Took me long enough! I'm proud of it, though.
It was Thursday.
For such a monumental day in the history of Rose and John's relationship (or so Rose hoped that it would be), Thursday began in a not-really-very-intriguing sort of way. Rose woke up, yawned, blinked, looked around for John, saw that he was lying sprawled on the bed next to her (not touching her at all, which she found a little bit annoying; she really enjoyed waking up in his arms), and rolled over onto her stomach to fall back asleep before realizing that it was Thursday and that they were two hours from Manhattan.
She jumped up with a little gasp, thankfully not waking John, and flew around the room in a frenzy to get dressed. She donned a hoodie and jeans in a hurry, forgetting about changing in the bathroom, and when she was halfway through combing her hair it only then occurred to her to check if John was awake.
He wasn't.
Rose exhaled relievedly and tied her hair into a loose ponytail. Then she called room service.
" 'S bright," John yawned about one hour and thirty minutes later, when Rose turned on the lights and placed his plate of pancakes in front of him. He was still lying sprawled on the bed, cuddled in the sheets, and looking utterly oblivious to the fact that he only had half an hour to get ready. "What time is it?"
"About nine-thirty, so we'll be in Manhattan at ten," Rose replied. "You'd probably do well to have something to eat."
"Go 'way, Tyler, 'm sleeping," John mumbled, rolling onto his side away from the pancakes. "D' we have to get up?"
"Yeah, pretty much, seeing as we'll be in Manhattan at ten," said Rose pointedly. "You need to get up and get ready."
"Hmm. Vacationing right now, so go 'way."
"You want to vacation all the way to wherever the ship's gonna be next? Only got half an hour to get ready, ya know," Rose giggled.
"What?" John gasped, finally understanding what Rose was trying to tell him and jerking out of his cocoon of blankets. "Oh no, oh no, oh no-"
"Easy there, Noble," Rose teased gently. "I got all your stuff ready."
"Oh." John gave Rose a relieved and embarrassed smile. "Thanks." He went to change in the bathroom, and Rose fell neatly backwards onto the bed with a small sigh.
Although she was looking forward to Manhattan, she was also incredibly nervous about telling John about Jimmy. She was almost entirely certain that at some point the subject of Jimmy Stone would come up, simply because if he told her a secret she would feel horrible for not telling him hers.
She got up and finished off her pancakes, taking as long as she pleased. Eventually John came back out of the bathroom wearing his blue suit and ate his pancakes as well. Neither of them said that much, and Rose suspected that John might just be as nervous as she was right now.
The ship docked in Manhattan. Rose had packed the night before. John had helped somewhat, mostly by telling humorous anecdotes, cooking dinner, and folding the clothes with her. That had probably been the high point of her day; Wednesday had been both relaxing and boring.
Rose had learned rather quickly that neither she nor John had a taste for staying on one boat for a week. It might have been more interesting if there had been a shipwreck, or a scheme, or pirates. She and John had experienced all of those, except maybe the pirates. But the cruise had been disappointingly domestic, and Rose probably would have loathed the entire experience if not for John's company. She absolutely adored spending time with him. As she walked off the ship, her phone rang.
"Hello?" said Rose, picking up and answering cheerfully.
"So how did the cruise go?" Amy demanded excitedly. "Did you snog? Will you be home in time to come to my wedding in two weeks? Will we be coming to your wedding soon?"
"Amy," Rose groaned, "nothing happened." Amy said something profane under her breath that would have made even Donna blush. Rose had to laugh. "Stop meddling," she chided with annoyance. "It's not going to get you anywhere."
"Oh, that is so not true," said Amy with a smirk in her voice. "I bet you anything that you and John are going to be snogging when we see you next-this is a foolproof plan, and Clara can't have just bought those tickets for nothing."
"John and I are in Manhattan now, we're going to go take a walk in Central Park, stop trying to get us together, it is none of your business, love ya, bye," said Rose, and she turned off the phone and skipped down the pier to meet John on the sidewalk, who was attempting for the sixth time to flag down a taxi.
It took her one go to get a cab that would take them to Central Park. John sulked through the entire cab ride.
They dropped their luggage off at a hotel relatively near Central Park, booked a room (They could have booked two, but they didn't. That knowledge made Rose feel tingly inside.), and walked over to Central Park, both of them taking note of everything with great excitement. Apparently John had never been to Manhattan. Rose had, and she felt more than a little bit smug about it.
Central Park was wonderfully green, and the lake was beautifully blue. Rose mentioned this to John, who laughed and took her hand in his. Then they sat down on a bench together, and she felt a tickle of nervousness in her stomach.
