Chapter Twenty-Four—London, 28 and 29 July, 2007

Back at their table, Rose watched as John ascended the stairs with their drinks: whiskey for him, white wine for her. She didn't dare have anything stronger. Rather than easier, she was finding it more and more difficult to see him simply as John. It was more than his looks and his mannerisms and his frequent use of the words "fantastic" and "stupid ape". The Doctor was part of everything he did, everything he was: his impatience with stupidity; his desire to help, and intervene for, those who needed it; his patience with lonely pensioners and overly excited children. And of course it was difficult to remember he was John when they went to repair things on the estate. It was the goofy torch he wore on his head while he worked. It was the way he looked when half shoved under a kitchen sink trying to fix a leaky pipe, with only his dark jean clad legs and heavy work boots visible. It was the way he'd ask her to hand him a spanner or a screwdriver or some other tool while making repairs, or the way he chatted easily about science and architecture, films and books and music and any other topic that sprang to mind. It was like being in the TARDIS with him all over again.

But it was more than that. It was the way he'd hold her hand. He'd grab her hand, holding tightly as they walked down a crowded street so they wouldn't get separated, or squeezing it after they'd both had a difficult day at work, or intertwining their fingers and caressing the back of it with his thumb for no other reason than he wanted to.

And more than anything it was the grin he gave her over a private joke, and the way he'd look at her like she was the only person in the world.

It was so difficult to remember he was John when he so clearly was the Doctor.

As he joined her at the table, he flashed her that grin, the grin he reserved for her and no one else, and her heart pounded, just as it had when she was nineteen and they had just begun traveling together. And frankly every other time he grinned at her. She grinned back.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

For the tiniest instant, his grin faded into a frown and then returned to a wide smile. She would have missed it if she hadn't known him so well.

"Queue at the bar," he told her as he sat down.

She didn't believe him for a second and wondered what the real reason was.

~oOo~

The reception dragged as Rose caught up with some of her old friends from school. Some of them remarked that they didn't know she was back, but most of them said they were surprised to see her there since they had heard that someone named Mickey had killed her.

For a while John sat back and listened, hoping for more information beyond what she'd already told him about the time when she'd been missing, but every time someone mentioned it she quickly turned the conversation to other topics.

Eventually when anyone new joined them John's eyes would glaze over, and he'd make an excuse to leave, stating he was going to refresh their drinks or to talk to someone he knew from the Estate or from the garage. He excused himself to go to the loo so many times that he began to worry that Rose would think he had a prostate problem.

After that he gave up on making excuses. When someone approached he just left.

Until the best man began to cross the room, headed towards them. He was tall, blond, and good-looking enough to be on the cover of GQ. Or Playgirl. Most of all, the bloke was much closer to Rose's age than he was. John scowled.

And then he slowly smiled.

Before the handsome bloke could join them, John grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Come on," he ordered.

"Where are we…" she began. And then her face lit up as he spun her onto the dance floor.

When the song ended she backed away from him, obviously expecting them to return to the table, and he pulled her back into his arms. A look of surprise crossed her face, and then she melted into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

A very good sign, he thought, momentarily forgetting his decision not to press her into a closer relationship.

Perhaps a half an hour and seven songs later, she pulled away again.

"Thirsty," she told him.

As soon as they returned to their table, the maid of honor—Shareen, he remembered from the conversation downstairs—and the best man joined them. They were each carrying a drink, a half empty pint for him while hers was a glass of something a fluorescent blue.

The blond bloke set his glass down and grabbed a couple of chairs from a nearby table.

Shareen plopped herself down on one. "Steve, you remember Rose," she said.

"How could I forget?" he said as he sat down. He flashed a grin at Rose, revealing perfect, white teeth.

John shot him a dark look.

Shareen turned to him, her mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. "What did you say your name was?"

"John," he answered.

