FIC: Off the Record (Rose/SJS)
Title: Off the Record
Author: MinervaFan
Fandom: NuWho AU (hey, it rhymes!)
Warning: Femslash
Rating: R (for mild sexual situations)
Pairing: SJS/Rose Tyler
A/N: Because my girlfriend and I think Rose and Grown-up Sarah belong together 4EVAH, and the stupid show won't let me find a way to hook them up in canon.
Summary: She's like a smart, sane, not-annoying Paris Hilton, and only one journalist will get her exclusive story.
The irony of it was that this Sarah Jane Smith had never traveled with The Doctor, had never even heard of him before outside rumors of Harriet Jones' involvement with a powerful stranger who seemed to have no official identity.
The press had been pounding her ever since it got out that British kajillionnaire Pete Tyler overnight had a back-from-the-dead wife and a grown daughter no-one had ever heard of before.
They wanted her to be Paris Hilton, only not so dumb, not so annoying, and possibly just a little sluttier.
Rose had ignored the bastards until loneliness got the better of her, until Mum and Dad and even Mickey weren't enough. She'd hopped on the internet and started searching. Stupid things like "aliens" and "Cybermen" and "Gallifrey" and the like. Mostly a whole lot of nothing, until she Googled "Sarah Jane Smith" and got hit after hit after hit.
"Strange Goings on at Ten Downing" by Sarah Jane Smith.
"Murders Linked to Secret Organization" by Sarah Jane Smith.
It seemed so stupid, because she didn't really want to talk to her. Rose didn't need another reminder of what she'd lost, but that didn't stop her following the links, finding the email address in the "about the journalist" blurb at the bottom of the article.
Click to email.
"Hello, Sarah Jane. We have a mutual friend. Do you miss him, too?"
She didn't sign it, but this was Sarah Jane Smith, Famous Investigative Reporter, and Rose was sure that before the cryptic email would receive a response, Sarah would know her IP address, her name and exactly who was contacting her.
Well, it's not smart to bait a hook then run and hide from the fish, is it?
Rose lived for those emails, furtive, funny, revealing, in the next few days. They played a game of cat and cheese, because one wasn't really scurrying, was she? Rose sat there and let herself be found, let herself be bait, because she needed to see a familiar face, even one who didn't understand completely, even one who hadn't had exactly the same experiences, but who obviously was still drawn to that life.
They met in a dark pub outside Cardiff, and Sarah bought the pints. Irony, because now Rose was the sole heir to a fortune, and she certainly didn't need to be sponging drinks off a working reporter.
Journalist, Sarah corrected. There's a difference, you know.
She asked probing questions, and Rose answered, off-the-record to protect her father. The on-the-record stuff was good enough to give Sarah an exclusive, and it was certainly okay by Rose. She'd checked with Pete, and they'd gotten the backstory solid. It didn't matter now that Sarah knew she was fudging the facts on record, because off the record, they compared notes, and off the record, they had more in common than they had ever dreamed, and off the record, the cider was flowing rather freely.
Rose didn't ask if Sarah was a lesbian, because it didn't really seem to matter as they stumbled into the older woman's flat. It didn't matter as they tore at each other's clothes and kissed each other breathless.
"You're not a substitute Doctor," Rose whispered against her throat before biting gently. "You're not."
"Of course I am," Sarah laughed, gasping at the slight pain of teeth against flesh. "But I won't be for long."
Rose's tugged at Sarah Jane's shirt, watching in wonder as the action revealed a very lovely, very fit woman in her late 50s. I'm not a lesbian, she thought to herself as Sarah's pale skin almost shimmered against the dark brassiere, and Rose's pulse began to race as Sarah quickly and expertly relieved her of her own clothing. I'm not a lesbian, but I'm not an idiot, either.
There were books everywhere, and Rose knocked a couple off the night stand as they stumbled to the bed, hands everywhere, mouths connecting then parting to explore, legs intertwined and struggling for supremacy. Sarah smelled like cinnamon and cider and some perfume she couldn't quite place. She made love like she wrote, assertively, never backing down but knowing the right moments to stand back and let the other person express herself. She made love like a woman who didn't need it, but enjoyed it anyway, and that was such a relief to Rose.
