Written for round 1.03 of Writer In A TARDIS on LiveJournal. The challenge was for Rose to teach the Doctor something.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Even the bamboo tree is nicked from Zig Ziglar. (There had to be SOME point for me to go to that motivational seminar years ago.)
The first days were fine, filled with hours of getting to know each other again, of each learning what the other had done during their long separation. But even though the Doctor could still talk (and talk, and talk), Rose could see his underlying restlessness. It was in the tone of his voice, the set of his shoulders, the way he sat as if ready to spring and run for his life at any moment.
Even with only one heart and a human lifespan, this Doctor was still the Doctor, itching for more than a life of houses and doors and carpets. She hadn't even bothered to bring up mortgages. After all, the new TARDIS was growing in the greenhouse, and as soon as it was ready, they would be off.
She did bring up Torchwood, though. She thought it would help him to pass the time while the TARDIS grew, to fill his days with challenges. And it did, to a certain extent. But of course, Torchwood could never replace what he'd had on the TARDIS. When they went home, the restlessness returned. The Doctor would check on the coral's progress daily, sitting and watching it as if he could will it to grow faster, faster, faster. But it didn't grow any faster than before.
Rose accompanied him on these trips, sometimes picking fruit off one of the trees for her mother, sometimes cutting flowers, but always making a point to water one particular bamboo tree. The Doctor didn't pay much attention to that ritual at first, but then began to notice the care she was taking, and one day finally asked about it.
"The gardener takes care of all the other plants here. What's so special about this one?"
She set the watering can down. "Dad gave me the seed for this not long after I got here. He told me it would teach me an important lesson. So I planted it, and waited, but nothing happened. Dad told me to keep waiting and to keep feeding and watering it." She laughed. "I felt so stupid, watering and fertilizing nothing more than a pot of dirt! But Dad said it would be worth it. It seemed to be important to him, so I went along with it. And then one day, something sprouted up."
"How long did it take?"
"Three years! It sprouted the day I first crossed back into my home universe, the day I first saw Donna and just missed you."
He looked upward in amazement. The tree towered over them. "But that was just a few months ago. This tree is huge!"
She nodded. "Dad told me this tree builds a huge root system for years, and then sprouts up. He was trying to teach me to be patient, and that good things come with time." She smiled. "I would think a Time Lord would know that."
The Doctor smiled. "I can always learn."