Cheating Time, by Gillian Taylor and WMR, 2/6?
Story: Cheating Time
Authors:
dark_aegisand
wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, others
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no matter how much we beg, they're still not ours...
Summary: He's saved the universe over and over again. He's lost everything, including his own race. Doesn't the universe owe him something in return?
With thanks and hugs again to
nnwest and
aibhinn for BRing. And dark_aegis and I are totally, completely blown away by your feedback to the first chapter of this story. Thank you all so very, very much. This second chapter is dedicated to everyone who read and posted feedback; we hope you enjoy this one too :)
Chapter 1: The Lure of Temptation
Chapter 2: A False Sense of Security
This is brilliant. No, this is perfect. Just what he's needed, actually. She's fine, he's fine, the universe is fine. Everything's perfectly brilliant.
He leans against the building and smiles, feeling as though everything has finally gone right in his life. Rose is just a few steps away, playing with the infamous Barcelonan dogs, and that's perfect. Her laughter carries through the air and if he has a twinge of guilt for stealing her away, he supposes it can be forgiven. Oh. That's right.
He should've done something about that. Well, as soon as he gets back to the TARDIS, he'll send his earlier self a note. Something simple. Like:
Before you panic, I've got Rose. Well, to be truthful, you've got Rose, just not now. The future you has Rose. And, well, it's probably best if you avoid Earth for the next, oh, decade or so.
Yes. That'll work. Besides, it's not as though his younger self won't get to see her again. With that thought to bolster him, he returns to his new-old favourite pastime of watching Rose.
One of the dogs is enthusiastic enough in its licking that she loses her balance, falling backwards to land with a soft 'oomph' in the orange dirt. "Not fair!" she scolds the dog, giggling as it tries to lick her face. "Doctor!" Her laughter grows louder as she keeps trying to shove the dog off her. "Help!"
He's grinning widely now, marvelling at the perfection of this moment. "Oh, I dunno. I think you're doing just fine on your own."
"Doctor!"
"Oh, all right," he says and shoves off from the building to help her. The dogs are enthusiastic. Almost as enthusiastic as he is about licking things, really. He's leaning down, offering Rose a hand, when one of the other dogs apparently decides that he's the perfect target. Before he can brace himself, one of the dogs bounces against him in an attempt to reach his face and he finds himself on the ground beside Rose.
"Not helping," she tells him.
"Oi! I'll have you know that I'm doing a brilliant job here. I'm providing an extra target. Distracting their attention. It's the perfect opportunity for you to escape," he says, or tries to, as one of the dogs begins licking him. He's forced to try and fend the animal off, but it seems to be a losing battle. He's never encountered a creature with so much bounce before.
He never considered laughter to be contagious before, but something with the combination of Rose, the dogs, and this particular situation, has him roaring with laughter. If he thought this was perfect before, he was wrong. This, right now, is perfection.
"Right. What if we try-" It looks like Rose is trying to fend off another of the dogs, but her efforts are rewarded with another lick. "-helping each other up? Maybe, if we're both tryin', we'll make it?"
It's as good an idea as any. He pushes his way through the dogs to get closer to Rose’s side. Offering her his hands, he waits until she grasps them before he attempts to rise. This close to her, he can smell the tantalizing hint of her shampoo and see the tiny imperfections in her skin. It’s distracting, but not half as much as she is.
Rose Tyler. He wants to shout that name from rooftops, dance a jig in the centre of the city and laugh for joy. Everything’s as it should be. Just Rose, himself and the universe at their fingertips.
He's jerked out of his thoughts by a well-placed lick on his nose. Right. They were trying to get up. He braces himself, somehow managing to maintain his balance with the hyperactive dogs, and begins to stand, pulling Rose up with him. They're almost standing upright when a well placed pounce from one of the more exuberant animals sends Rose tumbling into him.
He ends up on his backside against the wall, with Rose half on top of him, pressed tightly against him. She's laughing, but he can't join in. Not right now. If he thought she was distracting before, he was wrong. This - Rose Tyler pinning him against a wall, so close that he can feel her heartbeat - is distracting.
After disengaging one of his hands, he lifts it upwards to cradle her face, letting the sensitive pad of his thumb brush against her cheek. He's missed this - this closeness, this sense of perfection. This is right where he should be, right where she should be.
It wouldn't take much to close the short distance between them, to let his lips press against hers.
Rose's laughter fades away as she apparently realises that he isn't laughing. No, laughter is the last thing on his mind. It doesn't matter that they're surrounded by barking dogs on a street corner on Barcelona. Or maybe it does, he amends.
Street corner. Two in the morning. Getting a taxi home. I've never had a life like that.
He can now. He has Rose and that's all that matters.
So he breaches the distance between them and is treated with Rose's gasp of surprise as he tentatively brushes her lips with his own. He rests there, giving her the chance to make her choice - to kiss him back or to pull away. It's her choice; it's always been her choice.
He pushes aside the fact that he gave her no choice about changing her timeline. She’d have wanted him to do it, wouldn’t she?
***
He’s kissing her. He’s kissing her.
He doesn’t do that - well, not with her. Not with anyone he’s keeping around. Of course, there was Reinette - oh, she knew about that, even if he never told her himself; lipstick all over his face was a dead giveaway. But Reinette was different. She wasn’t someone he was travelling with, someone he has to see every day, someone who might get the wrong ideas about domestic and coupledom and mortgages.
