I'd like to say thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic. Just thought I'd let you know, there's only one more chapter to come after this one - and I'll be posting it tomorrow. Thanks again - Lilli.
Chapter Nine : Let's Face The Music...
Rose hurried through the TARDIS corridors, still barefoot and wrapped up tight in the Doctor's leather jacket. She huddled into its comfort, the familiar scent of him all around her, almost as if she was still in his arms. Of course she wasn't in his arms, a fact she was painfully aware of; and that only made her quicken her step. She had to sort this thing out. It was all her fault and she had to fix it because... because she really didn't think that she had the will power to say 'no' a second time.
With that in mind it was with some sense of urgency that she opened her room door, but once inside, her heart sank as she stared at the mess before her. Perhaps what made it even worse was that she could recall that on more than one occasion she'd told the Doctor (while wearing her best straight face) that her room was organised chaos, that she had a system, and that she knew exactly where everything was.
How her pants hadn't burst into flames she'd never know.
She gave an almost defeated sigh and closing the door behind her she took a step forward, contemplating where to begin. Her eyes flickered over the piles of discarded clothes, open drawers, overflowing boxes and most damning of all -- the space under the bed, or to be more accurate the lack of space under the bed. The phrase 'needle in a haystack' sprang to mind.
"You'll never find it," said the little voice inside her, sounding quite sure of its self and more than a little smug.
Rose clenched her hands into fists. She was really starting to dislike that voice. Determined to prove it wrong, she headed across to the bed, dropped to her knees and lay down flat on the floor. It was then that she began muttering and cursing under her breath, in a manner that would have had her mother threaten to wash her mouth out with soap and water -- if she'd been on board. But then again, if Jackie had been on board the TARDIS, perhaps she'd have been far too busy castrating the Doctor to be bothered with her daughters filthy mouth.
Rose stretched her arm out to the mysteries of whatever lay under her bed and bit her lip hard.
She would find it. She would.
oOo
Rose had learnt a few alien swear words on her travels and after half an hour of discovering nothing more than some anti plastic, a box of matches and a packet of jelly babies, she figured that if ever there was a time to turn the air blue, it was now. However, the TARDIS wasn't so sure, and refused to translate them, even if no one was listening. Which did nothing to improve Rose's mood.
Since searching under the bed had proved to be a complete and utter failure, Rose got to her feet, but as she stepped back her foot hit something. Having run out of expletives to hurl she twisted around and snatched up the small box she had stood on. She was just about to throw it to the other side of the room in a display of childish pique when she stopped suddenly. The box was heart shaped.
She remembered now. That's where she'd put it. In the heart shaped box. Duh! Carefully she opened the lid and then she smiled, took out what she'd been searching for and threw the heart shaped box under the bed.
The little voice inside Rose was silent -- sulking probably.
oOo
As Rose turned the corner into the corridor with the Doctor's room at the end of it she heard, at least she thought she heard, singing. At first she dismissed the idea, but the closer she got to the Doctor's room the clearer it got, and by the time she was standing outside the Doctor's door, it had become quite loud.
Thirty-four bottles of beer on a wall,
thirty-four bottles of beer,
take one down,
pass it around,
thirty-three bottles of beer on a wall.
Thirty-three bottles of beer on wall,
thirty-three bottles of beer,
take one down,
pass it around...
Rose pushed open the door and just as she'd expected, the singing came to an abrupt stop. Hiding her grin she walked across to the bed where the Doctor lay, his arms still secured above his head by his belt. They stared at one another for a while, until Rose broke the awkward silence.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fantastic." The Doctor beamed at her. "Well, when I say fantastic, I mean fantastic for a man who's been tied to his bed for over two hours an' been forced to entertain himself by singing the top ten most annoying songs in the world. Much longer and I think the TARDIS would have decided to drain the oxygen from the room to render me unconscious."
Rose's smile got the better of her. "So, you're okay then?" she asked.
"Sort of, yeah." He set her with his blue-grey gaze.
Rose took a step closer. "Doctor, I..."
"Keep back."
She stopped in her tracks. "What?"
"I said keep back. You know what happens when you get too close."
"Yeah." Rose nodded her head and her smile was back. "You start lusting after my mum."
He frowned a little. "It's not funny Rose."
