A/N The "honeymoon" begins. There is speculation of past assault mentioned in this chapter, nothing at all graphic, but fair warning.

Chapter 10

Like the rolling waves of the sea upon which she was about to sail, Rose's emotions churned wildly as she boarded the luxury cruise ship and entered the private suite she and John would be sharing together for the next two weeks. The wedding complete, they were now to embark upon fourteen days and nights of "wedded bliss," sailing to Miami and from there to the Caribbean. Their honeymoon. They were now married.

Try as she might to tell herself this was a temporary measure, Rose hadn't felt quite the same ever since hearing the words, "I now pronounce you…" She kept darting glances down to the ring encircling her finger, astonished by the startling realization that this whole thing had actually happened.

John was, at least for the time being, her husband.

And she was his wife.

And now there would be certain expectations. Expectations specific to a honeymoon.

As Rose's apprehensive gaze flitted about the suite, she realized John had spared no expense when it came to this trip. Their accommodation aboard the luxury liner greeted its guests with an air of opulence – from the crystal finery adorning the wet bar to the lavish cream carpeting that pillowed one's feet in cushy decadence. To say nothing of the spacious interior, boasting a generous-sized lounge with fully stocked kitchenette, and a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in sumptuous white linens, the sight of which momentarily halted her gaze. Both spacious rooms were made to feel even larger thanks to the entire portside wall made of floor-to-ceiling glass and overlooking the sea. Unfortunately, the illusion of space was just that. Rose was now in very close quarters with a man expecting to commence…marital activities.

He had made attempts to be jovial – even enthusiastic – as they'd left the wedding reception and traveled to Southampton's bustling port where they would make their departure. He'd nattered on about the history of sea travel, the technical aspects of steam engines versus gas turbines versus…well, she'd lost track at that point. Her mind was rather preoccupied.

The closer they'd come to the port, the more her anxiety had swelled. The thought of what lay ahead, knowing what was now expected, caused a familiar fear to seize her in its unrelenting grip. Yet beneath that fear lay something else. Something unexpected. Something that made her stomach flutter pleasantly at the thought of just…being with John.

She had come to truly enjoy spending time with him before all this. He had made her feel…well, she still couldn't define it. But being with him sometimes made her momentarily forget about everything else, caught up in chatting about the significant and the mundane, bantering so easily, and just enjoying each other's company.

But things between them had changed considerably now, taking on a new intensity. Yet not every aspect of that was as unsettling as she might have anticipated. Rose kept hearing the echo of John's recent words. His vow. Had he really meant such things? Did he really feel that way? That strongly? He had professed his feelings to her once before, but hearing it put in such a way – so solemn and binding – had unexpectedly affected her. As he had stood before her, eyes earnest and words equally so, it really had felt almost as if he was giving a part of himself to her alone.

And yet, how could she just happily accept it? How were they supposed to pretend to have anything that resembled normal? She knew what simply being close to a man did to her, and that wasn't something about her nature that she had the ability to change. As they'd departed the reception to embark on this trip, John instinctually keeping her hand in his as if two halves of a whole, Rose had entertained fleeting notions that maybe, maybe it could be different with him. But as soon as the thought came, she thought of all it would entail, and longstanding fears gripped her again, dragging her back down to reality. She could try explaining it all to him, but how? She couldn't explain it.

In her early teens, Rose had once tried to confide in her mum about this, but her mum had brushed it aside, telling her to consider herself lucky she felt that way, that she was better off and it would keep her out of trouble. Rose didn't always feel better off. But what was she to do? So she had simply learned to shield herself.

That shield was a little easier to take shelter behind in this situation, labeled as Justifiable Distance, despite the growing…fondness she might have felt toward John prior to all this. After all, who did this man think he was, interfering so profoundly in her life? Why did he think it was his responsibility? And why did he have to take things this far? And now he expected her to be his in every sense? It was easy to nurture a growing root of bitterness over this whole thing if she allowed it. Fear inflamed her anger, and anger was an emotion that was safe. It made her strong and bold and untouchable.

