The Doctor woke with his face pressed into rough fabric that smelled of old Earl Grey tea and lemon biscuits. It was a familiar smell, warm and comforting, and he nuzzled into it as he felt cool winter air on his face. He was grateful for the thick, if terribly itchy, red-and-brown afghan that had been placed on him in the night. He yawned and rolled over…into empty space.
He gave a cry as his shoulder impacted heavily with a carpeted floor.
"Ah. Not quite so empty then," he thought sulkily as he turned onto his back and massaged his right shoulder. His pounding head vaguely registered the sound of quick footsteps but he couldn't quite bring himself to open his eyes to see who or what was approaching. He hoped it wasn't an alien. He'd dealt with an invasion yesterday and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with another one today. He'd usually be fine with it, might even welcome the excitement of a few hostile aliens, assuming no one got hurt, but right now he felt like a fleet of Cybermen had just stampeded over his body. Well, as well as Cybermen could stampede.
"More of a clanky walk really. Maybe that's what's happened. I've been slow clanky stampeded to death. Ooh that'd be a change. But no, not dead. Not quite yet anyway. Possibly dying. Ugh, my head."
"Doctor?"
"Rose!"
He bolted upright, his head spinning as he met the eyes of the concerned blonde. He stumbled to his feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of his new pinstripe suit. He opened his mouth to speak, taking a step towards her, but his feet tangled in the afghan and he fell once more with a cry. Arms flailing and grasping at the air, he toppled into Rose, sending them both sprawling to the ground, the Doctor landing atop his Companion. Feet still wrapped in the blanket and noses centimeters apart, the Doctor, wide-eyed, cleared his throat awkwardly, noticing Rose's ears had gone bright red with blush.
"Well you could at least go to your room."
The pair jerked their heads in the direction of the kitchen, seeing Jackie Tyler in an old purple robe, innocently sipping tea from a chipped yellow mug.
"Mum! No, no this isn't—I mean we're not—he fell. Just fell." Rose's whole face was pink now.
"It's really none of my business, sweetheart. I just wanted to watch some telly in here is all. Mind you he is an alien but—"
"Mum!"
Jackie raised her hands in defense, shuffling back into the kitchen.
Rose turned back to the Doctor who quickly scrambled off her; converse shoes scuffing in the carpet as he sat heavily back against the side of the sofa.
He looked up at her with big-brown puppy eyes as she sat up.
"Are you alright?"
It was so quiet she almost didn't hear the words.
"Yeah, I'm fine. But wha 'bout you? Last night you seemed fine, but after dinner you just sorta collapsed…again. You gotta stop doin' that. Very inconvenient mid-conversation."
Her smile was forced. He could still see the fear and despair that lingered in her eyes.
"Rose…?"
She let out a broken little chuckle.
"Nearly scared the life outta me. Never been so scared. Not with the Sycorax. Not with the Daleks. Not when I absorbed the blasted time vortex. No, see, I could do somephin' then. I could help. But these last coupla days, I couldn't do a damn thing. I thought you were going to die, and that I would just be the person there to watch. An ordinary girl who couldn't do a thing to save the—the…you. Clever old you."
Tears were streaming freely down her face. The Doctor reached out to comfort her, but stopped short, hand hovering over her shoulder.
"Why?"
The Doctor glanced at her, startled by the question. She looked up at him, red-rimmed eyes locking onto his.
"Why'd you do it? Sacrifice yourself? I had the vortex. I know now that I did. I coulda returned it. Woulda been fine. You wouldn't 'ave had to…"
The Doctor placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Rose, it was burning you up. No mortal is meant to contain that power. It would've killed you."
She let out a shaky breath, placing her head in her hands.
"So that means you just had to go and die instead then?"
"Yes."
She jerked her head up and looked at him in horror.
"What?"
"Yes. And I'd do it again."
"W-why?"
"Because you're special."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"You can't just die for me! You can't do that."
"Watch me."
"I 'ave…I don't want to again."
"Rose."
"Doctor."
He sighed.
"I'll do my best."
"So will I."
Rose let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. It wasn't a promise exactly, but it was a start. The Doctor would still be reckless. He'd still chase danger through the stars. But maybe, for her sake, he'd be a little more careful. He might even wear a parachute the next time he drops his screwdriver off a lava cliff and dives after it.
Rose smiled at the memory of her Doctor, the grumpy old sod. She missed him terribly, and felt a pang in her chest at the thought of his little grin, his Northern accent, his endless sarcasm. Looking up though, seeing the new Doctor fiddle with a pair of glasses he didn't need, and looking like a little lost puppy, she grinned despite herself. She could learn to love him too.
Chuckling softly, she glanced down at her knees. Her very bare knees.
"Oh my god."
Rose grabbed the neglected afghan and pulled it to her chest, cheeks going scarlet. The Doctor stared at her, eyes wide, startled by her sudden movement after being still so long.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm in my knickers! My bloody Paddington bear pajamas!"
