Bits In Between

By Lumendea

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Life and Times of John Smith

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the spinoff material, and I gain no income off of this story, just the satisfaction of playing with the characters.

AN: Takes place during the Human Nature/Family of Blood episode of Journey Amongst the Stars.

…..

Professor John Smith considered himself neither a bold man nor a foolish man. Nor would he have ever thought he was the sort to be interested in a woman twenty years his junior. Infatuated with a woman so much younger than him, and yet, he had to admit that he was. He was not a man to delude himself.

The memory of Rose strolling out of the jungle, her hair up in a ponytail with a few loose strands framing her face, often replayed in his memory. She'd been carrying a machete and had cut her own path through the jungle. Somehow the light had hit her just right, making her eyes gleam and her skin glow. He'd noticed her beauty, the life in her eyes, and her smile long before how young she was had sunk in.

What possessed her to hike through the jungle like that, he still didn't properly understand, but he was grateful for it. Rose was adventurous, but she'd taken pity on the expedition. Her technical skills alone had immediately made her worth the supply cost of keeping her around, but she was also a good cook and knew basic first aid—a wonderful combination when hundreds of miles away from the nearest city. Rose had become their keeper, the person who bailed them out of trouble and kept an eye on the basics.

He was so glad he'd met her. So glad she'd stumbled into their camp and his life. Like a living beam of sunshine, Rose brightened everything about her. Colours were more vibrant. He smiled more, felt lighter, and slept better just having been near her. They'd been fast friends, despite the years between them. Talking and laughing with Rose was easier than it had ever been with anyone else.

Kissing her… he remembered that more clearly than he should for the alcohol he'd consumed. The taste of her lips, how soft they'd been against his, and the way her hands had fisted in the fabric of his shirt. He'd imagined it so many times before that moment. Wondered what she'd feel like against him, what sounds she would make, and if she'd want more. Then he got his answer, and he wanted more of that, wanted her.

But there were obligations. She'd come back to England with him, chosen him over her wandering life, and he'd almost collapsed in his gratitude. But there was a wall between them now. Well, maybe more of a fence. He could still see her, wave to her, and talk to her. But those obligations meant Rose was someone he couldn't touch.

She'd asked him to wait until the obligations were done. He'd wait. John didn't want to admit to himself how long he'd wait if it meant a chance to hold Rose again. Despite the fence, she still gave him those brilliant smiles that warmed him down to his bones. She still gazed at him with softness in her eyes. He hated the waiting, but at least he had hope of being happy with her on the other side.

There were rumors that they were lovers now. Her daily visits had made sure of that. He started keeping the door open more often but couldn't bear to turn her away. Life at Oxford had put them much further apart than across a camp. He had his flat, and she had hers. The time he had with her every day wasn't enough as it was, so he couldn't give up what he had.

And the rumors weren't far from the truth he wanted. He got a few looks, but the other faculty didn't press. It made him wonder if they assumed it was true, but since Rose wasn't, his student decided to look the other way. Or his pining was so apparent that they knew he and Rose weren't seeing each other romantically.

But he wanted it. Every day when she came in and smiled at him, flashing that tongue-on teeth smile, he thought about kissing her. They could shut the door, and he could hold her close. He could do everything the rumors suggested they were already doing. John had imagined it too many times, locking the door and pressing Rose up against the wall as he plundered her mouth until the taste of her was burned into his tongue. He wanted to study every sound she made and learn all the ways to please her.

Rose hadn't said no; she'd said to wait, said they'd talk when she wasn't a student. He had hope, and for now, that was enough. Once she finished her masters, they could have a proper talk and hopefully start planning for a real future together.

…..

The Doctor woke immediately after he was freed from the watch. The sudden rush of memories and the sharp pain of his body returning to as it should be ensured that. Energy crashed over his body, reconstructing the missing organs and firing up his brain. Thankfully, it didn't hurt as badly as it had the first time. Waking the neighbors with his screaming would have been tough to write off.

The Doctor groaned and rubbed his eyes. John Smith's memories settled in his brain, with the false ones taking on a dreamlike quality. Some were easy to dismiss. John's wife had been very different from the cold Time Lady, who he'd been married to for political reasons. A nice loving fairytale that he had no emotional connection to but had provided a background that would account for the lingering grief that even the Chameleon Arc couldn't fix.

Reaching out with his senses, the Doctor checked the time. Three months, almost on the dot. Maybe a day over. The Family was done then. He got up, shedding the bedclothes and pulling on John's clothing as quickly as possible. The absence of his leather coat left him cold, but there was no sign of it. He had no memory of John ever possessing it. Rose had it then.

Rose. The Doctor stumbled as he reached for John's shoes. Those memories, false they may be, were suddenly so vivid. The taste of Rose's lips was correct, he knew that from their accidental kiss in Sarah Jane's attic, and they'd hugged often enough that he was familiar with the shape of her. But the rest… born of his fantasies, the ones he buried so he could safely interact with Rose. John believed they'd slept together, taken his dreams of making love to Rose, and turned them into fact.

Worse, he'd brought it up with Rose. He sat down on the bed, giving himself a moment to be embarrassed and angry. Rose had been wonderful about it, sweet and calm, and provided a good reason to wait. John had accepted it, even if the Doctor had now inherited new fantasies. He groaned and shook his head. He didn't need more of those; he already had far too many.

The Doctor didn't have to wonder about the TARDIS's choice of memories. It was clever in a way; it ensured he wouldn't abandon Rose and kept human him from even trying to create romantic attachments. Because, of course, he only had eyes for Rose. Of course, he dreamt of her and would wait until their obligations were done to pursue anything. It was the perfect cover. And he hated it. Hated that it was so… easy, hated that it made so much sense.

Rose had to have opened the watch. That meant she was waiting for him. He knew where her flat was. Her close relationship with John had ensured that. The Doctor checked through the flat John lived in, but none of his regular clothes were available. He found the journal and glared at it before taking it with him. Leaving it behind wouldn't help anything.

It was dark and cold outside, but he didn't care. The walk to Rose's flat took too long, and his brain kept turning over every interaction she'd ever had with John. She'd seemed fond of him, but the Doctor now recognized the distance in Rose's eyes. If John had thought they were close then, the poor man had been badly mistaken. The Doctor was almost pleased with Rose's handling of the situation. Except he had to wonder what her distance meant. Had she not wanted to be attached to a false version of him? Or had John's interest, potentially his interest in her, bothered her so much.

He wasn't sure. The Doctor hoped that wasn't the case. Rose flirted with him, and he… well, he knew that he flirted with her. But then, Rose was friendly with everyone and flirted quite a bit. Not that he didn't do the same. It was hard to tell what she wanted and harder to know what he wanted. No, that wasn't true. He knew what he wanted, he'd known that for a long time, but it was a bad idea. Rose probably knew that too, just like how she knew John was a bad idea.

But then he was at her flat and knocked before he could flee. The TARDIS was inside, he could feel her, and he could hear Rose up and moving. The door opened, and Rose Tyler was smiling at him. Her grin could have powered London for a week. She threw her arms around him, a tight hug before he'd even stepped inside. The warm smell of her surrounded him, and the feel of her in his arms drove all of his worries away. He could let himself enjoy this moment with Rose in his arms.