Fic - A Life Well Lived - Ten/Rose - (3/?) - T
Date Published: July 6th, 2008
Title: A Life Well Lived
Rating: T
Characters: Ten/Rose, Jackie, Pete, various others
WARNING: Spoilers, there are spoilers in this story, as in, if you haven't seen season four, particularly the last episode, you really don't want to be reading this.
Genre(s): Romance, angst
Word Count: This part: 3,332
Summary: The life he never had.
Disclaimer: The names, images and logos identifying the BBC and their products and services are subject to copyright, design rights and trade marks of the BBC. Used without permission for non-profit, non-commercial personal use.
Fic Type: Multi-Chaptered. WIP.
Beta: hippiebanana132
Author's Note: Whitened for spoilery; highlight to read. Starts from where 4x13 -- “Journey's End” -- left off. Quite a similar style to Almost, which I wrote immediately after “Doomsday”, but longer. It'll follow the life of Rose and bluesuit!Doctor. Hooray! \o/
Excerpt: He catches her hand in his and can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Rose Tyler,” he quips jokingly, smiling. “New life with you? I can’t wait.”
A Life Well Lived
Three
The Doctor whistles in awe as they climb out of the taxi.
“Just as I remember it,” he comments while Rose slings her rucksack onto her back and hands the driver a crisp twenty pound note.
The house is still big, still a mansion, and he imagines that Pete must still be doing very well for himself, cooped up as head of the Torchwood foundation here.
Footsteps crunch on the gravel beneath their feet as they make their way up to the front door, the Doctor taking everything in as they go. He’s not used to looking properly at things because so often the buildings he’s in or the people he meets are things he’ll never see again, so why waste his time on trivialities?
But now he’s set to stay in this world and he knows he needs to start noticing things, will need to take all the minuscule details about human life very seriously from here on out. He notices the way the housekeeper (housekeeper?) opens the front door before they’ve walked up the steps to the porch, and the way Rose’s face curls into a smile that probably no one but him knows is fake. He’s so looking forward to learning her all over again, to figuring her out and surprising her and loving her. Greatest adventure he’ll ever have? Yes, he’ll go with that.
While they stand in the hallway, the grand staircase disappearing away up into to the upper levels ahead of them, Jackie emerges from a door at the back, two cups of tea in hand.
“I thought you’d probably follow us,” she says, approaching them both and holding out the mugs. “Tony’s asleep now, but if you go through that door,” and she points over to the far side of the hall to a pair of double doors, “you’ll find the living room. Plenty of things to keep you occupied until Pete gets back.”
Rose thankfully takes a mug from her mum and makes her way towards the room. The Doctor frowns interestedly, accepting the offering of tea.
“Pete’s gone?” he asks, taking a small sip. Jackie considers him seriously, and for a second, he almost thinks she’s cold about his return. Her eyelashes are heavily laced with mascara and it’s like she’s hiding something beneath her exterior. But then it passes, in less than a moment, and she sighs.
“He just had something last-minute he had to check at Torchwood. What with all the universe hopping we’ve been doing we had to keep an eye on whether or not reality was going to explode!”
She laughs, but the Doctor doesn’t. He knows how close they came today to losing the whole of reality, every world and every dimension.
He looks up, through the open door on the other side of the hallway, and he can see Rose’s legs sticking out from where she must be sitting on a sofa. There will come a time, he knows, when he won’t be able to protect her. No amount of hiding her, or pawning her off, or keeping her safe will work. And he resents himself, a little, for forcing her to be with him and not have a choice about anything. It isn’t fair on her, either on the life she built here without him, or the life she wanted to have with him - in the TARDIS. Mixing them both and pretending it’s all right... it isn’t fair.
“Doctor?”
He shakes himself slightly, and some tea dribbles down his mug onto his fingers.
“Right, sorry,” he says, and smiles tightly over the rim of of the patterned china. “I’ll just...” He indicates the room with a jerk of his thumb, but before he can even turn away, Jackie’s touching his arm.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” she starts, in the motherly way she still seems to manage perfectly, “and I’m not going to pretend I understand what you’re doing here and out in the TARDIS at once. But you haven’t been here over the past couple of years, Doctor, you don’t know. If you could see how much she’s needed you, how much she loves you...”