Shock means she doesn’t react for a moment or two, but then, when it becomes apparent that he’s waiting for some response from her - because he’s not pulling away, yet he’s not deepening the kiss either - she’s faced with a split-second decision.
She could pull back now, laugh it off and they’ll stay best friends, as they’ve always been. Or she can kiss him back, and everything will have changed permanently. Because, once she does kiss him, there’s no going back.
Though there’s no going back even more, right? He’s already changed everything irrevocably, hasn’t he?
She kisses back then, but tentatively; she has to be sure that he’s really sure about this. If he pulls away now, he’ll close off from her, change the subject and pretend it never happened. That’s happened too many times when they’ve got close to some form of intimacy, either in words or acts, for her to be convinced he means it now.
His free hand comes around her waist, pulling her hard against him. His palm against her cheek presses harder, his fingers sliding into her hair, and his lips part over hers. A few moments of little nibbling kisses, and suddenly his mouth’s devouring hers, taking and demanding and... conquering, she thinks. But... no, it’s not like that, not a battle with him as aggressor. It feels more like desperation, as if he needs her kisses to stay alive.
Fanciful, she tells herself, even as she meets him kiss for kiss, hands buried in his hair, wriggling into a more comfortable position straddling his lap. Desperation? The Doctor? Well, there was the odd way he looked at her once or twice back in the TARDIS. Maybe that storm coming thing really is bothering him more than he pretends.
But then his tongue strokes hers, and his hand around her waist slides up and cups her breast, and conscious thought flies out the window.
She doesn’t want to - god, does she not want to, because she knows what he’ll do. This’ll be when he realises what he’s just done and what the implications are, and he’ll retreat so fast she’ll be dizzy - but she’s got not choice. She has to push at his chest, breaking the kiss so she can gulp in much-needed oxygen. But when she does, he looks... Unbelievably, he looks hurt.
“Sorry... I thought...” He swallows, avoiding her gaze, pulling his hands away from her body as if it was naked flame, scorching him. “Thought you wanted...”
“Hey!” she exclaims, even as he’s trying to shuffle out from beneath her while avoiding touching her. “I did. I do! But we don’t all have your Time Lord respiratory bypass thingy, you know.”
He’s looking at her again and something unidentifiable flashes in his eyes, before he’s grinning again, impish and superior. “That’s what your nose is for, Rose Tyler!”
“The way you were snogging me, I couldn’t use that either,” she mutters, but she’s grinning uncontrollably, full of unbelievable happiness. It wasn’t just a mistake, an accident because they ended up in each other’s arms. He wanted this. Wants it.
He’s leaning in to kiss her again, the humour in his eyes disappearing and being replaced by an intent stare that makes heat pool in the pit of her stomach. She’s always thought that hearts skipping beats is a cliché that doesn’t exist outside the pages of Mills and Boon bodice-rippers, but as his lips touch hers again she knows it does happen.
Too soon, he breaks that kiss, instead wrapping his arms around her in a fierce, rib-crushing hug and burying his face in her hair. “Rose.” Her name’s said in a suspiciously choking voice, and again she’s got that niggling sense that something’s wrong - yet what could possibly be wrong?
Then a tongue’s licking the side of her face and any thought of something being wrong is wiped from her mind. “Doctor!” she yelps. “You an’ your oral fixation!”
“What?” He pulls back and stares at her... but the tongue’s still rasping over her cheek.
She bursts out laughing as she realises that it’s one of the Barcelonan dogs.
***
They’re still laughing as they shoo away the dogs once more and he helps Rose to her feet. And he still wants to pinch himself to prove that he’s not dreaming. She’s really here. He’s saved her from getting trapped in the other universe. He’s saved himself from having to carry on without her.
She’s here, she’s safe and she’s his. Undeniably, absolutely his. Those kisses proved it beyond any doubt.
As befits their new relationship, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body as they stroll back to the TARDIS together. Her arm comes around his waist, and he reaches for her hand with his free hand, linking their fingers.
A second chance. A new beginning. Nothing’s going to go wrong this time. It won’t, because he won’t let it.
And if there’s a niggling worry at the back of his mind about what’s happening to the timeline he’s undone through stealing her from his past, he ruthlessly shoves it aside. It’s fine. There’s no problem. He’d know if there was; of course he would. He’s the Time Lord, after all.
No, his other self, the him from two years ago, will have got his message, once he sends it. He’ll be keeping a low profile, making sure nothing goes wrong, just keeping things ticking over until their timelines mesh again. He’ll still meet Martha and get transported to the moon, of course, because nothing in his memories is suggesting that’s changed. It’s fine. It’s brilliant.
The universe has stolen so much from him, after all. It’s really about time he got something back. Something that matters. And, if he can’t have Gallifrey, or even another Time Lord, he’ll take Rose. Without her, after all, his ninth life would have been even more bleak and unbearable than it was.
Back at the TARDIS, he releases her to unlock the door, and then, as she’s about to enter ahead of him, he stalls her to steal another kiss. She melts into him, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close to her.
“Mmm,” she says, and grins up at him as he lets her go. “What’s that all about, then?”
“Does it have to be about anything?” he retorts as they walk inside. He strips off his coat and throws it in the vee of one of the struts. “Can I help it if you taste nice?”
