Chapter Seven: Home
It felt wonderful to wear clothes again. Much as she liked her swimsuit, she didn't fancy wearing it again for quite some time. There was, after all, only so much time one could spend in one and not get tired of it or freeze. She only hoped that the Doctor had not decided to take them to another beach. She did not think that she could stand the sight of one at the moment. Nor, she suspected, could Jack.
Something completely different was called for. Something nice, possibly tame, but nice. Gardens, perhaps? Or shopping! Yes, shopping would be perfect. The furthest thing possible from revolutions or worries about dysfunctional families. Shopping. She smiled brightly as she walked back into the console room.
The Doctor was his usual manic self, bounding from control to control as he set the coordinates for their next destination. Rose leaned against the railing, letting her hands dangle over the edge as she watched him. "So, where're we going?"
"Hmmm?" he asked somewhat absently as he twisted a knob. "Oh! Somewhere nice and relaxing. Thought we could do with a real holiday after this. No alien invasions or revolutions or running for our lives guaranteed."
Her scepticism must have shown on her face, because he paused in his mad dash around the console to shoot her a wounded look. "It's not always like that! Besides, the Brigadier's retired now - really. They wouldn't call him up...oh. Wait. They generally do, don't they? Well, maybe we'll be lucky this time! Far as I know, there aren't any invasions of Earth planned for at least another twenty days from our arrival."
She arched an eyebrow. "Twenty days?"
"Give or take a few."
"Right. An' didn't we just come from the Brigadier's?" Rose asked. Surely they must be getting on the poor man's nerves by now.
"Well, yes, but not according to him! It's a month later. And, even better, they have this festival down at the village where all the ladies of the village dance around maypoles...oh, wait, that was a couple of centuries ago. Besides, I thought this might be good for us. Or, rather, for Jack. Give him some time to recuperate from what happened with just us around - and Alistair and Doris, of course." He set the TARDIS into flight, the familiar wheezing groans of the time rotor filling the room with sound. The Doctor turned toward her with a worried expression. "That is all right, isn't it?"
"What is?" Jack joined her by the railing, slinging one arm around her waist as he watched the Doctor. She looked at him and decided that he looked better. His hair was damp, apparently freshly-showered, but the worry lines around his eyes seemed to have faded. Good. But, she suspected that there was still a lot more going on behind his blue eyes than he was letting on. Typical male in that regard, at least. And here she was, stuck with two of them.
"Our next destination." Rose replied, filling him in on the Doctor's plans.
"You sure we wouldn't be bothering the Brigadier and Doris?" Jack all but repeated her earlier question.
The Doctor grinned. "I'm sure! Honestly! Scout's honour! God's given truth! I swear!"
Sometimes, Rose wondered if she should look into getting the Doctor some sort of calming medication - Ritalin or whatever the Time Lord equivalent was.
Before she could formulate a response, the time rotor groaned to a stop.
"Right then! Here we are." The Time Lord's manic grin widened as he bounded toward the doors. "You lot coming? Or were you plannin' on staring at the console for the rest of the day?"
Sharing a bemused look, Jack and she followed in his wake.
The Doctor pulled open the doors and over his head, Rose could see a startled Brigadier, hand lifted in the aborted attempt at a knock. "Alistair! Hello!"
"Doctor, good to see you again." He noticed her and Jack a moment later, "And Rose and Jack! Come out, come out. Doris just put the kettle on."
She slipped her hand into Jack's and gave it a slight squeeze. One holiday, just what the Doctor ordered. She could only hope that it was what Jack truly needed.
As they walked toward the doors, a new thought occurred to her. Jack no longer had a home – not that he ever really did. The Doctor had lost his home and family when Gallifrey was destroyed. She, of all of them, was the only one who had a 'home' and a family that she could choose to return to at any time. But the Powell Estates weren't home - not anymore. Home was here. Home was a TARDIS, a manic Time Lord, and a fifty-first century man. Family was here. Or, rather, the family that she chose was here. What was important now was to get Jack to see that too. No matter what happened - past, present, or future - his family would always be there for him. They would always be there. That was what families do. That's what they did. And he - they - belonged to each other.
