Chapter Four
The next morning, she woke up and they were there again, to take her to school. She felt loads better after talking with her mother, and now that her mother knew and approved, she was waving from the porch instead of coldly saying to be home soon.
"There's a change." Nine observed. "Thought she didn't like us."
"I told you, it takes her a while to warm up to people." Rose said.
Nine raised an eyebrow at her, a rather impressive expression, and she blushed.
"Alright, and I might've had a little talk with her. Convinced her you lot weren't out to get me."
He laughed, and then they were off.
After school, they were driving her home, and it started to pour. The skies had been the normal London cloudy all day, but now they'd burst, and rain was coming down like a tap had been turned on.
Ten had to crank the top up in his car, but even so water got in.
And it got all over them, too. Eleven was soaked, his hair flopping lifelessly with even less spunk than it usually did, and Ten and Nine weren't too much better. She gave them one look when they pulled up at her apartment, and took pity on them.
"Come on in, then. D'you want some drinks or somethin'?" she asked, leading them up to the apartment, shaking her own wet hair out of her eyes like a horse.
(Looking back on it, she should have known that Mum wouldn't have been pleased with her inviting three boys into their tiny flat, especially given that none of the boys were Mickey and that they were alone with her, never mind that one of them had a girlfriend. But she hadn't thought of that then, she'd just known that it was cold outside and she was going to be hospitable and let them come in for a little while, to have tea and warm up.)
"Oooh, this is nice." Eleven said, sitting and bouncing a little on the couch. Rose grinned.
"Isn't much, but it's home, you know? I've never lived anywhere but here, even when Dad was alive, when I was a baby." she said, heading into the kitchen. "You lot want some tea?"
"I'll help you." Ten volunteered, hopping to his feet. "Where is everything?"
"Mugs are in that cupboard." she said, pointing, and he started taking them out, elaborately, sometimes looking at one and shaking his head and putting it back, then taking another one.
She laughed. "Doesn't need to be fancy." she said, searching though the snack cupboards for biscuits. She'd made some the other day, and they were here somewhere . . .
"Got 'em!" she said triumphantly.
"Got what?" Nine said, poking his head in, and she waved the plate of biscuits at him. His eyes widened.
"You made those for us?"
"Not you, specifically, just made 'em last weekend and since they're here, I thought we could eat 'em." she said, taking the plastic off the tray. "Go on, have one. They came out good."
He took one, chewed and swallowed, then grinned one of his most maniacal grins.
"Mmm. Fantastic."
"Really?" Rose said. Mum was never really pleased when she made biscuits, usually just kissed her forehead and said thank you but didn't actually eat them. Not that this was bad, Mum just wasn't much for treats.
"Yes, 'course they are." he said, taking another one.
"Save some for the rest of us." Ten told him, taking one for himself. "Ooh, these are brilliant, Rose."
She laughed. "Didn't know I was such a good baker."
"Well, Mum's are the best, but that's just 'cause she's Mum." Ten said. "Yours are a very close second."
She giggled. "I can handle a very close second. Eleven, come in here, you're missing the biscuits!"
Eleven dashed in. "No one said anything about that." he exclaimed, taking three.
"Now none of us are going to get any." Nine grumbled. "Nice work, Rose."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be like that." she said, and turned to Eleven. "And you, save some biscuits for the rest of us, yeah?"
Eleven grumbled something though a mouthful of biscuit and sat down at the table in the kitchen.
Rose made the tea, poured it into cups, and out of the corner of her eye saw Ten scanning cupboards for milk and sugar. She silently pointed to the fridge, and his eyebrows rose a half inch and he opened it.
"Sugar? In the fridge? I can understand jam, or milk, but sugar?" he said.
"I dunno, it's always been there, I guess." she said, and he didn't say anything else, just shook his head.
Finally, after a few more minutes of being incredulous (or maybe it was seconds) he took them out and they sat down, eating biscuits and drinking tea and talking, and it was quite peaceful. They talked about anything and nothing, the wedding of Amy and Rory that Sarah Jane and Amy were making themselves sick over, and Ten grumbled for a little while about the car and how long it would take to get the water out until Nine calmly whacked him on the back and told him to stop moaning.
It would have continued to be peaceful in this odd way had Mum not burst through the front door, loudly proclaiming "I'm home, sweetheart!"
"Hi, Mum." Rose said, jabbing Nine sharply with her elbow when he threatened to snicker. "I'm in here."
