After almost five months in Durryvale, Rose and the Doctor were well-established members of the community. His work brought him into contact with most of the residents. Initially they'd planned that she would work with him, scheduling appointments and assisting in whatever capacity she could. However, those plans had changed shortly after their arrival.
Rose didn't mind, really, just so long as she wasn't stuck in the house all day. Gardening wasn't her passion, and she didn't particularly enjoy cooking, though she'd gotten much better at it and prepared very palatable meals most nights. Still, she'd never been one to fuss about in the kitchen. So when she'd heard the local librarian needed help, she'd happily volunteered. Wheeling book trolleys up and down the stacks provided lovely, light exercise, and during the quieter times, she could sit and read—an activity she'd rarely had the chance to indulge in during either her time at the Powell Estates or her tenure as a Torchwood employee. Now she read voraciously, her interests spanning topics from literature to history, from geology to anthropology.
Discussing what she'd read with the Doctor was another benefit of her pursuits. He loved watching her knowledge grow and proved a patient yet enthusiastic participant in their discussions. Well, the patient part took a little time. At first he'd expounded enthusiastically about each and every topic, words spewing forth at break-neck speed. While she loved listening to him, Rose craved the chance to converse about the material and develop her own thoughts rather than simply hear facts reiterated.
She'd found that frequent, deep kisses were an excellent way to encourage pauses in the Doctor's speech. After reading a basic psychology text, she learned that those very same kisses could be used as means of altering his behavior. She developed a most enjoyable system of variable reinforcement to train her brilliantly garrulous husband to include her in the discussion.
When she finally told him what she'd done, he frowned deeply then burst into laughter before kissing her senseless in retaliation.
So Rose's work in the library proved quite satisfying to her. Aside from the knowledge she gained, she also made many friends, who proved a wonderful source of support for her. The older women, in particular, kept her from missing her own mother too much. She saw Jackie every few weeks; Tony loved visiting his big sister at the seashore. Still, there were times when an understanding hug was the best medicine, and her new friends were always happy to oblige.
Today she'd only worked for a couple of hours. She'd felt just a touch of dizziness when she'd reached up to one of the higher shelves. She hadn't thought the minor incident warranted a call to the Doctor, but she'd decided to err on the side of caution and come home for a rest.
She'd tried to nap but hadn't been able to get comfortable. After a bowl of soup and a leisurely sipped mug of hot cocoa, she'd settled down on the couch. She found the motion of the waves soothing, and now the approaching storm provided a fascinating show in the darkening sky. Thunder was beginning to rumble, and she could see flashes of light in the distance.
She didn't hear the Doctor come in. When he touched her shoulder, she almost jumped.
"Sorry!" he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to startle you. Were you sleeping?" He came around in front of her and began to reach for the light on the side table.
"Don't," she said softly. "The storm's so beautiful."
His hand dropped, and he sat down beside her. Immediately she snuggled into him as his arm came around her shoulders. He kissed her temple softly.
"Busy day?" she asked, lifting her chin to plant a gentle kiss upon his lips.
"Not too. Billy Martin's got strep, and Mrs. Hudson took a bad spill but luckily didn't break anything. She won't be able to live alone much longer."
"No. Poor thing. I'll drop in and see if she needs anything tomorrow." The elderly woman lived just three houses down the beach, and Rose often walked over to visit her.
"She'll appreciate that. She's terribly fond of you." He smiled down at her. "How long have you been home?"
"Couple of hours."
"Feeling all right?" He pulled her a bit closer as his other hand came to rest on the mound of her belly.
"Better now. Had a little dizzy spell at the library."
Immediately his affectionate expression changed to one of concern. As he reached for the light, he shifted around so that he could see her face clearly. He lifted her wrist to feel her pulse.
"You should've called me, Rose," he admonished gently.
"Doctor," she replied patiently, threading her fingers through his, "I'm pregnant, not sick."
Her assessment did not reassure him. He stood quickly and hurried from the room, returning a few moments later with his medical bag. He'd slipped on his glasses, too, and somehow the sight of him as the caring country doctor brought a surge of deep warmth to Rose's heart. She felt tears forming in her eyes.
He was meant for this: For a life devoted to helping others, for the tranquility and peace of the seaside, for fatherhood… The Time Lord would have eschewed it all, but her half-human Doctor relished it. Perhaps he felt he was atoning for his past—for both of his pasts—or perhaps the human part of him was dominant and simply craved the stability of their quiet life. Either way, he was happy.
Well, at this precise moment he was rather worried, but Rose knew she was all right. Still, she offered up her arm willingly to the oncoming blood pressure cuff and sat without complaint as he completed the small procedure.
"Pressure's slightly elevated," he reported when he'd finished, "but not dangerously so."
She knew he was concerned about preeclampsia, but thus far there were no strong indicators of that particular complication.
He continued, "I'll check it again in a couple of hours. In the meantime, you're going to put your feet up—preferably in my lap—and take it easy for the rest of the night."
"Yes, Doctor," she replied with a smile.
She settled back against the cushions as he lifted her ankles to rest them over his legs. She wore only socks, which he removed so that he could rub his thumbs over the balls and arches of her feet. She sighed contentedly.
His features relaxed as his hands did their wonderful work on her overtaxed feet. He could see that she was in no danger. She wished she could convince him that everything would be fine, that she'd sail through the remainder of the pregnancy as any healthy young woman would. However, a rather rough first trimester had left him wary. She supposed it hadn't been much worse than most women's—bouts of severe nausea accompanied by initial weight loss, headaches, a couple of inopportune fainting incidents—but he'd taken it all as a sign of genetic incompatibility. He'd run test after test, scan after scan, before he was finally convinced that the pregnancy wouldn't seriously imperil his beloved wife.
Still, he kept a close eye on her. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, either. She treasured every moment she spent with him, no matter what they were doing. If she received a bit of extra pampering, well, that was all right. If he held her even closer during the night, or popped in to surprise her at lunchtime, or joined her in the shower to wash her back, she reckoned she could live with that, too.
When he'd finished with her feet, Rose scooted over to nestle within his waiting arms. They faced the window, intermittently illuminated by the brilliant flashes of lightning. The surf was crashing over the sand now, misting the panes with fine spray. The Doctor's arms tightened fractionally around her as his hand slid under her shirt then came to rest against her belly again. He rubbed gently, reverently, over her womb, and she felt the baby stir within her.
A particularly loud crack of thunder caused both of them to jerk slightly. The house shook for a few moments in the aftermath. His hand cradled her stomach protectively, although he was probably unaware of the action.
"Storm's going to be a bad one," he told her, but his voice held interest rather than fear.
"Mmm," she agreed softly. "We'll get a good show."
He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, we will."
A vivid bolt of lightning flared across the black sky.
"Ooh," he exclaimed, "spectacular! Five forks! Did you see them all, Rose?"
"Yeah. Pretty amazin'."
She loved that the storm brought him only joy. She moved her hands to rest over his and over their child.
To be continued…