Let Her
It took three months to finally happen, and when it did, it was epic. By the end of it, Rose and the Doctor were breathing heavily, their faces were flushed, and both were shocked by the intensity of it all. It wasn't the first time, but it had never been like this before.
It was the biggest fight either of them had ever had.
As these things often do, it had started over something incredibly trivial. After dropping Tony off at a friend's house, they were back at the Tyler mansion eating breakfast with Pete and Jackie. Rose made some comment about a vitamin in orange juice that was supposed to be good for your eyes and joked that no one else can have any OJ this morning because her distance vision had been getting the slightest bit fuzzy lately, so she's drinking the whole bloody carton. The Doctor said that wouldn't be a good idea for many reasons, the least of which is that the vitamin she's thinking of is actually in tomato juice, not orange.
It was an innocent comment spoken in the Doctor's typical nonchalant, cheerful brainiac voice. Normally, Rose didn't care if he corrected her in this way, because he did it to everyone and besides, it was so very Doctor that she couldn't help but find it a bit adorable. Today, though, something in Rose snapped. "Well," she replied icily, "who am I to question you? You know everything about what's best for me, don't you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" the Doctor asked, confused.
"You bloody well know!" she yelled as she marched out of the kitchen. A moment later, the Doctor cringed as he heard her bedroom door slam. He tried to go back to eating, to give Rose her space, but he found himself getting up and following her. The Tylers heard the bedroom door slam again, followed by muffled yelling.
Jackie and Pete exchanged looks. "It's about bloody time," Jackie said. "I'm tired of watching them dance around that big, stupid, Norwegian elephant in the room."
They covered so much, from "stupid ape" to Krop-Tor to Bad Wolf Bay (both times); from Mickey to Adam to Reinette and everything in between. She told him that just because he was left here, too, didn't mean he wasn't still the man who'd chosen to leave her here, and that she knows if he were in the other Doctor's position he wouldn't have changed a thing. That when he just decides what's best sometimes he's wrong, and sometimes it hurts her. He told her that she's not giving him enough credit – either him – and that everything he's ever done since they've met has been motivated by how much he cares about her and how precious she is to him. Why couldn't she see that?
The fight took the entire day. When it was over, both wiped the tear tracks from their faces as they sighed with exhaustion and finally emerged from Rose's room. They were holding hands like they'd never let go. (And they'd just promised each other they never would.)
By the time they rejoined the family, the Tylers were in their posh but cozy media room, watching a movie. Rose and the Doctor sat on one of the couches without a word to her parents. The air was tense as no one particularly wanted to speak first about what had happened. However, Jackie and Pete figured things went well when they saw their daughter snuggle into the Doctor's side, prompting him to tenderly kiss the top of her head.
"I know I just told you about a thousand times," Rose whispered to him, "but I love you."
The Doctor smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "You, too."
Rose noticed that he didn't mirror her phrase exactly, leaving out a couple of key words. She searched her mind over the whole of their fight to try to figure out if he'd said them at all today…or since the beach. He'd more or less talked about love, but did he actually say those "three little words?" It was only a moment before she sighed, deciding to cut him some slack. If she knew the Doctor at all, she knew that phrase was the hardest in the entire universe for him to say out loud because saying it out loud meant acknowledging not only that he loved someone, but that he could now lose someone he loved. Just like before. Rose turned and gave him a peck on the cheek, trying not to let him see how glassy her eyes were after that train of thought.
Thankfully, he didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't say. What he did say was, "you're so beautiful." Rose rolled her eyes but hugged him harder.
Not having heard their lovey-dovey whispers, Pete couldn't take the silence anymore. "So," he said cautiously, "You two all right, then?"
"Yeah, Dad," Rose answered. "We're brilliant." A huge grin spread across her face.
"Right. As it should be," Pete said with a nod before returning his attention to the screen.
An hour later, Rose was nestled in the Doctor's arms, sound asleep as he idly stroked her hair. The Doctor was tired, too, but the Time Lord half of him still didn't give into sleep very easily. Pete got up from the couch.
"I'm turning in. You coming, Jacks?"