"So," she said with a lighthearted laugh, "this is it, right? The Big Talk."
"Yeah," said John uncomfortably. "Talking. Ironic, isn't it? Here I am, so good at talking, and now you're asking me to talk and I can't. Rubbish." He took a steadying breath. "Okay. Reinette. That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?"
"I just-I just wanted to know why you're so flirty all the time," said Rose, and as she said the words a sudden weight lifted from her chest. "I wanted-I want to know why you hold my hand, and snuggle with me, and give me these big sad eyes, but it never goes further than that."
"It's the same thing," John said softly. "The stuff about Reinette, and me being flirty, it really is the same thing. And I'm going to tell you, I think. But if you stop me, Rose, it's highly likely that I won't have the courage to begin talking again."
"All right," said Rose, her eyes fixed on his. "Go ahead."
John nodded, took a small breath, opened his mouth, and began to talk.
Reinette Poisson was an extremely wealthy Parisian socialite by the time she was twenty, but when she was eleven she was as ordinary as an extremely wealthy girl could be. Which, to be fair, wasn't very ordinary at all-she was witty and clever and absolutely lovely-and John Noble picked up on this almost instantaneously.
John was twelve, and seeing as the Noble family had always been rather well off, they were taking a month-long trip to their small cottage in Paris. They flew in first-class (John, fourteen-year-old Donna, their granddad, and their parents) and John, Wilfred, and Donna explored Paris to their hearts' content. Sylvia and Geoffrey Noble (the latter dragged along by the former) were too busy going and socializing with other well-off vacationing families.
He met Reinette in the park near the Eiffel Tower. She was sitting on a bench, and she was wearing a pink beret, a warm white coat (that day it was rather chilly), a knee-length pink skirt, a light blue blouse, stockings, and black Mary Janes. John sat down on the same bench as her. Donna was too busy flirting with a fifteen-year-old boy (who was starting to look quite scared) to notice. Wilfred was too busy trying to extricate Donna from the fifteen-year old boy to notice.
"Sisters are boring," he groused, not taking much notice of the dolled-up Reinette. "All chatting with boys, and makeup-Donna actually used to be fun."
"Your sister chats with makeup?" Reinette teased, her words almost a song with her light French accent and her soft, high voice. She shifted carefully on the bench to face him. "You English are so funny."
"Ha ha, hilarious," John muttered. "Seriously, though-sisters are boring."
"I have little experience with sisters," said Reinette wistfully. "I would like to have one."
"You can have mine," John snorted. Then, "Nah, I like her. I think I'll keep her. Just for now."
Reinette giggled. "I like you. What is your name?"
"What? Oh! Noble. John Noble. You?"
"Reinette Poisson," said Reinette proudly.
"Cool," said John. "Where are your parents?"
As one would have guessed, this wasn't a usual reaction from people meeting Reinette Poisson in the flesh. Reinette scowled slightly. "My parents," she said, "are at home. I wanted to go out."
"Okay," said John. "My mum and dad are at a party somewhere, and Donna, Gramps, and I are seeing France."
"Quel bonheur!" Reinette gasped in delight. "Have you seen any of the cafes yet?"
"Um, what was that thingy you just said? I don't speak much French, so-"
Reinette waved a hand dismissively. "It is not important, John Noble-I must show you and your Donna around France! Will your mother and father be too worried?"
"Nah," said John. "We'll be fine. How d'you say 'let's go' in French?"
Reinette laughed delightedly. "Allons-y!"
"Then allons-y, Reinette Poisson!"
They spent the month together, exploring Paris. At first Donna and Wilf came with them, but soon the former tired of going to every single museum and library, and she and John decided to split up-Donna had an extremely good sense of direction and always managed to find her way back to the cottage. John and Reinette became close friends during that month.
"I look forward to seeing you again," Reinette said gloomily at the end of the month. "I sincerely hope that you will visit Paris sometime soon."
"My mum might be selling the cottage," John replied reluctantly. "But I promise I'll write all the time!"
"Pinky swear?" Reinette asked, holding out her pinky and smiling sadly.
John grinned, taking her pinky in his own. "Pinky swear."
Rose couldn't stop herself from interrupting then. "John, sorry, but I don't see how Reinette has anything to do with-"
"I'm getting to that," said John. "Just keep on listening."
Fast-forward nine years. John was twenty-one and in Paris on a business trip, and he decided to drop by and visit Reinette. They'd been corresponding enthusiastically for the past near-decade, both through snail-mail and email, and each was extremely excited to see the other again.