Untouchable.

Distance was her only option in making it through this, she knew. But how she was going to achieve that in a situation like this she didn't yet know.

-:-:-:-

John took careful note of Rose's reaction as she entered their suite, anxiously gauging how she would take to their surroundings and the situation as a whole. She was silent in her pensive perusal, not glancing about in curiosity or delight but apprehension. Her apprehension was evident in the tense set of her shoulders and wide, darting eyes. She seemed almost afraid. Afraid of what they had just gotten themselves into, no doubt.

That was understandable, considering they had taken a rather momentous step. He had questioned the sanity of this plan more than once himself. Still, they just needed time. Time to get to know each other on a deeper level, to build trust, to draw close – all the things he hoped these days and nights alone together would achieve. And of course, there was the physical intimacy he desired with her as well. Very much. But one step at a time.

Noting her stiff, closed-off body language, he realized she was no doubt still angry with him for catching her at her own game and hoping to reform her ways, seeing it as entrapment instead. But once she truly came to understand his motives, he hoped her passion that manifested as ire would be redirected to more…pleasant passions.

"So…? What do you think of the suite?" John prompted, hoping to at least get her talking to him.

Rose's gaze had trailed to the bedroom, but her eyes darted back to the more neutral territory of the lounge as she spoke. "It's…bigger than most, I s'pose."

"But not big enough?" he couldn't help but ask aloud.

She opened her mouth to reply, paused, then closed it and just shrugged.

"So… I suppose this is where I'm to pounce on you like an ape now that we're alone," he said mildly, hoping to lighten the mood as he took a few steps across the room.

Her head whipped around at this remark. "Is that your plan?" Her challenging reply was spoken in a voice that faltered just enough to make him wonder if she really did think so.

He slid his hands into his pockets, flashing his best cheeky grin. "Oh, of course. But I think I can restrain myself for at least…ohhh…five minutes?"

She didn't see the humor in his words, her face draining of color instead as she changed the subject. "I…I've got so much to do. Gotta get unpacked, and whatnot."

"The porters can take care of that."

Rose shook her head. "No, I don't want anyone waiting on me hand and foot like some posh snob. And shouldn't we get a schedule or something so we know when meals are served? And–"

"Hey," he gently cut her off, stepping closer. "We have time. Lots and lots of time to just…get settled. All you have to do is just relax and start enjoying yourself, okay?"

"Enjoying myself," she repeated on a dull murmur, and he desperately hoped those were not tears causing the sudden sheen in her eyes. "Like I said, I've gotta unpack."

With that, Rose brushed past and into the bedroom.

John drew a weighted breath. He didn't know how to warm through Rose's frosty exterior that was growing colder by the minute. So far the only thing that seemed to exist between them in this relationship was tension. And not the good kind that was pleasantly resolved. Still, they were both just trying to find their footing here, and like he'd said to her, they had time.

Following her cue, John joined her in the unpacking, figuring they could at least share something together. Yet they went about their respective tasks in uncomfortable silence. Going into this rather unconventionally, John was realistic and hadn't expected sun and rainbows from here on out, but he had hoped they could at least begin as friends. But even that seemed out of reach at the moment. He mulled over the current situation and the ways he might begin to at least reach some kind of understanding with his new wife.

His wife.

Part of him wanted to throw open the balcony doors and proclaim it to the entire ship. The other part of him wondered, yet again, if he had properly lost it. Yet he still believed he had done the right thing in a situation where the woman he had come to love was in obvious need of help and there was no easy, perfect answer. Rose needed someone. That was clear. And the justice system wasn't going to meet that need, nor did he want to see her life irreparably marred by a criminal conviction for having made some very misguided choices.

It didn't take a psychologist to guess that, for whatever the reason may be, she was a woman deprived of love, taking whatever she could get instead. He wanted to give her the love that had been missing in her life, the understanding, the compassion which he so hoped would bring about a change in her. She said she had no one. Well, not anymore. And it wasn't exactly a sacrifice on his part. He loved this woman. Heaven help him, he truly did.

