Few lyrics mentioned from Bennie and the Jets by Elton John.
Oh Boy–Duffy
A multitude of horns were blaring, encompassing her in their harshness. Tires continued to screech and cry out as they attempted to halt their approach. It was not enough, though. It was never enough. Once again, she was screaming her throat raw as she witnessed the unimaginable.
Suddenly, the horns were no more, replaced by the unnatural sound of twisting metal. Screams echoed from every corner, and then she was running. She was always running. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she rushed forward. Smoke was everywhere...so, so much smoke.
Hands appeared out of nowhere, trying to hold her back, their fingers digging into her arms. Fighting them off with an unexpected strength, she stumbled to the unidentifiable wreckage in time to their hands reaching for one another, entwining their fingers for the last time. Tears scalded her cheeks, the smoke burned her eyes as she began beating on the metal, trying to get them out. Reaching through the broken glass to feel them again, her fingers strained to touch their chilling skin, desperate for physical contact. Looking into their eyes one last time, she watched the life fade away.
Again, she was pulled away, her arms wildly flailing, allowing her to see the gashes on her arms, the streaks of blood on her hands. Whose blood it was, she was uncertain. All she knew was that she couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't…
Rose shot up out of bed, gasping for the air that her dream had denied her. Clutching at the sheets till her knuckles whitened, she took several ragged breaths, trying to steady herself in the wake of the nightmare.
C'mon Rose. Just bloody get it together.
Strands of blonde hair stuck to her perspired brow. Pushing the errant strands aside, Rose picked up her phone and looked at the time—3:48 A.M. She knew for a certainty that there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep; she never was able to after such episodes.
Tiredly making her way downstairs, Rose went to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Tea always had a calming effect on her, stemming from when she was a little girl and her mum would lovingly prepare a cuppa for her after a troubling dream. Rose could still vividly remember the near elegant flow with which her mum prepared tea. How she would climb onto her mum's lap and sip the steaming liquid, comforted by its warmth. How the gentle swaying and stroking of her hair lulled away her fears. How she'd always felt so safe and secure in her warm, loving embrace.
The blaring steam whistle brought Rose back to the present. Batting back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall, she prepared her tea and quietly sat down at the kitchen table, focusing on letting the hot liquid melt away the dark images that had ripped her from her sleep.
"Rose? Wha' are you doin' up?" Mickey asked groggily as he shuffled in, his eyes squinting as he tried to adjust to the light, though it was dim.
Not wanting to discuss the true reason, she offered a tight smile and shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Needed some tea. Want one?"
Nodding, he plopped down in a chair. "Sounds good, thanks."
Pouring him a cup, she reclaimed her seat. Mickey took a few sips and quietly studied her. Still silent, he scooted his chair closer to her. Rose fidgeted in her seat, knowing what he was going to ask, and berating herself for thinking that she could fool him after so many years.
"How bad was it this time?" he asked softly, looking at her knowingly.
Rose took a deep yet shuddering breath, trying to steady herself as she felt bile rise in her throat and tears prick her eyes. Without looking at him, she said, "I've had worse. Still shook me, though."
She felt his arm go around her and she instinctively leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Taking a few more breaths, Rose finally forced back the hot tears that had threatened to fall.
Mickey said no more after that, simply keeping his arm around her in protective comfort. After a while, Rose insisted that he return to bed, seeing the effort he was putting into remaining awake. Even though he was exhausted, Mickey didn't feel right about leaving her in what he knew was such a raw state. He and Martha had both witnessed the aftermath of her nightmarish memories, in various levels of intensity. It was only after Rose made several assurances that she was genuinely alright that Mickey reluctantly acquiesced, kissing the top of her head, and making his way back upstairs.
Deciding that she had wasted enough time sitting around, Rose went to the shop early, figuring she could do some extra baking and preparations for the noontime rush.
The morning was unexpectedly busier than usual and kept her on her toes till Martha came in around 11:00. Finally a much needed lull descended upon the shop, and Rose made herself a caramel breve, leaning against the countertop and languidly sipping the creamy contents. Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a book that she kept there specifically for such moments. This month's selection was Pride & Prejudice. It was her favorite, which was evident by the beyond worn spine and faded pages. She had just finished reading of Mr. Collins' unwelcomed arrival when John Noble walked into the shop. Their eyes met, and he smiled warmly at her. Of their own accord, her thoughts instantly shifted to how happy she was to see him, and how even more astoundingly handsome that smile made him.
Don't go there, Rose! Just...just don't...
She put down her book, and mirrored him smile.
"This makes three days in a row, John. Careful, I'm beginnin' to think ya like the place."
"Weelll, maybe just a little," he grinned, "What's not to like?"
Rose felt an unfamiliar and frightening stirring within her chest at that brilliant grin, and that reaction troubled her greatly. There was no reason for her to be feeling that way, and it was much too risky.
Stop this...stop it now! Get your bloody head outta the clouds an' focus!
"So," she said, clearing her throat, "are you gonna be more decisive today, or are we gonna have yet another Q&A on everythin' under the sun?" she asked teasingly, poking her tongue through her teeth.
