CALLUSES
IV.
Like most establishments trying to attract tourists, the hotel's restaurant offers a large selection of food…none of which departs much from the typical "continental breakfast" food that tend to make people happy.
There are no komle on the menu.
Rose doesn't think the half-human sitting across from her cares much about the lack of Norwegian specialities at the moment, judging by the way he's stuffing his face with eggs, sausages and bacon.
"Y'kno' 'at I w's wo'd 'out m' 'a'ce 'uds ein' le' 'en'i'ive in 'is 'ody, 'ut 'ey're a'tua'y 'ri'iant."
To Rose, the small deluge of half-chewed food that falls back onto his plate as he tries to say whatever it is he's saying is her cue to intervene; the dining room is mostly empty at this hour, few guests having breakfast this early, but he's unsurprisingly managed to attract the attention of every single one of them already.
The way he shouted "MOLTO BENE!" when he spotted the buffet as they entered the room definitely had something to do with it. His horrifying table manners are not helping.
"Ok, first of all, you really need to slow down before you choke," Rose orders him. Considering how much time she's spent around a toddler these past few years, she's instinctively reverted back to her Big Sister persona, the one that sounds eerily like Jackie. He notices it, too, his fork halting mid-air. "And we do not talk with our mouth full," she carries on, sternly. "Our mouth stays closed when we chew."
His full mouth hangs open for another second, before he snaps it close, his subsequent swallow just as loud.
"I'm being rude again, aren't I?" He asks at last, more clearly.
"More…badly mannered than rude," Rose offers, her voice sounding a lot less like her mother's. "I know you're going through… lots of stuff, but I've never seen you this excited over food."
"I know!" He exclaims way too merrily, causing someone at a nearby table to drop their cutlery. "This body is so weird," he adds, for what must be the third of fourth time in as many hours, although there is a hint of awe in his voice that wasn't there when he last made that statement.
When she raises an eyebrow in question, he gladly explains, still faster than any regular person: "As I was saying earlier, Time Lord physiology is very similar to human's, but we've never been this…driven by our needs, since our bodies long evolved to maximise efficiency and sustainability. I'm sure you noticed I never ate or slept nearly as much as you did."
When she nods, he swiftly carries on: "That's because I didn't need to. Humans do. They need and they want, and they need and they want a lot of it, and they need and they want a lot of it all the time, because evolutionary speaking, that's how you survived those bleak first hundred thousand years when you had to compete with much bigger apex animals. Even now, when your species dominates the planet and will soon dominate many more, you still crave food, sex and shelter. Your brains also appear to be designed to flood your systems with a great deal of endorphin and oxytocin whenever you appease one of these needs, so that you'll keep on wanting more. And as it turned out, I was very hungry. A bit primitive, yet undeniably brilliant."
On those words, he shoves an entire sausage into his mouth, giving her an oddly euphoric grin as he chews, managing to keep his lips sealed through it all.
"You're telling me this is you, getting high on carbs and proteins," she can't help but tease, her own lips curling up slightly.
He swallows loudly again. "Quite!" He exclaims before downing his orange juice, slamming the glass back down with so much enthusiasm that a couple of people gasp, earning them a few more disapproving looks. "That's what I was trying to say earlier, bloody crudely at that, too, sorry. I might have lost the ability to figure out a substance's molecular makeup by licking it, but these new taste buds are amazing. Absurdly sensitive. What a delightful discovery, considering how many of my other senses have been dimmed or removed altogether."
Rose watches as he goes back to gorging on food, soon finding herself with her chin in her hand; in the past couple hours, fascination has slowly been taking over her wariness. While her initial reluctance was genuine and understandable, he's steadily been soothing her worries over without even trying; it's all here in the way he speaks, acts, thinks, moves, and simply is.
Sure, there are the odds moments, the unexpected swear words or off-beat sentences she'd quickly come to associate with Donna during their brief yet intense encounters in that dreary universe. And then there is his constant and confounding state of mild panic and/or over-enthusiasm in regards to his new body…not to mention the unexpected crying episode she witnessed earlier this morning.
Despite it all, there simply is no denying the truth of it.
He is the Doctor.
More importantly, he appears to be her Doctor.
He's her Doctor, with little bits of him missing, and little bits gained. But after all, she's not the same Rose who travelled with him all these years ago either.
She's got little bits missing and little bits gained, too.
Some of those bits are actually chunks, changes that have been so formative that back when she was jumping from reality to reality, she worried it would turn him away, once he realised what has become of her.
Rose has learnt enough and seen enough to know what time apart can do to people. There's no knowing how all these experiences they've gone through without the other will affect their dynamic.
It's part of why the tight, anxious knot in her gut refuses to loosen, despite being more comfortable around him. The dull throbbing behind her eyes is definitely not helping. Her limbs are getting heavier by the minute, as if she has become actively aware of the pull of gravity on her every muscle and bone, ever since her impromptu kip in the staircase, earlier.