Rose so desperately wanted not to need it anymore.
Afterwards, there was petting and kissing and an almost motherly affection from Sarah that made Rose laugh.
"Did you know me in the other reality," she asked shyly, finally going there after a night of questions that skirted just around the edge of it.
"Off the record?"
"Of course."
"First time I saw you, we were running down the halls in a school being used by bat-like aliens to try to take over the universe."
Sarah laughed, because it seemed the thing to do. "Well, nice to know that even in your universe, I was getting the story." Her eyes got wide. "I was a journalist in your universe, right? Please tell me I was working, and not some bloody loser who never accomplished anything...."
"No, you were working."
"Were we friends?"
Rose closed her eyes, lowering her face slightly. "I was so jealous of you when we first met. I was in love with him, and I suspected he was in love with you." At Sarah's surprised look, she added, "You were most definitely in love with him."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"So we weren't friends?"
Rose laughed now. "The jealousy lasted about ten minutes, until we got ourselves talking and comparing notes on what a complete git he could be. Then I think I would have been your best mate, had you stuck around."
"Which I assume I didn't..."
"No, you had closure. You were done with it, and I wasn't." Rose breathed in heavily, remembering. "I asked you, ya know. Should I stay with him? You told me some things are worth having your heart broken over. You told me if I ever needed you, to look you up."
Sarah pulled her in closely, letting Rose's tears flow against her shoulder. "I'm glad you looked me up."
"Me, too." Rose rested her cheek against Sarah's breast, feeling the warmth, feeling the pulse of a single heart beneath her, and knowing that she meant it. That this was the first best thing she'd done since coming here, the first step towards becoming whole again. "Don't send me away just yet, will ya?"
"On the record? You can stay until morning, then I have a deadline for my exclusive." Sarah kissed the top of her head. "Off the record? Stay as long as you like."
And Rose laughed as she snuggled against the older woman, because this Sarah was just exactly like her Sarah, and nothing at all the same.
The End
Author: MinervaFan
Fandom: NuWho AU (hey, it rhymes!)
Warning: Femslash
Rating: R (for mild sexual situations)
Pairing: SJS/Rose Tyler
A/N: Because my girlfriend and I think Rose and Grown-up Sarah belong together 4EVAH, and the stupid show won't let me find a way to hook them up in canon.
Summary: She's like a smart, sane, not-annoying Paris Hilton, and only one journalist will get her exclusive story.
The irony of it was that this Sarah Jane Smith had never traveled with The Doctor, had never even heard of him before outside rumors of Harriet Jones' involvement with a powerful stranger who seemed to have no official identity.
The press had been pounding her ever since it got out that British kajillionnaire Pete Tyler overnight had a back-from-the-dead wife and a grown daughter no-one had ever heard of before.
They wanted her to be Paris Hilton, only not so dumb, not so annoying, and possibly just a little sluttier.
Rose had ignored the bastards until loneliness got the better of her, until Mum and Dad and even Mickey weren't enough. She'd hopped on the internet and started searching. Stupid things like "aliens" and "Cybermen" and "Gallifrey" and the like. Mostly a whole lot of nothing, until she Googled "Sarah Jane Smith" and got hit after hit after hit.
"Strange Goings on at Ten Downing" by Sarah Jane Smith.
"Murders Linked to Secret Organization" by Sarah Jane Smith.
It seemed so stupid, because she didn't really want to talk to her. Rose didn't need another reminder of what she'd lost, but that didn't stop her following the links, finding the email address in the "about the journalist" blurb at the bottom of the article.
Click to email.
"Hello, Sarah Jane. We have a mutual friend. Do you miss him, too?"
She didn't sign it, but this was Sarah Jane Smith, Famous Investigative Reporter, and Rose was sure that before the cryptic email would receive a response, Sarah would know her IP address, her name and exactly who was contacting her.
Well, it's not smart to bait a hook then run and hide from the fish, is it?
