Title: Piece of Plastic
Summary: Some piece of plastic might change her life. (Ninth Doctor & Rose)
Author's Notes: I wasn't very sure about this, and I'm still not, to some extent, but my excellent beta Jillybean helped me out muchly, for which I am incredibly grateful.
Some piece of plastic might change her life.
The irony was bitter in her throat.
Two years ago – for her; who knew how time had passed elsewhere? – a piece of plastic had almost killed her, but she'd been saved.
Now what?
She sighed, pulling herself reluctantly to her feet. Fifteen minutes was fifteen minutes was fifteen minutes, and dwelling on things past didn't change that. It was the future that scared her, and who she might share it with.
Or not share it with, as the case may be.
Frankly she didn't have a clue what she wanted, and she certainly didn't know what he wanted. Which was the crux of this little situation, if she was totally honest with herself. Two years hadn't taught her everything there was to know about him; it had taught her a lot, and she knew him much better now than she had when they'd first met, but he was far from predictable.
She'd been pacing without realising it. Pacing and pondering.
He loved her, she knew that – he told her every day, usually more than once. Often when they made love he repeated it over and over in her ear until she found a way to shut him up.
Pacing again. She glanced at her watch. Only seven minutes to go, woo-hoo…
The door of her room opened without warning and she jumped, staring first at the man in the doorway and then at that plastic thing on the bed…
She moved to stand in front of it, but she was too slow – he'd picked it up.
"What's this?" he frowned and squinted at it. "Rose?"
She bit her lip and snatched it from his fingers. "Nothing. Were you looking for me?"
He was still eyeing the thing in her hands. "Yeah… I've got to reprogram part of the TARDIS system but as soon as that's done we can be on our way… what is that?"
"I told you, nothing." Her knuckles were white, she was clutching it so tightly. "Where are we going, then?"
"Rose." His voice was hard.
She looked down at it, then at her watch. "Five minutes. Will you wait with me?"
Some of the colour drained from his face.
She sat down on the bed and he moved, perhaps automatically, to sit next to her.
"Would you be very… I dunno… angry? Upset? If I was, you know…" She trailed off; the shellshocked look on his face was telling her everything she needed to know.
She sighed and looked down at the object in her hands. She supposed she should have bought another one; sometimes they gave false results, and she really couldn't afford that right now…
"Would you want a boy or a girl?" His voice was hoarse. "I'd love a little girl who looked just like you… Blokes are supposed to want sons, though, aren't they?"
She felt her heart swelling with happiness inside her and fought back a hysterical sob. "You wouldn't be-"
"No. But we'd need a really good doctor, Rose – someone familiar with Gallifreyan physiology… and we'd have to start locking doors behind us once she… or he… could walk – there's a lot of dangerous stuff in the TARDIS."
Two minutes.
"How will you know?" He gestured at the test.
"One line if I'm not. Two if I am."
His hand gripped hers firmly and suddenly she felt so relieved, so exhausted – everything was going to be OK. Just his touch told her that; he never touched her if something was wrong.
"Your mum'll kill me if you are," he muttered.
"True," she agreed.
"Oi."
One minute.
They sat in silence and counted the seconds, staring at the little window of the test.
Eventually colour began to seep into the white strip.
One line.
Negative.