The self defense in this chapter should be fairly accurate, from what I remember in a self defense class I took two years ago. Again, italics are for flashbacks. Unlike the first chapter, I did not use any specific song to write this chapter. Opinions on song use versus no song use per chapter would be greatly appreciated.
That doesn't make any sense. None at all. Rose Tyler can't have a nine-year-old son. She just can't. Rose ran away from John no more than ten years ago, but less than eleven. Maybe. Right? What month is it?
Has it really been that long?
But pregnancy takes nine months. Maybe the kid is about to turn ten, or maybe he just turned nine.
When is this kid's birthday?
Why would Rose Tyler have a child of nine years of age, anyways? And yeah, that's right, it's Rose Tyler's kid. She said so herself. Because apparently, she bloody well has a kid. And that Jimmy bloke's got to be the father. He's the one Rose ran away with. But what would possess her to have a child with him? Could have been an accident. Granted, John doesn't know much about Jimmy Stone other than the fact that Rose ran away with him and according to Rose, he's in jail. She did say that he was the father, right?
"What about Jimmy Stone, then?" he aims to sound nonchalant, with a shrug of his shoulders and everything, but he knows the anger must be burning in his eyes. They could have had this life together. Well. Not this life. But a life with a child, a family, money to spare, the whole lot. Any fears of domestics be damned.
"What about him?"
She didn't really just stiffen for a moment, he must have imagined it.
"Well. You did run away with him. Figured he might still be around to help, seeing as you have a child together and all. You've got a job, sure, but what about h-"
"I ain't got a job. I've got a living. And he's been in jail for a while now; smokin' rock," and then she runs her fingernails along his jugular, and he nearly chokes on a moan.
Thinking about it now, John realizes that she didn't really say much about Jimmy. Or about him being…. the child's- oh god, it's just a name, John! Just say it…. I… Ia- Rose didn't say much about the father. But Jimmy has to be the father, unless Rose had had sex with someone else right after running away. Or maybe she didn't run away with Jimmy at all. Maybe he just helped her leave him. Which raises the question: why would she leave him, leave school, and get pregnant? What purpose would that hold, to leave everything just to be pregnant? She could have only left him for the sole purpose of becoming pregnant, because clearly, depending on this child's birthday, either Rose had gotten pregnant immediately after she left him, or she somehow happened to be pregnant before she even…
Even…
The slapping footfalls along the wooden floor reach John's ears before he has the chance to let his mind catch up with the rest of him.
"Oh, no you DON'T!"
One moment, John is rushing forward, catching the door before it closes all the way behind Jack and then grabbing onto the collar at the back of his shirt, and the next moment he is on his knees with one hand stuck reaching up to Jack's shoulder, arm straining at the elbow. Donna and John don't really know what Jack's real "above government" job is, but they always joked that he was a secret agent. If the indistinguishable amount of time it took him to knock all the wind out of John is anything to go by, they might not be far off.
He really should have seen this coming, though. Jack had taught Donna some basic self defense techniques a few years back after her fiancé left her at the alter for an old flame. The training was to get Donna's mind off of her misery and to fend off the nightmares of her ex man's reunited lover turning into a giant spider and trying to drown her.
John had also joined in on Jack and Donna's month long escapade so they could demonstrate techniques on him for Donna's viewing and inexperienced practicing benefit (and for the benefit of her humor, John quickly surmised.) One of the first ever moves Jack taught Donna was how to defend herself from an attacker who might grab her hair. With her hair up in a ponytail, Jack had instructed John to grab the base with one hand. Donna would then step on John's foot with the foot closest to him. In order to step, she would have to turn her body. Once she'd stepped on his foot, she would duck and spin under John's arm, while grabbing onto his elbow joint with both hands. When straightening herself on the other side of John's arm, she would pull down hard enough on the crease of John's elbow to force John to drop down onto his knees.
It was humiliating then, and is just flat out shameful now.
"What are you going to do, John? Huh?"
"Jack, let him go!" Donna yells from the front porch.
Thank god, John thinks, that he has a house without close by neighbors.
