Well, we now know the real, not-very-romantic reason for THAT kiss. So I decided to make amends for dreaming last chapter by writing about it—from the Doctor's point of view, for once. (I was sort of right, he did say something funny just before she kissed him.) It's longer than usual, for some reason, so please don't hesitate to tell me if it sounds muddled or drags on too long—it's my first attempt at getting inside a Time Lord's head and it's bloody hard!
See chapter 1 for general disclaimer. Dialogue is taken from "New Earth" and obviously isn't mine. Scroll down to read Rose's point of view, newly added.
"I can't Adam-and-Eve it," said Rose in a very un-Rose way—smug, bored and smooth, too smooth.
He also noticed the husky tone in her voice and her half undone shirt, and stammered. "What's with the voice?" he managed at last.
"Oh I dunno, just larking about, New Earth…" She paused and flicked her eyes cheekily downwards, drew a deep breath in and ran her hands down her body before looking quickly back up. "New me…" She was right, he realised—she was the flirtiest she'd ever been. More than that: dangerous. Wasn't that supposed to be his job? Maybe that was what was making him so suddenly uncomfortable although they'd played this game so many times before—but not quite like this. She wasn't quite like herself—although it was definitely Rose's body and the way it was being handled (he had an inkling she knew exactly what she was doing) seemed to be taking over his brain. Speaking of his brain—its connection to his mouth was rapidly disintegrating. Quick, say something. Anything. Something funny, amusing, that's it, take the tension out.
"Well, I can talk—new new Doctor." He threw in a dazzling grin to boot. Not fantastic, but it's an intelligible vocalisation at least.
"Mm, aren't you just…" She'd upped the ante even more, if that was possible—voice a husky whisper, eyes locked on his. Something sparked deep within them and before he had time to think she'd lunged and there he was with Rose's lips firmly pressed on his own. The rational part of his brain packed its bags and left his body to think for itself as her hands grabbed his head and she pressed herself up against him. It left, however, a parting thought: where are the fireworks?
Maybe it was that which kept his arms firmly behind his back while he tried to let the rest of himself go. He kissed her back and gave it all he had and for a moment, he was so happy and so proud of her for feeling the same as he had for so long. The realisation that Rose was kissing him hit him with a rush and he let the sensation swamp him.
And then she twisted downwards and broke away and he was back in the real world—half stunned, very confused, and slightly rumpled, trying his best not to let his jaw hit the floor and staring at this "new" Rose as she composed herself. She combed her hair back, looked at him seductively from under her eyelashes, took a deep breath, stuck her chest out, and attempted to speak normally.
"T-t-t…terminal's this way," she stammered, and glided off like a perfectly poised woman twice her age. Although, the Doctor's analytical brain noted, she was still trying to catch her breath. There was, really, only one thing to say.
"Yep," he squeaked. "Still got it." He shoved his hair back reflexively and headed determinedly after her.
Later, when he and the real Rose were off getting themselves almost-but-not-quite killed, he'd steal a glance at her and remember that kiss, the way he'd tried so hard to believe in it and give himself up to his senses and his heart, the way it had happened so quickly; the way there had been something small way down at the back of his mind saying "this is wrong, it wasn't meant to happen like this, she's not there like she should be" and no matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't ignore it, but neither could he ignore the memory of Rose's lips on his. He'd look at her and realise every time they'd kissed, Rose hadn't had a clue. He'd remember how sudden it had been and think I could do it now, right now; it would be so easy, just turn and grab her. All he could do was squeeze her hand a bit tighter and whisper the one thing she had clung to when there was nothing else to connect with. It never failed.
Run.
Some of you have asked for a Rose POV of the real kiss, and so here it is as promised. I'll move on to other bits after this, honestly, I have some ideas in the making. It's a bit lighter and less angsty than the Doctor's POV, mainly just because of Rose's personality. I have exams for the next two weeks so I probably won't get to update during that time. However, expect more Doctor-angst—I don't do enough from his point of view—possibly from GITF or ROTC but not what you'd expect. Enjoy.
It was warm and dark down there. Too warm, and too dark, with the heavy pressure of somebody else's mind firmly holding her down. However, Rose discovered, she could still point the "bitchy trampoline" controlling her limbs in the general right direction. Which was how she ended up where she was meant to be: with the Doctor, finding things out. She tried to take in as much of it as she could but unfortunately, two was a crowd in her limited headspace and she found it impossible with her limited awareness as Cassandra, who seemed to have had experience in this sort of thing before, continued to slowly suffocate her host. Before she knew it, they were through collecting evidence and were standing in a deserted hallway. Rose was dimly aware of what she had come to think of as her "parasite" making a futile attempt at early twenty-first century cockney—in front of the Doctor, no less. She was mortified. Especially when she became aware of a sensation familiar from years of use around gaping, entranced boys. She forced her way up to peek out through her own eyes and watched in a sort of morbid fascination as her body became Cassandra-fied, bosom heaving, eyelashes fluttering, voice deep and sensual and everything in between. The eyes looked up at his face once again and the real Rose did the mental equivalent of a gasp—she'd almost forgotten what he looked like. With the suppression of most of her that was currently occurring, the constant reminders she'd been accustomed to giving herself that he'd changed had stopped. His softness, his ability to wear his heart (hearts, she corrected automatically) on the sleeve of his tweed jacket, had caught her by surprise. Looking at his bewildered expression through a veil of flirty Cassandra, and having the strange realisation that whatever this body did, wouldn't be her fault once he figured it out—something happened. The seedling she'd been nursing ever since she met him quivered and exploded luxuriantly into life and her whole being, such as it was, became one enormous urge. Even a heartless parasite was powerless to resist.
So Rose grinned and took her hand; she leaped forward joyfully and kissed her alien with all they had; for once the girl could lead, and once again an old, jaded woman was reminded in a rush of sensations of how it really felt to surrender and be happy and human.
Long moments in the future, they let him go. The girl subsided for a while, happily dreaming, and let a more sophisticated woman take over. Cassandra sat gingerly on Rose's mind and took the reins once more—and found she wasn't sure how Rose was supposed to act now she'd kissed him. She gasped from the adrenalin, preened, and strutted off with a curt direction that didn't quite come out as intended. Lazily the girl prodded: You think you're just it, but aren't you glad I'm still here?
Perhaps. But let's see if I can't take care of this bit. It involves technology and I doubt you could.
Long as you keep acting like me. Start getting too cocky and it'll all be over.
Oh, let's not get impertinent here. Just let me handle it and I promise you, we'll all be fine.
Rose sniggered mentally and pretended to relax her mind again. As her parasite gave no more thought to the matter and proceeded to blow her cover spectacularly, the girl's mind plotted its escape—and dreamt of doing it all again without unwelcome spectators.
A quick note—it's lovely being on alert lists and the like, and I think you're all wonderful kind people, but it's even nicer when you review. I've tried to avoid doing this lately, but: I do love it when people actually come right out and tell me things as well as putting me on lists. I don't bite or flame (much) and I'll review your fics if I have the faintest idea about the fandom. Really. Don't be shy!