Jackie Tyler turned into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Rose and three boys, all in various degrees of 'sopping wet', sprawled on the floor, eating biscuits and drinking tea.
"Hello, Rose's Mum." Eleven said cheerily from his place (with his back on the floor and his legs up on the wall, like he was sitting, but sideways.) This time, unlike the first time he'd said this, yesterday, she smiled at him.
"Hello. Which one are you, then?" she asked, curiously. Rose remembered that she had described both Ten and Eleven as floppy-haired, even though Ten's wasn't floppy, but she wasn't about to say "and Ten has really great hair" to her mum, at least, not when she'd just spent a while convincing her that she wasn't going round looking for a relationship.
Eleven stared contentedly at the ceiling, wiping biscuit crumbs off his chin. "I'm Eleven." he said.
"I'm Ten." Ten added. He was leaning against a cabinet, legs sticking out carelessly in front of him. Jackie glanced at his dirty white trainers, and Rose was forcefully reminded that her mum hated messy floors.
Ten noticed the same moment she did. "Sorry, d'you want me to take these off?"
"Oh, no, it's all right." Jackie said, forcing a smile, and glanced around.
Nine was slumped against the fridge, eyes closed, hands behind his head, legs stuck out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
"That's Nine." Rose said pointedly.
His eyes shot open. "Oh. Sorry." he said, holding out a hand, and Jackie shook it bemusedly.
"Right." she said. "Well. It's nice to meet you all. That your car out there?"
"D'you like her?" Ten asked eagerly. "Ooh, she's lovely. Gets us everywhere we need to go."
"It's a very nice car." Jackie said politely. "And I'm quite glad you can drive Rose places, I don't like her on that bus all the time."
"Rose says that bus is full of creeps and hoboes." Eleven said, grinning in her direction.
"And it smells." Nine added.
"And it's cold." Rose said, laughing. "God, I hate that bus."
Jackie smiled. "Well, be glad you don't have to take it any longer then." She turned back to the boys. "So, at home, is it just you three?"
She knew the answer to that, Rose thought, what, did Mum think that she'd lie about them having a sister?
"Oh, no, we've got a sister, too, and Mum and Dad, obviously. Amy, our sister's name is. And there's Aunt Donna and Great-Uncle Wilf, but they're not blood family, though I suppose they do count, don't they?" Ten said, looking at Nine for confirmation.
"You'd know, you're the one over at Aunt Donna's house every bloody week." he said. "But yeah, s'pose they count."
"You'd like Aunt Donna, Rose." Ten said. "She's brilliant."
"Ooh! And Rory's going to be family soon." Eleven said. "Our sister's getting married in the spring." he added, to Jackie, who looked a tad bit confused.
"Oh, yeah, Mum and Aunt Donna are going to have fun planning that." Nine said.
Eleven laughed from his position on the floor. "Amy's going to be a nightmare."
"We've got until New Year's, hopefully, then she'll go completely mad." Ten said dryly, standing up and stretching. "Speaking of which, the rain's stopped, well, mostly, anyway, and we should get home to our dear, mad sister."
"Mmm." Nine hummed, standing, then helping Rose to her feet. He and Ten went over to stand by Eleven.
"Get up." Ten said casually.
"No." Eleven muttered.
"Get up, you lazy ape." Nine said, nudging Eleven in the side with his foot.
Eleven said bolt upright. "You kicked me."
"Did not."
"Rooose, he kicked me!"
Eleven could not have sounded more outraged unless you told him bowties had been erased from the universe, Rose thought.
"I just nudged you, now get going." Nine said, and Eleven stood up with a look of deep displeasure on his face.
"Kicked me." Eleven muttered again, mulishly.
"What're you gonna do, sic your girlfriend on me?" Nine snorted. Rose shook her head.
"Honestly, you two." she said, and Ten nodded his agreement.
"They're always like this." he said conversationally, nodding towards his brothers, who were now intensely arguing in whispers as they walked towards the door.
"Mm, what a trial that must be for you." Rose teased, grinning at him.
"It is." Ten said indignantly. "They never stop, and – oh, that was sarcasm, wasn't it?"
"It was, yeah." she said, stopping at the doorway and leaning against it. "This was fun."
"Yes, it was." he agreed. "We should do this again. As often as possible."
"And more Adventures?" she asked. "I mean, getting chips is quite an experience. I can't help but wonder what other schemes you have up your sleeve."
"Definitely, more Adventures." he said. "I promise."
