Never Quite Normal

By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism

This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa

Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. There's now someone banging at the door claiming to be the immortal bloke we were told about before. Somehow, I don't think he's come to hand himself over... oh dear. We'll keep you updated on our progress, if we ever make any.

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

Chapter 12:

Tuesday afternoon, Rose got the second most gratifying surprise of her life to date. Only the red bike that had appeared for Christmas when she was twelve could beat it.

Wilson was fixing the connection of a flickering light on the sales floor. He insisted that he needed Rose to hand him tools and tell him when something he did made it better or worse. It didn't take him long to figure out which wire was going wrong.

"Watch this, Rose," he said with the enthusiasm of a little kid. The light flickered rhythmically: three quick flashes, three slow flashes, three quick flashes.

"SOS," Rose translated.

"You think anyone will respond to my distress signal?" Wilson asked mischievously. The two were soon doubled over in laughter.

"Figure it out?" Joseph asked from behind Rose.

Wilson wasn't fazed by the sudden appearance. "Yup," he said cheerfully. "It was something so simplistic, even Rose thinks it's an insult to my talents."

"I'm sure." Joseph tried to remain stern, but his lips were twitching. "Well, if you're free, Miss Tyler, there's a delivery for you."

"For me?" Rose asked incredulously.

"Indeed. I would hurry along before the other girls try to claim it." Joseph turned on his heel and walked off.

Rose stared after him. Wilson, after replacing the panel, jumped down and grabbed Rose's hand, dragging her towards the break room.

"C'mon," he urged.

Rose managed to spur her feet into action, and trotted along after Wilson.

The electrician whistled as he walked into the room. Rose craned her head over his shoulder to see what had so impressed him. In the middle of the card table that predominated the pokey room, a vase supported a large bouquet.

Wilson circled it, peering intently.

"Roses, Stargazer lilies, Fuji mums, alstroemeria…" he muttered pointing vaguely to each flower in turn. He noticed Rose's glance in his direction. "What? Me mum was a florist. She wasn't half sick that I didn't follow in her shoes." He turned back to the flowers. "Exquisitely arranged. Someone has good taste. Ooh, there's a card." He snatched up the small envelope addressed to her and passed it over without even a peek, though the curiosity was obviously killing him.

Rose's fingers toyed with the flap of the envelope while she continued to stare at the bouquet. She knew who it was from. She didn't have to look at the card to know.

No one had ever made such a public declaration of their feelings for her. It had felt like they were ashamed of her instead. Jimmy Stone had openly slept with other girls, saying she couldn't satisfy him. He'd insulted her regularly in front of her friends. Even Mickey had pulled her to the side so no one would hear. Although she knew that he'd done it to protect her privacy, after her experiences with Jimmy, Rose had briefly thought it was because he was ashamed to be associated with her.

And here was a bouquet, the intent of which couldn't be mistaken. It made her feel cherished and important. With a smile, Rose finally pulled the card from the envelope. Rose wondered how long it had taken Joshua to write the message. It was scribed with the careful hand of someone who had terrible penmanship and was making a real effort to be legible.

"'I'm stupid.'" Rose read aloud, knowing that Wilson would scream if he had to wait much longer. "'I'm sorry. Please give me another chance. I'd love for us to start over. May I take you to dinner this Thursday at 6:30? -Joshua'"

"Honey, you got it bad," Wilson chimed.

"How d'you mean?"

Wilson grabbed a hand mirror Stephanie kept in the break room and showed Rose her face. She was beaming. If her smile grew any wider, she would dislocate her jaw.

"So, you're going, right?"

"I think I have to."

"I think the poof should put down my mirror. Might break if it has to reflect your face much longer," a cold voice said from the doorway. Stephanie stepped into the room and spied the flowers. "Oh, look! One of the girls got flowers, how sweet. I wonder who they're for." Her voice oozed the sap of someone who expected to be told they were the recipient, all set up to act surprised.

"Rose," Wilson told her firmly. "The flowers are for Rose."

"Nice try, Miss East-end, but I'm not letting you steal someone else's flowers just because you've never gotten any of your own."

For once, Rose felt she had the strength of will to stand up to this abuse. She was important to somebody.