Rose laughs; oh, he’s missed that sound, so much. “You taste nice too.” She follows him to the console, leaning against him as he flips switches and presses buttons to get them moving. Sends his message, too, to the earlier him; just as well the TARDIS doesn’t translate Gallifreyan.
“So, we going to see my mum now?” She trails a fingertip along his lapel.
No! That’s the one thing they can’t do. Go back to see Jackie Tyler, just as they did last time? They’d be right back into the same timeline, and it’d happen all over again. He’d walk straight back into Cybermen and Daleks, just like before, and he’d lose her, just like before.
No guarantee, either, that things would work out just as they did last time. No guarantee that Pete Tyler would come through from the other universe and save her from going into the Void, while he hung onto his own magnaclamp and screamed her name like the coward he is.
Although... He tugs at his ear, thinking. With his knowledge of how it went before, it’d be easy enough to ensure a different outcome, right? All he needed to do was lock Rose in the TARDIS before setting the Void manipulation equipment on reverse. If he’d thought to do that last time, he would never have lost her.
But - no. No. Re-entering his own timeline deliberately is such a bad idea. And, besides, so much else happened after that. Not just Martha and the Judoon and meeting the remainder of the Cult of Skaro in New York, but the Master. The Master, already lying in wait for him back in the linear Earth time Rose currently belongs in. And the Master would know if he crossed and tried to redo his own timeline.
Take the risk that all that - the year that never was, the Master’s near-destruction of the Earth that he only managed to reverse by sheer luck, Martha’s perseverance and a level of psychic concentration that almost killed him - would end a different way? No. Impossible.
It’s a chance to make sure he lives.
The tempting thought fills his mind, and his fingers still on the controls. The Master, alive. Himself not the last Time Lord. He wouldn’t have to set alight the funeral pyre for the only other surviving Time Lord.
The possibilities, in vivid images, stream into his head. Koschei, back, alive, seeing the error of his ways at last now that they’re the only two, and learning to live in peace. Travelling together, perhaps, or separately but keeping in contact.
The Master, destroying one planet after another, one species after another that he knows his arch-enemy loves, all in revenge for Gallifrey. Keeping him alive to see it all, tormenting him with the knowledge that he could have stopped it, but he didn’t.
No. No, it’s impossible. Going back in Earth time to where Rose should be - it’s out of the question.
But she wants to see her mum, and he promised. Options, options... If he took her to a few days after the year that never was, to a day or two after Martha said goodbye, that would be all right. No danger of crossing his timeline then, of undoing any of his or the Earth’s history.
Except that, for the second time, he’d be leaving Jackie worried sick about her daughter, not seeing her or hearing from her for over a year. She’d think Rose was dead and he’d just not cared enough to come back and tell her. Or she’d think they were both dead. He’d be putting her through hell a second time.
Not impossible to deal with. After all, once they come back Jackie will know the truth - that Rose is alive, anyway. He’ll just have to come up with a story to explain the missing year. To both of them, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time the TARDIS has got it wrong; Rose knows that, so she’ll buy it being an accident, right? And she knows they can’t just go back.
But not yet. Going back to Earth, seeing Jackie, admitting to the missing year... he’s not ready for that yet.
“Doctor?” Rose is frowning, waiting for an answer. “You all right?”
Forcing a smile, he turns to her. “Course I’m all right. Sorry. Was just thinking. I know I said we’d go and see Jackie now, but this is a time machine, after all. We can go any time. And I’ve just thought - I’ve never taken you to Maximus Regar, have I? Brilliant place. The inhabitants look like centaurs, and you can even see a unicorn or two if you’re lucky. We can be there in ten minutes.” He gives her what he knows is a winning smile. She was never able to resist those.
And she doesn’t. Her smile back is wide, and her eyes are huge with excitement. Good. Relief fills him. Oh, he’s missed this. Rose was always so easy to persuade. Well, after he regenerated, anyway. She’d argue with him before that, but that all stopped after he died. She’d had a fright, was terrified that she’d lost him, and she got too attached to him to disagree with him. Well, except when he was trying to keep her safe and she refused to leave him. Martha, now; she’d be arguing with him here, reminding him that he promised to take her home, that her mum would be worried, and accusing him of having something to hide. Not Rose.
“Ten minutes, yeah?” She steps back from him. “Brilliant. I’ll just go and...” She pats her hair, a bit tumbled and messy from the dogs and his own fingers running through it. “Back soon.”
He watches her leave, then sets the coordinates for Maximus Regar. Everything’s going to be fine. He’s got her back and nothing’s going to spoil it.
***
She’s not imagining it. There’s definitely something wrong.
Just now, when she mentioned going to see her mum again, that was definitely panic on his face. And, when he wasn’t looking at her, she was watching him. Couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’s never seen this Doctor so terrified.
It’s not just his fear, either. It’s everything else. They’ve always been physically affectionate, always in each other’s personal space, but it’s stopped at hand-holding, hugging and generally standing close together, leaning into each other. The kissing’s new. The way he held her, his hands exploring her body, as they kissed is definitely new. And even the way he hugged her when he came to find her at the market was different - more... well, desperate than was justified by their short separation.
Something’s happened. In those few minutes when he left her to explore the market on her own, something must have happened. But what could it have been? It was half an hour. Less, even.
Though what if it wasn’t half an hour for him? The TARDIS was in a different place, and he did tell her he’d gone back to change his shirt. He went somewhere. Without her. And... oh, god, did he end up crossing his future timeline or something? Did he meet the future him - without her?