"Damn!" she said. "I owe Rita ten quid. We bet that you were—"

Rose interrupted her. "John, this is Shareen." She turned back to her. "So you saw Rita? Where is she?"

Shareen turned to her. "Oh, she had to take off. She was here with Joe and his girlfriend what's-her-name. They only stayed for a couple of minutes because she didn't want to risk running into that piece of shit Chuck." She turned back to face John. "Are you sure you aren't—"

"So, Steve," Rose said, interrupting her again. "What have you been up to?"

Before Steve could answer, Shareen grinned cheekily.

"I'm guessing about eight inches," she said, "but I'm sure I'll find out for sure later." She tossed her drink back and slammed the glass on the table. Then she leaned over and squeezed Steve's thigh. With a smirk he reciprocated, causing her to giggle.

She turned back to John. "Anyway, Rita and I had this bet goin', and she said that you were her neighbor, John, and I said—"

"What time is it?" Rose interjected. "It must be getting late."

Steve glanced at his watch. "Looks like it's half one."

"Wow, it's later than I thought," she said. She stood up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. "We've really got to get going. Don't we, John?" Before he could respond, she continued. "Really nice to see you again, Steve."

She grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of his chair, across the room and down the stairs before he could get a word in.

"What's with you?" John asked as they dodged people in the pub on their way to the door. "Is she a childhood enemy or something?"

"No, actually she's one of my best friends," she answered.

He stared at her incredulously. "How do you treat your enemies?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know," she said as she pulled him out the door.

Outside the temperature had dropped and there was a heavy mist in the air. Rose shivered. John automatically pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves.

John took her hand, and they headed towards the Audi they had taken to the wedding. He didn't own his own car; instead he had borrowed one from Arthur Mudali. Their boss had a couple of cars for hire that he kept for customers whose own cars were in the shop. Mudali typically didn't loan them out to staff, but John was his best mechanic. He didn't want to lose him to another garage, so it didn't take much for John to persuade his boss to make an exception.

Since it was Saturday night, between the regular pub goers and the wedding guests, they'd had to park a couple of blocks away, and by the time they got into the car the mist had turned into a drizzle. John turned the key in the ignition.

It didn't start.

In fact, it didn't even try to turn over. He tried again. Dead silence.

He frowned.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"I don't know," he told her. "Sounds like the battery's dead. Did the lights come on when we got in?"

"I didn't really notice."

He reached up to turn on the overhead light, but it didn't turn on.

"You leave the headlights on?" she teased.

"Didn't have them on," he said seriously. "It was still light out when we got here. Could be the alternator's bad. On the other hand, if we're lucky the battery cable's just loose. Hand me the torch. It's in the glove compartment." She passed him the torch, and he popped open the bonnet. "Stay here," he said as he got out of the car.

She followed him, and he shot her a look.

"I have no idea why I thought you'd listen," he said.

She grinned at him. "I don't know either."

"Must have been a case of momentary insanity."

"Only momentary?"

He shot her another look. She was giving him a cheeky grin, with the tip of her tongue curling up to touch her upper teeth, and as he stuck his head under the bonnet, his mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile of his own.

"Hmm, not the battery cable," he said as he shined the torch at the engine.

The rain grew harder. He slammed the bonnet shut, and they got back into the car.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Well, I'm not going to figure out what's wrong in the dark, and even if I could, I couldn't fix it here. We could try to jump the engine, but it might not work. Not to mention that no one's around, and there's no sense trying to get a tow at two in the morning." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The buses don't run this late. We should get a taxi."

She stuck out her hand. "Give me your mobile."

"You need to get a new one," he said as he handed it to her.

"Why should I when I can just use yours?" she asked cheekily as she typed in a number.

"Just don't put her on speed dial."

"Why not? She's got your number on hers."

A pained expression crossed his face. "You really need to get a new phone."

She held a finger to her lips.