"Good," Rose said, and for a second, with him standing there framed in her doorway with the last dregs of rain dripping off the roof and into his hair, she thought about kissing him, her arms round his neck and their lips together, his hands on her face. And then he turned to yell "Oi, get your arse out of the driver's seat, Nine!" and the moment was gone. All she had left was a shaky feeling in her fingers and stomach.
He turned to grin at her, and before she could do anything about anything he leaned over and gave her a tight, warm hug. Her arms reached up to wrap around him automatically. "See you tomorrow." he said in her ear, and then he was off, running down the steps of the building to his car.
She stayed in the doorway and watched then drive off, then went back into the house. Mum smiled at her.
"They seem quite nice, sweetheart."
"I'm glad you like 'em, Mum. They are, they're the best. Oh, and Amy's invited me to her wedding, too!"
"Really? Will we have to get you a dress?"
"It's not til spring. But I'm prob'ly gonna help with the planning 'n all." Rose grinned, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped round her knees. "It's gonna be great. Amy's so beautiful. Rory's lucky. But Amy's says she's the lucky one. I think they're gonna be happy together."
"Well, with three brothers, she'd have a fight on her hands to convince them to let her get married at all, so he must be a good enough boy, don't you think, sweetheart? Especially if she's marrying him in her last year of school." Mum said.
"They're so happy, Mum. He walks her to class, and he'll always kiss her cheek or her hand goodbye, it's the sweetest thing."
"You wish you could have something like that, don't you." Mum said, sounding so sad.
"Well…" Rose fidgeted, thinking of Ten for a second and that moment in the doorway before she shook her head and dismissed it. She couldn't, she wasn't – well. "Doesn't everyone?"
Mum just looked at her. She looked away, silently begging, let it go, not now, not now.
When the doorbell rang, she bolted up at the excuse, "I'll get it!" bouncing off her tongue and sounding far too cheery. Mum sighed, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her walking away down the hall as Rose hurried to the door.
"You forget something?" she called. She opened the door a little carelessly, thinking it was Ten or Nine or Eleven back again. And then a hand gripped her wrist and she was tugged outside, the door pulled closed behind her, and her stomach dropped. Like being on a rollercoaster, that same sort of mad fear, only this was different, this wasn't going to be over in two minutes.
She looked into cold, sky blue eyes and held her breath.
"Hello, Rose." Jimmy Stone said.
"Jimmy." she said, not letting her voice shake. A tiny victory.
"'Forget something?'" he repeated, saying what she'd yelled as she ran to the door. "Who's 'ere to forget things? Your mum's home, inn't she?"
"I've got friends, they were over today." she said, keeping it vague on purpose.
He laughed, short and harsh. "You? Friends? There's a surprise. I though' you just had that stupid fucker Mickey."
She winced. "Don't." she tried to say, and his hand squeezed her wrist dangerously.
"Tell me about your friends." he said, his voice low. "Tell your Jimmy about your new friends."
"There's, ah." she stammered. His hand twisted on her skin and she knew there would be welts, tomorrow, and she had to keep him from realizing they were all boys, her friends, because who knew what he'd do then, she certainly didn't, but she knew it would be bad and she imagined him beating them, too, imagined them bleeding and hating her and she swallowed a sob that had nothing to do with Jimmy's hand on her wrist.
"There's, ah." he mimicked. "Tell me, baby, tell your Jimmy all about how happy you are and how many friends you have and how not one of them knows that you're a bloody whore."
She contemplated yelling for Mum, but decided against it. She could handle this, she told herself. She didn't need to worry Mum any more than she had already. This was her problem and she would deal with it.
"Jimmy, let go of me." she said.
"Why should I, sweetheart?"
"Because-" She tugs at his grip, hard. "Because I said no. Because we're over. Because I don't want you here. Take your pick, Jimmy."
"Aww, baby, you don't mean that. Sides, who else do you got but me?" Jimmy said, smirking and leaning in close to her, to whisper in her ear. "You're mine, baby. You're marked. And hell, who else would want an ugly little bitch like you?"
"Shut up." she whispered.
"Shut up." he mimicked. "You're mine, baby. Always have been, always will be."
He let go of her, finally. "In sickness and in health, hey, baby? Maybe I should take care of that. Maybe then you wouldn't be runnin' round with fuckin' Mickey, you little slut." he said, with a big grin, like he was joking, but she saw the cold anger coiled in his eyes.
He made sure to lean over and squeeze her arse before he sauntered off down the hall from her apartment door. She stood there, very still, her hand still on the doorknob. She'd hadn't moved a step, besides tugging at his grip, since she stepped outside.