John's grin broadened, becoming increasingly brilliant (something she honestly needed him to stop doing) and said, "Every barista should know their product, don't you think?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Look at you, knowin' what a barista is! Half the people that come here call me a coffee girl or waitress."
"Weelll, I am rather brilliant."
"And just dripping with humility, too," Rose chuckled. "Tell ya what, how 'bout I choose today?"
"What if I don't like what you decide?" he teased.
Rose put her hand to her chest, feigning offence. "You doubt my abilities?" she chuckled, "I'll make you a deal. If y'don't like it, I'll give ya free drinks for a week."
"No, she won't," Martha immediately hollered from the kitchen.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Ignore her. So…what d'ya say?"
Smiling even wider, John nodded. "I say you've gotta deal, Rose Tyler." With that, he backed away and took a seat on the blue sofa.
Chuckling once more, Rose began putting the ingredients into the blender—white chocolate base, coconut and macadamia nut syrup, half and half, and ice. She topped it off with homemade whipped cream and a very light dusting of coconut shavings. Satisfied with her presentation, Rose took the drink and made her way back to John. Seeing her, he put down the book he was flipping through, and took the drink. He pulled out his glasses and began putting on a show of studying it—holding it up, sniffing it, rubbing a little whipped cream between his fingers before darting his tongue out to taste it.
Groaning, she rolled her eyes and playfully backhanded his arm. "Oh for goodness sake, just drink the bleedin' thing, will ya?"
Grinning, John took a sip, his eyes widening at once. He pulled back and looked from the drink to her. "This is fantastic!" he said and then went back to greedily slurping it down.
She smiled, tongue in teeth. "Told ya! Although, I wouldn't drink it so fast, or..."
John scrunched his eyes and grabbed his forehead.
"That'll happen," Rose finished, giggling.
Quickly recovering, John went back to eagerly sipping on his drink. "So, what do you call this brilliance?"
Rose took a seat next to him, though maintained a comfortable distance. "Barnett Blast. When we were fixin' this place up, we had some electrical issues. Messed wiring or whatnot. We were a bit hard-pressed for money, so the electrician did the job for less than half the cost. We wanted to thank him, but 'course, we didn't have the money. So we named a drink after 'im. 'S one of our best sellers—he's quite proud of it, too. Brags to anyone who'll listen."
"I can see why. It's-...," he broke off, slurping every last bit of drink through the straw, "amazing."
His childlike enthusiasm was adorable, and Rose couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly remembering the lateness of the hour, she checked the time. "Sorry, but I've gotta fetch Tony from school," she apologized to him, hurriedly standing up.
John tugged nervously at his ear, seemingly unsure of himself. "Would, um…would you like some company?"
Rose was surprised by his offer. Surprised, yet incredibly happy. A reaction, she told herself, that was based solely on the fact that she enjoyed his company and that Tony would be thrilled, nothing more. "Uh, sure. I mean that's...that's if you wanna come."
John nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I'd love to come."
"Okay," she replied, a bit too breathy for her liking. Clearing her throat to hide her encroaching embarrassment, she began walking with John towards the exit. "I'm heading out now, Martha. Be back in a bit," she called out.
When they got outside, Rose turned to him and said, "It's just a few minutes from here. Don't mind walkin', do ya?"
He shook his head. "No, not at all."
There was only a brief silence before Rose began to speak. "So what do you do, John? For work, that is."
"I'm a writer, actually."
"Really?" she questioned, her eyes wide with slight surprise.
John smirked at her expression. "That so hard to believe?"
An embarrassed blush crept across her cheeks. "No, I didn't mean it like...like that. Just kinda unexpected, s'all. Tony said ya were really into science, and after that whole ketchup thing, I guess I just assumed you did something along those lines."
"I wanted to, actually. Started out in Physics, but I took an English Lit class and after that I was hooked. I found it...I don't know…"
She looked at him thoughtfully. "Liberating?" she offered.
John looked down at her, his dark chocolate eyes warm and his smile bright. "Yes, exactly. Wrote some small stuff, then Jack pestered me to try my hand at a novel. First one did really well, so I wrote a second and that did a quite a bit better. I'm working on the third now."
"So what's it about?" Rose inquired.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her sheepishly. "Not quite sure at the moment. I seem to be a little... stuck, as it were."
"What were the others about?"
"Well, they were science fiction. Time travel and temporal displacements, things like that. I didn't have too much trouble with them, so I'm not sure why this time is so different," he said, frustration evident in his voice.
"Do you want to write another one?" Rose asked, looking up at him.
"Why wouldn't I?" John looked at her with a look she couldn't identify. Surprise? Confusion? Rose wasn't sure.
She shook her head. It wasn't her place to question his choices. "No reason," she waved off, "Just askin'. So what are they cal-..."
The question died on her lips, because suddenly, John grabbed her hand and jerked her close as a bicyclist raged by, just narrowly missing her. Looking at each other slowly, they both suddenly realized that they were very close, practically flush against each other, their hands firmly entwined. For the second time that day, Rose couldn't breathe; except this time, it was due to a different type of terror. They quickly pulled away, both blushing. "T-thanks for savin' me," she stuttered, briefly looking up a him through her lashes.
