A/N: It took me a while to sit down and actually write this chapter. With Series Two ending Saturday, I've been a bit depressed. It's terrible to have just found such a wonderful couple and then to lose them! (I only found Series One this year; I'm in the US. And I've only gotten my hands on the David Tennant episodes in the past week or so.)

:Sigh: I'll get over it, I know. My husband's getting me the Series One boxed set tomorrow, so I can immerse myself in that for now. (He is so good to me. Even though he's becoming very suspicious of my current David Tennant fixation. But hey; he's got his Nicole Kidman fantasies, so I'm entitled to mine!)

Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed. And to those who have not reviewed but have added this story to your alerts: I am honored! I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

As always, I don't own them. Because if I did Rose would not be leaving and the Doctor would admit his feelings. But the BBC owns it all and sees things differently than I do.

Hold On To Life

By

Lariel Romeniel

Chapter Six – Lessons to Learn

Before her travels with the Doctor, back during her days as a shopgirl, Rose had attended a holiday party thrown by Henrik's. At least, her boss had called it a party. But standing around listening to office gossip wasn't Rose's kind of party. More like slow death by boredom.

She was having that feeling again, in the midst of all these noblewomen of Traken and other worlds. They'd politely inquired about her origin, made all the customary comments about her supposed upcoming wedding, and then dove into their own stories, leaving her utterly behind.

She stifled a yawn. Larana noticed, and interceded. "My friends," she said, "The Lady Rose and I are going to retire to our seats. I feel the need to rest before the dancing." Larana threaded her arm through Rose's and walked with her toward the high table.

"I apologize for that, Rose," Larana said kindly. "You certainly don't need to be bored by stories of marriage arrangements."

"Oh, I don't know," Rose answered, trying to be polite. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to learn a few tips for planning my own wedding."

Larana blinked at her. "Rose, I don't think you understand. When I said marriage arrangements, I was not talking about the ceremony. Traditionally, marriages here are arranged."

Rose's mouth dropped open. "Oh! So you and Tremas…"

Larana smiled. "We are not exactly traditional. I met Tremas and fell in love with him before our families had even considered arrangements for us. We made the decision for them." They reached their seats and Larana seemed to sink into hers. "Ahh, that's better. So, things work out, Rose."

"What would you have done if you'd had an arrangement to marry someone else?"

Larana didn't even pause to think about it. "I would have broken the arrangement, no matter who might disapprove. The heart comes first, Rose. Tradition and custom are empty ceremony without love."

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"We call it the Wasting," Tremas said, watching his wife move through the crowd. "The body's systems slowly atrophy."

The Doctor stared at him in horror. "Traken is known for its advances in bioelectric treatments of disease. There's nothing you can do?"

A bitter smile now. "The Wasting is one of the reasons we have advanced so far," Tremas replied. "Generations of scientists looking for a cure that has so far eluded us. Every time we think we've found the answer, the disease changes."

"Mutation," the Doctor muttered. Tremas turned to him. "Yes."

"I…" I could help her. The extensive medical records on the TARDIS could have the cure. But right on the heels of that thought came another. I can't help. If Larana survived, that would alter the timeline, most likely with disastrous consequences. The Reapers were just one of many terrible possibilities. No matter how much he wanted to help, he couldn't do a thing. "I'm so sorry, Tremas."

"I should apologize to you, John," Tremas said, laying a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "You came here to enjoy yourself, not to be burdened by another man's troubles."

"Shared burdens are lighter," the Doctor told him. Tremas nodded gratefully. The Doctor asked, "How long?"

"Not nearly long enough," Tremas sighed, dropping his hand. "Many victims of the Wasting linger on for years. But birthing Nyssa took so much out of her. I fear the years have turned into months at most. We knew that it was a risk. But Larana wanted a child so much. And I have never been able to deny her anything." He looked the Doctor in the eye. "You know. Love is like that."

Tremas sighed again, looking up at the night sky. "We could have chosen a different path, the safe path that would have let her survive longer. But survival is not life, John. We chose life. I won't have her forever. But for the time we do have, she will be happy." His voice began to tremble. "And it is that thought which I must hold in my heart when the lonely years begin."

Tremas passed his hand over his eyes for a moment. His voice steadied again."I promised Larana I would not be morose. Come. The dancing will begin in a few moments."

They joined the women at the head table. The Doctor watched Tremas take his wife's hand in a gentle yet desperate grip. "Come, my love," Tremas said softly. He helped her rise and led her out to the dance floor. Music began to play and they began to dance, a complicated choreography of bows and turns, only their hands touching. But the Doctor could see that their eyes were locked together, and what he read in them gave his hearts a fresh pang of sympathy for Tremas. The man's soul was in his eyes, his love for his wife burning brightly in them.

"Are you all right?" Rose's voice brought him out of his reverie. He smiled and held a hand out to her. "I'm fine, Rose," he said. "Come dance with me."

She looked a little uncertain as he led her out to the floor. "I don't think I can dance like that," she whispered, nodding her head at the other couples who were weaving intricate patterns, hand to hand.

"Don't worry," he said, pulling her close. He wrapped his right arm around her and softly closed his left hand around her right, bringing it up. "I think you can manage a waltz, can't you? Just follow my lead."

"My granddad taught me, years ago." She looked around. "But we might just cause a scandal!"

The Doctor raised an eloquent left eyebrow at her. "Tremas and the Keeper seem to think these people need a scandal." One, two, three, one, two, three. "You know, European courts were scandalized by the waltz at first. Considered it very improper. Strange when you think about it. Extramarital affairs were an accepted matter of fact among the upper classes. But let two fully clothed people hold each other close in public and it's the end of all morality!"

She chuckled. One, two, three, one, two, three. "You know," he said, "We're doing this very improper dance improperly. We're not supposed to be looking directly at each other. We're supposed to be arched a bit away from each other," a devilish grin now, "dancing like two bananas," he concluded.

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head, laughing. "Leave off with your bananas!"

He brought their hands in to rest against his chest, leaning his head down next to hers. One, two, three, one, two, three. "I will. I prefer to stay improper, dearest."

No humorous emphasis on the last word this time. She glanced quickly into his eyes and thought for a moment that she saw something more than the wisdom of 900 years. But it was quickly replaced by a mischievous twinkle. "Do you trust me, Rose?"

She smiled slowly. "Always. Darling."

No humorous emphasis in her voice, either. The Doctor tightened the grip of his right arm and swung Rose around to dip her low. She gasped a little in surprise and then held her breath as she looked into his eyes.

There it was again.