Rose loves the Doctor.
She may never be able to tell him that, but none the less she loves him. She loves everything about him. She loves the way he holds her hand, the way his palm fits perfectly as it presses against hers, and the way the sculpted curves of his fingers feel as though they were made to wrap around her own. She loves the feel of his calloused thumb as he absent-mindedly brushes it over her knuckles, and the way the tips of his ears redden when he notices his actions. She loves linking her arm in his, clad with leather, the extra security of limbs tethering her to him. She loves the musty smell of ancient books, and dark wood she inhales every time she presses her nose to his collar during a particularly satisfying hug. She loves the way his pale blue eyes glow a little brighter when they meet her own; the way- with one single look an unspoken promise of un-conditional love is made. She loves the way he says her name, how each syllable rolls off his tongue as he savors the sound like it's precious. She loves how a grin from him can ebb away any insecurity or doubt she feels- the way his eyes twinkle in the face of danger and chaos, the way he calls her 'fantastic' when they both know the three worded hidden meaning.
She could lie here, she could lie here for an eternity indulging in silence, naming the stars with the things she loves about the Doctor, and while he lies beside her secretly doing the same for her-but she can't. And that's the tragedy of Rose and the Doctor, they live on borrowed time. Never letting down their barriers, never becoming venerable-because they never know if that moment could be their last, and they couldn't bear to miss it. They cling to friendship and nothing more because if they dare to let things go further, they would know what their missing once it's gone. That's what the Doctor tells himself if his imagination ever betrays him and begins to wander.
The times like these, lying side by side on an overgrown bed of grass, Rose's hair strewn around her head in platinum locks, her hazel eyes polished by the stars in the sky, times when the only sound breaking the silence is the soft breathing acting as a constant reassurance of life from the tiny human lying beside him. Times like these are the times where the Doctor lets his imagination wander, let's his mind torture him with impossible possibilities. He imagines glossy full lips pressing against his own. He imagines soft whispers and promises, late night cups of tea when there is no hesitation in wrapping his arms around her waist. Days when he really let's himself go, like now- he'll start to imagine a small girl with round cheeks and wide blue eyes, ringlets of golden hair framing her face, he imagines the pride when he is able to call her his. He imagines laughing around a dinner table, Christmas morning with presents and trees and mistletoe, he imagines the feeling of just one heart beat pounding in his chest. It's bliss.
He loves the rush, the excitement of dangerous unexplored territory. He loves the feeling of running when the rhythm of his heart beats keep in time with that of his feet, but most of all he loves looking down and seeing Rose's wide grin, watching how the tip of her tongue pokes between her teeth when she smiles the smile reserved for only him, and he can't help but wish, wish that things could be different. He's never wanted anything other than the life he is subjected too, nothing less than a double pulse. Not till he met Rose, not till the idea of building a proper life with her seemed more than inviting, not till he wanted to insure the pink and yellow human kept her promise of forever. Yet, as they always seem to be, the stars are crossed. As much as both of them want it, having a life filled with 2.5 kids and a house with a white picket fence is one adventure he can never have.
He's so tired of running after all this time. He just wants to stop.
The Doctor turns to look at Rose, the pain etched into the lines of his face from his recent train of thoughts quickly dissipate as her hazel gaze meets his. "So have you decided yet?" the Doctors tone is gentle, careful not to break the silence too abruptly.
"Yeah," Rose sat up a bit, leaning back on her elbows, letting her gaze drift over at the barren land around her. No trees, no rocks, nothing but a field of thick grass for as far as the eye can see, completely uninhabited by any living creature, silent the perfect destination for stargazing. Rose lifts a hand and with a finger points towards a particular set of the twinkling stars dusted on to the blanket of night sky above her "that one."
"Hmm, interesting choice- that one right?" The Doctor lifts his own hand to point in the general direction of Rose's.
"No, not that one- the other one beside it, a little to the left." She gently redirects the Doctor's point by taking his wrist and guiding his hand in the right direction.
