Disclaimer: Not mine. It's very sad, I agree. If it looks familiar, it's because it's also on LJ and Teaspoon.
Chapter Summary: The Doctor finally bites the bullet and begins telling Rose what he should have done six months ago, when they are very rudely interrupted.

Chapter Two: Conversation, Beginning

The Doctor found Rose in the library, huddled in her favorite chair, a soft blue plush pillow-like concoction that nearly enveloped her so thoroughly that often all that could be seen of her was the top of her head. She wasn't reading – her eyes were closed, her hands cupped over her mouth and nose, and she inhaled deeply, as though she tried desperately not to cry. He didn't dare test telepathic boundaries to see how she really felt; instead, the Doctor sat on the low footstool across from the chair and spoke.

"You aren't 30, you know."

Rose dropped her hands to stare at him; her eyes were red but dry. "I know I'm not, you git. According to my watch, I'm 26 years, 3 months, and 14 days, including the five years I spent without you."

"No hours?"

"I don't pay attention to hours," she replied, crossing her arms. "Have you come to lecture me or snog me senseless?"

"Neither."

"Then go away, I'm practicing astral projection," she snapped, and closed her eyes again.

"I'm actually here to have a conversation I ought to have had with you six months ago, right after I finished testing our blood samples."

Her eyes popped open again. "Aha! I knew I was right about that."

"Yes, well—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "You're very clever for a human and just a tic short of clever for a Gallifreyan, and woe be to me to assume you don't know what I'm lurking about doing before I've started the lurking. I have never given you enough credit—"

"Oh, enough, please. If the conversation is all about buttering me up, I'd just as soon practice projecting."

"I can't even astral project."

"Lots of things you can't do. Like conversation."

"You keep interrupting me."

"You keep not starting it."

"I'll start once you stop interrupting."

"I'll stop interrupting if you ever—"

He leaned forward and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Hush. I want to tell you a story."

Her voice was clear, if muffled, through his hand. "A story is conversation and not lecture?"

He glared, and she blinked, unafraid. "When I was very young, before I'd ever regenerated – this was quite a long time ago, you understand – I still lived on Gallifrey and I had a very normal Time Lord life."

He paused, wondering if she would try to make another remark, but she remained silent. He moved his hand cautiously. She still didn't say anything, so he decided it was safe to trust her.

"And like a good young Time Lord in training, I was married off and sent to the Looms to make my contribution to progeny."

Rose blinked. "I think the Tardis's translation stopped working."

There was a violent hum from the ship, and the lights flickered.

"Don't be sarcastic, the Tardis doesn't like it," he scolded her gently. "Besides, I'm speaking English. The Tardis won't translate Gallifreyan."

Rose leaned over and patted the floor lovingly. "I'm sorry." She looked up at the Doctor. "Only you really did lose me there. Young Time Lord, all right. I can picture you in school uniform, always leaving a trail of books and banana peels behind you. Married off – sounds rather medieval, like an arranged marriage or something, but that's fine, I get the idea. Only – looms?"

"It was an arranged marriage," he admitted. "Although not quite a marriage in the same way as you'd understand it. There wasn't marriage on Gallifrey – it was more of a partnership, really. As for the Looms, years before I was born – well, we stopped being born. Time Lords, I mean. You didn't have a mother and a father as such, although there was a man and a woman who contributed to your genetic make-up. Their DNA was mixed and it was that combination that was used as a pattern to create a child. The process was called Looming, a bit like weaving fabric, I suppose."

Her eyes went wide. "You were stitched together?"

"Oi, I'm not Frankenstein!"

"Do you know who your parents were?"

"I knew my father quite well, actually. Wasn't fond of him, but he wasn't fond of me so no loss there."

"What about your—" She hesitated. "Wife?"

He leaned back. "Ah. What do you want to know?"

"I'm not sure. Did you – I mean – it's not really any of my business—"

"It's all your business, Rose," he said gently. "That's why we're having this conversation."

She took a breath. "All right. In no particular order: did you love her, did she love you, how arranged was the marriage, and how exactly did you contribute your part of the DNA?" She blushed. "Actually, don't worry about that last bit, I don't think I want to know."

"You probably don't," he said, half amused. "But let me assure you, it wasn't half as interesting as how most species procreate. Involved syringes, for one thing." She shuddered, and he grinned. "Lots of people about, too. I think I had to demonstrate for someone else, although I don't know why since I only did it the once, and didn't really know what I was doing anyway. Not like that's ever stopped me before. There was a bit of ritual with it, though, very solemn thing, a bit of smoke and flash and recitation—" Rose's face grew more horrified by the moment, and his grin grew wider. "I'm only half teasing."