By the time he was abruptly putting an end to their short bout of running, somewhere in between two floors, they'd been a laughable hot mess, the two of them, the last of their hurried footsteps still echoing around them.
"Whoops, woozy," he'd said even as he slammed into the cold wall, half-leaning against it, half on his way to the ground. With her hand still trapped in his, Rose had feebly attempted to prevent his collapse by pressing herself into him; considering the state of her own body, she'd merely slowed their downfall.
They'd ended up once more on the floor, leaning against each other more than they were leaning against the wall, his constricted features letting her know he was in pain again, probably quite sore from whatever his body had gone through during the night. They'd not spoken at all as the minutes passed, Rose sinking more and more into him, feeling him return the pressure.
She'd been so tired in that moment that she'd allowed her conscious brain to shut down for a while, pretending that this was a lot simpler than it was, only wanting to take comfort in the tangible feel of him, in his slow, warm breath in her hair.
She hadn't meant to doze off, having no idea how much time had elapsed when he gently shook her awake, but her bare toes had become stiff with cold by then. They still didn't speak much after that either, simply going back to their room to grab their shoes, tiptoeing as they passed their neighbour's door, before making their way down to the restaurant, only having to wait another fifteen minutes for the doors to open.
Rose's not eaten much herself, her half-empty cup of coffee not even steaming anymore. Her body is probably as deprived of nutrients as his was, but while his newly awakened instincts made him crave for food (and a couple other things she definitely heard him mention), her battered metabolism is still riding off her latest 'jump hangover'. Or from the feel of it, a few dozen of them, all at once.
She feels absolutely beat, and more than a little grimy, now. She longs for a shower and an actual eight hours – or twenty – spent curled up in bed, buried under a thick comforter. She'll hopefully get one of the two at some point today
"You must be eager to get home."
His voice draws her out of her latest doze, realising how slumped she's become, about thirty seconds away from falling face first into her plate of cold beans, from the looks of it. She straightens up, folding her arms across her chest in an attempt to chase the sudden chill from her bones, caused by her dropping body temperature, as well as by his words.
Home
She shakes her head a little, deciding not to lie to him. "Not really," she admits in a low voice. "'m not too sure what I'm gonna do with myself, now. Over four years in this universe, and all I've done is try real hard to get away from it. Not exactly an option anymore though, is it."
His previous elation is nowhere to be seen, his demeanour much calmer; more solemn, too. "I suppose not," he says, before putting a hand in his jacket pocket, rummaging. "Not for a few years, at least," he adds as he brings his hand out, holding out what he was looking for.
They both stare at the small piece of TARDIS coral, Rose's insides squeezing at the memory of his counterpart throwing it at them, unable not to ache at the thought of this Doctor she'll never see again.
She averts her eyes and tightens her arms around herself as she visibly shivers, watching him put the coral back into his pocket from the corner of her eyes.
That next silence is almost as uncomfortable as it was when he first woke up.
"I'm sorry."
The thickness in his voice draws her gaze back up; he looks every bit as disheartened as she feels.
She shakes her head. "You didn't ask for any of this," she speaks quietly. "It's like you said to him, he's the one who made you. And then he left you here." After another long pause, she adds: "Although I got to say, 'm not sure I understand why he thought you so threatening that you had to be supervised at all time."
His lips twitch in the shadow of a smile. "Rose Tyler," he says. "Are you finding me to be lacking in blood, fire and revenge?"
She smirks a little. "Still doing that honesty thing, yeah?" When he gives her a small nod, she goes on: "You've mostly been…" Her voice trails off.
"Drooly?" He suggests. "Weepy? So hungry that I forgot how to act like an educated humanoid?"
She lets out a soundless chuckle, appreciating the fact that he could be self-deprecating about his recent behaviour.
"I was gonna go with very human, actually," she says softly, tilting her head, her small, tired smile growing when the warm colours in his cheekbones deepen even more.
More vulnerable; that's another way she could have ended that sentence.
Rose never doubted her Doctor's ability to feel, and to feel deeply, at that, but that ability to feel was often carefully camouflaged, expertly hidden, having made it clear how much he despised being emotionally exposed in any way.
Whatever skilful mechanisms he's mastered over the past millennium, waking up half-human seems to have put a serious dent into his protective shields, when they don't appear to have fried altogether.
"Well," he says in a familiar, dismissive tone as he averts his eyes, the way he then ruffles the hair at the back of his head as much a tell-tale as his small blush was. "Not much I can do about that, I'm afraid."
