Fic - A Life Well Lived - Ten/Rose - (4/?) - 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: 3,771
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.
Betas: hippiebanana132 and looked over by jlrpuck. Thanks guys *hugs*
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Things happened in my life :P Next one should be up tomorrow ^_^
Excerpt: “Sorry,” she mumbles, and there’s something so young in her voice it makes him smile. “It’s just... it’s hard. ‘Cause you look like him.”
A Life Well Lived
Four
Rose wakes up alone. Sunlight streams in from behind the curtains they forgot to close and she blinks as she wakes, squinting into the light. According to her clock it’s nearly ten in the morning.
She’s under the covers, wrapped up in her own little cocoon, and she’s sure she didn’t fall asleep like this. She remembers talking with the Doctor (it’s almost strange using his name, but there’s nothing else she can rightly call him, even in her mind) for hours and falling asleep in his warmth, his breath trailing softly down her neck. There was one heartbeat, not two, but oddly the rhythm in his body was the same as it had always been.
It means she either moved under here by herself or he tucked her in and left her to sleep. At the moment, she’s not sure which she’d prefer.
In any case, she throws the covers off and pads along the carpet to the bathroom. She frowns, noticing the Doctor’s bedroom door is open. Walking through, she notices his bed hasn’t been slept in; in fact, there’s nothing to suggest anyone else has even been here. Panic flutters in her heart like a startled animal, and she quickly goes out onto the landing. The sounds of kitchen clatter drift up to her - evidently, her mother is trying to give Tony some breakfast.
Rose wonders, briefly, if it all really was just a dream. But her body aches like it always does when she jumps across parallels and she knows he must be around here somewhere. She disappears into her own room for a few minutes, retrieving a dressing gown and a pair of slippers, before descending the stairs and walking, wide-eyed, into the kitchen.
She’s in the middle of a stretch when she freezes to the spot, unprepared for the sight laid out before her.
Jackie’s by the toaster, waiting for it to pop, and just as Rose imagined Tony is strapped into his high-chair, half a bowl of cereal congealing in front of him. But at the other end of the table, contentedly nursing a cup of tea between his hands and cooing at the toothful, grinning toddler across from him, is the Doctor.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Jackie says without turning around, and Rose wonders where her mum got her eyes seemingly planted in the back of her head.
“Morning,” she replies idly, watching the Doctor with interest.
He looks up and gives her a warm smile. There is something very strange about having him sat at her kitchen table in the morning. It feels more alien than the TARDIS ever did.
“He says you’re going shopping today,” Jackie continues as the toaster clangs, pinging the toast up. She grabs a couple of pieces and starts buttering them. “Good thing too, if you ask me, we need to go shopping and it’ll be good for you two to get out of the house.”
Rose still can’t take her eyes off the Doctor. It’s like her mind won’t fathom that he’s there, won’t process the fact that he’s sitting in her kitchen with a cup of tea, waiting to be served breakfast from her mum. It shouldn’t be so surprising, Rose thinks, they had stayed with Jackie back in the Powell Estates on more than one occasion. But this is different. This is... new.
The Doctor chuckles and, taking a sip of his morning tea, he gets to his feet. As he approaches her he reaches out a hand to touch her waist and, quite naturally, he dips his head and kisses her on the cheek.
“Morning,” he whispers, and when he pulls back there’s a sort of keen excitement in his eyes, the kind he used to get when he had a new planet in mind and wanted to share it with her.
She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but she’s still too stunned to make anything more than a few hashed attempts at speech.
Eventually, just as the Doctor goes to sit down again, she manages, “I see you two - sorry, Tony, three - have been having a party, then.”
“Nah,” the Doctor counters instantly, leaning back in the chair to make it balance on two legs while he grips the table. “Not a party. Barely even a gathering, with three.”
Jackie turns with a huff, depositing two slices of toast with marmalade in front of the Doctor. “Seven o’clock I found him down here, poking around in things that don’t belong to him. He’d already been around the whole house once, and the gardens. Cheeky bugger, it’s a wonder he didn’t set the burglar alarms off.”
“I should keep you on a leash,” Rose comments, laughing, and taking a seat at the table.
“Well, I wouldn’t complain,” the Doctor responds without missing a beat, giving a flirtatious wiggle of his eyebrows as he bites into his toast. She blushes, hard, suddenly wishing she had a book or newspaper to hide behind. “I found Stan, by the way,” he starts to babble again, and Rose smiles. “I like Stan. He’s a good man, Stan, particularly at half past six in the morning. I’ve never seen a gardener so keen. Do you know, he reminds me of - oi!”