The Doctor grinned lopsidedly. "Is that all? Nothing wrong with that. I once saved the world in another man's jim-jams."
Rose relaxed slightly, still slightly flushed. "I remember. They were Mum's beau's. Howard's. You were traipsin' all over London in those yesterday."
"Oy, I saved the world! I think I'm entitled to my jim-jams. I was thinking of something entirely different, actually." The Doctor's gaze turned wistful, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "Oh, I must've been in my early three-hundreds then. The aquatic people of Regulus IV were going extinct. Rampant cannibalism. Very nasty business. Saved the species by introducing them to frozen fish fingers, wearing the long-johns of some bloke called Matt and my granddaughter's bathrobe. It had tulips on it."
Rose didn't think the Doctor even saw her anymore, so lost was he in his own past.
"You 'ave been around, 'aven't you?"
His eyes focused on her again, and Rose saw something in his young face. Something very old, and very sad. At length he spoke. It was so soft, Rose feared that any sharp noise would shatter the man.
"I have."
Rose felt her features sober. The whispered question that had been playing at her mind since the Dalek ship amplified into a roar, pulling at her mind, begging to be asked.
"How many times have you done this? Changed your face?"
The Doctor sighed.
"A few times."
Rose knit her eyebrows, frowning at the answer.
" An' you can just do this? Forev'a?"
The Doctor wrinkled his nose, as though he had just entered a room previously occupied by particularly flatulent Raxacoricofallapatorians.
"No, Rose. Nothing is meant to be immortal. It defies all laws of time. It's like an itch you can't reach; persistent, and there, and wrong." The Doctor shuddered. "No, every time lord is born with a set of regenerations. And when they're gone, they're gone. We can see time. Manipulate it even. But no being is meant to rule time completely."
Rose listened, completely enraptured, as a thought struck her, chilling her to the bone.
"And ya—you didn't waste your last one for me? Did you?"
The Doctor smirked sideways at her.
"'Course not. There's still life in these old hearts yet, Rose Tyler. Don't you worry."
Rose beamed, relieved, and stood, offering to make the Doctor a cuppa. He grinned up at her hopefully and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. He watched her as she happily moved about the dingy kitchen, mumbling to herself, Jackie watching her slyly from over her own mug. He smiled, speaking softly out of earshot.
"Wouldn't be a waste at all. I'd give all my lives for you."
—T—A—R—D—I—S—
"I just don't see why it has to be now, Rose."
Rose huffed out a breath, trying to keep her patience as she searched in vain for her keys with one hand, her shopping in the other. Behind her, Mickey was laden with everything else she might need when she left in a few hours time.
"Space'll still be there in a few weeks. Why not stay awhile? Besides Rose, it's Christmas!"
"Christmas was yesterday, Mick. Today's Boxing Day. I've nev'a really been one for boxing anyway."
"Bet ya'd like it if it was aliens boxin'." Without turning, Rose could practically see Mickey pouting behind her. She chuckled silently.
At last she heard the jangle of keys and pulled them out in triumph. With only slight difficulty, she was able to unlock the door to the flat and set the brown paper bag upon the kitchen table, already burdened with odds and ends. She glanced around to see Jackie reclined in a bean bag chair watching an old episode of Broadchurch.
"Where's the Doctor?"
Jackie waved vaguely in the direction of her bedroom. The same room the Doctor had been lying in sick not two days ago. A sudden irrational fear that he had relapsed gripped Rose, and she pushed past Mickey, bolting for the room. Reaching the open doorframe, she stopped short and cocked her head. The Doctor was…fluffing pillows?
The Doctor looked up at her footsteps. "Oh hello, Rose! Mickey." Mickey had evidently come up behind her. She didn't turn around to check.
"Doctor, wha' are you doin'."
The Doctor glanced down at his feet, slightly abashed.
"Well, you see, I was on my sixth cup of tea, and Jackie was glaring at me in a, 'I will gouge your eyes out with your sonic screwdriver if you don't keep my daughter safe, you alien lump' kind of way. Either that, or she was going to try to put her lips on my face again. I decided it best to leave and tidy up a bit."
Rose felt her cheeks begin to ache as a smile spread across them and she folded her arms. "You're runnin' away from my mum? You? You don' run from anyphin'!"
The Doctor's face took on mock seriousness. "Jackie Tyler is a force to be reckoned with. I'd take Daleks over her any day."
Mickey snorted behind them. "Not gettin' along with the in-laws?"
Rose pushed his face out the door, closing it behind him, her face going pink at his comment. The Doctor didn't seem to notice. Instead he was bent over something lying atop the covers.
"What's this doing here?" He spoke quietly, as though to himself, before turning to face her with a questioning look. In his hand was a floppy, baby blue book, worn with age. He looked down at the cover and read aloud, "Le Petit Prince." He glanced up again to see that Rose's blush had deepened, and it was now she who was staring intently at her feet. She mumbled something unintelligible. His brows drew together.