The only trouble now was finding a way to demonstrate that, considering she wouldn't so much as look in his direction at the moment. Her attitude toward this was apparent. She still saw this as him trying to trap her, when in reality he wanted to free her. He wanted to free the woman he'd seen glimpses of inside. Despite her current attitude, he still believed she did have feelings for him. If he didn't believe that he wouldn't have even considered taking things this far.

Getting her to allow those feelings to show was another matter, though. They would have to work up to that. Maybe a candlelight dinner tonight? Wine and soft music? Dancing or a moonlit stroll on the deck? All those romantic gestures women tended to appreciate. Then they would come back to their suite and he would show her just how he felt, how much he desired her, what she did to him, how simply being within ten feet of her made his head spin.

His idyllic plans were all well and good, but step one was to end this oppressive silence. As the last items were unpacked and tucked away, John turned to her, clearing his throat to get her attention. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Well, that's the unpacking done. Would you like to dine in tonight or enjoy something more formal? I thought perhaps we could–"

"I'm tired," Rose said, eyes drifting off to gaze out at the endless expanse of sea, seeming to swallow up the sun as the last of the day's light sank below the watery surface. "I'd like to just…go to sleep early." She looked pointedly at him then. "That is, if I'm allowed to do that."

John frowned but refrained from being baited into an argument at the get-go. "Of course. If that's what you'd like. It's been…an eventful day."

She nodded once, then looked away again.

He raked a hand through his hair and stepped closer. "Rose, I understand that you're not exactly overjoyed by all this right now. But I hope in time you'll–"

"I'm gonna change," she cut him off, turning toward the closet she had just filled. She removed her nightclothes and ducked into the en-suite.

He sighed. As wedding nights went, this wasn't exactly off to a stellar start.

John loosened his tie and moved toward the glassed-in side of the suite, sliding open the balcony doors and stepping out onto the private deck. He leaned his forearms on the rail, filling his lungs with a deep pull of crisp, salty air as he contemplated how to proceed from here.

He needed to be more demonstrative, he realized; more open with his affections to begin showing her how much he not only desired her but cherished her. Rose wasn't a conquest. She was a woman who deserved to be loved. It didn't matter if she was flawed and this entire situation was backwards. The past no longer mattered. Only the future.

Lost in thought, nearly a half hour had passed before he heard Rose re-emerge from the en-suite. He turned as she stepped back into the bedroom. Her hair was combed out, face free of makeup, and body shrouded in a formless flannel sleep set, the top buttoned nearly up to her neck and the long loose bottoms touching her toes. That, he deduced, was an unspoken message. But it was far from an effective deterrent. She was still gorgeous to him.

If all he did was hold her tonight, her soft, warm body nestled against his, he could hardly complain. It might be torturous to be so close yet so far, but the closeness would be worth it even still. And then in the morning, once she'd had a chance to rest from this whirlwind of a day and begin processing this new situation, he pictured waking her with a declaration of his affections followed by a thorough demonstration, making slow, languorous love to her by the soft light of dawn as it spilled into the room and bathed their entwined bodies in its warmth.

John swallowed thickly. Blimey…he was going to have to tame his thoughts. Otherwise he just might pounce like an ape.

He crossed the room toward her, voice low and gentle as he tried to put into words the conclusions he'd reached while waiting for her.

"Rose, we can start over, the two of us. This very night. We can put the past behind us and move forward. I want a future with you. The past doesn't matter to me." He reached out and touched her shoulder. She flinched slightly, eyes wide and body stiff, but didn't withdraw from him. "I love you. Let me love you. When you're ready I intend to show you just how much you mean to me." His body shifted closer, fingers trailing down her arm as his face slowly lowered toward hers. "Rose," he whispered across her lips. "My wild Rose…"

Their mouths met in the softest of greetings, his lips feathering over hers. For one instant, one blissful moment of time he actually felt her respond to him, felt her body fractionally relax as her lips moved oh so gently against his in a timeless, instinctive rhythm.

