-Konstantine-
Chapter One
"But I'm slipping in between you and your big dreams.
It's always you in my big dreams."
The Doctor sits on a smooth boulder overlooking the glassy waters of Darlig Ulv Stranden. There is a slight, cool summer breeze softly ruffling the wild plants that grow along the base of the rocks. The sky is dim- any traces of the ephemeral, brilliant pink and golden sunset nearly undetectable among the gathering clouds. The Doctor leans back on his hands, his feet dangling off the edge of the flat stone. He inhales. The sense of peace is undeniable here, despite the heartache and hopelessness he'd previously experienced on this very beach. He'd been in this place with the Tylers long enough to regroup and prepare for the lengthy trip home. They were set to leave in two days' time. The Doctor feels a pang of emptiness. The Tylers have a home in this world; he does not.
His eyes are glued to the silver horizon. In this moment, there is no confrontation. There is no awkwardness. He isn't forced to notice the way Rose glances away when he tries to look her way. His heart- his single, much more tender heart- clenches at the thought of her nearly outright aversion towards him since they'd settled down. A flock of seabirds lazily hovers in the distance. The Doctor envies their freedom; he envies the way they can see this world from the hights of the clouds, wishing so much that he could walk through the doors of his beloved ship once more. Stop it, he scolds himself. Just stop it.
Footsteps in the distance pull him back to the present. He takes a deep breath. He knows those footfalls almost as much as he knows his own. So much for some peace, he thinks to himself- though he regrets the thought.
"Mum and Pete almost have the rooms set up," Rose murmurs after a moment's hesitation. The Doctor nods, keeping his eyes on the deep indigo of the ocean.
"I'll be up in a moment," the Doctor says, hoping his voice is steady and curt. Relief seeps through him when he hears her footsteps retreat. He sighs. Just a week ago he would never have imagined the tense, unnatural feeling that surrounds him any time Rose is near. The guilt is nearly unbearable. He aches for the dynamic he and Rose once shared. Just needs time, he decided defeatedly. He almost laughs at the irony. The man who once held time by the reigns now stands at its mercy.
Slowly, he manages to tear his attention from the horizon and gets up. Turning in the direction of the inn, he is relieved to see that Rose is nearly inside. He slowly walks towards the inn- a small, wooded building with two stories and more inhabitants than he'd expect in such a desolate place. Upon entry, he sees the Tylers standing at the base of the stairs, discussing room arrangements. One glance at Rose tells him that something isn't right. Jackie is looking at her daughter with a mix of exasperation and guilt.
"It's only a couple nights, sweetheart. You'll live," she assures in a hushed tone. She offers a small smile at Rose, and hands her a single key. Pete turns towards the Doctor and gives what seems to be a genuine, yet exhausted, smile.
"They could only manage two rooms. They're double, of course," he offers. The Doctor allows himself another glance at Rose. She's looking down at the single key.
"That's just fine, Pete-y Boy," the Doctor says with an artificial grin and much too cheery tone. He nearly winces when Jackie snickers at the childish name. Rose gives a ghost of a smile. The Doctor notices, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.
"I don't know about you lot, but I'm knackered," Jackie says decidedly, rubbing her shadow-stained eyes. She takes a small key identical to the one Rose is now nibbling on from Pete and heads up the flight of stairs. "See you in the morning."
Pete gives Rose a tentative hug and follows his partner upstairs. The Doctor feels the air thicken.
"I guess that leaves the last room for us," he says, hoping his tone registers even. Rose gives a neutral nod and follows her parents. The Doctor follows as well, biting the inside of his cheek and cursing himself for this entire situation.
The room is much bigger than the Doctor had given the inn credit for. There's two double-sized beds showing through the darkness, separated by a humble nightstand and lamp, a mahogany bookcase, a small box telly, and a large window. The window is framed by long, forest-green curtains that, surprisingly, complemented the neutral sandy-brown of the wall. Outside of it stretches the length of the beach and the silver moonlight, and the Doctor feels a little less shaky.
" 'S not too bad," Rose says, contemplating the living space. The Doctor is almost surprised at Rose's comment. She had rarely spoken out of turn the entire time they had been waiting for a place to stay. It gives him the slightest spark of hope.
"Better than I expected, given the outside. I'd figured your drowning-in-money father would find us a five-star," the Doctor offers, hoping to lighten the cloud of tension that had threatened to suffocate him ever since he walked in the main lobby. Then it appears again- that ghost of a smile dances on Rose's lips. Then it's gone and with it, the moment. Rose unfurls the thick duvet over her chosen bed and slips in. She's exhausted. She's been through a hell of a day, the Doctor tries to convince himself, shouldering off his thick blue suit jacket. She's just tired.
He pulls himself into his own bed and turns toward the window. Much to his relief, Rose had chosen the bed near the wall. Knowing he wouldn't sleep, the Doctor decided he'd much rather watch the soft lapping of the waves than a stagnant, paint-chipped wall. He almost loses himself in the rhythmic motion of the sea when a small voice whispers in the silence.
"Goodnight, Doctor." The Doctor tears himself from the outside world and turns toward Rose's bed, a chill of shock going through his body at her words. She's turned towards the wall, the duvet pulled over her shoulder. If he hadn't heard her, he would have assumed she was asleep. He questions whether or not he really heard it- her voice had been so soft that maybe he'd imagined it. Even so, he swallowed around the painful lump in his throat and hoped that she had actually spoken, actually used his title.
He stares through glassy eyes at the back of her head, their beds close enough to reveal the ruffled state of her golden hair.
"Goodnight Rose," he murmurs. His gaze lingers on her for a few more moments before he turns back to the silver slate of the ocean. I love you.