop skiving off work, and get back to it.” Elias threw some money down on the table, waited for Peter to do the same, and then led the way back to the office.
~ - ~
Chapter 15
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Rose slept for the majority of the return trip to London; and paused only long enough to eat a light supper at home before going upstairs and crawling into bed. Peter made sure the dishes were tidied away and the doors all secured before following her upstairs, pausing at the door to briefly enjoy the sight of Rose dozing, the red duvet pulled right up to her chin, before moving to join her in bed.
When he awoke the next morning Rose was curled into him, and the duvet covered them both. He sighed; he had another week of leave he could use, if he wanted-no questions asked. But he had work which had to be done, and it wasn’t fair to rely on Elias and a few others to oversee his staff simply because he wanted to stay in bed with his wife. Besides, the tale they’d told his staff in order for him to have taken emergency leave…the sudden death and funeral of a friend would be traumatic, yes, but not enough to merit his taking so much time off.
Rose, too, had to go to work; he was fairly well sure that Pete wouldn’t be quite so willing to give Rose another day off, not when there were still so many unanswered questions about how she and Mickey had been teleported. She was going to be exhausted again that evening-most likely would be exhausted every night that week-and he once again spared a dark thought for Torchwood. They’d been very good to Rose, it was true-but they also drove her far too hard for his liking.
“Mo gradh,” he whispered, running his hand over Rose’s arm. “Time to wake up.”
Rose turned further into him.
“Rose, love, we have to get out of bed.”
“Don’ wanna,” she muttered against his chest, the words slurred together.
He glanced over her head, trying to read the clock; it looked like it said six oh eight, but the numbers were a bit fuzzy without his glasses. If he was going to make the eight o’clock shift brief, he needed to get moving. And the latest Rose was usually willing to get into work was nine…
“I know,” he whispered, hugging her briefly. “But we have to.”
“No.”
He sighed. “Alright; I have to shower, but I’ll not bother you again until I’m done.”
“’k.”
Rose was back to dozing by the time he extracted himself from the bed; he shook his head, and made his way to the en-suite, flicking on the light before hastily closing the door. He grimaced as he caught sight of himself in the mirror-he’d have to shave before he could go to work, which added several minutes onto his morning routine. At least Rose would be able to sleep a bit longer.
It was seven by the time he made it back out of the en-suite; Rose was still asleep. He hurried downstairs, made a pot of coffee, and returned upstairs five minutes later.
“Rose, time to get up.” He set a mug of coffee, prepared with milk and sugar, on the bedside table.
She rolled over, wincing in the light from the loo.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern washing through him. Rose really had been sleeping a lot of late…
“Headache,” she replied groggily.
He leaned down, brushing a kiss over her forehead, then went to fill a glass with water. Returning, he presented her with the glass and two capsules of paracetamol; Rose propped herself up, and took the medicine without complaint.
“Y’need to eat, Rose,” he said softly, his fingers drifting across her cheek.
“I know.”
“I can get you something, if you like. Before I get dressed.” He snuck a glance at the clock; he was rapidly running out of time to make it to the briefing. But if Rose was sick, the briefing could hang.
“’ll be fine,” she said, taking another sip of water. She glanced over to the clock, and then turned back to him. “You need to get going.”
“Not if you’re sick.”
“’m not sick. Just a headache-too much sleep.”
“Alright,” he said, reluctantly standing as Rose glared at him. “There’s coffee just there, for after you eat.”
She wordlessly climbed out of bed, shuffling over to the door, then making her way downstairs. He picked up his own mug of coffee, took a sip, and then set about getting dressed for work.
Rose was back in the room, eating a banana, when he turned away from the wardrobe; he fought back a grimace, hating the smell of the fruit almost as much as he hated the taste of it. Rose looked guilty, not missing his reaction, and carefully set the offending object aside. “Sorry.”
“Does it help? The banana?”
“Yeah.”
“Then don’t apologise.” He turned his attention back to his tie, deftly flicking the tail of it over and around to attain the knot he preferred. Rose was sipping coffee when he finished, and he gave her a small smile.
“You’ll be home tonight?” she asked, setting the mug aside, walking over to him.
“Should be-depends on what happens today, of course.”
“’course.” She straightened his tie for him before resting her palms against the starched cotton of his shirt. “Should be home by six, myself. If not earlier.”
“’k.” He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. “We’ll order in, if you like.”
“Tired of cooking?” Rose’s lips curved in a smile.
“A bit. I’ve been craving Thai, as well, and we both know I can’t make that to save my life.”
Rose grinned. “Right.”
He grabbed his jacket from the hanger, pulling it on before reaching for his coffee and closing the wardrobe doors. “I have to go, Rose.”
“’k.”
He leaned over, surprising her with the ferocity of his kiss. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” She cupped his jaw, gazing up at him, then stepped back. “You’re going to be late.”
He glanced at the clock, wincing as he saw she was awfully close to being right. “You’ll be ok?”
“I’ll be fine. See you tonight.”
“Love you.” He hurried out of the room, flying down the stairs, only barely managing to avoid tripping over his still-untied shoelaces. The mug was carelessly placed in the kitchen sink, his laces were tied, and then he was out the door and off to work.