Oh, he was done for. A husky growl emitted from his throat as his arms encircled her, drawing her flush against him. Instantaneously, it was as if something else entirely overtook her. He felt her inhale sharply, her breath drawn directly from his own lungs, then before he could quite register what was happening she was pushing him away, her hands scrabbling wildly at his chest.

"No! S-stop! Just…just stop! Please! I can't do this! I just can't! I thought that maybe I…thought that maybe I could just…and then I…but I can't. I-I can't even breathe!" Her last outcry was accompanied by another wild shove against him.

"Rose! It's all right," he tried to assure her, catching her wrists to stop her assault on his chest.

She struggled all the harder at this, her eyes wide and panicked. "Lemme go! G-get away from me! P-please! Please just…don't touch me! Don't!"

He immediately released her, and she lunged backwards, pressing herself into the corner.

He took a cautious step toward her, requiring all his effort to keep his voice calm and steady. "Rose? Rose, please. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You will if you touch me!" she shrieked again, now sinking down into a crouch and curling in on herself.

He abruptly halted, lifting his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I won't. I won't touch you. I promise. Just…just calm down. Please. It's all right." He backed up, giving her more space. "Rose, you're safe. Just…just relax. Breathe. That's it. Everything's okay. Just…relax and come sit down." He indicated the wingback chair across from the bed.

Her breathing was rapid and shallow as she struggled to calm herself. Finally, breath still coming in short gasps, she unglued herself from the wall and took a tentative step forward. He backed up again, giving her plenty of room.

Cautiously, she moved toward the chair and sank down, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her eyes darting between him and the bedroom door.

John heaved out a breath, utterly bewildered. He'd never seen anyone react like that to a kiss. Not to boast, but certainly not a woman in regards to his affections. It reminded him so much of her reaction to the storm. But he was hardly a thunderous threat worthy of triggering a bloody panic attack. He'd been going out of his way for her at every turn here, and this was how he was treated in return? John felt an acute stab of offense at her reaction.

"Is this your subtle way of telling me you find me repulsive?"

"I told you! I told you to just lemme go! I told you not to marry me! Oh my God, why couldn't you have listened? I told you I'm not like other people!"

She was working herself up into a state again. His initial frustration was giving way to serious concern.

"Rose, just calm down. Tell me what's wrong so I can help."

"The only way anyone can help is by leaving me alone! Don't you get that now? I can't stand to be…to be touched. I can't!"

John took an unsteady backward step and dropped down on the edge of the bed. The implications of her confession made him suddenly sick. Sick and with the wild urge to murder whoever had made her feel this way. Still, he couldn't just rush to such a serious assumption, needing to first give her the chance to talk this through calmly.

"Do you just feel this way about me, or…anyone?"

"Anyone!" she rasped. "Any man."

"Do you have…other sexual inclinations?"

She puffed out a breath and shook her head. "No. No, that's not it at all. But it's men who make me feel like…like I can't breathe if they get too close."

His brows knit tightly. Why hadn't he seen this kind of reaction before? "But I've…touched you before. Kissed you. That day in the lab, in the stables, at the wedding…"

"I…I was all out of sorts at the lab and couldn't really remember what happened. And the other times I just…just got through it 'cause I knew it wasn't gonna go any further right then. But now you want it to go further and I can't. I just can't."

His chest constricted as if squeezed in a vise. He knew she had fears, had witnessed them spring suddenly and unpredictably, but he hadn't realized they might be rooted in something of this nature. What had happened to her? He was very much afraid he knew, and he could not stomach the vile thought. John felt sudden anger at himself and could bloody well kick his own arse for his flippant remark about pouncing on her. No wonder she had paled. And her "wedding night" apparel of flannel armor… She wasn't mocking him. She was afraid of him.

