Damn'd Spot

Chapter 2

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Well, here's the last half. Hope you enjoy it. Please review!

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After he deposited the egg, the Doctor is left with little to do. All repairs are more extensive than he'd like to get into tonight, and he hasn't seen neither hide nor hair of Jack since he'd left dramatically about two hours previous.

His wandering feet lead him to the drawing room almost without him knowing it. As he walked, he rubbed his hands together, as though trying to smooth away the imaginary wrinkles he felt littering the skin's surface. This body was particularly young. Yet, he could feel his age with painful clarity. She made him feel this way. Always.

The door creaked a little louder than he'd like. Silent (and he was silent, with over nine hundred years of existence it was impossible not to learn such tricks, even in such a bulky body), he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. The room was an imposing Victorian-revival, filled with velvet and mahogany, winged armchairs with scrolling detail, brass stud nails, silk and lace coverings, curious glass figures, and dark wallpaper. He had once liked it a great deal. That time had passed, along with his eighth body.

Passing a mirror, he saw a small, black stain on the chest of his jumper. Grease. Great. That wouldn't be coming out anytime soon. And he was rather fond of this particular jumper.

The spot was sort of like Rose. It was a part of something he loved. Difficult, yet he'd never think of getting rid of it. A bit of a mistake, but one that served a greater purpose. It just sort of added to the whole character of the jumper—something that made him love it even more. It had come from an effort he was proud to claim.

He found the source of his hand-worrying in one corner, curled into one of those massive winged chairs. Rose was covered in a silk throw. He couldn't tell if this was of her own doing, or Jack's. He smelled the other human's cologne, a piney scent Jack was very fond of, hanging in the air. The throw was draped rather messily, as though haphazardly toss over her already-sleeping form. A cup of lukewarm tea sits beside her on a small lacquered table. She is breathing heavily. The sleep is fitful. Even from this distance, he can see the outline of salt, faintly crusted in white lines running down her swollen cheeks.

This wasn't what he had wanted. As much as he might…desire…Rose, he hadn't wanted her to feel any pain in her separation. He hadn't wished to hurt her. And yet, he had. He'd taken her away, distracted her from her "real life," as Jackie liked to call it, and practically seduced her with the stars, the excitement, the timeship….And what a smooth seduction it had been! Rose had willing come into his home, eager to find a better life. She had wanted this romance with the universe as much as he had wanted her. And now, she was paying for it. Mickey couldn't take the neglect any longer. The Doctor knew she didn't blame him.

Truly, all he had hoped to do tonight was make her a fresh cup, then put her to bed. She would be tired by the day's events. She would need rest. He hadn't planned on talking about what had happened. Nor had he planned on finding his charge asleep.

He'd only see her in this state a handful of times. It was quite endearing, as she snored awfully, and tossed about.

But not tonight.

Sighing, the Doctor resigned himself to the armchair opposite. He was determined to wait until she had awoken herself. Then he would guide her back to her room, help her take off those trainers, tuck her in, and leave her to her sleep cycle. Perfectly innocent.

As usual.

The thought of comforting her through other means niggled in the back of his mind. He pushed these down, knowing physical relations would serve neither of them.

When she woke twenty minutes later, bleary-eyed and mush-mouthed, he suppressed the feeling again. Face half-hidden in shadow, he quietly questioned her. Rose mumbled replies in the darkness, rising to stumble forward. Once she found him, she rather quickly fell into his lap, dragging the throw with her. He protested, at first.

"Rose, you can't…you've got to get to bed."

"Mmm…no. M' comfortable here, thanks." She leaned up, pecking his cheek innocently. "I'm glad we won today."

"Won?"

She considered. "Well, not all of us." She kissed him again. "But you did."

"Rose," He started helplessly. But it was too late. She had tucked herself into his embrace, head against his shoulder. A mixture of longing, pity, and untainted pleasure rushed through him. He allowed her to stay, stroking the dyed strands of hair that peeked out from under the rich throw. She snuffed lightly, nose still tender from tears. The Doctor, sighing once more, rocked slightly until she fell into a semi-slumber, partially aware of her surroundings.

The talk could wait. She needed him now.

"You've got a spot." Rose said, suddenly awake and alert. She rubbed a grease stain on his jumper vigorously.

"Yeah." He choked. "Won't come out. Just…won't."

"That's silly." She smiled wearily up at him. "Bet you haven't even washed it."

"You're right. But I wouldn't even dream of trying. Love that spot, me. Damn spot, but I love it. Probably wouldn't come out, anyways. Even if I did try. Stubborn, really."

The smile grew wider. "You like stubborn things."

"Yeah. Sometimes." He agreed.

"Promise you won't throw this away for a little spot." She whispered. "This is still my favourite."

"Promise. Sleep, Rose."

Silence fell. Then—

"Mickey broke up with me."

"I know."

"Oh." She nuzzled closer. "I probably deserved it. I was never home. And I got him accused of murder. Hard to stay with a girl after that, even for the best o' blokes."

"No," He disagreed. "Don't think it Rose. Staying with you is easy. Like breathin'. Can't blame yourself, it's Ricky's own fault he couldn't handle a long-term relationship."

"Mickey."

The Doctor grunted, uncaring.

"I'm sorry."

He shifted to look at her. "For what?"

"For…bothering you with this."

"You're not bothering me, love. Sleep." He commanded again. This time, she complied.

Together they sat in the dark, each nursing separate heartbreaks. The night was a long one. But neither could say they honestly minded too much.

Fin.

Sorry, Craving and Red Sky fans. This was really distracting me. Had to finish it.

Please review!

~Dania