"Hard to tell sometimes."

"You don't want to know her name?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Only if you want to tell it."

"Odd response."

"Well, I don't particularly want to think about her," said Rose, a bit hotly, and he reached over and touched her cheek.

"Just to show?" he asked, and she nodded. "This is how I felt about her."

He let their edges overlap and kept his eyes on Rose's face while his mind sifted through memories of the woman he'd never really thought of as wife, trying to decide which to show the girl sitting in the chair. There was love and companionship, friendship and laughter, sharing and caring and jokes and conversation. It took a few moments to transfer all of these to Rose, and the Doctor slipped in specific memories as well, the two of them running through the halls after having pulled a joke on a professor, and flying her first Tardis, and swimming in a lake the color of emeralds. All too soon, the last time he'd seen her, the wretch of having to leave her behind as he ran for his life, in his Tardis, leaving Gallifrey for what he thought was forever, and knowing he'd never be able to share anything with her again.

He let the memories drift back into his own conscious space, away from Rose, well aware that her breathing had grown harder, and she was trying to blink back tears. He had been so busy sorting through what to show her, he hadn't looked closely to see if they were tears of hurt, or sympathy. He couldn't look now; there was more he had to show.

"This is you," the Doctor whispered, and the onslaught began again, but it was magnified out of recognition. It was tenderness and togetherness, joy so bright they shone, laughter so hard their sides hurt. It was love so strong it knocked them both over and over until they couldn't tell what way was up, and encompassing every part of their daily lives, from brushing against each other in the corridor to passing the sugar during afternoon tea. It was the memory of standing together under red skies, promising forever and meaning it, a moment on the Tardis when they'd thought they lost each other, and he swirled her in circles as they laughed. It was their first kiss, powered by the Vortex, followed by the fear when he thought she didn't love him in his new form, and the bottomless devastation when he'd left her on the beach in Norway, unable to say the words on the tip of his tongue. It was the gentle kiss just after her return, his elation when she had finally opened her eyes and said his name, of the soft comfort waking up in each other's arms after the nanogenes had enveloped them both. It went on forever, rolling like waves, and this time when the Doctor pulled away, tears cascaded down Rose's cheeks like raindrops.

"I didn't know," she whispered, and he knelt in front of her and wiped her face with his thumbs.

"Couldn't say it in words."

"Funny coming from you," she said, trying to smile. "I—"

"Shh," he said, and leaned into kiss her – a gentle kiss, considering, but he didn't want to be distracted. "I have more to tell you, words this time. I want you to understand. You and she – no comparison. I don't want you to misconstrue that what I feel for you and what I felt for her – still feel for her, really – are in any way similar."

"What was her name?"

The Doctor paused. "I called her Carissa."

But Rose smiled a little. "Pretty. I hope she didn't call you the Doctor."

He grinned. "No, that didn't come until much later. Someday I'll tell you that story too. But now, I have to tell you this story."

"About Carissa."

"Not quite, but Carissa is part of it. She and I – we'd been friends since we were very small. I suppose it was natural that we'd be partnered for a Looming. We weren't married, as you perceive it, but were bonded together by the process, a sort of partnership. We never called each other wife or husband – the terms don't exist on Gallifrey. We certainly never felt that way about each other, even after the Looming."

A light dawned in Rose's eyes. "You said – you'd been a father, once. Is this what you meant?"

"When did I say that?"

"At the Olympics, when the girl was possessed by the little jellyfish thing, the one who put you in a drawing. You said you'd been a father, but you never explained."

"Then yes, this is what I meant. Carissa and I, we Loomed a child. So in a manner of speaking, I was a father, and I have to tell you, I was absolute rubbish. Parents aren't really of much use to a Time Tot, they spend—" He frowned. "Why are you giggling?"

"Oh, no, please don't tell me that's what they're actually called? Time Tots?"

"What's wrong with Time Tots?" he asked indignantly.

"It's just so – corny." She covered her mouth, giggling harder. "What about Timelings? Or Tiny Times?" She dissolved into giggles, and his frown deepened.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here."

She struggled to stop giggling. "I'm sorry. I'll behave. Please, tell me about the—" She gulped back a laugh. "Time Tots?"

He really truly intended to do so – he had every intention of telling her the rest – only the cloisters began to ring, and the Tardis shook as though it had rammed into an asteroid field. The Doctor was knocked sprawling to the floor, and as soon as the Tardis stopped shuddering, he sprang to his feet and grabbed Rose by the hand.

"What is it?"

"We've been knocked out of orbit," he said. "Run."