He suspected that he knew what the Doctor meant when he had wanted them to have a holiday. The Time Lord wanted to give him time - time to recuperate, time to heal, time to recover from the wounds of his past. He also suspected that he knew just why the Brigadier, and his gardens, had been the Doctor's first choice of destination.
This was where the soul-wounded Time Lord had sought to recover in the aftermath of the Time War. He could see why as he walked through the gardens. It was peaceful. Quiet. Nice. The furthest thing possible from thoughts of war, or damage, or pain. The very soil seemed to extrude the same amount of love and care that had been poured into them to help the plants grow. He supposed that he needed that, just as the Doctor had in his previous form.
He paused to examine one of the flowering bushes, inhaling its fragrance and letting the scent wash away his cares. Yes. This was exactly what he needed.
"Jack?" Rose's voice sounded tentative. Silently, he chided himself. It wasn't like him to not have noticed someone's approach. But it wasn't like he needed to expect danger at every turn. This was the Brigadier's garden, not Telurais.
He turned to favour her with a warm smile. This was Rose, his Rose. "Yeah?" She need not know just what was going through his mind. He was glad that she seemed to relax at the sight of his smile.
"I was wonderin' if you wanted some company? I mean, if you don't..." The tentativeness had returned.
Did he want company? No. Rose was not company. She was Rose. Just Rose. And he wanted her to be around. "No," he said and grabbed her hand. "I'd be glad for the company. Where's the Doctor?"
She smiled brightly at him. "Good. I left the Doctor and the Brigadier discussin' someone named Bessie. Thought I'd come an' find you instead of stickin' around."
"I'm glad you did." And it was the truth. Her presence could ward away what morbid thoughts might come to mind.
Rose bit her lip and seemed to reach an decision before she answered him. "How're you doing, Jack? Really? An' 'fine' jus' doesn't cut it."
The automatic response of 'fine' died unspoken on his tongue. She knew him too well. This was Rose. She deserved the truth, at least in part. There were some things that he was still loath to examine from his childhood. However, the knowledge that his mother had been or was or would be - time travel tended to send tenses straight to hell - defeated helped. Learning that he was the cause, or at least the fulcrum, of the revolution was oddly satisfying. But none of those thoughts answered Rose's question. How did he feel?
"I'm not sure," he confessed. "I've spent so many years running away from my past, it's hard to come to terms with the thought that I don't have to anymore."
Slender arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. "It's over, Jack. You've won."
"Have I?" he asked, hugging her in return. "Really?"
"I'd call it a win," she told him. "You faced your Mum, and walked away from it. You helped start a revolution against her. You faced your past. I'd definitely say that that's a win."
He carefully thought over her words, mulling them about in his mind. A win? Well, it could be said that a win was anything that could be walked away from. In that case, yes, it was a win. They were safe. They were together. It was over. Jack smiled, lifting his hand to gently caress her cheek. "Has anyone told you recently what an amazing woman you are, Rose Tyler?"
"Mmmm, not recently," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"You are an amazing woman." He repeated his earlier words. And she was. She was Rose. His Rose. The Doctor's Rose. Their Rose. Jack ducked his head to press his lips against hers in a kiss. He attempted to convey his emotions through the gesture, the love and his thankfulness that she was simply her.
When he pulled away, she had a slightly dazed expression on her face. Then again, so did he. Actions speak louder than words, but, he decided, this time the words were meant to be spoken.
"I love you."
Her dazed expression faded to be replaced by a brilliant smile. "Me too."
Nothing had changed, not really. They had always loved each other, only now the words were spoken. And that made everything different.
He was new. New body. New personality. New hair. New teeth. Yet his feelings had stubbornly refused to change. Strange, that. He had had companions before, companions that were dear to him in their own ways, but never in all his lives had he experienced this. He ran a hand through his hair in a careless gesture as he collapsed into the chair next to his old friend. He had kissed Rose. He had kissed Jack.
Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
"Cosmic thoughts?" Alistair's gravelly voice interrupted his reverie.
"Not quite cosmic. Maybe atomic," the Doctor mused.
The Brigadier barked a laugh. "Atomic? I doubt that, especially given the expression on your face. Want to talk about it?"
He turned slightly in the chair so he could see the other man's expression. "Suppose I'm thinking about change."