She realized, vaguely, that she was shaking.
Slipping back into the house, she walked down the hall to her room, feeling light and floaty.
She closed her door and turned, looking into her mirror on the back of the door. Numbly, almost mechanically, she started to get ready for bed.
She turned her back on the mirror, unable to watch herself.
Her shirt scratched against her back and she stiffened, closing her eyes.
Mum had asked about it, either to herself or to Rose, several times. "How did I not notice, sweetheart? How did I not see he was hurting you?" But Jimmy had been good at that, good at twisting people's minds, good at lying, good at hiding. Good at hurting, too.
He'd been especially good at hurting. Good at hurting her, where no one could see, bruises on her sides and back and wrists, and she would hide them, hide his marks, his hickeys and the marks of his fingers on her ribs and wrists. And he'd never stop. Whenever she did something bad, whenever she upset him, he would have something else, some other way to hurt her.
She ran her hand up her back, carefully, finding the spot where her shirt had caught before. The burn.
She winced as she touched it, remembering pain, intense, like jolts.
They'd had a row that night.
She was at the stove, cooking pasta for Mum when he came in, complaining lightly about how the food wasn't done yet. When he'd seen her making it, he'd said "What, can't your fatass mother make her own food?"
"Stop it, Jimmy." she'd said. "Stop it. You always do that, you always have a go at my mum, and at Mickey, and you need to stop."
"So protective all of a sudden. There something I should know about you and Mickey? You ain't lying to me, are you, you little shit?"
She forgot so often how easy he could get angry. And she knew something bad was coming.
"Jimmy, stop that, you know I wouldn't do that. He's my best friend, is all."
"I bet he is, you little whore." Jimmy shouted, and then all of a sudden the pot was in his hand and before she could do anything he'd spun her around and tugged up her shirt and the boiling water was running down her back and it burned.
Oh, god, it was like she was on fire.
She'd screamed, then. The world had gone fuzzy, the pain had blocked her other senses out. But he'd taken her shirt all the way off and positioned her with her back to the stove, and placed her T-shirt on the ground, along with the pot.
Her mother had come running. And after taking a look at Rose with her shirt off and Jimmy doing an impression of terror and worry, she'd come to the conclusion that they'd been having a snog and Rose had backed into the pot of pasta water.
And Rose hadn't said a word, and Jimmy had held her hand all the way to the hospital as they rode in the ambulance, his grip far too tight.
"Now you'll only be mine, you whore." he hissed in her ear, pretending to be comforting her. "No one else will want you now."
She'd closed her eyes.
She opened them now, and looked over her shoulder into the mirror, running her fingers over the scar. She'd never really looked at it before-it had just been another reminder, one of Jimmy and how angry he could be. How she shouldn't make him mad. It was her own fault that she had this scar, she'd made him angry. She looked at it now, the sections of red and wrinkled skin on the base of her back where the water had landed, where he'd held the pot for a second before dropping it.
Ugly. she thought. He is right, then. Maybe all I'll have left is him, in the end. Maybe that's why he did it. No one wants a girl with scars.
He messed with her head, every time he came, Jimmy. Now she didn't know what was right and what was wrong. All she knew was that somehow, all of this was her fault. He'd said it was. The police officer had said as much, too, when she'd went to get the restraining order with Mum, he'd said what have you done to yourself? with his stare.
She curled up in her blankets and closed her eyes, wanting it all to go away for a little while. He would stop eventually, she reasoned. He would lose interest, and she would be safe again. Until then, she'd just stay inside or close to someone and it would all be fine, and Mum would never have to know.
It didn't make her feel any better to think. She closed her eyes and told herself to sleep, but not dream.
She would be fine, she thought. She had to be fine.
But oddly enough, her dreams that night weren't of Jimmy, weren't nightmares.
Instead she dreamed of Ten, his friendly smile and how safe she felt running with him, his hand in hers.
A/N: Well, here you go! Finally!
I can't really make any excuses for how long it took me to write this, except for my case of writer's block and a very busy schedule. School's over soon, though, and then I should be able to write more.
Rose is obviously very confused and a bit OOC in this chapter. She won't be like this the whole thing, I just thought I should say. Her new friends are going to help her heal from what Jimmy's done and she'll be back to the Rose we know and love. Believe me, I don't like torturing her like this.
I don't own Doctor Who, or Sherlock, for that matter.
If you notice anything, any errors, or of you have any comments, or if you just want to say hey, leave me a review!
Much love, Ninjee