Had she had the physical and emotional energy to do so, Rose would have told him that she hadn't meant it as a criticism; he cannot help his origins any more than she can help hers. Despite the apparent absence of 'blood, fire and revenge' from his demeanour in recent hours, she knows he's more than capable of it, having been around the Oncoming Storm often enough to be intimately familiar with what lies behind his calm and composed facade.
With him, quiet and still doesn't usually bode well for whomever is standing on the receiving end of his stare.
"So," he speaks again after clearing his throat. "When are we flying out?"
She frowns. "Flying out?"
"I'm…am I being presumptuous again? I just assumed…planes, or zeppelins, probably quicker than us road tripping all the way back to England, eh? Not that I have anything against road trips, you know me and means of travel that are adventitious in nature. Unless, you know, you'd rather we go our separate ways from here. Which, fair enough, I can see how having to deal with a newly formed Human-Time-Lord hybrid might be a bit too much to ask for, I'd understand if you'd rather – "
"You dork."
Her interruption is kind enough for him to know she means it affectionately.
"Of course you're coming with me," she continues. "It's just…" She leans forward, elbows on the table, briefly resting her forehead upon both her palms. "Weeks and weeks, I've spent on the run – and I do mean that literally. I've done so much running, we should compare our pedometers. And last time I checked, we did just save a few hundred thousand realities or something. I cannot physically deal with more travelling right now." She drops one of her hands to look at him. "Also, Mum's gonna be absolutely bonkers once we get there. And I don't think she's only got nice things to say to you, either."
His face screws up in indignation. "What have I done?"
She shrugs tiredly, temple pressed against her closed fist. "She's had to deal with post-Doctor Rose for a few years. Can't say that Rose's been the jolliest of Roses."
Her statement subdues him at once, hearing more in her admission than she lets on, as she suspected he would.
Before this silence can become uncomfortable again, her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket. She straightens up as she fishes it out, not remotely surprised when she reads the name on the screen.
She swears her mum senses when she's being discussed, wherever Rose might be – including the Time Vortex itself.
"You never called!" Jackie reprimands her as soon as Rose picks up the call.
"I've been busy," she replies, slumping back against her seat; across from her, the Doctor grabs a piece of untouched hash brown from her plate and starts nibbling at it.
"Busy, she's been busy," Jackie repeats. "Busy burying a weirdly modified alien body, or busy testing out that new body of – "
"Mum," Rose stops her at once, bringing a hand back to her aching head. "Don't."
"He's still alive, then?"
Rose glances at the previously mentioned half-alien, whose small nibbling has quickly turned into just shoving the whole thing into his mouth again. "He's alive," she answers simply. "Alive, kickin', and eatin'." He offers her another one of those awkward-yet-sweet lips-sealed grins, and she cannot help but smile back tiredly, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes.
"Are you flying back today?"
"Doubt it," Rose says. "I haven't even slept yet, not really, and I'm beyond knackered. I'll keep you posted."
"Sure you will, just like you kept me posted about how your space boyfriend was doing."
"Mum," Rose sighs.
"No matter," Jackie says. "Let me talk to him, will you?"
Rose briefly considers arguing with her, but thinks better of it, simply handing the phone over to him, shrugging a shoulder when he raises an eyebrow, accepting the device.
"Hello, Jackie," he greets, cheerfully, and then he goes quiet. And still.
Very, very still.
Rose cannot hear any of her mum's tirade, but she's been ranted at by Jackie Tyler often enough to have a vague idea.
"Cheerio, then," the Doctor eventually says, his voice once more cheerful, and every bit as fake, handing the phone over to Rose. "She's already hung up."
"What did she say to you?"
"Nothing I haven't heard from mothers before, especially from yours," he replies too casually, before immediately carrying on with: "Should we go book another room, then?"
Rose stares at him, equally annoyed and curious about what her mum could have possibly told him – or threatened him with – for his first reaction to be suggesting they should be staying in separate rooms.
"No," she says simply with a single shake of her head.
He raises his brow. "No?"
"Nope," she says again, not explaining herself any further.
Given the current state of her brain, which is not helping her do much except perform basic functions such as breathing and keeping herself upright, she's relying exclusively on instincts. And what her instincts are telling her right now is that she certainly doesn't want him locked away in another room.
They've spent quite enough time locked away from each other.
"I really need to get some shut-eye," she says, sounding as exhausted as she feels, ignoring the implications that come with them not getting another room. "Then I'm taking you shopping."
"Shopping?" He repeats, too casually, ignoring the implications, too.
"Yeah," she says, standing up on cottony legs. "I remember you saying something about needing deodorant."
When she extends a hand towards him, he stares at it, visibly bewildered.
"C'mon," she says softly, wriggling her fingers, and the Doctor barely hesitates before taking her hand.
Actually, he doesn't hesitate at all.
A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this virtually angst!free chapter, because I'll be making up for it in the next one. Angst and...other things *coughs* As always, any feedback is deeply appreciated!