Hello everyone, I'm sorry it has been so long between postings - over a year! But now that my novel is complete, I'll be devoting all of my writing to this Fan Fiction. I've missed The Doctor and Rose, and I've missed you all! Please Please review, it's been a while since I've done Doctor Who fic, and need to know that I'm doing a decent job of it. I've got quite a story in store, but need your reviews to help me get along!
Chapter One: Reunion
"My spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way.
My emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin..."
-"My Spectre Around Me,"by William Blake
He threaded his fingers through her smaller ones, his eyebrows tilted upward at the touch of their familiar clasp. Time stopped for Rose, yet her heart raced as the Doctor opened his dry, cracked lips:
"Rose?" he whispered.
12:01am
2012, February 24th
Cardiff, England
ROSE TIGHTENED her grip on the Doctor's hand, lifting her gaze to address his demanding stare. Deep pools of brown spattered with flecks of green searched her eyes, anxiously awaiting her answer. She held the contact, blinking rapidly against remnants of unshed tears and running her thumb across his.
"'S me," she quietly reassured him, her eyes shining. A corner of his mouth quirked upward, slowly mirrored by the other side and growing until the dark hollows beneath his eyes were hidden. The Doctor's slow smile radiated pure wonder, and nearly took her breath away. She could feel her heart racing at their touch, her pulse quickening and rapidly flooding warmth through her entire body.
"Rose." He breathed her name like a touchstone - a means of coaxing himself away from the oblivion that nearly consumed him moments ago.
She nodded her head in reply, reaching out to frame the side of his face with her free hand. A smile tugged on her lips, whose trembling kept it from full fruition. The Doctor's eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, clearly trying to relax before taking in his new surroundings.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice faint with the remnants of shock. "How did I get here?" He frowned slightly. "I was in the TARDIS. There was singing... The Ood were were singing - for me -"
The Doctor turned to look Rose dead in the eye: "But I was regenerating!" he breathed. "I remember it now, feeling myself change... But- how am I here?" He paused. "What brought me here?"
"Doctor," Jack interjected. "There's a lot to explain, and it'd be best for all of us if we could do it sitting down." He turned to Rose: "Any chance we could get a room somewhere close by?"
She nodded and turned back to face the cannon bay, reluctant to lose hold of the Doctor's hand. "Mum!" she shouted.
There was a brief sound of approaching footsteps, and Jackie appeared. "What is it, sweetheart? Just got off the phone with your father - he's on his way."
"Thanks, Mum," Rose responded. "D'you mind takin' the car with Dad? I'm goin' to walk Jack and the Doctor to my place. We got a lot to talk about." And I couldn't bear taking him to Mum and Dad's, she admitted inwardly. It's too soon, and too much like a betrayal.
Jackie nodded in understanding, tugging her jacket shut against the chill night air. "Keep an eye on 'em, Captain," she admonished. "Lord knows what they'll get up to! Could end up on Mars by the mornin', and I won't have him spiritin' my daughter away so soon."
"Oi!" the Doctor interjected, while Jack barked a short laugh and saluted Jackie. "I haven't got a TARDIS for the spiriting to begin with," he shot back, then swallowed hard at his own words. "At any rate, Mars isn't exactly on my list of places to visit," he finished quietly, suddenly fascinated with a pebble between his feet.
Jackie sniffed and turned back to the cannon bay, bidding them a final "'night!" over her shoulder.
Rose mouthed a "thank you" to her mother, then turned back to the Doctor: "How are you feelin'? Think we'll manage a trip to my flat? It's just 'round the block."
"He'll manage," Jack broke in, grinning widely at the Doctor. "We're not turning down a trip to your place for hell or high water, are we, Doc?"
"Well," the Doctor responded with a shrug of his shoulder, "I'm hardly in a condition to argue. Lead on, Rose."
With Jack and Rose supporting him on either side, the Doctor rolled his eyes skyward. "Lead on, Rose," he repeated softly. "Didn't think I'd be saying that anytime soon. Well, I say anytime soon, I mean anytime ever. How did I end up here, Rose?"
Jack cleared his throat. "Now now," he reproached. "Let's give credit where credit's due. Being the one who got you here and all-"
"Jack," Rose interrupted with a slight shake of her head. "It can wait, yeah? Let's get the Doctor settled, and then it'll be story time." She lifted the Doctor's right arm and pulled it around her shoulder. He grunted, but didn't protest - reason alone to get him some proper rest. The Doctor was ever the one to insist upon walking on his own two feet.