Oh, god. No wonder he’s upset. Panicky, even. He’s seen his future, and the storm’s hit. She’s died, like the Beast said she would.
Maybe - oh, this explains so much - maybe it happened when they went back to visit her mum. They went home, because she asked, and she died. And now he’s desperately trying to make sure it doesn’t happen.
It won’t work, will it? They can’t avoid history. Whenever he takes her back, she’s going to die, right? And he can’t just not take her back. She can’t let him. It’s not fair to her mum.
It’s only when she crashes into the door-jamb of her bedroom that she realises she’s shaking. The TARDIS lighting pulses, and for a moment she has the crazy idea that maybe it’s in sympathy.
She’s dead. In the very near future, what they always knew would happen some day, but they always avoided discussing, is going to happen. They can’t avoid it. Oh, the Doctor will try, because she knows him and it’s what he’d do for her - for anyone he loves - but he knows, even better than she does, that he can’t escape the inevitable.
Sooner or later, they’ll have to go back. Sooner or later, it’ll become a reality. Just... let it be quick. Painless, or not too painful. Oh, and what she hopes most of all is that the Doctor doesn’t have to see it happen. If he has to watch her die, if he has to stand there, helpless, unable to do anything to save her, it’ll tear him apart.
He’s lost too much already. His whole planet. His people. Everyone he’s ever cared about. Bad enough that he has to lose her too, but to have to watch... no. Please, no.
And her mum. God, no, please don’t let her mum see it either! And - well, she bloody well better get a chance to see her mum again first. To say goodbye, even though she’ll never let her mum know that’s what she’s doing.
Still shaking, she collapses onto the side of her bed. She’s going to die. She’s going to die.
For a moment, just a moment, she buries her face in her hands, then forces herself to take several deep breaths. She can’t let the Doctor see that there’s anything wrong. He doesn’t need to know that she’s worked it out. So she has to go back out there in less than ten minutes looking completely normal, smiling and laughing as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Well, it won’t be the first time she’s had to pretend that everything’s all right when underneath her world’s falling apart. Jimmy Stone taught her that, after all.
They’ll go to Maximus Regar, if that’s what the Doctor wants. And then she’ll make him take her home. They can’t put it off for ever, after all, and she can’t pretend for ever, either. If she has to tell him what she’s worked out, then so be it. But, yeah, if it’s what he wants then for now she’ll let him pretend that everything’s fine and normal and happy.
Right. Well, if she’s got to go back out there and behave like there’s nothing wrong, and hold his hand and kiss him as if she has no idea that their time together’s limited, then she’s going to need all the help she can get.
She studies her face in the mirror as she crosses to the dressing-table. Make-up could do with a bit of touching up - and her lipstick’s almost completely gone. He’s kissed it off, of course; a bitter half-laugh escapes her at that realisation.
All this time they had together, all these months - almost two years, in fact - when they could have had more together than the very close, intimate friendship they’ve had all this time, and he only does this when he knows he’s about to lose her.
It’s not as if she never knew, or suspected, that he fancied her. There’ve been times when the attraction between them’s been so obvious it was almost electric. Those were the times when he moved away, put distance between them, started doing unnecessary things to the TARDIS electronics or came up with a reason to send her out of the room. What was he afraid of? And why? If he hadn’t been afraid, they could have had this - could have been lovers, even - long ago.
She pats powder onto her face, working on autopilot. Maybe he was holding back because he’s always known he’d lose her - that, if she didn’t leave him or get killed, she’d wither and die, as he told her that one time. But now he knows he’s about to lose her, and he decided to kiss her. So is it that knowing for a fact that it’s going to happen, and soon, has made a difference.
Whatever. He’s never going to tell her, anyway.
Lipstick next. Picking up her favourite colour - it’ll give her confidence, anyway - she twists the base to raise the stick. And then... just stares.
The lipstick’s dry and crumbling. Another piece falls to the table as she looks, disbelieving. But that’s crazy. Only this morning it was perfectly okay. Good as new, in fact. She rechecks the tube - yes, it’s the same one she used this morning. Frowning, confused, she picks up another lipstick. It’s in the same condition.
“What the -”
Shaking her head - this is truly bizarre - she reaches for her foundation. Opens the plastic tube and squeezes. Instead of the creamy liquid, what emerges is a mix of desiccated crumbs and runny fluid.
It’s like none of this stuff has been touched for ages. Years. It’s dried up, past its use-by date. But that makes no sense. None at all. She used it all this morning, didn’t she? Sat at this dressing-table and did her hair and put on her make-up.
So how can it have got dried up in less than six hours?
Unless... how long was he away? He couldn’t... could he have been away a year or more? Without telling her? But what would he have been doing?
And then a chill runs through her as a different possibility occurs to her. One that makes much, much more sense.
The foundation tube slips from her hand and the stool falls over as she jumps to her feet and runs from the room. She doesn’t stop running until she reaches the console room.
The Doctor actually jumps as she flings the door open. There’s no denying it this time. His face says it all: guilt, desperation and a frantic determination.
“You’re not my Doctor, are you?” The words spill out before he even has a chance to school his features. “You’re not the Doctor I left at the market. You’re from a year, two years, maybe more in the future, right? You came back an’ took me from him - from the past you. Cause I died, didn’t I? In your time, I’m dead.”