"Ohhh, that one." A manic grin creeps its way on to his face as his eyes twinkle with amusement. "Leave it to you Rose Tyler,"
Rose's brow furrows with confusion "What?" Somehow the Doctor's grin gets even wider "C'mon , tell me what's so funny?"
"It's just, that one was already on the list." He says, careful not tear his eyes away from the sky above.
"There's a list? You mean, like a bucket list of planets you want to go to?" Rose asks, fighting the curiosity to ask to see this 'list'.
"Well not so much planets I want to go to, more like planets I-" He clears his throat, and happens to find a particular spot on the ground quite interesting "want to take you to."
Rose can't help but feel the dormant ache in her heart become a little stronger. This list is a clock ticking away, this is a promise of death, a reminder of how their time together is finite, that the Doctor will never able to share his forever with someone else. Each item on that list crossed out is another second of their time together gone. "Oh." although Rose's face is set in a neutral expression, her voices catches ever so slightly on that one syllable of acceptance. She knows she can't cry now, and even though she's burdened by the blade of emotion lodged in her throat she won't dare to say anything. She can't, because she knows it must be a thousand times worse for him. The ache in his heart is all too familiar to him, and the blade in his throat is sharp and jagged. So she doesn't say anything, she doesn't push the knife in deeper. All she can do is keep breathing. Inhaling the fresh oxygen of this innocent planet, hoping that the cool air will soften the burning in her chest and dry the stray tears that never dare to slide down her cheeks. "So what's it called then?" Her voice is controlled and steady now, giving no hint of the whirlwind of thoughts in her head.
"Lazurite Elysium…" he looks over in time to see rose's lips curve upward in a small smile at the way the words fall from his mouth with such grace and delicacy "It's beautiful, never been touched by civilization, almost all of its water. And the land that is there is covered in sand."
"You're taking me to a beach planet?" Rose's voice is laced with speculation and disbelief.
"Yup."
"You've got to be having me on," she's studying his expression, trying to find a hint of the playful smile he will sometimes keep hidden. "So no running for our lives?"
"Nope."
"No saving the world?"
"Nope"
"Really?"
"Really."
"But, it's just so, so-"she struggles to find the words.
"Domestic?"
"Well, sort of, yeah." She shrugs and spares a glance him, he looks slightly offended.
"What? You think the fact that we're taking a day off is- domestic?" He scowls as though the very word tastes bad in his mouth.
"I just mean, it's- it's not something we usually do, that's all."
The Doctor's eyes harden and his jaw sets, maybe it wasn't him she loves; maybe it's just the adventures and the sightseeing. How could anyone love a man capable of genocide, capable of standing by as his people burn? Maybe he's been reading her wrong this entire time, maybe she can see right through the mask of a hero he wears every day. Maybe she can finally see that he really isn't all that impressive "Fine, we don't have to go if you don't want to." He crosses his arms protectively over his chest and sharply turns his head back to glare at the stars, missing the flash of guilt cross her features.
He was doing this for her, he was trying to take her some place she wanted to go, compromising and she messed it all up again. "No- I do want to go." She sits up, crossing her legs in front of her. She gently places a hand on the Doctors shoulder, feeling the thick leather under her fingertips.
He turns his head slowly and his gaze softens as it meets her own. "You do?"
"Course I do." She smiles as he sits up, inching closer beside her and hesitantly wrapping an arm around her. His large hand resting on her hip, she lowers her head so it rests on his shoulder and wraps her arm around his torso as well. She lets her body relax, leaning into his strong posture, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest. She begins to feel the heaviness of exhaustion weighing down on her eye lids. "But maybe tomorrow, yeah?" She says sleepily, he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating in his chest.
"Yeah, tomorrow," he lets himself press his nose into her hair, inhaling the smell of floral, and spice, the sent that is just so very Rose. "We'll always have tomorrow."
Hi! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!
Credit for the cover photo is given to timelord1 on Live Journal.
Disclaimer: I am quite sad to say that i most certainly do not own Doctor Who.