"Rose River" AU
'River Run'
Chapter Fourteen
- Educational Catharsis -

A/N: A short bit of quasi calm before the storm. Go to goo[dot]gl[slash]kEkf9 to see a family tree that I did. Spoilery as all get out, but not if you've been paying attention. =)

"There you are. Perfect," Celeste praised. She had the Doctor and Rose sitting cross legged on their bed, facing each other and holding hands. Her praise came when she felt their bond resonating as she'd instructed. Even though they had their eyes closed, she tried not to smirk at what they were doing with their faces. Reminded her of the first time her son ate a pear at age six.

"I don't like it," Rose and the Doctor said at the same time. Opening their eyes, they saw their matching expressions, then turned to Celeste. "Doesn't feel right," they said.

Losing control of her smile, Celeste shook her head. "I'm not quite sure what's more disturbing, the fact that you two said that at the same time – which isn't that surprising I suppose – or the matching inflections. Your accents were different before."

"I'm not doing what I'm supposed to," the Doctor said.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Rose said at the same time, "and my back hurts."

Chuckling, Celeste sighed in relief. "Oh good, then you're doing it right."

Blinking, Rose turned to look at the Doctor. "Wait, is this what you've been doing? Taking every ounce of pain I've got?" When he looked at her sheepishly, not saying anything, she sighed and shook her head. "I love you, but please don't do that to yourself, nor me. I know you have a martyr complex three parsecs wide, but please – for the love of creation – don't do that. She's right. I need to know when I'm overdoing it. From the state my back's in, I'm already overdoing something." She shook her head at him, then smirked. "Course, that could be your fault from last night," she tacked on cheekily.

The Doctor had been looking down between their touching knees, feeling guilty, but he popped his head up in alarm when she said that last bit. "Please don't talk about that with my mother around."

The sight of his ears turning slightly pink set Rose to giggling. Turning back to Celeste, who was also chuckling, she winked at her. "Too bad you don't have old baby pictures. Could really embarrass him then. Thank you by the way."

"You're welcome," Celeste said with a genuine smile. "In lieu of pictures, I could tell you some stories of when he was a child."

Eyes popping, the Doctor gave his mother a pained look. "Please don't. I'd like to have some dignity left when everything is said and done."

Grinning wider, Celeste gave her son a look, then turned to Rose. "There was this time when Doromor brought back some samples from sixteenth century Earth – fruits and vegetables from all across the planet. Guess what he picked up first?"

Huge smile on her face from feeling the Doctor's mortification and a phantom taste in her mouth, Rose turned to see the hint of pink actually reaching his face for once. "A pear," she said, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

"Six years old, and swearing up a storm," Celeste chuckled. "Of course, that's where he first got the idea to save your home planet."

Rose flicked her eyes over to look at her. "How so?" The thought of a six year old Doctor wanting to right wrongs was so adorable that she squeezed his hands just thinking about it.

"My little moppet spent three weeks designing a replacement fruit," Celeste said with a hint of pride.

"Bananas?" Rose said with her mouth open. When Celeste nodded, Rose's head went back as she cackled loudly. "Loads of potassium my left bum-cheek, you just wanted me to like your school project!"

"Wasn't in school at that point," the Doctor mumbled, grinning despite himself.

Their discussion was cut short when the TARDIS got their attention by nudging their minds. Beloveds, please step outside. Refit will commence in fifteen minutes.

Looking up, the Doctor was surprised. "Refit?" His eyes flicked back down to Rose, when she relayed the discussion she had with the ship earlier. "Oh."

In the TARDIS kitchen, John and Donna had moved their conversation with Sylvia for some tea. Their discussion was somewhat amiable, considering. Amiable in this case, being in Chiswick style and inflections. Meaning, the occasional shout, reprimand, and continuing on unabashed. No one could say it wasn't lively, though.

Still, throughout the evening, Sylvia came more and more to terms with what had happened to Donna. Just from what was being gone over between the three of them put her fears mostly to rest. While Donna was undoubtedly different – what with her appearance and her new way of phrasing things – she was still the same with her razor like tongue. That more than anything was what had her hackles up though. This version of her daughter wasn't someone she could run over, or stop with a glance. If anything, her change brought out the fighter that she tried to raise… much to her chagrin.

Sylvia never thought that her own ways would be thrown back in her face quite like this. Worse, it was two against one, and no amount of sidestepping could get her out of that. John was more than a match, and had no compunctions against giving it to her with both barrels. The worst thing about it was, and she hated to admit it, they were both right.

It was going on eleven in the evening, and Sylvia was simply shattered at this point. Usually, she shoved the world away and was happy in a snooze round nine. Whether it was the force of the conversation keeping her awake or the strong tea that John had made, she wasn't sure. But, the way her own set of beliefs had been ripped to shreds had her to the point of tears.

There was a break in the conversation, and Donna watched as her mother rested her forehead in her palm. Seeing something shiny trail down her face, she reached over and took her other hand. "Mum, are you crying?"

"No," Sylvia said in fruitless denial. "Yes, but… Oh, never mind. It's just usually at this point when Geoff or Dad would jump in between us to keep the peace, and I'm tired." Sighing, she closed her eyes. "God, how I miss your father," she whispered. "I keep thinking I should've done more."

"There was no way anyone could have known about his heart," John said gently. "Even with exercise and clean living, that wouldn't have held the aneurysm back. A dissected aorta isn't easily diagnosed, and nearly one hundred percent fatal no matter what anyone does."

"I know," Sylvia whispered, shuddering.

Squeezing her hand again, Donna tried to be consoling. "We'll always remember him, and we'll have his namesake…"

"Why didn't you ever go back?" Sylvia interrupted with a snap. "Did you ever think to ask? This is a time machine, and the thought of going back to save your father never crossed your mind?"

Sighing, Donna looked at John and shared the same thought. This was the heart of her mother's hatred of the Doctor. Looking back to her mother, she tilted her head. "It wouldn't have worked, mum. There are some things that Time Travel simply cannot do. Forgetting the fact that it's just wrong for the moment, there are things out there that would have prevented it from happening had we tried. Things that would make any nightmare you may have had simply run away in horror."

John picked up where she left off. "Beyond time and space, there are things that would do anything and everything to stop us."

"You didn't even try!" Sylvia said with her voice cracking.

"The Doctor did that once," Donna said quietly. "He loves Rose so much that he tried to save her father, and nearly destroyed the world in the process. It wouldn't work, mother. It never could."

Just hearing the finality of that caused Sylvia to look down to the table. Tears slipped out to dot the wood when she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Geoff was everything to her, and her last hope of ever seeing him again was finally broken. After a bit, she realized that she was standing and being held close. What was surprising about that, was the fact that it was John that was doing it.

Looking up, John and Donna heard the ship's announcement. John glanced at Donna, and she went to gather some cold cuts from the refrigerator. "Why don't we take this outside for a bit. Get out in the air for a while?" John said, letting up on the hug.

"What for?" she asked.

Donna looked over from the kitchen counter, where she was placing a light supper into a basket. "Our lovely ship is going to be doing some self maintenance very shortly. We can't be inside while she does her work. Not something she does all the time, but it's something that's been way past due."