"Hi, Mum," she said. She fell silent for a moment. "Yeah, it was great." As she listened, she looked at John and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she was gorgeous, and no, you couldn't tell she was pregnant. Listen, where are you and Stuart? Because the car's dead and we need a ride." She paused again. "Oh. Never mind then. If you can't, you can't. I'll see you later, yeah?"

She rang off. "His car's too small to fit all of us."

"Taxi it is then. Give me the mobile back."

As she handed the phone back to him, she stared out the window. "It'll take a half an hour for it to get here, easy. We're only about a mile from our flats, yeah?"

"About that. Maybe a little less." He stared at her as he realized what she was thinking. "Rose, it's pouring out there."

She gave him a crooked, mischievous grin. "So?"

"We can't walk that in this weather," he protested.

She jumped out of the car and stuck her head back inside. "Who said anything about walking?"

He got out and joined her. He shook his head. "Now who's the crazy one?"

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed his hand.

"Run!"

She tugged on his hand, and they tore down the pavement, but before they got more than a block she pulled him to a stop.

"Hold on." She let go of his hand and pulled off one shoe.

"You're not going to be able to run that far barefoot," he said, having to raise his voice over the sound of the storm.

She snorted as she pulled off the other. "Believe me, I'm used to it."

With her shoes in one hand and his hand in the other, she took off again, pulling him along.

To his amazement, despite his much longer legs he didn't have to keep his speed in check. She easily kept up with him as they rounded corners and took shortcuts down alleys.

The rain was coming down in sheets as they neared the garage. Large puddles had formed on low places on the pavement while part of the road itself had turned into a fast moving stream about four feet wide and at least several inches deep.

He let go of her hand and easily jumped it. He turned back when he realized she hadn't immediately followed.

"What's wrong?" he yelled.

"I don't really want to wade it, but I'm not sure I can jump it," she called back. "I'm not exactly as tall as you."

"You can make it," he said encouragingly. "And if you don't, I'll catch you."

She nodded. She backed up several feet, ran and jumped.

He caught her neatly in his arms and set her down. He grabbed her hand.

"Run!" he said.

Laughing, they ran the rest of the distance to Bucknall House.

Once inside the entrance to the stairwell, they looked out the window at the heavy rain still coming down.

"That was fun," she said, as she squeezed water out of her dripping hair.

He turned to her, a wide grin on his face. "Rose Tyler, I don't know anyone else who wouldn't complain about the car breaking down and then would suggest running a mile in a downpour instead of waiting for a taxi. And barefoot no less," he said, admiration filling his voice. "You're fantastic. Absolutely fantastic."

She bit her lip shyly. "Thanks."

She looked up at him. Wide dark brown eyes met the steel blue of his own. His grin faded, and for the second time that night he almost forgot his resolution to keep their relationship platonic.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. The tip of her tongue was tracing her lips, as if in anticipation. He unintentionally mimicked her and began to lean towards her…

And then jerked himself to a halt, reminding himself of all the times she'd stopped him from kissing her. She didn't want this, and he didn't want to ruin their friendship.

He turned away from her to look out the window. "I think the rain's letting up a bit."

"Uh, yeah, I think it is," she said brightly. "Um… thanks for the use of your coat." She slipped it off and handed it to him.

"Any time. How are your feet?"

"They're fine," she said. "In better condition than these shoes." She glanced down at them. "I'm gonna have to bin them. The dress too, I think."

He automatically looked down at it. Despite her having worn his coat, the entire dress top to bottom was soaked from the rain. It clung to her like a second skin, revealing her slim waist and the soft curves of her breasts, bum, and thighs.

He swallowed hard and quickly looked up at her face, hoping she hadn't caught him staring.

"Do you… do you wanna come up?" she asked hesitantly.

He glanced back down, at the once opaque material that had gone sheer. He could see the outline of a lace bra and knickers, and a hint of dusty pink areolas and erect nipples. His mouth went dry.

"No, better not," he said in a low voice. Then he flashed her a manic grin. "You need to get into some warm, dry clothes."