Rose lived for those emails, furtive, funny, revealing, in the next few days. They played a game of cat and cheese, because one wasn't really scurrying, was she? Rose sat there and let herself be found, let herself be bait, because she needed to see a familiar face, even one who didn't understand completely, even one who hadn't had exactly the same experiences, but who obviously was still drawn to that life.
They met in a dark pub outside Cardiff, and Sarah bought the pints. Irony, because now Rose was the sole heir to a fortune, and she certainly didn't need to be sponging drinks off a working reporter.
Journalist, Sarah corrected. There's a difference, you know.
She asked probing questions, and Rose answered, off-the-record to protect her father. The on-the-record stuff was good enough to give Sarah an exclusive, and it was certainly okay by Rose. She'd checked with Pete, and they'd gotten the backstory solid. It didn't matter now that Sarah knew she was fudging the facts on record, because off the record, they compared notes, and off the record, they had more in common than they had ever dreamed, and off the record, the cider was flowing rather freely.
Rose didn't ask if Sarah was a lesbian, because it didn't really seem to matter as they stumbled into the older woman's flat. It didn't matter as they tore at each other's clothes and kissed each other breathless.
"You're not a substitute Doctor," Rose whispered against her throat before biting gently. "You're not."
"Of course I am," Sarah laughed, gasping at the slight pain of teeth against flesh. "But I won't be for long."
Rose's tugged at Sarah Jane's shirt, watching in wonder as the action revealed a very lovely, very fit woman in her late 50s. I'm not a lesbian, she thought to herself as Sarah's pale skin almost shimmered against the dark brassiere, and Rose's pulse began to race as Sarah quickly and expertly relieved her of her own clothing. I'm not a lesbian, but I'm not an idiot, either.
There were books everywhere, and Rose knocked a couple off the night stand as they stumbled to the bed, hands everywhere, mouths connecting then parting to explore, legs intertwined and struggling for supremacy. Sarah smelled like cinnamon and cider and some perfume she couldn't quite place. She made love like she wrote, assertively, never backing down but knowing the right moments to stand back and let the other person express herself. She made love like a woman who didn't need it, but enjoyed it anyway, and that was such a relief to Rose.
Rose so desperately wanted not to need it anymore.
Afterwards, there was petting and kissing and an almost motherly affection from Sarah that made Rose laugh.
"Did you know me in the other reality," she asked shyly, finally going there after a night of questions that skirted just around the edge of it.
"Off the record?"
"Of course."
"First time I saw you, we were running down the halls in a school being used by bat-like aliens to try to take over the universe."
Sarah laughed, because it seemed the thing to do. "Well, nice to know that even in your universe, I was getting the story." Her eyes got wide. "I was a journalist in your universe, right? Please tell me I was working, and not some bloody loser who never accomplished anything...."
"No, you were working."
"Were we friends?"
Rose closed her eyes, lowering her face slightly. "I was so jealous of you when we first met. I was in love with him, and I suspected he was in love with you." At Sarah's surprised look, she added, "You were most definitely in love with him."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"So we weren't friends?"
Rose laughed now. "The jealousy lasted about ten minutes, until we got ourselves talking and comparing notes on what a complete git he could be. Then I think I would have been your best mate, had you stuck around."
"Which I assume I didn't..."
"No, you had closure. You were done with it, and I wasn't." Rose breathed in heavily, remembering. "I asked you, ya know. Should I stay with him? You told me some things are worth having your heart broken over. You told me if I ever needed you, to look you up."
Sarah pulled her in closely, letting Rose's tears flow against her shoulder. "I'm glad you looked me up."
"Me, too." Rose rested her cheek against Sarah's breast, feeling the warmth, feeling the pulse of a single heart beneath her, and knowing that she meant it. That this was the first best thing she'd done since coming here, the first step towards becoming whole again. "Don't send me away just yet, will ya?"
"On the record? You can stay until morning, then I have a deadline for my exclusive." Sarah kissed the top of her head. "Off the record? Stay as long as you like."
And Rose laughed as she snuggled against the older woman, because this Sarah was just exactly like her Sarah, and nothing at all the same.
The End