As they headed away from the parking lot, Rose noted that the snow - the very same flakes that battered her little search party at Avebury - had now dwindled to tiny wisps. She closed her eyes briefly and thought back to events from earlier in the day:
Gwyneth - so very like her long-lost friend from Dickens' Cardiff - wheeling her chair frantically backward until it crashed into a wall:
'I see the storm in the heart of the sun,'she had whispered.
"a wolf howling in the eye of a tempest; a sea of gold ...
"...Time as a puzzle, its pieces broken and scattered..."
" a severed hand - a man inside a cage, ancient and forever... "
Rose clenched her hand against the flood of memory, before she had the time to realize that the Doctor's fingers will still twined in hers.
"Everything alright, Rose?" he asked, concern visible beyond his exhausted expression.
She took a quick breath. "Fine," she told him with a false smile. Rose tilted her chin upward and used the fall of snow as an excuse to blink away her recent past. Her gaze lifted to the windows of her own flat, and realized with a start that they had reached their destination.
Rounding a final corner, Rose pointed to the top of a Tudor-style building. Jack and the Doctor blinked away the wispy flakes of snow, following the direction of her finger to a peaked roof.
"'S my flat," she announced, fishing into her pocket until she pulled out a bulky set of keys.
"My Pops always told me that you shouldn't carry more than three keys," Jack advised. Rose picked out a shiny piece of metal and twisted it in the lock, opening the metal door for her friends.
"Said each key was a responsibility," Jack continued as they made their way up a set of rickety wooden stairs. Rose walked ahead, and Jack supported the Doctor behind her. The corridor was too narrow for three abreast.
"'No one should have more than three at once,' he'd tell me," Jack went on, their footsteps creaking as they filed up a second flight. "'Else they'll put a hole in your pocket and your sanity.' I should have listened to him," he sighed.
They had arrived at a narrow wooden door, the number "21" nailed in with brass numerals. "Charming bedtime story, Jack," said the Doctor. "Shame you can't quit TORCHWOOD and join a children's program."
Jack looked levelly at the Doctor. "Funny. Don't I remember you saying something about inspiring the telly-tubbies-"
"Pardon the interruption, boys," Rose cut him off with a yawn, "but it can wait. I won't have you two bickering while I'm tryin' to sleep. Clear?"
The Doctor managed a somewhat contrite nod, but Jack only smirked.
"Jack?" Rose repeated. She raised an eyebrow, tongue clearly in her cheek.
Jack's smirk widened into an all-out dimpled grin. "All due respect, ma'am," he responded with a light salute.
Rose rolled her eyes, then inserted a different key into the lock. With a satisfying snick, she led them into a room nearly as unfamiliar to herself as it was to her companions.
The floor was covered with dull, brown carpet. A small kitchenette stood before them, equipped with a small gas stove and counter/bar which served to divide the cooking area with the den. Rose took off her shoes and tossed her keys onto the counter. She turned to the men, shrugging her jacket off:
"You two gonna come in, or rather sleep on the kitchen vinyl? 's up to you," she told them with feigned nonchalance.
Jack looked at the Doctor, who nodded and took his arm from Jack's shoulder. He pressed his right hand against the wall, using it to steady his balance as he came to stand by Rose. Jack kept close behind him, ready to catch him if he wobbled or fell. Rose pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile. Jack and the Doctor. However they may pretend to gripe, she knew that they cared deeply for one another. It was a heartening sight, and she took strength from it.
As the two men made their way to her side, Rose tried to imagine their first impression of her "home." A red/green/blue tartan sofa-bed was tucked against the far wall, opposite the bar/counter. Although its cover fabric tended to itch, the mattress folded out nicely and served as a comfortable bed. Her desk and computer stood opposite the sofa, just beneath the counter. Two armchairs, with the same tartan pattern as the couch, were tucked into the remaining corners. The desk, sofa-bed and armchairs - along with a small coffee table - made up the den.
Her flat was impeccably neat. Not that she was a particularly tidy person, but one had to occupy a space in order to dirty it. Rose was too busy with her job to be bothered.
She reached out and took the Doctor's hand. His hair was spikier, his face thinner - not unlike hers, she realized. And his eyes looked sotired. She gently tugged his arm, and he allowed himself to be led to her couch. His watched her for a moment, jaw twitching slightly, before looking back at Jack. The Doctor inhaled slowly through his nose, closed his eyes briefly, then eased himself onto the sofa. He rested his hands on his thighs, clenching them into fists when they began to tremble.
Jack strode into the den and sat himself in Rose's desk chair before she could protest. Which left her with the sofa, beside the Doctor - and a good thing, at that! Right.