***
tbc
Authors:
dark_aegisand
wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, others
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no matter how much we beg, they're still not ours...
Summary: He's saved the universe over and over again. He's lost everything, including his own race. Doesn't the universe owe him something in return?
With thanks and hugs again to
nnwest and
aibhinn for BRing. And dark_aegis and I are totally, completely blown away by your feedback to the first chapter of this story. Thank you all so very, very much. This second chapter is dedicated to everyone who read and posted feedback; we hope you enjoy this one too :)
Chapter 1: The Lure of Temptation
Chapter 2: A False Sense of Security
This is brilliant. No, this is perfect. Just what he's needed, actually. She's fine, he's fine, the universe is fine. Everything's perfectly brilliant.
He leans against the building and smiles, feeling as though everything has finally gone right in his life. Rose is just a few steps away, playing with the infamous Barcelonan dogs, and that's perfect. Her laughter carries through the air and if he has a twinge of guilt for stealing her away, he supposes it can be forgiven. Oh. That's right.
He should've done something about that. Well, as soon as he gets back to the TARDIS, he'll send his earlier self a note. Something simple. Like:
Before you panic, I've got Rose. Well, to be truthful, you've got Rose, just not now. The future you has Rose. And, well, it's probably best if you avoid Earth for the next, oh, decade or so.
Yes. That'll work. Besides, it's not as though his younger self won't get to see her again. With that thought to bolster him, he returns to his new-old favourite pastime of watching Rose.
One of the dogs is enthusiastic enough in its licking that she loses her balance, falling backwards to land with a soft 'oomph' in the orange dirt. "Not fair!" she scolds the dog, giggling as it tries to lick her face. "Doctor!" Her laughter grows louder as she keeps trying to shove the dog off her. "Help!"
He's grinning widely now, marvelling at the perfection of this moment. "Oh, I dunno. I think you're doing just fine on your own."
"Doctor!"
"Oh, all right," he says and shoves off from the building to help her. The dogs are enthusiastic. Almost as enthusiastic as he is about licking things, really. He's leaning down, offering Rose a hand, when one of the other dogs apparently decides that he's the perfect target. Before he can brace himself, one of the dogs bounces against him in an attempt to reach his face and he finds himself on the ground beside Rose.
"Not helping," she tells him.
"Oi! I'll have you know that I'm doing a brilliant job here. I'm providing an extra target. Distracting their attention. It's the perfect opportunity for you to escape," he says, or tries to, as one of the dogs begins licking him. He's forced to try and fend the animal off, but it seems to be a losing battle. He's never encountered a creature with so much bounce before.
He never considered laughter to be contagious before, but something with the combination of Rose, the dogs, and this particular situation, has him roaring with laughter. If he thought this was perfect before, he was wrong. This, right now, is perfection.
"Right. What if we try-" It looks like Rose is trying to fend off another of the dogs, but her efforts are rewarded with another lick. "-helping each other up? Maybe, if we're both tryin', we'll make it?"
It's as good an idea as any. He pushes his way through the dogs to get closer to Rose’s side. Offering her his hands, he waits until she grasps them before he attempts to rise. This close to her, he can smell the tantalizing hint of her shampoo and see the tiny imperfections in her skin. It’s distracting, but not half as much as she is.
Rose Tyler. He wants to shout that name from rooftops, dance a jig in the centre of the city and laugh for joy. Everything’s as it should be. Just Rose, himself and the universe at their fingertips.
He's jerked out of his thoughts by a well-placed lick on his nose. Right. They were trying to get up. He braces himself, somehow managing to maintain his balance with the hyperactive dogs, and begins to stand, pulling Rose up with him. They're almost standing upright when a well placed pounce from one of the more exuberant animals sends Rose tumbling into him.
He ends up on his backside against the wall, with Rose half on top of him, pressed tightly against him. She's laughing, but he can't join in. Not right now. If he thought she was distracting before, he was wrong. This - Rose Tyler pinning him against a wall, so close that he can feel her heartbeat - is distracting.
After disengaging one of his hands, he lifts it upwards to cradle her face, letting the sensitive pad of his thumb brush against her cheek. He's missed this - this closeness, this sense of perfection. This is right where he should be, right where she should be.
It wouldn't take much to close the short distance between them, to let his lips press against hers.
Rose's laughter fades away as she apparently realises that he isn't laughing. No, laughter is the last thing on his mind. It doesn't matter that they're surrounded by barking dogs on a street corner on Barcelona. Or maybe it does, he amends.
Street corner. Two in the morning. Getting a taxi home. I've never had a life like that.
He can now. He has Rose and that's all that matters.
So he breaches the distance between them and is treated with Rose's gasp of surprise as he tentatively brushes her lips with his own. He rests there, giving her the chance to make her choice - to kiss him back or to pull away. It's her choice; it's always been her choice.
He pushes aside the fact that he gave her no choice about changing her timeline. She’d have wanted him to do it, wouldn’t she?
***
He’s kissing her. He’s kissing her.
He doesn’t do that - well, not with her. Not with anyone he’s keeping around. Of course, there was Reinette - oh, she knew about that, even if he never told her himself; lipstick all over his face was a dead giveaway. But Reinette was different. She wasn’t someone he was travelling with, someone he has to see every day, someone who might get the wrong ideas about domestic and coupledom and mortgages.