"That's only natural. You lot have been through a great deal over the past few days."
"Mmm, perhaps. I suspect that I've spent too much time around your species. I'm starting to think like you." And feel like you.
"Is that a bad thing?" Alistair asked.
He considered the question, playing the words over in his mind. Was it a bad thing? No, he decided, not at all. "Nope."
"Then what's the problem?"
He opened his mouth to reply, before closing it again. There was no problem. Some things changed. Some things did't. And some things never would. He knew what this was. He knew what he was feeling, just as he knew how his companions felt. There was no problem unless he made it into one.
It wasn't a problem. It was love. And he needed to stop using his being a Time Lord as an excuse. He had done that in his ninth life and had lost out on what could be. Not again. He was a new man. A new Doctor. And he knew exactly what he wanted.
"There isn't one." He practically jumped out of the chair, and he caught the glimmer of the Brigadier's amusement at the action. "Thanks, Alistair!"
"Thanks for what?" The Brigadier asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, but the Doctor did not bother to reply. He had a mission.
Everything changes. Every moment of every day, something is different. From the blade of grass that he crushed underneath his foot as he strode through the Lethbridge-Stewart gardens to the air that he breathed, nothing was the same as a mere nanosecond before. Time had moved on. Time had wrought changes in each aspect of his existence, except for one. His steps faltered as he watched them admire the rhododendrons.
He could not help but admire the view. His companions were happy. The sorrow and regret that had darkened Jack's smile was gone. The worry that had shadowed Rose's eyes had dissipated. In the way that they looked at each other, he could see the truth. They were closer. No, wait, that was love. They loved each other; were in love with each other. Just like he was in love with them. Convenient, that. They were happy. He was happy. It was time. No more problems. No more excuses.
"Doctor!" Rose greeted him, her smile bright.
"Happy?" he asked, though he knew the truth.
"Absolutely." She nodded, linking her arm with Jack's. "Jack was just tellin' me some of his stories. Back from his Time Agency days."
"Another story where you were naked?" A smile played about his lips at the thought.
"Is there any other?" Jack asked with a wide grin.
"Nothing changes." Amusement coloured his tone, but he sobered quickly. If he didn't say it, if he did not take the leap, he might convince himself differently. He might convince himself there was a problem, despite his self-assurances to the contrary.
"Doctor?" Rose asked. She had caught the look in his eyes, but she had always known him the best. She was the best, as was Jack.
"I'm a new man. But some things don't change." He caught their hands within his own, staring intently into their eyes. "What was true in my ninth life is still true now."
"Doctor?" Rose repeated the question, only this time he could hear his name layered with far more emotion. She knew what he was about to say. He could see the hope rising in her face. Jack was a bit slower, but he caught on shortly thereafter.
He tugged her to him, relishing the feel of her body tucked against his. He still had Jack firmly in his grasp and he prevented him from pulling away as he ducked his head to press his lips against Rose's for their second kiss. No fireworks exploded in the skies, no trumpets sounded resounding joy, and the world did not end. It was not the perfect kiss, but it was their kiss. It was them. Rose and the Doctor and Jack. She came first in time, but they were equal in his hearts.
He pulled away from the kiss, feeling rather smug at the dazed expression on her face. He had done that to her. Then again, he was feeling particularly giddy himself. Next. Jack's expression reflected both arousal and anxiety. He knew what that was. Jack thought he wasn't included.
Silly ape, he thought fondly as he drew him closer with an imperious tug of the other man's hand. "Think I'd forgotten you?"
Jack blinked in shock, struck speechless. There was only one response to that expression, only one thing he could do. With one hand holding Rose securely against him, he dropped Jack's hand to touch the other man's face in a caress. Then he kissed him.
It was different from his kiss with Rose. Where she was soft feminine beauty, Jack was dark masculinity. The other man's lips were unmoving for only a moment before the kiss was returned whole-heartedly. As with Rose, it was not perfect. But it was theirs. It was them. It was love.
When they separated, both were breathing hard. He was learning new things, new human things, and that was not a problem at all. He watched as Rose pulled Jack down for a kiss of her own, proving once more that in this - like in all things - they were the same.
Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
Love, like life, was better with three.
THE END