"What are you gonna do, John?" Jack asks again, still not loosening his grip on John's elbow. "Follow me to her place? Chew her out in front of her own kid? Be the type of man Rose has spent most of her life trying to stay away from? You want to scare the living day lights out of her and her child? Is that what you want, John?"
With John's face turned downwards- he doesn't want to admit defeat to the pain by showing Jack his grimacing face- Jack's been panting and spitting in his hair. John hasn't said a word and he hasn't fought back against Jack's grip (he's too smart for that, anyways, he's a doctor with a big surgery coming up next week and he can't afford anything happening to his arms or the hands attached, and the wrong move could cost him much more than the rescheduling of a patient) so when Jack pulls down harder on the crook of John's elbow and is only rewarded with a hiss, he decides to let go and back away.
"Is it?"
John finally swallows and meets Jack's eye, but he doesn't answer him. He really shouldn't have run out here, and he definitely shouldn't have tried to attack Jack. He could say that he didn't know what he was doing, but of course he did. With all this anger, confusion, hurt, this whole spectrum of emotions, John wants answers. Seeing as Jack has quite a few, John did what he always does: he threw himself right into the mess of it, hoping to force some answers.
Obviously, he is not stable and is acting out. It is very non-doctorly and very unprofessional. But goddamn it, he's been hurting for days now, and to think that his best friend could have saved him from all this years ago..
"Boys," John hears Donna sigh and in the corner of his eye, he can see her struggle between fear and comfort.
Jack has been John's best friend for- hell, he doesn't even know how many years it's been. How do you pinpoint the exact moment you've become best friends with someone? Perhaps the same way you pinpoint the exact moment you fall in love with someone: you don't. You just let it become routine, smile, and hang on for the ride.
But right now, it's not enough to just hang on. Because for nearly eleven years, John's best friend, Jack Harkness, has let him walk around with a Rose-shaped hole in his chest. And it took John getting a fake lap dance from the woman who created the hole in the first place, for Jack to admit it. If John was anyone but himself, he might have laughed at the irony, but it's not enough for Jack to spill that he's basically a double agent and then run off to the other base camp. John wants him to own up to the misery he's undoubtedly going to put him through. Because this isn't fair.
"Tell me something, then?"
"What?"
Standing, John shakes his head, never breaking eye contact.
"Anything. Tell me anything."
"You look pretty hot when you've gone half bonkers."
"Jack."
It's Jack's hesitance dragging on for a second too long that it prompts Donna into action, her tentatively stepping forward with her arms wrapped around herself. She's stood by the door- a third party observer- with her own asinine thoughts running through her head. How could she have not known?
"Why didn't you tell us, Jack?"
Because this is nuts. Absolutely nuts. No more than an hour ago, the three of them had been happy and celebrating Donna's success. Now, John is teetering between fight or flight, Jack looks like he could take out some spy gadget to make them forget everything, and Donna's hoping this is all a joke and Jack will reveal a confetti cannon and hidden cameras.
"It wasn't my story to tell," Jack's words are directed at John but he can only look at Donna.
"Then why didn't she tell us?"
Leave it to Donna's voice going soft to bring out and highlight the guilt on Jack's face. And leave it to Jack to have his phone ring right then. He looks skyward, letting Donna and John listen in if they so wish. He knows they will.
"Hey, honey… Yeah, I'm still coming over. Hey, listen- …"
It isn't Jack's eyebrows beginning to furrow, his lips thinning out and forehead forming creases, but his line of sight shooting down to skim over his car that causes Donna to open her mouth, ready to ask what's wrong.
Back holds up a hand to stop her.
"And that's what the doctor said? …. Do you want me to bring- …. Yeah, of course I'll still watch him. I'll take care of him, he'll be fine… No, it's fine. Why? You aren't getting sick, are you? … Oh, well that's good… Uh, yeah, I can be there in.." he checks his watch and his jaw slacks as he readjusts it.
Back doesn't say, but it's obviously Rose on the other end of the phone. It has to be. Like John, he has certain looks on his face only reserved for her. Unlike the looks he only has for Donna, these are the looks of a protective brother; similar to the looks John has had for her since they were very little.