- His lips brushed gently against hers, his breath hot against her mouth as he whispered, "And I love you, Rose" -
She involuntarily shuddered. "I'll just get us some drinks, shall I?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding frantic and forcing a smile onto her lips. "Jack, what would you like? I've got -" Rose hurried to place the counter/bar between herself and the two men, and hastily opened the refrigerator.
"Let's see, I've got beer and..." she puffed up her cheeks and blew out the air between her lips. "Beer and water, looks like." She grabbed three cans of beer and placed them on the counter, then rooted through her cabinets until she found a pitcher and three cups. She filled the pitcher with water, tucked the stacked cups into one arm and scooped the beer cans into another, then bent down to set everything haphazardly onto the coffee table.
"Jack," she announced, "I hereby present you with the trashiest beer this universe has to offer." He grinned and snapped the can open, promptly sending a geyser of beery foam into the air and onto the Doctor's trousers.
"OoOI-yah!" the Doctor exclaimed, smoothing a hand over the spill, then bringing his fingers toward his nose. He sniffed at the liquid, screwed up his face and - as though already regretting his decision - tasted the beer. He snorted derisively and made sputtering noises, then quickly began rubbing his tongue against his sleeve, as though to dislodge the foul taste.
Rose quickly poured some water into a cup and handed it to the Doctor, who gratefully took the liquid and chugged it in one go. Jack locked eyes with Rose, who began to smile. The quirk of her lips reflected themselves on Jack's face, whose cheeks began to dimple, which caused Rose to turn bright red with the effort to keep from laughing. Then her lips began to quiver, and she finally gave way to a rich guffaw, nearly in sync with Jack's own hoot of laughter.
"Rose!" the Doctor tried to break in, all righteous indignation amid their hysteria, "Rose, I could use a towel-"
"I could think of some more creative ways to clean you up, Doc," Jack chuckled with a flirtatious grin, and sent Rose into another lapse of giggles.
"Why I even bother," the Doctor sighed dramatically, then folded his arms across his chest in resignation. Still, Rose couldn't help but notice faint smile lines crinkling up against his eyes. She hauled herself to her feet and fetched a dishtowel from the kitchenette, tossing it to the Doctor, who snatched it from the air and began to rub vigorously at his stained trousers.
"Sure you don't want any help with that?" Jack asked suggestively. The Doctor shot him a look before continuing with his handiwork.
Feeling less tense from Jack's merciful beer spill, Rose strode confidently into the den and sat down beside the Doctor. She took a can of beer from the coffee table, trying to ignore her proximity to the figure who had haunted her dreams these past few years...
No, she admonished herself. Not now. I can't afford to cramp up again. She snapped open the cheap beer can and, judging it safe for consumption, handed it to the Doctor.
He looked up from his task, first at her, then at what she proffered. His eyes widened and he began to shake his head: "No, no no no, really, I'm fine," he insisted with a forced chuckle, "there's really no need..." His voice trailed off, his eyes lowering to follow her hand as she took his fingers and closed them around the freshly opened can. The Doctor continued to look on as she opened her own container of disgustingly cheap alcohol, and bumped it against his.
"Cheers," she said, biting her lip with a smile and daring him with her eyes, then raising the can to her lips. Oh, but this felt like the good old days! Egging him on until he did something utterly ridiculous and probably stupid, but worth it for the shared experience. They both knew that he could never resist a dare.
The Doctor's dark eyes smiled down into hers with a secret, mysterious expression that only he could possibly manage. It meant risk and excitement and adventure and wildness and - somewhere amid the jumbled rush of feelings-
Desire.
And what sort of desire? A desire for what? Therein lay the rub, because though they might have yet to grasp its meaning, the feeling - once ignited - would linger between them until they fairly smoldered.
"Cheers," he repeated softly, and pressed the opening of the can against his lips, tilting his head backwards with each progressive swallow. Four seconds (and several bobs of the adam's apple) later, the Doctor pressed his empty aluminum container onto the coffee table with a solid clink.
"Seriously," Rose stated, shaking her head in exasperation. "You just -" she swallowed convulsively, "just drank that entire can."
"Yup," he responded, punctuating the "p" with a loud belch. His eyebrows rose, and he burped several more times before continuing: "Rancid stuff, don't know why you drink it. This is 21st century England, home of Guinness and warm lagers. You, Rose Tyler, are an insult to Queen and country." He sniffed, then re-folded his arms across his chest.
Jack let out a long whistle. "You two've been holding out on me," he reproached, leaning back on the desk chair with his hands folded behind his head. "If I'd known drinking cheap beer could be quite so provocative, I'd have started going to dive bars long ago."
"Anyway," the Doctor interjected firmly, "you two have a story to tell." He looked at Rose and Jack in turn, then continued: "Because I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't my universe."