She trails off, as lost for words about their situation as the Doctor is. He nods in thanks and appreciation, an odd comforting feeling tingling through his - now very human - body.
“I do know,” he says quietly, and he does. “If it’s been for her anything like it’s been for me... we need each other just as much as we ever did. I just don’t know what that means for us now.”
Jackie bows her head slightly, apparently understanding. With another, this time gentle, smile, the Doctor goes off towards the living room. Depositing his mug on the coffee table, next to Rose’s, he collapses down into the sofa with an exaggerated sigh and lays his head back onto the cushions.
“What a day,” he muses aloud, irony laced in his words in a laugh. He turns his head, looking affectionately at Rose.
“I didn’t think... I’d come back,” she admit quietly, staring down at the floor. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece is all that separates them from silence.
The Doctor sits up slightly. “No?”
“After I found you, I mean.” She turns on the sofa, looking directly at him, and he places a hand backwards onto a cushion, steadying himself under her gaze. The fabric feels strange under his fingers, soft and velvety, and he suddenly realises just how tired he is.
“I thought either I’d find you and we’d... I dunno... I didn’t really think about it. Or I’d die. I never thought you’d...”
She trails off again, and the Doctor nods, understanding.
“You never thought I’d live a life like this,” he finishes for her, and she nods, slowly. He takes a breath and bravely reaches for her hand resting on her lap. “Do you - I mean, this, do you want... this?” He takes a few moments, thinking, watching her, gauging her reaction. His thumb drifts absently over the back of her hand. “I know, he didn’t really think about it, and you’ve been lumbered with taking care of me. But... I never asked. He never asked. I want to live the rest of my life with you, but maybe you... don’t.”
She looks hurt, then, and the frowns spreads down her whole face like she’s standing in the rain. “Of course I do!” she protests. “And he knew that. You knew that, that’s why you... did it. I get it, I do. It’s going to be difficult to get used to, but I get it. I do understand.”
The Doctor falls into silent thought, wondering where she gets the wisdom and naivety to know so much and so little all at once.
Rose’s eyes, their depth and age, burn into his and he wonders if he really could spend the rest of his life gazing into them.
She laughs almost bitterly and looks away. “I guess he was trying to give me what he never could. A life with him. With you.”
The Doctor feels an uncanny smile tug at the corners of his mouth, and he goes with it, lets it shine through in his voice. “Like I said, I can be very stupid.”
She smiles at that, too, and he’s pleased he’s able to reach out to her in a way no one else probably has over these past few years.
“I want it,” she says to him, looking back, and the strength with which she speaks gives him some sense of hope of their future. “I do, I want this, with you. In a way, I guess I always have. I just... it’ll be weird, without the other stuff. The running and the monsters. That’s kind of - it’s part of who you are.”
The Doctor nods sagely. “I know, Rose. Believe me, I know.”
The clock on the mantelpiece becomes louder to him, and makes him almost incapable of thinking. He’s suddenly overcome with the very strong urge to go to sleep, something he hasn’t experienced in a good few months. It must be part of this being half human lark. Even his chest feels weaker, heavier, when there’s only one heart instead of two. Everything around him feels duller, like he’s lost one of his senses, and somehow he knows he’ll never get that back.
“I think I need to... sleep,” he admits to Rose, and he doesn’t bother hiding the surprise or confusion he knows is in his voice.
“Yeah, me too. Long day.”
He laughs in irony. “Yeah.”
“I’ll go find Mum,” Rose says abruptly, and she gets up quickly off the sofa. The Doctor stays sitting, waiting for her to leave, but she surprises him when she pauses by his side. He looks up expectantly, wondering, and suddenly she’s leaning down and planting a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. “New life tomorrow,” she whispers with warmth, and when she smiles at him he feels something new and giddy spread through him like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
He catches her hand in his and can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Rose Tyler,” he quips jokingly, smiling. “New life with you? I can’t wait.”