He protests as Rose reaches across to nick a slice of his toast, enjoying the way the butter oozes into her mouth and mixes with the tang of the marmalade as she bites down.
“Yummy,” she says teasingly to the Doctor, mid-mouthful, and he snatches his toast back from between her fingers.
“Oh, stop it, you two,” Jackie admonishes affectionately, brandishing a spatula at them. “You’ll upset Tony before I’ve even made the eggs.”
Tony, as it happens, isn’t particularly upset. He’s watching both Rose and the Doctor with wide, fresh eyes, not understanding the strange new man or who he is, but very much enjoying the way he makes his big sister laugh. Of course at two, he’s not really conscious of any of this, just of the atmosphere that surrounds the mysterious man who says things he doesn’t understand.
Breakfast remains a strange affair, with the Doctor declining anything apart from toast and tea and Rose enjoying a full English breakfast. She helps half way through, frying some hash browns in a pan while waiting for her baked beans to heat up, and she’s acutely aware of the Doctor’s eyes following her as she moves. It’s strange to feel scrutinised from just a gaze, and it’s not long before she starts to feel she can’t do anything without him noticing.
Pete is at work, at Torchwood, and Rose feels a slight pang of not having seen him since they got back. She makes a mental note to pay him a visit later in the day.
She laughs a lot while they eat, partly at Tony, partly at the interaction between her mother and the Doctor. She knows things aren’t quite settled yet, that there’s more dust to fly, but for the moment she tries to keep it out of her mind and take things a moment at a time. Sometimes, when she looks at the Doctor, she pauses for a moment, remembering that he isn’t the same man: that leaves a sting. But he’s trying, she knows he is, and she wants to try too, because she does want this to work, she wants to be happy with him and feel secure with him. Last night was a good start - although, she knows that’s all it was. A start.
After breakfast Rose slips away quietly from the table. For once she’s pleased about Tony’s temper tantrums, it allows her to leave the room unnoticed. Even the Doctor is too busy wiping soggy cereal off his suit to realise her absence, and by the time he does, she’ll probably be ready to deal with him by then.
She needs some time alone, time to think, time to process the morning and the night before. Part of her brain tells her that’s a very bad idea, that she should just roll with the content, happy feeling that’s starting to envelop her - but she can’t. Part of her can’t, or won’t, let go.
Shaking her head to try and put it out of her mind, she makes her way upstairs to get dressed. If she tries not to think about the other man, the man she loves, whizzing around time and space in his magical blue box, maybe things will start to get easier. The trouble is, she doesn’t think she can.
-oOo-
Her room is the first place he checks. Her pyjamas are strewn across the bed and her wardrobe is open ajar, and the pair of trainers by the bedroom door have gone, but she’s not in here. He frowns slightly, wishing she hadn’t just wandered off like that. He didn’t think it was possible for her to wander off in her own house, but here she is, doing it again, just like she always used to.
The amount of times she used to get lost in the TARDIS is unbelievable, and -
He stops that train of thought before it can run him down; he doesn’t want to think about the past, doesn’t want to remember what it was like, or the other life he could have. What he wants to do, right now, is find Rose.
He feels a bit lost after her bedroom. He looks in the living room, too, but she isn’t there either. Neither is she in the wine cellar or the utility room. Eventually, after five or ten minutes he’s back in the kitchen and Jackie suggests she might be out in the garden.
“’S where she used to spend a lot of her time when she was... well... before.” Her eyes flick up to his briefly, before she goes back to the toddler in her arms.
The Doctor gives his appreciation, then darts out the back door. The sun’s strong in his eyes and he has to squint slightly to see ahead of him. He slows to an amble, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he strolls down the lawns. He spots her at the bottom of a long, gentle hill; she’s standing by the fountains, leaning over a stone wall and staring into the beyond. He takes his time to approach her, eventually coming to a stop right beside her.
He doesn’t look at her, instead gazes out over the crystal water winking up at him in the sunlight.
Even without looking at her he can tell how she’s feeling: there’s an atmosphere surrounding her like a dark cloud, warding him off because she wants to be on her own. Once upon a time he would have listened, but she’s all he has now, so maybe getting to the bottom of it is the best thing he can do.
He doesn’t know what to say, he’s never been a situation quite like this before. He’s thankful, and surprised, when Rose speaks first.