"Fifteen minutes? Just gotta take care of something first, and then we need to have a talk… Oh, ha ha. No, this is serious….. A lot more… How about this: I'll see you both in a few, and if he's got his hands in paint, I'll wrap his blanket up like a straight jacket and make him sleep…. That only happened once! … Okay, okay, so it was four times, but R- ….." he almost slips up and says, but either stop himself or gets cut off. "Go finish doing what you need to do and stop worrying so much. I'll be there in a few and then it'll be my job to do that. Now go…. Yeah.. Yup.. Yeah, alright, tell him I'll see him in a bit. And he better be resting! … Yeah, you, too. See you soon."
Jack takes his time as he put his phone away, trying to delay addressing the Noble twins. He clears his throat before he turns to Donna.
"Congrats on the promotion, sweetheart. Really. How about I call you later about a celebratory dinner this weekend, huh?" he gives her a peck on the cheek and a tight hug.
"Yeah, yeah, sounds good. Just not that bloody awful seafood place again."
"Anything you want," he laughs, but she knows he means what he says.
Letting go, Jack backs away, flashing a toothy grin. Turning, he heads to his car and gets himself settled in the driver seat. He puts the key in the ignition and starts the car but stops when his hand shifts the car into gear. A moment goes by of him sitting still, and then he checks his rearview mirror and nods to himself before rolling down his window and directing his attention to John.
"Anything."
"What?"
"You said to tell you anything. So, this is that anything. She almost made his middle name 'Staples.' You know, like C.S. Lewis. Clive Staples Lewis. Ian Staples Tyler."
John, Jack, and Rose used to joke about their boring, common, and four letter first names. Well, Rose isn't really too common, but naming a child after a flower sort of is, so.
John clears his throat.
"Why?"
"Because it's something you would have done."
Donna and John watch as Jack's car speeds down the road. Jack's car has been out of sight for all of three seconds before Donna turns and slaps John. He recoils backwards, one hand flying to his reddening cheek.
"What the hell, Donna!?"
"You're a fath-" John cuts her off by smacking his free hand over Donna's mouth.
"Don't you dare say it, we don't even know if it's true."
"Ov gose ehs twu," Donna mumbles against John's palm.
When Donna licks John's hand, he pulls back in disgust and wipes his palm against his jean clad leg.
"You licked me!"
"You deserved it!"
His jaw drops opens and closes once, tightening, "How?"
"Because I'm an aunt!"
"That doesn't make any sense because no you're not."
"Why are you so in denial about this?"
John opens his mouth to retort, trying not to miss a beat, but comes up short. Closing his eyes, he cards a hand through his hand, and then runs his hands down his face. Reaching his eyes, his hands fist themselves so as to rub at his eyes, trying to shove them back into their sockets.
"Why are you so accepting about this?"
Shrugging, Donna takes a moment to think the question over before responding, "Well, it explains a lot."
Not wanting to give John the chance to question her before she's fully figured the whole matter out herself, Donna pulls her brother into a lingering hug before bidding him goodnight and heading to her own car. She has a lot of thinking to do before making the final decision about whether or not to kick Jack Harkness's gorgeous arse halfway across the pond and back to America.
Belle de Jour has a client soon, one of her regulars. Frank is a sweet man, a bit young, an American, a hair short of shy, has a great taste in hotels, and is filthy rich thanks to his inheritance from his Uncle Solomon. He is definitely one of her favorites, and not just because of the big fat tip he always leaves her, although, it does help. And with tonight being an all-nighter and Rose's son being sick, the extra money will definitely be appreciated.
But her poor baby- well, he's not a baby anymore, but goddamn it, Rose had to carry Ian for nine months, so she's allowed to call him whatever she damn well pleases- he has a cold. According to the pediatrician, Ian has a sinus infection, ear infection, and his sore throat will continue to make his voice raspy for at least a few more days. And he should say home from school for the next two or three days, depending on the progression or digression of his symptoms. But at least there's medicine he can take. Really expensive medicine. But that's what the jobs are for, aren't they?
Okay, yeah, so does Rose like why she became a prostitute and stripper? No. But are they jobs that she's good at? Yes. Are they fun? Sometimes. Do they offer good pay? Mostly. And that's all that really matters with her life. She should probably feel lucky that tonight is Frank's monthly all-nighter and that she's getting more pay than her usual weekly appointment with him.