She looks like she’s nineteen again, like he’s just given her the whole world and a lifetime ticket for one, and he starts to feel how he remembers feeling, all those years ago. How he felt when he looked at her, when she smiled at him, the feel of her hand in his and her body pressed up close. He sighs happily, realising for the first time since he’s ended up here just how lucky he is and how happy they can be, given the chance.
He knows it’s going to be difficult, and strange, he can’t deny that and - what’s more - he doesn’t want to. But they’ve been given the one thing he never thought he would have, and that’s a chance to be with her, to show her how much he really loves her, even if that means doing it for the rest of his life. Especially if it means that.
He sips his tea while Rose goes to find her mum, weighing up all the possibilities in his head. Many, many outcomes crop up in his mind, some unbidden. He tries to push the less pleasant ones away, tries to not think about how every one of them involves staying on Earth, living out his years one day at a time, rather than running around like a lunatic.
There’s another version of himself out there now, which means two Doctors, and that’s never a good thing. The other him will be alone right now, he knows: there’s no way Donna was capable of holding a Time Lord consciousness in her mind, and if he knows anything about himself (which, of course, he does), he most probably wiped her mind of anything Time Lord - including her memories of him and the TARDIS - and took her safely back home, to live out the rest of her life in Chiswick. Yes, that’s what he’ll have done, the idiot, meaning that right now he’ll be more alone than he’s ever felt before.
“Not me,” he says into the silent air, taking a swig of milky tea.
He gets to stay here with Rose, once again keeping his feet firmly on the ground. No space, no time, no TARDIS. No wars. No people following him around like he’s a god, no turning them into little tin soldiers. He won’t have any of that, any more. The only thing he has now to define him is Rose.
He hopes it’s enough.
-oOo-
They’re put into two separate rooms, and he’s not sure whether that’s Rose’s doing or her mum’s. There’s a door in his room which leads to a bathroom, and a door in the bathroom that leads to Rose’s room, so they’re not so very far away, but it feels strange to have this separation from her. For years there’s been a metaphorical wall between them that he’s been aching to break down, and now he has to lie here in the dark and listen to the sounds of her sleeping.
Actually, right now, she isn’t sleeping, she’s cleaning her teeth in their shared bathroom, but he knows that tonight - despite his tiredness - he’s going to be listening for her, watching out for her, and sleep isn’t going to happen.
So he lies on the patterned covers, in the double bed, his hands linked behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. The room is cold, and dark. He wonders about reaching over to the bedside table and flicking on the lamp, but he quite likes the darkness: he can make shapes from the shadows in his mind.
A slab of light falls over his body, then filled by a silhouette, and he looks up to find Rose - in a pair of rather adorable teddy bear pyjamas - standing in the doorway, her toothbrush in hand.
“Do you want one?” she asks, and she shakes her hand slightly, indicating the brush.
The Doctor sits up, surprised. He falters, the idea of such a human act implying to him suddenly very alien. He never had to bother with things like cleaning teeth on the TARDIS, a Time Lord’s teeth are naturally impervious to most forms of plaque. He doesn’t even know whether they still are or not.
At his silence she disappears into the bathroom again, but she soon emerges with another brush, all wrapped up in its packaging. She throws it to him and he catches it, perfectly, running his fingers along the cardboard like it’s glass and could cut him. Then he unceremoniously rips open the plastic, letting the brush fall onto the duvet. The toothbrush is purple, and he smiles to himself: back on the TARDIS, when they were... when he and Rose were... together... his cup by the sink did have a purple toothbrush. It wasn’t his, probably left over from someone, but he likes the thought of Rose noticing - and moreover remembering - such a triviality.
Then he tells himself not to be so stupid (he’s doing a lot of that lately) and that it’s probably just coincidence. So, hopping up off the bed, toothbrush in hand, he joins her in the bathroom.
The mirror stretches the whole wall above the sink, so he has no choice but to stare at himself as he stands there and scrubs, feeling like a complete fool. He ends up using too much toothpaste and it froths out of his mouth from the corners, making him look like a rabid animal. Rose laughs at him so he growls at her, pretending, and that just makes her laugh harder. Then it starts to burn and he spits it out faster than he could ever think possible, leaning over the sink practically gasping for breath. Rose pours a glass of water and hands it to him.