Shock means she doesn’t react for a moment or two, but then, when it becomes apparent that he’s waiting for some response from her - because he’s not pulling away, yet he’s not deepening the kiss either - she’s faced with a split-second decision.
She could pull back now, laugh it off and they’ll stay best friends, as they’ve always been. Or she can kiss him back, and everything will have changed permanently. Because, once she does kiss him, there’s no going back.
Though there’s no going back even more, right? He’s already changed everything irrevocably, hasn’t he?
She kisses back then, but tentatively; she has to be sure that he’s really sure about this. If he pulls away now, he’ll close off from her, change the subject and pretend it never happened. That’s happened too many times when they’ve got close to some form of intimacy, either in words or acts, for her to be convinced he means it now.
His free hand comes around her waist, pulling her hard against him. His palm against her cheek presses harder, his fingers sliding into her hair, and his lips part over hers. A few moments of little nibbling kisses, and suddenly his mouth’s devouring hers, taking and demanding and... conquering, she thinks. But... no, it’s not like that, not a battle with him as aggressor. It feels more like desperation, as if he needs her kisses to stay alive.
Fanciful, she tells herself, even as she meets him kiss for kiss, hands buried in his hair, wriggling into a more comfortable position straddling his lap. Desperation? The Doctor? Well, there was the odd way he looked at her once or twice back in the TARDIS. Maybe that storm coming thing really is bothering him more than he pretends.
But then his tongue strokes hers, and his hand around her waist slides up and cups her breast, and conscious thought flies out the window.
She doesn’t want to - god, does she not want to, because she knows what he’ll do. This’ll be when he realises what he’s just done and what the implications are, and he’ll retreat so fast she’ll be dizzy - but she’s got not choice. She has to push at his chest, breaking the kiss so she can gulp in much-needed oxygen. But when she does, he looks... Unbelievably, he looks hurt.
“Sorry... I thought...” He swallows, avoiding her gaze, pulling his hands away from her body as if it was naked flame, scorching him. “Thought you wanted...”
“Hey!” she exclaims, even as he’s trying to shuffle out from beneath her while avoiding touching her. “I did. I do! But we don’t all have your Time Lord respiratory bypass thingy, you know.”
He’s looking at her again and something unidentifiable flashes in his eyes, before he’s grinning again, impish and superior. “That’s what your nose is for, Rose Tyler!”
“The way you were snogging me, I couldn’t use that either,” she mutters, but she’s grinning uncontrollably, full of unbelievable happiness. It wasn’t just a mistake, an accident because they ended up in each other’s arms. He wanted this. Wants it.
He’s leaning in to kiss her again, the humour in his eyes disappearing and being replaced by an intent stare that makes heat pool in the pit of her stomach. She’s always thought that hearts skipping beats is a cliché that doesn’t exist outside the pages of Mills and Boon bodice-rippers, but as his lips touch hers again she knows it does happen.
Too soon, he breaks that kiss, instead wrapping his arms around her in a fierce, rib-crushing hug and burying his face in her hair. “Rose.” Her name’s said in a suspiciously choking voice, and again she’s got that niggling sense that something’s wrong - yet what could possibly be wrong?
Then a tongue’s licking the side of her face and any thought of something being wrong is wiped from her mind. “Doctor!” she yelps. “You an’ your oral fixation!”
“What?” He pulls back and stares at her... but the tongue’s still rasping over her cheek.
She bursts out laughing as she realises that it’s one of the Barcelonan dogs.
***
They’re still laughing as they shoo away the dogs once more and he helps Rose to her feet. And he still wants to pinch himself to prove that he’s not dreaming. She’s really here. He’s saved her from getting trapped in the other universe. He’s saved himself from having to carry on without her.
She’s here, she’s safe and she’s his. Undeniably, absolutely his. Those kisses proved it beyond any doubt.
As befits their new relationship, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body as they stroll back to the TARDIS together. Her arm comes around his waist, and he reaches for her hand with his free hand, linking their fingers.
A second chance. A new beginning. Nothing’s going to go wrong this time. It won’t, because he won’t let it.
And if there’s a niggling worry at the back of his mind about what’s happening to the timeline he’s undone through stealing her from his past, he ruthlessly shoves it aside. It’s fine. There’s no problem. He’d know if there was; of course he would. He’s the Time Lord, after all.
No, his other self, the him from two years ago, will have got his message, once he sends it. He’ll be keeping a low profile, making sure nothing goes wrong, just keeping things ticking over until their timelines mesh again. He’ll still meet Martha and get transported to the moon, of course, because nothing in his memories is suggesting that’s changed. It’s fine. It’s brilliant.
The universe has stolen so much from him, after all. It’s really about time he got something back. Something that matters. And, if he can’t have Gallifrey, or even another Time Lord, he’ll take Rose. Without her, after all, his ninth life would have been even more bleak and unbearable than it was.
Back at the TARDIS, he releases her to unlock the door, and then, as she’s about to enter ahead of him, he stalls her to steal another kiss. She melts into him, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close to her.
“Mmm,” she says, and grins up at him as he lets her go. “What’s that all about, then?”
“Does it have to be about anything?” he retorts as they walk inside. He strips off his coat and throws it in the vee of one of the struts. “Can I help it if you taste nice?”