“I s’pose you’ve come to tell me we should go,” she sighs, miserably, and he frowns, but he still doesn’t look at her.
“I haven’t come to tell you anything,” he counters, and it’s true, he’s just come to be with her.
There’s silence again, and the Doctor sniffs. Leaning forward, he splays his hand out on the cold stone, arms stretched either side of him. In the pool below there are goldfish, lots of them, some tiny, some bigger than he’s ever seen before. The water from the fountain trickles endlessly on he smiles at how peaceful this place can make him.
Rose isn’t going to say anything. Something between breakfast and now has completely changed her, made her withdrawn and quiet in her own little world. He wonders if this is how she spent the years of her life, trapped here, unable to talk to anyone. He swallows, then, turning to her, he reaches out and touches her elbow gently.
“Hey,” he says tenderly, but all she does is drop her gaze to her trainers caked with dirt.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, and there’s something so young in her voice it makes him smile. “It’s just... it’s hard. ‘Cause you look like him.”
The Doctor can feel his face harden, but somehow, it’s in sympathy. “I am him,” he reminds her gently. “I really am.”
Rose turns on the spot and looks up at him, and he’s taken aback by the tears in her eyes. She used to be so strong. Is this what he does to her, is this who he’s turned her into?
“I believe you.” Her voice is simple, like a peace offering, and he wonders if this is a speech she’s been rehearsing. “I know you are. But at the same time you’re out there having the life we used to have. Without me.”
“It’s not... quite the life we used to have.” He wants to take her hand, but he’s not sure now is the right time. “I’ve been doing this for nine hundred years, don’t forget. The life we had isn’t the same as the life I’m living now. Either of me.”
“No,” Rose agrees, and she looks out over the water again, a wistful look spreading across her features and making her look suddenly older. “I suppose not.”
“Rose... If there’s anything I can do...”
He’s hesitant, his breath bated. She laughs bitterly, shaking her head slightly so the wind catches her hair and blows it clear from her face.
“Unless you can take me back,” she jokes, but the real sadness comes from her meaning it. She wants to go back, he knows she does, and the inability to give her what she wants and needs most in the world is crushing. He always used to be so able to make her smile, make her laugh, take her to the wonderful and amazing places she deserved... he took it for granted, he remembers, and he wishes so much that he hadn’t.
“It’s not just you,” Rose continues, still not looking at him. “The things we did, the places we went. Living in the TARDIS... I had a life there, a real life, and I... I’ll never have that again.” Her voice drops with her head, and the Doctor wonders for a brief moment if she’s crying. “I always thought if I ever found you I’d get it back. Now I won’t. Ever.”
He doesn’t have words of comfort her, because he knows exactly what she’s feeling, but more so. It was his life, that life, the definition of who he was. How is he supposed to let that go?
So, instead of empty words, he steps forward and pulls her into a hug. His arms surround her, giving her his warmth, and he lays his head on top of her and stares hollowly over the grounds ahead. He cradles her like a child and tries, so very hard, not to let his own feelings weigh him down.
“He thought... we’d be happy,” he tries quietly, and she shifts in his arms, pulling away so she can look at him properly.
“But if he’s you, doesn’t he know?” she asks, shock in her voice.
“Know what?”
“That... you don’t want to be here either.”
He takes a moment to consider that because he’s not so sure it’s true. “I never said - ” he starts, reaching to pluck at a strand of hair dancing around her face.
“But you don’t.” She swallows, looking at him like he doesn’t understand his own emotions. “I know you, better than you do by the look of it, and I know you’d rather be up there dancing in the stars than down here with - ”
“Stop it,” he pushes out, and he’s surprised at how angry his voice sounds from behind gritted teeth. Come to think of it, his heart is beating a little erratically, and his breathing isn’t as easy as it once was. He lets her go and shakes his head. “Just stop it, Rose. I made a choice to - ”
“You’re trapped here like I am,” she points out, cutting him off again, and she folds her arms in defence. “Said so yourself.”
“Oh, don’t be so naïve!” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, the snap in them relentless. He lets out a sigh through his tight mouth, raising his eyes to the heavens. “I didn’t mean - ” But he knows it’s useless.
“Yes you did,” Rose argues back, and when he glances at her, the look of incredulity makes him want to walk away and leave her. It must be something about being human. “You think I’m naïve, do you? Sitting down here, stuck on Earth, fighting aliens and finding a way back to you, yeah, I don’t know a thing. Not like you, up there in your TARDIS, lording it over everyone like you’re - ”
“What?” he cuts her off this time and he doesn’t care, his anger’s flared up like a rash that won’t go away. “Say that again,” he dares, his gaze so sharp he can almost feel it cutting her.