“You’re so incapable,” she teases, her eyes dancing in the bright light of the bathroom, and he looks up over his shoulder, affectionately glaring at her.
“I never made fun of you when you were first trying a new life out,” he points out, then takes a large gulp of water.
“Yeah, but, I didn’t dance around all over the place acting like I knew it all. And you did tease me a bit.”
Finishing the water, he straightens and stretches, arching his shoulders back and enjoying the aching feel of the muscles there.
“I like these,” he says when he’s finished, pulling at the fabric of Rose’s pyjama top. It’s cotton, soft, and something strangely comforting. “They’re very cute. Very Rose. Why do I recognise them?”
She blushes a bit, then, and he drops his hand, wondering if he’s done the wrong thing again.
“Used to wear a pair on the TARDIS. Bought more when I got here,” she explains, and of course, she’s right: a distinct memory comes to mind of her finding him in the middle of the night with a cup of tea, because she was awake and wondered if he might be too.
He doesn’t say anything in response, just smiles fondly at her, feeling every bit his nine hundred years and at the same time like he’s just been born. Which, a voice says in the back of his mind, he supposes he has, but it has little bearing on the present and he doesn’t want to think about that right now.
“I should...” She points back over her shoulder to the open doorway, and the Doctor glances into her room. He’s surprised to find it’s been made to look a lot like her old room on the TARDIS, and the thought makes him both smile smile and frown, giving her an odd look.
He knows Rose can tell what he’s looking at by the quickness of her reply.
“It helped me,” she babbles quickly, reaching up to fiddle with her hair idly as she looks at the mirror instead of him. “When I was first here. Couldn’t sleep at all, so... we made it somewhere I could sleep. And then it just, it sort of - ”
“Rose,” he cuts in kindly, “it’s okay. You don’t need to... explain everything. We all have our coping methods.”
She nods, a tinge of sadness in her eyes when she looks up at him next. “Yeah...”
“Anyway,” he continues brightly, smiling, “brand new day tomorrow. So, yes, we should probably retire to our... well, respective bed chambers.”
She starts to laugh and he’s not sure what to do next, whether he’s just supposed to leave it at that or whether he’s supposed to walk her into her room, act the gentleman. He’s never really done this before. He settles for awkwardly going to kiss her on the cheek. However, she’s laughing too much and all he ends up doing is bumping her nose, and suddenly, he’s laughing too.
And suddenly, surprising him completely, he feels her hand against his and he’s being led to her bedroom, to her double bed, and she flops down on top of the pink covers, sticking her feet out over the edge, looking up at him with a knowing, teasing smirk.
When he doesn’t do anything she slaps the duvet next to her.
“I thought... we were going to bed,” he says, bemused, as he sits.
“We are. But I thought... maybe... we could talk for a bit. If you wanted. I mean, if you still...”
“Oh, I do! Of course I do. We’ve got, well, catching up I suppose.”
They’re both nervous, he can sense it in the air around them, in the laughter and their quick glances, but he doesn’t mind.
They chat until, according to the digital clock beside Rose’s bed, it’s just gone three in the morning. At first it’s nervous, both of them dancing around issues, but eventually they get into the thick of it. He tells her about Martha and everything they did, and he tells her about Donna and everything they did and he listens as she tells him about her life here.
She ends up in his arms as they lie on the bed, legs intertwined and bodies warm against each other through the clothes. She falls asleep in the middle of a story and he presses a kiss to her forehead as the tendrils of sleep take her.
“Good night, Rose,” he whispers into her hair, and he wonders if she dreamed of this moment as much as he did while they were separated.
It may not be easy, what they’re going to embark on, but as he thinks about the man he used to be and the man he is now... he knows whose set of cards he’d rather be playing. He doesn’t think he could give this up for the world.
End this Part
<-- | -->
| I | II | III | IV |
P.S.: I'm looking for a beta for this story, a long term beta (aside from the fantastic job that Rach is doing). Details can be found in this post, so please help me out! *grins* Found all I need. Thanks guys :]