"You're right, Stephanie," she said, placing herself squarely in front of the other girl, forcing Stephanie to face her head on. "I've never gotten flowers before. No one's ever really cared enough. But," she held up the envelope the card had been in, "this says 'to Miss Rose Tyler.' Some one cares now, and not even you can destroy that." Rose pushed past Stephanie and headed to the sales floor without a single backwards glance.

Wilson stayed behind, transfixed by the colors that battled for control of Stephanie's face. The white of shock gave way to the red of embarrassment. Red was soon captured and executed by a purple rage. Rage and green envy soon reached a stalemate and so agreed to cohabit the face peaceably. The resulting color put Wilson in mind of a book he'd once read which mentioned an eighth color of the rainbow: octarine. People who saw it described it as a greenish-purple. Smirking, Wilson left the still motionless Stephanie alone in the break room only after putting the flowers on a shelf Stephanie couldn't reach.

Rose burst into the flat that night and hurried into her room, scouring her wardrobe after carefully setting down the flowers.

"What is it, sweetheart? And what're those?" Jackie asked, wandering in from the living room.

"Nothing, mum. I'm just going out for a bit. Won't be late."

Jackie glanced between the flowers and her daughter's face, and made a remarkably accurate leap of logic. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

"You're not going to see him," she told her daughter decisively.

Rose considered lying, but remembered that she'd decided she was too old to do so anymore. "Yes, I am," Rose said, shimmying into a pair of jeans. "I just need to tell him something, and then I'll come straight home."

"You can't. I won't let you throw your life away on this drunk."

"I'm not throwing anything away. And you liked Jimmy, and look how that turned out. Sorry if I don't trust your judgment on who I should date!" Rose regretted saying that when she saw her mum wince. "Sorry," she whispered. Her mum had liked Jimmy, when he seemed to be going places. Joshua had already been places, but her mum didn't see anything but the older bloke at the pub. Rose honestly thought that was what he wanted everyone to see, just a nobody who could die in a ditch without their permission.

But he let her in. Oh, there was a lot more to know, she could spend years trying to just get an idea of who he was. But he wasn't hiding anymore.

Her mother cleared her throat and tapped her foot, glowering at Rose, and then at the flowers as if they contained some sort of spell or something.

"I love him, Mum." The confession lifted the weight off her chest that had been bothering her since the night in the pub. It had happened, she knew that, but she'd not been willing to admit it aloud or even to herself except in moments of panic.

"Oh for God's sake, Rose, you hardly know him!"

"Doesn't matter."

"Let me just tell you, my girl. Love's all very well and good but believe me when I tell you it'll never pay the bills."

She rolled her eyes. "He bought that lot, didn't he?" she asked, gesturing at the flowers. When her mum refused to acknowledge their presence at all, she sighed. "No, but neither will pretending I don't care. Love doesn't have to pay the bills, Mum, it just has to be." Rose watched her mum, praying she'd understand.

Jackie sighed and stepped aside. "Go to it, then," she told her daughter wearily.

Rose only paused to give her mum a peck before racing out the front door. She ran all the way to Joshua's flat and was breathless even before she saw the grin when he opened the door and saw her.

"Yes. You may," she told him before launching into his arms. She squeezed him tight until a hiss of air between his teeth reminded her that he was still injured. "Sorry!" She tried to pull back, but he didn't let go.

"You forgive me?" he choked out.

"I forgive you," she murmured warmly before scolding, "if you never do it again. Ever."

"I won't," Joshua vowed. His voice ached with sincerity.

"I know," she whispered with a smile. Only then did Joshua relax his grip, though Rose got the sense that he did so with great reluctance. She stood within the circle of his arms for several minutes listening to the oddly doubled rhythm of his heartbeat. She remembered that his uncle had said he had a heart condition. It was irregular, but it soothed her.

Then she remembered that she'd promised her mum she'd only be gone a few minutes. Rose looked up into Joshua's smiling eyes. By standing on tiptoe, she was able to give his cheek a soft, lingering kiss.

"See you Thursday," she said. And then, she was gone.

Joshua watched after her and realized he knew how that black-haired boy in the park had felt.

A/N: If you want to see Rose's flowers, Olfactory Ventriloquism actually picked them out for her, and they're brilliant.

Link is on my profile page, as this delightful program will NOT allow me to put it WHERE IT BELONGS. (grumble grumble ffnet swear grumble)