Rose seems surprised and she backs down, suddenly losing her ire. “...What?”
“Yvonne,” he practically spits, and there’s a second or two of silence.
“...Sorry?” Rose questions, completely timid in the face of his anger, but she hasn’t seen anything yet. She has no idea how far off angry he is.
“Yvonne Hartman,” he clarifies, trying to calm himself down because even being irritated with her won’t solve anything, not in the long run. It might make him feel better, but it’s not worth losing what they’ve been trying to build up over the past day. “She said that. About me. Lording it over humans like I was some kind of god, do you remember? No, you weren’t there.” Realisation dawns on him like an inverted ray of sunshine. “I guess working at Torchwood has done more than help you find me,” he finishes coldly.
“What are you talking about?” Rose asks, confused and sounding still a little angry with him.
The Doctor sighs heavily, his shoulders dropping. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does.” She takes a determined step towards him and stops just in front of him. He doesn’t look at her. “Doctor, tell me.”
Instantly his head snaps up, ghosts of his anger still imprinted on his nature. “Oh, so I’m the Doctor now? Not just some... some clone who looks like him, I’m a real man with feelings, am I?”
He’s hurting her, using words as weapons, and as he meets eyes with her he can tell she’s trying not to let the tears build up. This is hard for her, he knows. But God damn, it’s hard for him too.
...‘God damn’? He must be human.
“What if I told you we swapped?” he barbs, trying a different approach with her. She looks taken aback.
“You what?”
“What if I said that I’m him, Rose, that I’m actually him? That the man you’re pining for out in the universe is really standing right in front of you, staring at you. Would it change anything, to know that I was here, with you?”
She gives him a calculating look and he realises, she’s actually trying to figure it out. “It doesn’t... change anything,” she says uncertainly, and he’s reminded of just after he first regenerated, how quiet and unsure she had been. “You’re not him.”
“No. But it would. If I were him, things would change.”
She looks up at him, her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’m trying to make you see this will pass!” he cries with frustration, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “If your feelings change just by thinking about this in a different way, then surely you can accept that they’ll change over time?”
“What if I don’t want them to?” she challenges, and he’ll admit, those words sting. “I don’t want to forget him,” she adds quietly.
The Doctor sighs, feeling more defeated than angry now. “Do you honestly think you will?” he tries, bitter laughter escaping into his words. “Even if we... build a life here, make this work, do you think you’ll ever stop thinking about him?”
He’s asking now because, in all honesty, he needs to know. He knew this would be difficult, and it hurts that he wants to give her the one thing he can’t: himself.
“I don’t know.”
She’s looking at him all soft eyes and open heart, and suddenly whatever anger he has left dies away, water on the flames. She’s always had the ability to slay him, to bring him down a notch; perhaps that’s why he needs her.
“Don’t listen to me,” he says wearily, an attempt at tenderness, and he reaches down, taking both her hands in his and holding them at his chest. “I’m... It’s...”
“Difficult?” she suggests.
He nods. “Difficult, yes, that’s one word. For what this is.”
They spend a moment looking at each other, the argument fading away into the seconds and minutes behind them. She’s searching his face, properly, scrutinising everything about him, and he realises it’s the first time she’s ever looked at him like that.
She moves one hand from his to feel over his heart, mimicking how they were at Bad Wolf Bay.
“I do want this,” she tells him, and he can see truth in her eyes. “And... at least he’s not on his own, I s’pose. He may not have me, but he’s got Donna.” She smiles slightly. “And I’ve got you.”
He hesitates. Now is his window, now is the right time to tell her the truth about Donna and what had to happen to her. But the way she’s smiling at him, holding on to hope and maybe giving them a window to work things out... he can’t. He just can’t.
So, he nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, a soft smile to match hers. The hand that isn’t holding hers any more drifts to her waist in comfort. “You do.”
She bites down on her lip. “Maybe we should go,” she suggests. “We really need to get you out of those clothes.”
He quirks an eyebrow and his mouth tips up in a mischievous smirk.
“Not what I meant!” Rose says laughingly, stepping back and lifting her hands up into the air. “Didn’t know you had such a filthy mind, Doctor.”
“Oh, Rose,” he laughs, catching her hand as they start to walk back up the lawns. “You have no idea.”
End this Part
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