"Always," he said, the tops of his ears turning bright red.
A loud bell shattered the silence, causing them both to jump. Rose turned and realized that they were in front of the school. A few moments later, they saw Tony come running out, and Rose was grateful for his quick arrival. Tony ran and threw his arms around Rose in a tight embrace. Then, seeing John, he tossed his bag on the ground and jettisoned onto him. John looked just as happy to see Tony, and quickly pulled him into a warm hug.
"What are ya doin' here, John?" Tony asked excitedly.
Smiling and ruffling the crop of blonde hair, John said, "Weelll, I couldn't let Rose here walk all alone. Plus, I wanted to see my favorite scientist."
"Awesome!"
"My thoughts exactly," John chuckled.
Rose watched the exchange with extreme pleasure. It was the happiest she'd seen Tony, and John's genuine interest and affection warmed her heart. No one outside of their small family had ever shown such attention to him. Pulling herself from her musings, she addressed them both. "C'mon, you two. We can't leave Aunt Martha by herself for too long," Rose said, taking Tony's hand.
"Can I ride on your shoulders, John?" Tony asked, widening his big brown eyes in pleading.
"Tony!" Rose scolded, bopping his head.
Laughing a the young boy's request, John lowered himself so that Tony could climb up.
Rose was genuinely embarrassed at Tony's forwardness. "John, please. Y'don't have to do that! Tony, that was just rude!"
"But Roooose!" Tony drawled, "He's sooo tall. I can see everythin'! I'm like a Transformer."
"Who let you watch Transformers?" Rose demanded.
"Oops," Tony winced, "I promised Uncle Mickey it'd be a secret."
"That bloody git," Rose mumbled, narrowing her eyes. "Still, it doesn't matter. Y'can't just climb all over John like he's a bleedin' tree."
"It's really alright, Rose. I don't mind," John assured her. His answer put her at ease, but a twinge of embarrassment remained as they began their return to the shop.
"John, do ya like pancakes?" Tony suddenly asked.
Though it was at an awkward angle, John looked up and smiled. "Of course! Who doesn't?"
"Awesome! 'Cause Sunday is Pancake Day. Rose makes the most awesome pancakes. Sometimes, she puts chocolate chips in them or peanut butter. This last time, she put strawberries and whipped cream on them. So ya should come over and eat pancakes with us!"
"Tony! Stop it! Ya can't just put people on the spot. Maybe John doesn't want pancakes. Maybe he has plans." Rose could feel her cheeks getting hot with embarrassment, and she buried her face in her hands.
Doing his best to look at his friend, Tony asked, "Do ya have plans, John?"
"Nope. Free as a bird," John answered, smiling widely and looking from Tony to Rose whose face was now uncovered.
Oh God, there's that smile again.
"See, Rose! He likes pancakes and he has no plans. Can he come over for pancakes? Please? Please? Puuh-leeeeaaase?" Tony drawled dramatically, turning those big brown orbs at her.
"Yeah, Rose, please?" John joined in, his eyes even more big and brown.
Rose couldn't help but smile at their pleading expressions. "Of course. That is, if you're sure you want to."
Her answer was met with cheers from both John and Tony. The three of them chatted as they made their way to the shop. Rose could see a queue forming and she rushed in to help Martha as John said goodbye to them.
An hour before closing, Mickey dropped by to take Tony home. All three adults decided they were too tired to cook a real meal, so they decided they would get take-away and movie after the two girls were home from closing the shop. When it was finally 8:00, Rose turned off the neon Open sign and plugged her mobile into the sound system. She smugly reminded Martha that it was her turn to take care of the dishes, to which Martha responded by rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Laughing outright, Rose began sweeping and cleaning off tables. As she picked up the rag to clean off the display case and counters, one of her favorite songs came on, Bennie and the Jets. Turning up the volume till it was blaring, Rose began to dance and sing along to the upbeat tune.
She's got electric boots a mohair suit
You know I read it in a magazine
Bennie and the Jets
Just as she enthusiastically belted out the third "Bennie," Rose dancingly turned and saw John at the window, shrieking in surprise and droppin the Windex and rag. Hurriedly running over to her mobile, she quickly turned down the sound, and went to the door, feeling like she would vomit from embarrassment.
John stood there, his grin reaching from ear to ear, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Sorry to bother your...cleaning, but I think I left my mobile here. I couldn't find it when I got back to my flat."
"Oh...yeah...s-sure, come in," Rose stuttered, holding the door open for him to come in and steadfastly avoiding his fixated gaze. They both checked around where he sat earlier, and after less than two minutes, found it under the cushion.
"Got it!" he declared, holding it up in triumph.
"Oh...Good. That's...that's good," she fumbled, still embarrassed.
They both walked to the front door.
Still grinning manically, John looked at her and said, "I'll see you Sunday, Rose."
"See ya Sunday, John," she said, swiftly closing the door and locking it after him. When he was out of sight, she leaned her back against the door, closed her eyes, and sighed.
Oh boy, I think I'm in real trouble.