Rose laughs; oh, he’s missed that sound, so much. “You taste nice too.” She follows him to the console, leaning against him as he flips switches and presses buttons to get them moving. Sends his message, too, to the earlier him; just as well the TARDIS doesn’t translate Gallifreyan.
“So, we going to see my mum now?” She trails a fingertip along his lapel.
No! That’s the one thing they can’t do. Go back to see Jackie Tyler, just as they did last time? They’d be right back into the same timeline, and it’d happen all over again. He’d walk straight back into Cybermen and Daleks, just like before, and he’d lose her, just like before.
No guarantee, either, that things would work out just as they did last time. No guarantee that Pete Tyler would come through from the other universe and save her from going into the Void, while he hung onto his own magnaclamp and screamed her name like the coward he is.
Although... He tugs at his ear, thinking. With his knowledge of how it went before, it’d be easy enough to ensure a different outcome, right? All he needed to do was lock Rose in the TARDIS before setting the Void manipulation equipment on reverse. If he’d thought to do that last time, he would never have lost her.
But - no. No. Re-entering his own timeline deliberately is such a bad idea. And, besides, so much else happened after that. Not just Martha and the Judoon and meeting the remainder of the Cult of Skaro in New York, but the Master. The Master, already lying in wait for him back in the linear Earth time Rose currently belongs in. And the Master would know if he crossed and tried to redo his own timeline.
Take the risk that all that - the year that never was, the Master’s near-destruction of the Earth that he only managed to reverse by sheer luck, Martha’s perseverance and a level of psychic concentration that almost killed him - would end a different way? No. Impossible.
It’s a chance to make sure he lives.
The tempting thought fills his mind, and his fingers still on the controls. The Master, alive. Himself not the last Time Lord. He wouldn’t have to set alight the funeral pyre for the only other surviving Time Lord.
The possibilities, in vivid images, stream into his head. Koschei, back, alive, seeing the error of his ways at last now that they’re the only two, and learning to live in peace. Travelling together, perhaps, or separately but keeping in contact.
The Master, destroying one planet after another, one species after another that he knows his arch-enemy loves, all in revenge for Gallifrey. Keeping him alive to see it all, tormenting him with the knowledge that he could have stopped it, but he didn’t.
No. No, it’s impossible. Going back in Earth time to where Rose should be - it’s out of the question.
But she wants to see her mum, and he promised. Options, options... If he took her to a few days after the year that never was, to a day or two after Martha said goodbye, that would be all right. No danger of crossing his timeline then, of undoing any of his or the Earth’s history.
Except that, for the second time, he’d be leaving Jackie worried sick about her daughter, not seeing her or hearing from her for over a year. She’d think Rose was dead and he’d just not cared enough to come back and tell her. Or she’d think they were both dead. He’d be putting her through hell a second time.
Not impossible to deal with. After all, once they come back Jackie will know the truth - that Rose is alive, anyway. He’ll just have to come up with a story to explain the missing year. To both of them, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time the TARDIS has got it wrong; Rose knows that, so she’ll buy it being an accident, right? And she knows they can’t just go back.
But not yet. Going back to Earth, seeing Jackie, admitting to the missing year... he’s not ready for that yet.
“Doctor?” Rose is frowning, waiting for an answer. “You all right?”
Forcing a smile, he turns to her. “Course I’m all right. Sorry. Was just thinking. I know I said we’d go and see Jackie now, but this is a time machine, after all. We can go any time. And I’ve just thought - I’ve never taken you to Maximus Regar, have I? Brilliant place. The inhabitants look like centaurs, and you can even see a unicorn or two if you’re lucky. We can be there in ten minutes.” He gives her what he knows is a winning smile. She was never able to resist those.
And she doesn’t. Her smile back is wide, and her eyes are huge with excitement. Good. Relief fills him. Oh, he’s missed this. Rose was always so easy to persuade. Well, after he regenerated, anyway. She’d argue with him before that, but that all stopped after he died. She’d had a fright, was terrified that she’d lost him, and she got too attached to him to disagree with him. Well, except when he was trying to keep her safe and she refused to leave him. Martha, now; she’d be arguing with him here, reminding him that he promised to take her home, that her mum would be worried, and accusing him of having something to hide. Not Rose.
“Ten minutes, yeah?” She steps back from him. “Brilliant. I’ll just go and...” She pats her hair, a bit tumbled and messy from the dogs and his own fingers running through it. “Back soon.”
He watches her leave, then sets the coordinates for Maximus Regar. Everything’s going to be fine. He’s got her back and nothing’s going to spoil it.
***
She’s not imagining it. There’s definitely something wrong.
Just now, when she mentioned going to see her mum again, that was definitely panic on his face. And, when he wasn’t looking at her, she was watching him. Couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’s never seen this Doctor so terrified.
It’s not just his fear, either. It’s everything else. They’ve always been physically affectionate, always in each other’s personal space, but it’s stopped at hand-holding, hugging and generally standing close together, leaning into each other. The kissing’s new. The way he held her, his hands exploring her body, as they kissed is definitely new. And even the way he hugged her when he came to find her at the market was different - more... well, desperate than was justified by their short separation.
Something’s happened. In those few minutes when he left her to explore the market on her own, something must have happened. But what could it have been? It was half an hour. Less, even.
Though what if it wasn’t half an hour for him? The TARDIS was in a different place, and he did tell her he’d gone back to change his shirt. He went somewhere. Without her. And... oh, god, did he end up crossing his future timeline or something? Did he meet the future him - without her?
