Alright, this chapter marks a "first" for this fic! First time I'm using a suggestion from a reviewer. So here you are Ceeare, this one's for you. It's a bit longer than the others, but I'm sure you don't mind.
Also, this is a continuation of the last chapter. Should be the last one so closely related…the rest should be a bit more spaced out on the timeline. Ta!
FIRST MORNING TOGETHER:
"When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love." – Marcus Aurelius
They had made it back into the house before the sun crested the hill, so Jackie and Pete were still sleeping, but there were a few staff members up and about to start the mansion for the day. Rose refused to let go of his arm as they shuffled up the stairs, and he didn't even question when she directed them to her room.
He watched with mild amusement as she kicked off her shoes and collapsed face first into the four-poster bed, her words muffled by the mounds of pillows around her. After a few seconds of easy silence, she turned her head slightly and tried again.
"Shut the door." He complied immediately, suddenly rather nervous as the simple piece of wood isolated them from the rest of the household. He scuffed his red Chucks on the carpet idly, his hands shoved deep in his pockets for fear of fidgeting. He let himself gaze around the room, taking in the last refuge of Rose Tyler against a world that wasn't her own.
It was almost Spartan in décor, which surprised him greatly. She had always been an avid collector of knick knacks and various paraphernalia that had seemingly seeped out of her own room on the TARDIS and into his carefully constructed life. He smiled at the memory of finding her jacket strewn across a couch in the media room, or her favorite mug sitting unwashed in the sink. But looking around now, he could barely guess anyone actually lived in this room. The dresser was bare of any personal belongings, the wardrobe shut and dusty. Only the bed looked lived-in, evidenced by the half-slumbering girl occupying it.
He approached her quietly, noting the steady rise and fall of her back as she slept. The sunlight was creeping up the carpet, and he quickly moved to the window to draw the curtains closed. Now cast in relative darkness, he moved back to the bedside and wondered what to do next.
"Shoes," came a mumbled reply to his thought, and he fumbled with his trainers as Rose rolled to one side of the bed. Now clad in only old jeans and a white t-shirt, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Not gonna bite," Rose murmured, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. He settled down on his side facing her, his eyes raking over her form as she breathed deeply. Her eyes opened unexpectedly, and her grin at catching him out nearly blinded him in the darkness.
Deciding to ignore the fluttering in his chest (and really, was it supposed to beat that quickly?), he reached out to slip his arm around her waist and pull her against him. If she was surprised by his bold move she didn't show it, but he silently cursed his new humanity. How was he supposed to control these urges? She didn't seem to mind, he noticed, as she snuggled further into his embrace. With a contented sigh she drifted away, leaving him with his spiraling thoughts.
Being human, he surmised, was a lot harder than they made it look. One heart, for instance, wasn't nearly enough to supply every part of his body with enough blood to function properly. He felt his toes tingling with a dull ache from their walk, and he could already feel the muscles in his legs tightening. His head swam with thoughts and images, and he wondered idly if the metacrisis hadn't altered more than just his physiology.
A pang of fear went through him at the thought of losing and of his hard-earned and wondrous knowledge, and he frantically began to chronicle each and every adventure he'd ever had. Did his humanity extend to a dulled intelligence as well, or would he retain the Time Lord mind Donna had proclaimed his "best part." He thought of 10,000 B.C. and his dear Susan, then of meeting the Daleks and the Cybermen. Faces, planets, and peoples flashed through his mind, and with each recollection the fear in his heart was lessened. Sometime around The Crusade he lost consciousness, unaware of the soft footfalls of Pete and Jackie rising for the day.
When he opened his eyes again, the light streaming through the closed curtain was nearly the same as when he'd closed them, and he wondered if a little more of his Time Lord biology had made it through the metacrisis. Rose still slept deeply next to him, and he closed his eyes to test out his rediscovered temporal capabilities.
Half eight, he noted happily, wondering out he could feel so refreshed after only two hours of sleep. He nudged the sleeping form next to him, eager to share this newest revelation with her.
"Wazzit?" her eyes blinked open blearily and tried to focus on his grin.
"I'm still me!" he answered happily, and she had to take a moment to register his words.
"Okay…"
"No, I mean, it's only been a couple of hours and I feel completely refreshed! I think there's more Time Lord in me than I originally calculated." Rose rolled over and glanced at her clock, groaning in realization.
"Oh my God…"
"I know, and I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have woken you after only two hours. But I just got so excited and I couldn't contain myself." Rose rolled to her feet and stretched, and his face fell. "Really, Rose, I'm sorry for waking you. You need to lie down and get some rest." She dropped her hands and stared at him warily.