"I'll be up in a mo," Jackie said. Pete waved goodnight to the Doctor and headed upstairs. A few silent minutes passed. He'd been all smiles earlier, but since Rose fell asleep, the Doctor had a pensive, troubled look on his face. Jackie saw that he was plagued by some darkness, and he was trying to hide it from her daughter. She turned to him.
"She hasn't slept like that in ages. I can't tell you the last time she wasn't stirrin' and moanin' and wakin' up with a start all the time."
"Well, it has been a rather eventful day," the Doctor noted.
"And thank goodness for that," Jackie said, "I was about ready to slap the stubborn pair of you, always avoidin' what needed sayin'."
The Doctor gave her a small smile. "I can assure you, that won't be a problem anymore."
Jackie leveled her gaze at him. "I don't believe you."
The Doctor frowned. "Jackie," he said firmly, "we worked it out. And in case you haven't noticed, it's not Tony who's all curled up on me right now, it's Rose. We're fine."
"It's not her I'm worried about." His mouth opened to say something, but Jackie wasn't about to give him the chance. "Just let me say this."
The Doctor nodded and Jackie continued, her voice softer than he expected. "Doctor, you need to stop punishin' yourself for lord knows what that happened 10,000 years ago or some such nonsense. I saw that look on your face, all dark and broody when you think no one's lookin'."
The Doctor sighed. How could he explain this? "I've been through things you couldn't possibly understand, Jackie. I'm working on it, but I can't just let them go overnight. There are still some things… I have to protect her from some parts of me. That's just how it is."
"See, that's where you're wrong."
"Jackie -"
"Doctor, I need you to swear something to me." Her voice was serious and swollen with emotion.
"Jackie, I know that fight today was because I've hurt Rose, and I swear to you, I'll never hurt her again."
"That's good, but that's not what I'm gettin' at, you git." She moved over to his couch and put a hand on his arm. It's an affectionate, motherly gesture and until that moment, the Doctor didn't realize how much he'd missed having those in his life. How much he missed having a family.
"Let go and let her love you, Doctor. Even that broody, scowly, tortured part you think you have to hide from her. Because you know what? She already does. She loves all of you. Let her."
The Doctor swallowed thickly. "I-"
"Promise me you'll let her love you." Jackie looked him right in the eye as she squeezed his arm.
He tried and failed to stop the tear that slid down his cheek. "I promise."
Careful not to disturb Rose, Jackie hugged him then got up to leave. "You really can be a daft alien sometimes, Doctor. But you're our daft alien. And if you ever forget that, I won't think twice about smackin' you right across that pretty face of yours." She gave Rose's sleeping form a gentle kiss and headed upstairs.
The Doctor just sat there for a moment in the dark room, the flickering glow of the television providing the only light. Jackie's words had hit him right in the core of his being and he was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by love for Rose, overwhelmed by the hope of belonging to a family again (and maybe even starting one), overwhelmed by the fear of losing it all. He felt truly vulnerable for the first time in nearly a millennium and that was the most terrifying part of the whole thing.
But then he realized just how tired he was. Tired of fighting, of war, of death, of pain. He wanted to give in, so badly, and keep his promise to Jackie by letting Rose know all of him. He wanted to take care of her and for her to take care of him, even though he was afraid that letting her do so would break both of them.
Rose shuffled a bit in his arms and his fingers brushed her temple. He sucked in a breath, surprised to feel the beginnings of a telepathic connection when he didn't intentionally initiate one. Finally, he smiled. It appeared that whether or not he was ready, she'd been working her way into his mind anyway, and probably didn't even realize it. The remnants of energy she absorbed from the heart of the TARDIS would never leave her; they'd known that for years now, but they hadn't really dwelled on what it meant. He should have known it would serve to bring them closer together, and he looked forward to exploring the connection further, but there was something he had to do first.
The Doctor kissed Rose's forehead and shook her shoulder gently. "Rose," he murmured, "Rose, open your eyes."
Rose made a little sound and blinked up at him, finding a tenderness in his eyes that, despite their recent closeness, she'd never really seen before. He looked so vulnerable. It surprised her so much that she perked up, letting the haze of sleep fall off her instantly. "Doctor? What is it?"
"I'm sorry to wake you," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "But I couldn't wait another second to tell you that I love you."
Her smile lit up the dark room as she wiped the tear from his cheek.