She adopted a serious expression. "No, 'course it's not."
He gave a sigh and glanced away, seemingly unwilling to meet her eyes. "Rose, I'm sorry about... before."
She hesitated. "S'okay," she said softly, wanting to reassure him. She moved to close the distance between them and he looked up.
"Rose don't!"
She ignored him and moved to the side of the bed, tugging at the belt around his wrists and undoing the buckle. When she was finished she dropped the belt to the floor. "S'okay, Doctor." She stepped back and reached into one of the pockets of the leather jacket, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to him. "It's right there -- in the small print."
The Doctor rubbed at his wrists for a second then swung his legs around so that he was sitting on the side of the bed, directly in front of where Rose was standing. With a look of suspicion he took the offered piece of paper from her.
"What's this?"
Rose couldn't prevent her eyes from trailing over the Doctor's lean legs, still in black denim, she lingered for far too long at the undone button at the waist band of his jeans, then forcing herself to look away, she met the Doctor's curious eyes as he waited for her answer.
"It's the disclaimer," she explained. "The one I signed when I got the tattoo done."
The Doctor gave a nod before quickly reading it through. "I see."
Rose came a step closer, so that she was standing between the Doctor's legs. "It says the effects last no more than five and a half hours."
The Doctor gave another brief nod of his head before letting the paper drift to the floor. "Right," he said quietly. "Always wait five and a half hours. Gotta remember that one." He didn't look at her, but kept his attention fixed on his hands in his lap.
Silence watched them both, Rose knew that she should step away, but found herself reluctant. "So," she said, trying to prolong every second. "It's alright. I mean we're alright. It wasn't your fault. It was just the moth pheromones. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Oh dear lord she was babbling, she knew it but she couldn't stop. "Could have happened to anyone. If I'd been on Earth it could have been Mickey and not you..." She saw the Doctor's jaw clench at that, and hurried to fix the mess her mouth was getting her in. "Not that I'd have... I mean me an' Mickey... we're just friends now. You know that right? Doctor?" She stopped to draw breath, wondering if there was any way to get her foot out of her mouth. "It's like I said, it could have been anyone." Why wouldn't the floor open up and swallow her? Why?
"They wouldn't have worked on just anyone Rose." The Doctor's voice was soft and dark, but still he did not look at her.
"What do you mean?"
Slowly he lifted his head until he was looking into her wide chocolate-coloured eyes. He couldn't pretend any more. It was time for him to face the music, and he knew it. "The pheromones, they wouldn't have worked if I hadn't already been... receptive to them. It's part of their design. They can only increase desire, they can't create it."
Rose's lips parted slightly. "But, that means that even before the pheromones, you wanted to... wanted to..."
"Yes."
She stared at him. "Oh."
"Have done for some time," he admitted.
Rose felt her heart miss a beat, then pick up a little faster. "Really?"
He didn't flicker. "Yes."
"Oh."
"Is that alright, Rose?"
She found that she was smiling, slow, steady, warm, sure and bright. "Yes."
Slowly the Doctor moved one hand, pushed aside the front of the leather jacket, his thumb brushing over the heart shaped tattoo that sat cherry red at the curve of her hip. Rose trembled from his touch.
The Doctor looked up and met her eyes. "Do you understand why I had to stop before?"
Rose shook her head. "Not really."
"It's all about choice, Rose. That's why I had to stop. I couldn't let anything happen between us -- not like that. I'd never make you do anything that you didn't want to do. When I... if I make love to you, I want it to happen because it's what we both want." His thumb brushed across the tattoo again and when he spoke his voice was dark and soft. "Is this what you want Rose? Just me. No one else."
She didn't hesitate with her reply, not for a second. "Yes."
"I'm serious Rose. No more pretty boys. You should think about that before you..."
She shook her head, smiling. "I don't want anyone but you, Doctor."
"Rose." Hope flickered in his eyes as he looked at her.
"If this really is about choice Doctor, then I choose you. Every time."
Silence danced between them, and Rose watched as the Doctor's eyes grew dark as night as he looked at her. "You're wearing my leather jacket," he said.
Confused, Rose frowned a little. "Yes."
The Doctor looked into her eyes, into her heart, into her soul. "Take it off."