The man may be rich, but his schedule only allows him to do one all-nighter per month (sometimes two, and rarely three) while the rest of the weeks can only last for the regular one hour. But at least he always makes his appointments, and when he can't, he reschedules. He never goes a week without an appointment, and she never goes a week without at least his one payment. It has been a long, long time since she's gone a week or more without any pay.
This week, she could really use the money. Most weeks, Belle and Blondie make enough money to take care of the bills, art supplies, and groceries and still leave a little left over to spoil on her sweet little boy. Other weeks, there's only enough money to settle the bills and maybe some groceries. It's in those weeks that Jack comes in the handiest, although Rose always has a hard time accepting his help. Sure, she doesn't feel as guilty as she used to when she asks him to babysit, especially since Ian and him adore each other so much. But Rose Tyler does not do "pity money" no matter how many times Jack has said that he doesn't pity her. Of course he probably does, though, or else he probably would have ratted her out the moment he figured out that she was planning to run away all those years ago.
And who other than the man himself to break her train of thought by letting himself into her apartment.
"Hi, Uncle JaaaaaaaAAAAACHOO!"
The corners of her mouth twitching, Rose tries not to laugh and hands Ian the tissue box from the coffee table.
"That a new nickname?"
Jack has a harder time suppressing his amusement.
"No, I'm sick. You're s'posed ta say, 'bless you,'" Ian's lower lip juts out in a slight pout and a line forms between his knitted brows just above the bridge of his glasses.
He never likes being sick.
"Right, sorry, my mistake," Jack raises his hands palm up in apology. "Bless you. How's that, kiddo?"
Ian starts to snort the snot back up his nose until he catches the warning look from his mother and grabs another tissue to blow his nose with.
"Better, I s'pose. Thanks."
"Not a problem. Now how about you go and change into your jim jams while I talk to your mom, sound good?" Jack proposes with a smile.
Ian chooses to answer with a groan and overdramatic, wide armed flounce onto his back from his seated position on the middle of the couch. But then he starts to cough and Rose rushes out of the room and back in with water from the kitchen.
"Sounds like energy," he rasps out with a pinched face.
"Well, how about this: you get into your jim jams, then you get into your bed, and when I'm done talking to your mom, I'll come and read you Harry Potter?"
Rose can sense her son's hesitancy to leave her. He knows she will be gone for the night, and he's done these sleepovers with Jack enough times to be comfortable with them, but he never seemed to entirely get used to them. His cold could be the root of the extra indecision, since Rose has been there to nurture him through all his past sicknesses.
"I'll come in before I go to work, alright baby?"
"Alright, mum," he nods after a second before sneezing.
"Bless you," Rose and Jack called out as Ian makes his way to his room.
There are a few minutes left before Rose has to leave, giving her just enough time to explain the instructions from the doctor, and have some time left over for a short talk.
"So were you ever planning on telling me about John, or?"
Okay, maybe not so short of a talk. Unless..
"John who?" she feigns innocence, knowing it won't likely work, but still hoping against all odds.
"Don't play games with me, Rose," there's a warning note in his tone that causes Rose's jaw to tighten.
"Eventually."
"No you weren't."
"Well, maybe I was."
"Were you?"
"Yes!"
"Really?"
"Look, maybe I was just waiting for some free time. Don't roll your eyes at me, Jack Harkness. This is the first all-nighter this week, but the second time Ian's had to go to bed without me here, which you know I hate just as much as he does. And when I get home from calls like that, I like to sleep until my son wakes me up, and then I like to spend my free time with him. Besides, it's not like we've got much matched free time, you and me, what with you working in the day and me working at night. And then you offer to babysit Ian at night, and where does that leave you with free time that you're fully awake for, yeah? How'd you find out anyways?"
Back replies without missing a beat, "John told me."
That brings Rose up short. She has known that Jack has continued his friendship with John and Donna Noble throughout the years; they had even discussed the twins and their family from time to time. Well. Jack would update Rose on the big things, like the death of their father, Donna's engagement (and the later failure of it), John's success, and she even knew about Donna's currently eligibility for a job promotion at wherever she was working that Rose absently forgets every time Jack talks about it (which, now that Rose thinks about it, is somewhat often). When she first ran away, Jack was the only person she kept in contact with and he had always kept her secret. Always. Or at least she thought he had.