"Doctor, I'm not sure how to tell you this but…" she took in his face alight with joy and kicked herself for crushing his hope, "…it hasn't been two hours. It's been twenty six." His mouth fell agape in disbelief even as his temporal sense confirmed her statement; he had slept for an entire day.
"How is that even possible?"
"Well, I'm not sure about you, but I haven't really slept well since we got back." Her eyes dropped to the duvet, and he reached out for her hand instinctually. She squeezed back, finding the strength in him to look back up. "Anyway, I figure we were both so exhausted from that and staying up all night…" He dropped her hand and slid off the opposite side of the bed. She could tell from his posture that he was agitated, and she wondered what was bothering him.
"Twenty six hours, though," he exclaimed loudly before holding his hand out in front of him. "The last time I was unconscious for that long I was in a coma!" She moved quickly around the bed to try and intercept the oncoming breakdown.
"Hey, it's alright," she soothed, but he stormed away from her.
"These last few days I've been so caught up in whether or not you were even going to talk to me again that I forgot that I'm human! I forgot, Rose! I don't forget things. Well, there was that one time...okay, two times, but the second time wasn't in any way my fault. I mean, how is one supposed to concentrate when being nearly stampeded by a wild herd of - never mind! Just look at me!" He was bounding around the room now in frustration, and Rose tried futilely to get him to just stand still.
"Doctor -"
"My muscles are sore, my sinuses are actually a little clogged, I smell," he sniffed himself to emphasize his point, ran his hand through his hair, and continued his list of grievances. "My hair is actually flaking, and what am I excreting!" Afraid of having to deal with a hyperventilating half-Time Lord, Rose moved swiftly to his side and grasped both of his hands firmly.
"Hush!" she commanded, using the same tone she often utilized at Torchwood. It worked like a charm as he stilled immediately, taking deep breaths even as his eyes searched around frantically. Rose freed one of his hands to lay hers on the side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "It's alright. It'll be an adjustment, but you can do this."
"Can I? I mean, I'm still the same man, but then again I'm not. How much of Donna seeped in? Oh I hope I didn't inherit her snark." Rose raised one delicate eyebrow and he shook his head. "Alright, so I guess I've still got a gob. But who am I now?" Releasing his other hand, Rose framed his face with her hands and forced him to look at her. When he did finally lock his eyes on hers, she raised herself up and kissed him. He didn't respond at first, his mind occupied with disjointed, out of control thoughts. After a few seconds, though, they all seemed to float away and all that was left was Rose. His hands gripped her hips like a lifeline and he responded eagerly to her ministrations.
She could feel his desperation and need in the kiss, and she poured as much reassurance and love as she could muster into it. After a while he seemed to calm, and she slowly pulled away to gauge his status. His eyes were still closed, as if he was trying to regain some control, and she laid her head against his chest. The reverberating sound of one strong heartbeat met her, and she reveled in the gift that had been given to her. How could she have been so selfish these last few days? She was grieving the loss of someone who wasn't really gone while he was having the ultimate identity crisis.
"Alright?" she whispered finally, and his arms came around her.
"I think so," he breathed. "I…I don't know how to cope with this." Her hand caressed his arm from shoulder to fingers before she grasped them firmly.
"One day at a time, I imagine," she answered, remembering something her mother had said when she'd asked a similar question long ago. He stepped back to look at her fully. Sentimental thoughts swirled through his head, and he cursed Donna for watching so many romance films in her youth (he was fairly certain he had never been that soppy). He took a deep breath and shook his head, unable to find the right words to convey just how much she meant to him.
"You were right, though," Rose said after a moment. "You do smell." With a teasing smile she shoved him back, fanning the air in front of him.
"Oi!" he cried with indignation, wincing even as the foreign sound came out of his mouth. "I don't exactly have a full wardrobe at the ready. Pete gave me this old pair of jeans and a couple undershirts, and other than the suit that's literally all I own." He realized his mistake almost immediately, and his eyes widened comically as her face split into a grin. "No. No, no, no, no, no."
"Oh yes," she grabbed his hand and dragged him bodily toward the door. "Today, we're going shopping."
Okay, so the more I think and deliberate and read your wonderful reviews, the more I feel like including the consequences of the deleted scene from Journey's End. Don't expect it to be too focused just yet, probably just mentions here and there. It takes time to grow a TARDIS after all. But this list of "firsts" will most definitely include "first trip" and "first planet" among others. As always, your suggestions are appreciated! Ta.
