(no subject)
"I must tell you that I was always afraid of the fury with which I loved you.
It overwhelmed me. I thought it beyond comprehension, therefore my silence."
“Did you know?”
Rose hums lowly, rising to consciousness just enough to brush her lips against his bare chest. She is, by now, used to this Doctor’s penchant for 4AM chats. She is also aware that her participation has little to no bearing on his enthusiasm for these chats.
This time, however, the Doctor turns to face her in bed, cupping her face in his hands. “Rose, this is important.”
“I’m sleeping,” she slurs, shaking his hands off and dropping her head back to his chest.
“Rose,” he persists, frowning. “Please. Did you know?”
She cracks an eye open very slightly. “Course I did,” she murmurs. “Could’ve told me, though,” she adds as she turns onto her side to face away from him.
“I love you, Rose Tyler,” he responds fervently, immediately, but her breathing has already normalized and she doesn’t stir.
He reaches out to touch her arm, to pull her back to him, to tell her what he really needs to say. But then he trains his eyes on her exposed shoulders, smiles at the way they rise and fall in a calm rhythm that mirrors her familiar heartbeat. He pulls his hand back and rolls over onto his back.
“That’s not what I meant,” he whispers to a spot on the ceiling. “I meant that I wonder if you knew why I never told you.” He glances sideways to see if Rose has turned over. She hasn’t. He rubs his hands across his face.
“Oh, Rose.” His single heart speeds up and he briefly considers curling up and inviting sleep, putting this off until morning, when she’ll be listening. He knows he’ll only end up repeating himself-she deserves to hear, so she will. He closes his eyes.
Minutes later, his eyes pop open. He twists and props himself up to check the clock that sits perched atop the nightstand, hoping that he somehow managed to fall asleep. No such luck. He flops back onto the bed. He glances over at Rose. He rises on his elbows and lets himself fall again, harder this time. Still she sleeps.
“The thing is,” he murmurs with a sigh, “you shocked me, Rose Tyler. You were-you are-magnificent. Brilliant. That was no great surprise; I’ve always traveled with brilliant people. I pick my friends carefully. But you…” He blindly reaches for her hair to hold a few strands between his thumb and forefinger. “You were...more. More brilliant. More passionate. More beautiful. Everything I’ve ever loved about traveling, about the universe, I loved more because of you. Because you were there.”
Suddenly he feels too far away. He rolls onto his side, folds himself against her and loops an arm around her waist. “I loved you more, Rose,” he whispers into her ear. “I loved you more than anyone who had come before you. And then one day I loved you more than traveling. I stopped watching for new landscapes and started watching for your reactions. I’d hold onto your hand rather than feel a new texture, if I had to choose. And that…that terrified me, Rose. I’d never loved like that. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t know what I would do if you…”
He trails off, pushing his nose into her hair and breathing her in. “They all left me, Rose,” he continues after a long silence, “and I always carried on. I didn’t know how I would do the same, if it was you. And so I didn’t say anything, because I thought it would be better. For both of us. And I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and ghosting a hand across her stomach, “I’m so sorry. For my silence. Never again. I promise.”
He presses his lips into the hollow of her neck and smiles softly against her skin. “I love you.”
Rose exhales heavily and her foot moves against his. “Oh, I know.”
It overwhelmed me. I thought it beyond comprehension, therefore my silence."
“Did you know?”
Rose hums lowly, rising to consciousness just enough to brush her lips against his bare chest. She is, by now, used to this Doctor’s penchant for 4AM chats. She is also aware that her participation has little to no bearing on his enthusiasm for these chats.
This time, however, the Doctor turns to face her in bed, cupping her face in his hands. “Rose, this is important.”
“I’m sleeping,” she slurs, shaking his hands off and dropping her head back to his chest.
“Rose,” he persists, frowning. “Please. Did you know?”
She cracks an eye open very slightly. “Course I did,” she murmurs. “Could’ve told me, though,” she adds as she turns onto her side to face away from him.
“I love you, Rose Tyler,” he responds fervently, immediately, but her breathing has already normalized and she doesn’t stir.
He reaches out to touch her arm, to pull her back to him, to tell her what he really needs to say. But then he trains his eyes on her exposed shoulders, smiles at the way they rise and fall in a calm rhythm that mirrors her familiar heartbeat. He pulls his hand back and rolls over onto his back.
“That’s not what I meant,” he whispers to a spot on the ceiling. “I meant that I wonder if you knew why I never told you.” He glances sideways to see if Rose has turned over. She hasn’t. He rubs his hands across his face.
“Oh, Rose.” His single heart speeds up and he briefly considers curling up and inviting sleep, putting this off until morning, when she’ll be listening. He knows he’ll only end up repeating himself-she deserves to hear, so she will. He closes his eyes.
Minutes later, his eyes pop open. He twists and props himself up to check the clock that sits perched atop the nightstand, hoping that he somehow managed to fall asleep. No such luck. He flops back onto the bed. He glances over at Rose. He rises on his elbows and lets himself fall again, harder this time. Still she sleeps.
“The thing is,” he murmurs with a sigh, “you shocked me, Rose Tyler. You were-you are-magnificent. Brilliant. That was no great surprise; I’ve always traveled with brilliant people. I pick my friends carefully. But you…” He blindly reaches for her hair to hold a few strands between his thumb and forefinger. “You were...more. More brilliant. More passionate. More beautiful. Everything I’ve ever loved about traveling, about the universe, I loved more because of you. Because you were there.”
Suddenly he feels too far away. He rolls onto his side, folds himself against her and loops an arm around her waist. “I loved you more, Rose,” he whispers into her ear. “I loved you more than anyone who had come before you. And then one day I loved you more than traveling. I stopped watching for new landscapes and started watching for your reactions. I’d hold onto your hand rather than feel a new texture, if I had to choose. And that…that terrified me, Rose. I’d never loved like that. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t know what I would do if you…”
He trails off, pushing his nose into her hair and breathing her in. “They all left me, Rose,” he continues after a long silence, “and I always carried on. I didn’t know how I would do the same, if it was you. And so I didn’t say anything, because I thought it would be better. For both of us. And I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and ghosting a hand across her stomach, “I’m so sorry. For my silence. Never again. I promise.”
He presses his lips into the hollow of her neck and smiles softly against her skin. “I love you.”
Rose exhales heavily and her foot moves against his. “Oh, I know.”