He parked in the garage with minutes to spare; he’d not have time to meet with anyone before going into the briefing. He didn’t miss the surprised glances as he walked down the hall, and fought back a slightly hysterical giggle as the briefing room fell silent upon his entry.
“Carlisle,” Campbell, standing at the lectern, said mildly.
“Sorry I’m late, sir.”
The DCS gave him a brief nod, and then resumed speaking.
Elias pinned him down almost immediately once the briefing ended, cornering him quite literally. “You could have taken another week off!” he hissed, glancing around as though he suspected someone might eavesdrop.
“Aye, but Rose had to be at work today. And so why not come back? I dinnae need leave-and for the death of a friend, even three weeks seems a bit much.”
“Good to have you back, Peter,” Campbell offered, coming to stand off to his right, effectively forcing Elias to take a step back and to the side.
“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.”
Campbell nodded. “All well, then?”
“Aye, thank you.”
“Good. I’ll see that your warrant is returned with all due haste.” Campbell glanced over to Elias, almost smiling. “You were missed.”
The DCS didn’t wait for a reply, instead turning on his heel and walking to the door.
Peter turned back to Elias, and extended his hand. Off Elias’s blank look, he elaborated, “My warrant, darling.”
He grinned at Elias’s less-than-amused glare.
He spent much of his day being briefed on major developments or general concerns on the active cases under his team’s care; he had a brief respite from playing catch-up when he and Elias went to lunch, visiting the restaurant across the street from the Yard. It was a hidden gem, tucked away down an innocuous flight of stairs, and was the watering hole of choice for most of the detective corps; Elias had seen fit to reserve one of the few proper booths in the place, and grinned as he saw Peter’s exasperated expression.
“Oh, c’mon, Peter. I’m not going to interrogate you. Just thought you might enjoy hiding a wee bit.”
“If you truly wanted us to hide, Elias, we’d be down at the coffee shop.”
“Their food is miserable since they were bought out.”
Peter arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
“It is! I’ve taken to eating down there this past week-got bloody sick of everyone asking how you were holding up-and had a chance to try most things on the menu.” Elias made a noise of distaste. “Soup’s the best thing going, and really-a man can only have it so often before expiring from starvation.”
“I’m sure Ruby’s seen you’re well-fed at home.”
Elias grinned. “That she has.”
They both ordered the chicken tikka for lunch; it was easily the best in town, in Peter’s opinion, and he savoured the heat of it, enjoying the fact that he could actually taste his food once again. Elias was near to laughing at him when he finished; he’d downed the meal with haste, and apparently had been a bit vocal in his appreciation of the food to boot.
“That’s almost embarrassing, Peter. People are going to wonder just what we’ve been up to back here.”
“Just make sure your trousers are zipped when we leave, and I think we’ll be ok.”
Elias shook his head, and carried on with his meal.
It was over their post-meal coffee that Elias finally broached the topic of Rose. “How’s she doing?”
Peter sighed, watching as he turned his coffee cup on its saucer. “Well enough, I suppose. I’m not sure who's had it worse, truth be told. She feels far, far more guilt than she ought.”
“And how are you?”
“Well enough. Not sure I’ll ever really recover, though. It’ll always be there, in the back of my head, the thought that she might up and vanish again. But…there’s nothing for it. I’m sure she still worries, every time, that I’ll get shot when I venture out to a scene.”
“There’s no being rid of the memories; there’s just learning to live with them.” Elias’s eyes were dark, his voice filled with resignation.
“Spoken like a true veteran.”
Elias took a sip of his coffee, then asked, “What are they doing for Rose?”
Peter leaned back with a sigh, kicking his feet out in front of him. “Counselling. Not much else to do, really-other than keep monitoring her.”
“What’re the odds they’ll ever find out what happened?”
Peter paused to think for a moment, before replying off his gut instinct. “I say…eighty-twenty they never figure it out.”
“Can you live with that?”
“I seriously doubt I have a choice in the matter,” Peter replied drily, swirling the dregs of coffee in his cup, before swallowing the liquid.
“But can you live with it?”
“I’ll find a way to.” He hesitated, torn between telling Elias Rose was thinking of changing jobs, or just letting the conversation move on.
Elias, observant bastard that he was, picked up on it. “What?”
“Rose…Rose was talking about changing jobs.”
“She what?”
“She said something about it last weekend, about moving to an administrative position. I…I want her to. But…I’d feel terrible if she did it because she thinks it the right thing to do, not because she wants to.”
“Has she mentioned it since?”
“Nae.”
“Have you asked her about it since?”
“Nae. I told her to take time, to think about it; I don’t want her to feel that I’m pressuring her.”
Elias nodded. “If she mentions it again, you might suggest she talk with Rue; she spent far more time thinking about changing divisions than I might have led you to believe.”
Ruby had left fieldwork several years before, accepting a DCI slot in one of the specialised branches. Peter hadn’t really considered how much thought Ruby might have put into the change; he’d figured she’d had her reasons, and that she’d share them if she felt so inclined. She seemed happy, running the communications side of the counter-intelligence unit, but he supposed she probably missed being the person to go out into the field, to actually listen to the subjects instead of simply coordinating the monitoring of them.
“I’ll tell her.”
“Good. Now stop skiving off work, and get back to it.” Elias threw some money down on the table, waited for Peter to do the same, and then led the way back to the office.
~ - ~
Chapter 15