John was sitting on the exact same bench and holding a bouquet of flowers when an extremely attractive woman sauntered up to the bench and sat down next to him.
She was wearing a pink skirt (although not quite the same shade), a light blue blouse (with a different collar), white stockings, and black Mary Janes.
"Reinette," said John in absolute shock. "My, how you've grown."
"I could say the same for you," said Reinette with a grin. "Oh, my dear John, it is wonderful to see you again. I do hope you like the outfit; I tried my best to be accurate."
"It's-it's lovely. I absolutely-wow," said John, and he handed her the flowers and delighted in watching her eyes light up.
The day was spent going and visiting their old favorite places from that month of long ago. The café with the amazing hot chocolate where John had gotten a hot chocolate mustache and Reinette had laughed. The museum where they'd hidden in a sarcophagus and gotten discovered by an angry security guard. The toy store they'd spent two hours in, playing with the remote-controlled helicopter.
And at the end of the day, Reinette kissed John so hard that he saw stars.
And at the end of the two weeks, when John had to go back to London, he took Reinette with him.
She fit naturally into his life. He introduced her to all of his friends as "my girlfriend, Reinette," and she glowed. They did domestic together; he went off to teach physics at a local college, while she…well…she didn't really do much, but that was because she was used to the good life.
But then so was he. And sometimes he wished that she would do more, but when he asked she would glare at him as if he'd asked her to jump into a mud puddle in her best white dress. Really, though, all relationships had their little bumps in the road, so why should it matter that much?
John overlooked the bad in Reinette, emphasized the good, and bought a ring box for his mother's old engagement ring.
And then Geoffrey Noble died.
John was devastated. Reinette couldn't comfort him, so instead she told him that she thought it would be best if he dealt with his grief alone and went back to France, sending him care packages and love letters across the Channel. He wrote her, emailed her, trying to tell her that he missed her and loved her and was lonely as hell, but she told him staunchly and stubbornly that it was what was best for both of them.
He spent a year grieving, aided by Matt and Donna whenever they could (both of them had some strong opinions on Reinette deserting him), and then Reinette came back, standing outside of the mansion on a bright and sunny Friday afternoon.
"John," she began, and then he was kissing her, because he didn't care that she'd left, it didn't matter, she was here now, and it was all going to be okay-
"Marry me, love," he whispered, pulling away and smiling at her with blissful happiness. "I have missed you so much, and I want to never have to miss you again. I love you, forever, I promise-"
"Stop, stop, please," Reinette whispered. "John, listen."
"I love you," said John again, and he realized that it was the first time he'd ever said it out loud, the first time he'd ever fallen in love before.
"There's someone else," said Reinette.
The blissful smile twisted on John's face.
"A-a man. Louis. I am so sorry. I met him at a party, I fell in love-my parents wish me to marry him. John, I love you, I always will, but I cannot forsake my duty."
"What is this?" said John bitterly. "Is this a soap opera, Reinette? Forsaking your duty-you don't have to have a duty if you don't want to!"
"I love Louis," said Reinette, her voice shaking. "I am sorry. I love you, and I love him. I doubt that you can understand."
"Please, Reinette, just go," said John.
"My love-"
"Don't." He stepped back inside the house, shut the door, and walked upstairs, ignoring the sound of Reinette persistently ringing the doorbell.
Rose took John's hand in her own. He didn't break eye contact with her as he continued to speak, his voice hoarse and a tear trickling down his cheek.
Matt's birthday rolled around. John didn't feel like celebrating, but he came anyway. He bought Matt a pair of boxers with SpongeBob Squarepants all over them (Matt loved decorative boxers), practiced his smile so that no one would be able to tell how upset he was, and drove over.
Matt answered the door. "Hey, mate, come on in! Thanks for the present-you're a bit late. Hang on, I want you to meet someone-we grew up together, and I just know you're going to love her."
And suddenly Rose understood.
"Oh my-" she gasped, and John smiled softly at her.
"Yeah," he said.
"This is Rose," said Matt proudly. "Rose, this is my best mate John."
And when John looked into Rose's eyes, he felt his stomach wobble a little bit, because he was just getting over Reinette and why was she so ridiculously pretty?
Rose bit her lip. "I guess I understand," she finally conceded. "But-but why-if you fancy me, John, why wouldn't you have said anything?"
"I think at first I didn't think that you could fancy me back," said John softly, finally looking away-looking instead at their joined hands. The park was much darker now. "And then I got to know you, and I realized that I was sort of falling in love with you, and I didn't want you to be some rebound fling, so I kept on telling myself that I'd figure it out, but-" He laughed bitterly. "I didn't."