"Uh, yeah, you too. You'll catch your death."

"Me? Nah. Takes more than a little rain to make me sick. Superior physiology."

She laughed quietly.

"Well, I'd better not keep you," she said. "Don't want you to get sick, superior physiology or not."

She turned to go, and he stopped her.

"Rose, thanks for inviting me. I had a very nice time."

She smiled at him. "Me too."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "G'night."

"Night."

As he slipped on his jacket, he watched her walk up the stairs. Then he headed back out into the rain.

~oOo~

The flat was dark when Rose entered, but just in case she called out to her mum to tell her she was home. As she expected, there was no answer.

After binning her shoes, she grabbed a bath towel and began to dry her hair on the way to her room.

He'd been about to kiss her, she was sure of it. But he had stopped himself.

No, she had stopped him herself, by holding him at arm's length the last couple of weeks.

She'd had to. It was the right thing to do, she told herself.

Wasn't it?

Even if it was, she couldn't help but feel incredibly disappointed.

She dropped her sodden clothes on the bedroom floor and slowly dressed, first pulling on a T-shirt and then sweat pants over dry knickers. She grabbed a pair of socks.

In the lounge, she dropped cross-legged onto the sofa and examined her feet. Despite her response to John, her feet were a little sore, although much less so than most other people's would be. She was telling the truth there. She had to run all the time while traveling with the Doctor, mostly in trainers, but frequently barefoot.

Besides being dirty, the soles of her feet had a few cuts and a small amount of gravel embedded in them. She laughed ruefully. Even with sore feet, running barefoot in the streets of London in the pouring rain was probably the most fun she'd had since she'd got here. Oh, they'd had fun sightseeing and watching telly and dancing at the reception, but running in the rain was so them. While they ran hand in hand, she'd almost forgotten about everything that had brought her here: the TARDIS, the fob watch, the Doctor being John. For those moments it was just the Doctor and Rose again, running for their lives, only without the monsters.

She got a damp flannel and some ointment and set about doctoring her feet. She was just slipping on her thick, white socks when she heard the door open.

"Mum, is that you?"

When she didn't get an answer she got up and walked into the hallway.

Her mother was standing by the door, staring at a piece of paper in her hand. She didn't respond.

"Mum? Where's Stuart?" When her mum didn't answer, Rose crossed over to her. "Mum, what is that?"

Jackie jumped. She hurriedly put the paper behind her back. "Rose, you startled me. I didn't know you were there."

"I've been calling you," she answered. "What is that?"

"Nothing!"

"It's not nothing." Rose reached around her and grabbed the paper out of her hands. Although most was illegible, what she could read was vile: threats and obscenities and crude, disgusting drawings. "Where did this come from?" she demanded.

"Oh, Rose, I didn't want you to see that," her mother said.

"Where did you get this?" Rose asked slowly and firmly.

"It… it was shoved in the door, same as the other ones."

"What other ones?"

"Doesn't matter," Jackie said.

"Yes, it does. How many of these have you gotten?"

"Dunno. Maybe a dozen over the last couple of weeks."

"What! And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know."

Rose opened her mouth to argue, and then shut it as something her mother said clicked.

"Hold on, you say it was shoved in the door?"

"Yeah, same as the others."

"But I've only been home five minutes, and it wasn't there when I got here."

Jackie blanched. "Oh my God, I must have seen him. I passed someone on the stairs just now. He was going down while I was coming up."

Rose's eyes widened. "Stay here!" she ordered. Still clutching the note, she ran out of the flat.

It was pouring again. Through the rain, she spotted a hooded figure crossing the courtyard. "Oi! Stop!"

The figure looked up and then began to run.

She flew down the stairs.

~oOo~

Just as he finished getting dressed, John's mobile rang. He glanced at the number.

"Hello, Rose?"

"No, it's Jackie! Rose is in trouble! She just took off after someone who's been threatening me!"