Dear God, who had done this to her? This vibrant, beautiful woman did not deserve to be reduced to this terrified state before him. No one did. He almost choked on the words, but he had to know. "Rose, what happened to you? It's okay. I promise. You can tell me. You can tell me anything."

Her eyes darted away from his, but her voice was surprisingly firm. "Nothing happened to me," she insisted.

He lifted his brows, unconvinced. "I want nothing more than to believe that, but it's a bit difficult under the circumstances."

She kept her eyes down. "I just don't want to be touched, to be handled, to have someone that close with that kind of…intent. It makes me feel like…like I can't think properly or even breathe."

He kept his voice gentle and undemanding, not wanting his questions to cause her to shut down now that she was opening up a little. "How long have you felt this way?"

"As long as I can remember. That's just who I am."

She sounded so resigned to this. He wondered if maybe she really didn't know why she felt this way. That was possibly worse. How could she deal with this if she didn't understand the root cause?

"Rose, you shouldn't have to feel this way. It's not… Well, it's not normal," he gently reasoned.

Her eyes lifted at this, her tone gaining a little strength. "Well, sorry if I don't fit your definition of normal."

"Have you ever talked to anyone about this?" he went on, undeterred.

"You mean a shrink?" she clarified, sounding defensive.

"A psychologist, yes."

"Why? Aren't I at least entitled to my private feelings?"

"It's not a matter of entitlement. It's a matter of not being held back in life by fear. You're entitled to that."

"My life was just fine as it was until…," she waved her hands about vaguely, "…all this."

"I would hardly say so," he disagreed. "You were compelled into dangerous activities, and if I hadn't stopped you, you'd have gone on and inevitably been caught. You would have gone to jail or worse, confronted by a man like Saxon. You are an incredibly tempting woman, Rose Tyler. And dare I say your captor likely wouldn't have shown as much…restraint as me, out to claim what he figured belonged to him or to simply exact revenge. Somewhere along the line you would've been cornered by a man who wouldn't take no for an answer. You would've gotten him and prison. That's hardly the definition of doing just fine."

"So instead I got this," she mumbled.

He wasn't going to apologize for that. "You needed help."

"No, I didn't," she insisted, sounding desperate to convince herself as much as him.

He leaned forward, catching and holding her gaze. "To be honest, I don't think you have a solid perspective on what it is you need. Which, I suspect, is psychiatric help."

She barked a short, sardonic laugh. "Oh, such a typical male! You get rejected and peg the woman as having gone 'round the bend. 'She dares to say no to me? Well, she's gotta be barmy!'" Rose attempted to mock. "It'd be a right laugh if it weren't sickening."

He recognized her attempt at lashing out as a defensive mechanism to keep him at a distance. This was not going to be an easy issue to tackle, and right now she wasn't in a state to try.

John rubbed his eyes and refocused. "All right. Like I said, it's been a long day. Why don't we just…try to get some rest and talk about this in the morning, okay?"

She lowered her head, shaking it slightly. "There's nothing to talk about. I've told you how I feel and that's the end of it. Talking's not gonna change anything."

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. "Fine. Then we won't talk about it until you decide you're ready. But this blissful honeymoon cruise of ours will keep us in rather close proximity for many days and nights. So I suggest we make it easy on ourselves and get through it with as much civility as possible."

Silence stretched on before she finally responded, eyes shifting back to him. "And you won't try to…to…"

"No," he assured her. "I won't touch you in…that way if you don't want me to." Her eyes flicked to the lone bed, her teeth nervously tugging at her lower lip. "You can have the bedroom," he added, in answer to the unspoken but obvious question. "I'll sleep in the lounge."

Rose nodded once and looked down again. When she said nothing further, he turned to walk out. Her soft voice surprised him, temporarily halting his steps.

"John?" He looked back. "I…" She glanced away and shrugged. "I'm sorry for both of us."

Not knowing what to say to that, he just turned and shut the door. It was going to be a very long two weeks.