"Seems to me," said Rose softly, "if you care that much about me not being a rebound fling, maybe you care quite a bit."
"Yeah," said John.
"And I guess that means that we're equal, because I care quite a bit about you too," said Rose, her voice barely a nervous whisper now.
John gave her a lopsided smile, his eyes shining with tears or happiness or both. "I guess so," he said.
In days to come, Rose would wonder as to who moved first. John didn't remember either. All she knew was that one moment she was smiling like an idiot, and the next moment she was cuddled in his arms, his hands gripping her waist and her hands at the lapels of his suit jacket.
"Rose Tyler," he whispered, "I-"
"Not yet," said Rose softly.
"Why not?"
"Because then Amy's going to be all smug when she finds out we're an established couple."
John laughed softly, his breath tickling her mouth. "Frankly, I don't care about Amy right now. It's you I love."
And before she could say anything else, they were kissing, and it was slow and sweet and wonderful, his mouth warm on her own, him tugging her as close as possible and wrapping his arms around her-it did get chilly fast in Manhattan. Rose was the one to pull away, however much she didn't want to.
"Jimmy Stone," she said.
"Wha?" said John stupidly, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.
Rose giggled softly and cuddled into his side. "Jimmy Stone. He—um—he was my first boyfriend."
"And you want to tell me?" John asked cautiously, now slightly more aware of his surroundings.
She swallowed. "About as much as you wanted to tell me about Reinette."
He looked down at her and took one of her hands in his, squeezing it to keep it warm. "Go on."
Rose Tyler was a decent girl. Didn't get horrible grades, didn't hang out with the wrong crowd; she was just sort of there. She had a boyfriend (Mickey) and her best friends (Matt and Clara) and life was generally pretty good. And then, one day, she bumped into Jimmy Stone in the library.
"Oh!" Rose gasped, her books flying out of her arms. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! Let me just—"
"No, let me—"
Both of them scrambled for the books and knocked heads.
"Sorry!" said Jimmy, blushing profusely, looking up at her with big eyes the color of chocolate. His hair was spiky and blonde, and he was giving her a dreamy smile. "Sorry, sorry—um, what's your name?"
"Rose Tyler," Rose replied, giving him a shy smile in return.
"Can I take you out for chips?" Jimmy asked. "So I can make up for knocking your books?"
"Sure! I'd—I love chips!" Rose was grinning broadly now.
He took her out for chips. It turned out that he was twenty (and she was seventeen, but really that wasn't too much of an age difference, so it didn't matter too much) and in a rock band, which he invited her to join.
"You'd have to ditch school, though," he said in a soft and apprehensive voice, taking her hand over the table. "It's in Wales. I know that's a lot to ask, I mean, I've only just met you, but you're absolutely beautiful, and I just—I really want to get to know you."
Rose blushed, grinned, and agreed, packing a bag in the dead of night with the most punk-rock-ish clothing she could find.
They spent five months together before she caught him kissing the lead guitarist (a buxom young woman who wore tight shirts and shorts that left little to the imagination) and left, taking a train back to London. He came back with dandelions, a poem, and a promise to be faithful, looking up at her with his big eyes and smiling sweetly. There was something of a small child in him, that Jimmy Stone, and yet when he sang, he was as "bad boy" as he could possibly be.
Rose found it entrancing.
He cheated on her four times before she gave up, finding him and a pretty young redhead entangled in the bed that he and Rose had once shared. Not even a love song could make her come back to him then. He tried for two hours before giving up.
She never saw him again.
"Simple, really, much simpler than your story," said Rose with a sigh. "Didn't mean that much to him, though, me."
John exhaled. "You didn't deserve him."
She sighed. "John, I went back to him four times. What sort of person does that? Maybe after one time, possibly after two, but four times is just—"
John grinned gently, "Rose, I can promise you that I'll never ever ever cheat on you, not even if it turns out you have a hidden fondness for pears."
Rose giggled sadly. "Think that it'll ever stop hurting?"
John bit his lip, evidently mulling over the right words. "I—I know that hurting is—what makes us stronger, and all that, but it still hurts a little when I see anyone wearing black Mary Janes. I don't think I'll ever forget Reinette, but I know that eventually I won't love her as much as I used to." He smiled. "I think I'm going to be distracted by the woman I'm already in love with."
He kissed her.
He tasted like bananas.
She told him so when they were done kissing, and both of them found it hysterical for some reason.
Reviews? Hope that this chapter lived up to your expectations!
-The Eclectic Bookworm