Oh, god. No wonder he’s upset. Panicky, even. He’s seen his future, and the storm’s hit. She’s died, like the Beast said she would.
Maybe - oh, this explains so much - maybe it happened when they went back to visit her mum. They went home, because she asked, and she died. And now he’s desperately trying to make sure it doesn’t happen.
It won’t work, will it? They can’t avoid history. Whenever he takes her back, she’s going to die, right? And he can’t just not take her back. She can’t let him. It’s not fair to her mum.
It’s only when she crashes into the door-jamb of her bedroom that she realises she’s shaking. The TARDIS lighting pulses, and for a moment she has the crazy idea that maybe it’s in sympathy.
She’s dead. In the very near future, what they always knew would happen some day, but they always avoided discussing, is going to happen. They can’t avoid it. Oh, the Doctor will try, because she knows him and it’s what he’d do for her - for anyone he loves - but he knows, even better than she does, that he can’t escape the inevitable.
Sooner or later, they’ll have to go back. Sooner or later, it’ll become a reality. Just... let it be quick. Painless, or not too painful. Oh, and what she hopes most of all is that the Doctor doesn’t have to see it happen. If he has to watch her die, if he has to stand there, helpless, unable to do anything to save her, it’ll tear him apart.
He’s lost too much already. His whole planet. His people. Everyone he’s ever cared about. Bad enough that he has to lose her too, but to have to watch... no. Please, no.
And her mum. God, no, please don’t let her mum see it either! And - well, she bloody well better get a chance to see her mum again first. To say goodbye, even though she’ll never let her mum know that’s what she’s doing.
Still shaking, she collapses onto the side of her bed. She’s going to die. She’s going to die.
For a moment, just a moment, she buries her face in her hands, then forces herself to take several deep breaths. She can’t let the Doctor see that there’s anything wrong. He doesn’t need to know that she’s worked it out. So she has to go back out there in less than ten minutes looking completely normal, smiling and laughing as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Well, it won’t be the first time she’s had to pretend that everything’s all right when underneath her world’s falling apart. Jimmy Stone taught her that, after all.
They’ll go to Maximus Regar, if that’s what the Doctor wants. And then she’ll make him take her home. They can’t put it off for ever, after all, and she can’t pretend for ever, either. If she has to tell him what she’s worked out, then so be it. But, yeah, if it’s what he wants then for now she’ll let him pretend that everything’s fine and normal and happy.
Right. Well, if she’s got to go back out there and behave like there’s nothing wrong, and hold his hand and kiss him as if she has no idea that their time together’s limited, then she’s going to need all the help she can get.
She studies her face in the mirror as she crosses to the dressing-table. Make-up could do with a bit of touching up - and her lipstick’s almost completely gone. He’s kissed it off, of course; a bitter half-laugh escapes her at that realisation.
All this time they had together, all these months - almost two years, in fact - when they could have had more together than the very close, intimate friendship they’ve had all this time, and he only does this when he knows he’s about to lose her.
It’s not as if she never knew, or suspected, that he fancied her. There’ve been times when the attraction between them’s been so obvious it was almost electric. Those were the times when he moved away, put distance between them, started doing unnecessary things to the TARDIS electronics or came up with a reason to send her out of the room. What was he afraid of? And why? If he hadn’t been afraid, they could have had this - could have been lovers, even - long ago.
She pats powder onto her face, working on autopilot. Maybe he was holding back because he’s always known he’d lose her - that, if she didn’t leave him or get killed, she’d wither and die, as he told her that one time. But now he knows he’s about to lose her, and he decided to kiss her. So is it that knowing for a fact that it’s going to happen, and soon, has made a difference.
Whatever. He’s never going to tell her, anyway.
Lipstick next. Picking up her favourite colour - it’ll give her confidence, anyway - she twists the base to raise the stick. And then... just stares.
The lipstick’s dry and crumbling. Another piece falls to the table as she looks, disbelieving. But that’s crazy. Only this morning it was perfectly okay. Good as new, in fact. She rechecks the tube - yes, it’s the same one she used this morning. Frowning, confused, she picks up another lipstick. It’s in the same condition.
“What the -”
Shaking her head - this is truly bizarre - she reaches for her foundation. Opens the plastic tube and squeezes. Instead of the creamy liquid, what emerges is a mix of desiccated crumbs and runny fluid.
It’s like none of this stuff has been touched for ages. Years. It’s dried up, past its use-by date. But that makes no sense. None at all. She used it all this morning, didn’t she? Sat at this dressing-table and did her hair and put on her make-up.
So how can it have got dried up in less than six hours?
Unless... how long was he away? He couldn’t... could he have been away a year or more? Without telling her? But what would he have been doing?
And then a chill runs through her as a different possibility occurs to her. One that makes much, much more sense.
The foundation tube slips from her hand and the stool falls over as she jumps to her feet and runs from the room. She doesn’t stop running until she reaches the console room.
The Doctor actually jumps as she flings the door open. There’s no denying it this time. His face says it all: guilt, desperation and a frantic determination.
“You’re not my Doctor, are you?” The words spill out before he even has a chance to school his features. “You’re not the Doctor I left at the market. You’re from a year, two years, maybe more in the future, right? You came back an’ took me from him - from the past you. Cause I died, didn’t I? In your time, I’m dead.”
***
tbc