Jackie sounded terrified, and John's brain kicked into high gear. "Don't worry. I'm on my way."

He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out of the flat. From the walkway, he could see Rose erupting from her building and running across the courtyard.

"Rose!" he yelled, but she ignored him.

He took the stairs two at a time. When that wasn't quick enough he swung over the railing, skipping over landings and entire flights of stairs. He ran out of his building just as Rose was leaving the courtyard.

"Rose!"

He followed her out of the courtyard, only catching up with her on the street.

"Damn it, I lost him!" she said angrily. "Where the hell did he go?"

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"Thank God," he said, ignoring her tone. He pulled out his mobile. "Jackie? Yeah, she's fine. Listen… No, listen! Is there someone who could come and stay with you tonight? Or better yet, is there someone you could stay with?" He paused. "That's perfect." Another pause. "No, I'll take her home with me. Don't worry, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this."

As he shoved his phone in his pocket he turned to Rose. "What on Earth were you thinking, chasing after someone alone in the middle of the night like that?" he snapped. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"Someone is threatening my mum!" she told him. "She's been getting threatening notes for weeks! No one threatens my mum! And I almost caught him too!"

"And what would you have done with him once you got him?" he asked. She didn't answer. "You don't know, do you? You should have called me."

She glared at him. "There wasn't time! He was right there! And I almost had him!" She let out a cry of frustration. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" she swore. She looked up and down the street. It was empty.

"He's not here, Rose," he said. "There's no sense staying." He grabbed her hand and yanked her back in the direction of his building. She followed reluctantly, muttering under her breath.

Once they were in his flat with the door closed, he noticed the slip of paper she was clutching in her hand. "Give it here."

She thrust it at him.

He swore under his breath. It was so wet it was illegible. "That's no help."

She held her hand out to him.

"Give me your phone," she ordered. "I've got to call my mum."

"No," he told her firmly. "You're too upset. You'll just scare her more than she already is. I'll call her."

While he spoke to Jackie, on the other side of the room Rose sat down on the sofa and pulled off her soggy socks. "I'm gonna have to bin these too," she muttered. Instead, she dropped them on the floor.

He rang off and sat down next to her.

She jumped back up and began to pace the room.

"Why are we here? We should be protecting my mum," she said.

He stood up again. "Stuart's coming to pick her up," he told her. "He's gonna take her to his place."

"Then we should be out finding that… that… piece of shit who was threatening her." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Damn it! No one, no one, no one threatens my mum and gets away with it!"

"Whoever it was wasn't threatening Jackie, Rose," he said, trying to keep an even tone to his voice. He wasn't entirely successful. "They were trying to scare you."

She whirled on him. "What?" she said. "How do you know that?

"Stands to reason. I've been getting notes too."

"You've been… Why the hell didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

"I wanted to keep you out of it." She stared at him. "I was trying to protect you!" he snapped.

"Protect me? You don't need to protect me! You can't just wrap me in cotton wool, John!" she spat. "You have no idea what I've been through! I'm a big girl! I can take care of myself!"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?"

"You need to use your head!" he exploded. "You don't know what this person wants. He probably wants to hurt you. He could even want to kill you! It's just stupid to take off on your own like that! Next time, before you go off half-cocked, you tell me!"

"You aren't my father!" she shouted. "You don't get to tell me what to do!"

His eyes flashed. "Oh, I know I'm not your father, Rose Tyler. Don't you ever make that mistake!"

In an instant, he closed the distance between them, cupped her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his own in a hard, possessive, almost brutal kiss.

She froze.

As he felt her stiffen, he let go of her—practically pushing her away—and staggered backwards. They stared at one another in shock.

"I'm sorry," he said, panting. "I shouldn't have done that."

She closed the distance between them.

"Oh, oh, yes you should have," she said in a low voice. She grabbed his shirt, yanked him closer and kissed him back.