"What the hell did you tell him?"
"What? You don't want to know what he told me?"
It took a few seconds of consideration for Rose to answer.
"Both. I want to know both," she states, firmly.
"Alright, shall we start with him telling me and Donna that you said that every day you wake up hoping to die?"
Carefully hiding her face behind her hands, Rose tries to calm herself with slow breaths. God, she still can't believe she said that. It didn't even occur to her how much those words meant until she said them to him and she watched as all the light left his eyes. God, oh god.
"Girl, you aren't the only one to have a baby, that's no excuse to be living all crazy."
Living? He calls this living? Scraping by and making due because she has to? Because she has no other choice? Because she has to be there for her son? Is it really living if you're hardly even living for yourself?
She stares him right square in the eye and says, "Everyday I wake up, hoping to die."
His eyes had been flickering with a spark; of what, she couldn't tell, but she knew it was there. And then she said that and watched as the spark died right before her. God, she has missed those open book eyes. Even when she told him she was leaving, his eyes were screaming at her. She wants it back, she needs it back, before the vacancy in his stare spreads to the rest of that gorgeous face she can't believe she ever tried to convince herself that she doesn't miss. She palms his groin and gives a tight squeeze, hoping that will do the trick, or at least distract him.
His head lolls back with an involuntarily moan and Rose releases a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
Dropping her hands, she meets Jack's eye and tries to keep herself composed.
"It hurts, Jack," her voice only breaks a little, but it's better than tears. "Why does it hurt?"
When Jack sighs and wraps his arms around her, she's surprised to find that she isn't crying and figures she must really look a mess if he's just gone straight into hugging her.
"I don't know, Rosie. I don't know."
Rocking back and forth, Rose is careful not to ruin her makeup, and Jack is careful not to mess up her hair, taking to rubbing wide circles on her back instead. Picking the familiarity up from John and passing it onto Ian, Rose has always loved people rubbing circles against her in comfort.
"I would say that I think you need a doctor, but I'm sure the sentiment would make you laugh more if he said it."
While the words don't get Rose to laugh, they do get her to smile and it's all she needs to be able to collect herself, pull back from the hug, and check the clock on the microwave.
"I've got to say goodbye to Ian soon. Can you just… give me the brief rundown?"
As Jack recollects his earlier teatime with the Noble twins, Rose fought back the urge to bite her nails, a habit she tries to kick more often than not. He tells her about John's asshat of a colleague, Adam, inviting him to a party in hopes of gaining a spot on his surgical team and how John struggled to openly admit to saying Rose's name, preferring to refer to her as 'Blondie' at first, as she had to insisted. Following along with her own memory, she tries not to blush when she remembers the feel of John taking her hand and whispering lowly but authoritatively in her ear to run. She finds herself relieved to know that John hadn't gone into too vivid of detail about the physical aspect of their short time together, and laughs when Jack times to wheedle further information out of her. When Jack tells her that John had firmly tries to stick to the believe that Ian was not his own child, but Jimmy's, Rose isn't able to meet Jack's eye and she swallows thickly and watches the numbers change on the clock.
And then Jack surprises her enough that she can't help turning her gaze back to his, when he lets her know exactly what he said to John and Donna and how John attacked him after he recovered from his shock.
"I think he knows now and I think he's fighting to deny it to himself. I also think you need to tell him."
"No," the word is out of her mouth before Jack has finished his sentence.
"Why not?"
"I'm not just going to go looking for him and just come out with all of this. There's no way to just casually dump all of this for him. And besides, there's no need. This is my life, not his."
"So you'd rather he find out at another one of your jobs, then?"
Oh, that's just not fair.
"No. Because he's never going to end up at one of my jobs by mistake ever again. I told you, I'm trying to leave Blondie behind. No more last minute parties that anyone could be at. And no more John. I don't even know why we need to talk about this; it's been ten years, everything we had is gone-"
"No, everything you had is lying in bed with a cold."