"Sorry?"
She took a deep breath and met his eyes briefly before looking down again, grinning shyly.
"When I was a little girl, whenev'a I was sick, Mum would read to me. It always made me feel better faster. I guess I just thought…" She trailed off, glancing up. The Doctor was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes shining with small, unshed tears.
"You read to me?"
Rose nodded sweetly, her face positively crimson. She seemed to take a sudden interest in the frayed sleeve of her old jumper. The Doctor looked at her with a lopsided, toothy smile.
"Didn't know you spoke French."
"Je viens d'apprendre un peu à l'école. Je ne suis pas très bon."
In all his years, the Doctor had heard many things. The song of the Ood. The symphonies of Mozart the twenty-sixth of New Austria. The never ending hum of time itself dancing around him in infinite tones of complexity. But in that moment, he had never heard anything more beautiful than his Rose's poorly accented French.
"An' well, it was either the French children's book or one of Mum's old r-romance novels, an' I was not readin' those out loud." Rose had started rambling and tucking her hair behind her ear, the way she did on the rare occasions she was nervous, her accent getting heavier. "I jus' felt I 'ad to 'elp some'ow, an' it jus' sort of—"
She broke off with a muffled squeak as the alien pulled her into a warm hug, speaking into her hair.
"Thank you."
She sighed contentedly, resting her head against his thin chest, relishing in the lively thumping of two heartbeats. The Doctor's nose was in her hair, his cheek resting against her temple. When he spoke, light wisps of honeyed hair tickled her ear.
"I guess I'm a hugger now."
She laughed softly, leaning more into him. Neither knew how long they stayed that way, but when she pulled away, the golden rays of the afternoon sun were highlighting the Doctor's tousled hair through the window.
"We should go." She whispered as if the silence was sacred, not to be disturbed. Her eyes met his, warm chocolate gazing into a deep hazel sea. He nodded, taking half a step back, his eyes not leaving hers. She felt her breath catch in her chest for a moment, before he cleared his throat and turned his head away.
"Right, then, we should head down to the TARDIS! We were headed to Barcelona I think. It's in it's fifth season now, so it will be very warm, except on Wednesdays." He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What do you say, Rose Tyler? Let's go chase the stars."
He grabbed her hands and began spinning her around the small room. She laughed.
"Of course. Always. Let's go…Allons-y."
He gave her a quizzical look, cocking his head slightly. She wrinkled her brow in confusion.
"Wha'?"
"What..oh nothing, I just…I like that. Allons-y."
She grinned at him as he bowed slightly, extending his hand in a most gentlemanly fashion. She eagerly grabbed his hand as they raced out the door, into the stars.
—T—A—R—D—I—S—
The Doctor bounced in place upon the soft leather chair that made odd little pops as he moved. The fabric covering the headrest was a cheap material, the bumpy surface created by the bold "CRUSADER TOURS" stitching digging uncomfortably into his scalp. The four hour tour hadn't even begun yet. He looked across the aisle to see a middle-aged blond woman looking at him in sympathy. It was going to be a long trip to the Sapphire Falls. He wished Donna had come.
A tired looking hostess approached him handing him a set of mass produced headphones and a package of nuts.
"I must warn you some products may contain nuts." Her voice contained the practiced monotony of someone who had said this many times.
He glanced up at her, felling particularly peevish.
"That'd be the peanuts."
She sighed in the manner of the long-suffering who were simply not paid enough for this.
"Enjoy your trip."
"Oh I can't wait. Allons-y!"
"I'm sorry?" The hostess was beginning to look truly frustrated. The Doctor grinned back.
"It's French. For 'let's go'."
The woman was already turning away as she muttered, "Fascinating."
The smile slid from his face as the old alien thought of his favorite words and the first time they had meant anything to him, not uttered on a tourist bus on a dark planet called Midnight, but laughed into being in a room bathed in golden light. He hummed at the bittersweet memory, remembering spinning a girl around a room. A girl who snorted when she laughed too hard. A girl who smelled of old Earl Grey and lemon biscuits. A girl he had lost.
He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing a beach, gulls swirling overhead, a girl crying out that she loved him. He could still feel his hearts thudding as every word he wanted to say caught in his throat. And he never told her…
He tilted his head back against the seat, too lost in memory to note it. Old verses came unbidden to his mind, beautiful and sad, they told of what he wished had never gone. He murmured them softly as the bus's engine roared to life.
"Les roses envolées
Dans le vent, ŕ la mer s'en sont toutes allées,
Elles ont suivi l'eau pour ne plus revenir;
La vague en a paru rouge…"
He broke off. He could almost feel her hand in his. See her smile. Smell her hair.
"Respires-en sur moi l'odorant souvenir."
Fin
"The roses blew away
All blew off to the sea, borne by the wind,
Carried to the water, never to return;
The waves looked red…"
"Breathe in the fragrant memory."
-from "Les Roses de Saadi"