Authors Note: Finally, here it is! I know I promised an update in a few days, but two weeks is like a few days, right? I was all set to go until I realized I had left out an entire ~1000 word section…whoops.
Again, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. Reviews make my day J
One final addition to the disclaimer: This chapter references a novel called The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman, which has also been adapted for television by the BBC. The reference is not consistent with the time frame of this story, as the book was published in 1985. I chose is simply because Billie Piper stared in the television adaptation.
October 1942
Rose set the kettle on the stove and shuffled idly to her bedroom, loosening her hair from its pins as she went. Her new residence was more spacious than her London flat, but far cozier. The furniture was old but made of solid wood and felt homey and secure. The wall paper hanging in the bedroom, a peach pattern faded over time to a faint sepia hue, clashed horribly with Rose's pink and white quilt, but she paid the sight no mind as she deposited the hairpins on a small vanity and reached for the laces on her boots. There had been a steady stream of patients passing through the doctor's office that day, but as none were in need of overnight attention Rose was freed to return home and make herself comfortable.
Tossing her boots aside Rose glanced at the vanity drawer before heeding the summons of the kettle. A fresh set of stationary resided in that drawer; perhaps Rose ought to write a letter to Martha. Despite her many reassurances, Rose had felt most dismayed to be leaving Martha behind. The girls had grown unexpectedly friendly in their time working together, and Rose missed their stolen conversations at the hospital. What's more, she remained fearful that Martha's advancement would be halted by prejudice should she come to work under the wrong doctor. The day she had marched into the hospital to hand over her letter of resignation Rose had appealed for Martha's promotion and listened with grave satisfaction to the assurances of her own supervisors that the nurse's talents had not gone unnoticed.
Mentally, Rose began composing the letter. Perfunctorily planning out a few polite inquiries about Martha's family, she earnestly began working through a list of patients whose cases Martha might find especially interesting. Certainly she should mention little Mark Moss, who had managed to sprain his wrist and dislocate several fingers when he tried to leap off of a slippery stone stair. His sister had kept him calm by chattering incessantly at him the whole time John spent resetting his fingers. Lynda was her name, and though very sweet she was something of a gossip and also excelled at talking about nothing for great lengths of time. In fact just a few nights earlier she had been going on to Rose about-
Wait. Rose shook herself from her train of thought and sat up straighter. Martha was a friend more so than a colleague. True, she was genuinely interested in medicine, but did that mean Rose would share with her only stories about work and none about her new life?
Whether she had said so specifically or not, Rose had wanted to escape from her London life at the Queen Alexandra's and Martha had known that. Martha had become a confidant, and infrequent jaunts to the Bad Wolf were always good for a laugh, but beyond that Rose's life was stuck in a cycle of working and sleeping with a heaping dose of loss to top it off. And now she was living in a bustling northern township where patients and doctors alike knew her name, soldiers were rare, and a few young women had willingly embraced Rose's companionship and provided a youthful social life she hadn't realized she had been wanting.
Absolutely, Rose was happy. And she should be, for Rose had left London to be at John's side and there he was working beside her day after day. Sometimes he was even there outside of the clinic, sharing a meal or a stroll around their new town. Exactly as she had hoped.
Only, the doctor was bored.
Rose sighed and was glad she had left the stationary in the drawer this time. How could she tell Martha that her hopes had gotten out of hand, that John's invitation had meant less than she had initially thought? She was sure he still enjoyed her company, but it wasn't enough. Trading London for a new town hadn't been enough. After a few weeks of watching him fling himself fully into his work, she had noticed him growing restless, almost impatient, as though some unidentified yet insatiable need prevented him from finding contentment. The answer hadn't been clear until that very afternoon, when a book John had written away for arrived and he begged off early to delve into it while Rose remained on call.
John had said he wanted no more soldiers, no more battlefield injuries, but evidently the run of the mill didn't suit him either. There were new treatments, he told her, new drugs being developed every day, which could someday save thousands. Being a doctor was gratifying, but the notion of contributing to something bigger was enticing.
Maybe he was right to want more out of life than factory workers with chest complaints and little Mark's sprained wrist, Rose thought as she rinsed her tea cup. Maybe someday she would want more too. But at the moment, she was content with a quiet evening's rest passed with a borrowed romance novel and her favorite old afghan.
"Are you going off again?" Rose asked, barging into John's office without bothering to knock. From the hallway she heard him blundering about, and the general disarray of his desk confirmed that he hadn't exactly been working.
"Come again?" John asked, half inside his filing cabinet. His arm was contorted in an effort to rescue a paper that had managed to slip behind the drawer.
"There's a letter just arrived, from Dr. Cunningham. Are you going to meet him again?" Rose used the unopened letter to shoo John away from the cabinet, deftly plucking out the stray page while he tore into the envelope.
Watching his pale eyes race over the letter, Rose sensed his anticipation and held her breath. His initial boredom had propelled him to begin correspondence with other physicians who were studying the newly introduced wonder drug, penicillin. Among the lot was Dr. Albert Cunningham, who had a talent for understanding pharmaceuticals and not the slightest hint of bedside manners. Together he and John began postulating on the application of antibiotics, and not a month before had met for the first time to discuss a new piece of research in depth.
"Yes!" John said quickly, still too immersed in the letter to notice Rose letting out her breath. "In two weeks time. He wants to introduce me to a colleague who works with penicillin."
The bright, enthusiastic grin he wore demanded a smile in return, and Rose could not refuse.
"You'll be alright, then, managing the clinic for a few days?"
"Well, I didn't kill anyone last time, did I?" Rose quipped, earning a chuckle.
To her surprise John stepped forward and cupped her cheek gently.
"What would I do without you?" he asked, sincere and still brimming with happiness brought on by the mail.
Rose smiled again, momentarily transfixed by his bright blue eyes. "Lose all of your paperwork to the filing cabinet?"
The tip of her tongue appeared as he laughed again.
"Never liked keeping so many forms, maybe the cabinet just wanted to help. Speaking o which, I've got that essay on gram-negative aerobes around here somewhere, gotta find that…" with that he was back to his papers, shuffling through one of several stacks Rose didn't dare try to sort for him.
"Don't forget you've got a house call at 2, Mrs. Harcourt!" Rose called as she swept back out of the room.
February 1943
"Saw you talking to the magistrate this morning," Rose began mildly. "He looked a bit out off, not unwell is he?"
The pair strolled side by side through town, maintaining a barely respectable distance from one another. Evidence of spring's impending arrival was scare to be found, but the crisp cold air was always a refreshing break from the faintly iodine scent of the clinic.
"Unwell? No, it was nothing like that. Wanted me to join his advisory committee was all." John's eyes strayed over the avenue laid out before them, keeping his tone deliberately unobtrusive.
"And you turned him down." Rose concluded.
John snorted and looked back at her. "Me, on a committee? Don't tell me you can picture that."
Rose giggled. "I can maybe picture it, only not working out quite the way a committee is meant to, yeah?"
"You could say it like that." John agreed with a smirk.
"Still," she continued. "Can't blame him for asking. Everyone in town has taken to you."
"Old habit o' mine, disappointing magistrates." He replied coolly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He regarded her with a measured expression, seeming to realize he had spoken unguardedly and deciding an explanation was deserved. "They were magistrates, the lot of them. My father, his father…and I was meant to follow, of course, family tradition and all. Never was good at living up to expectations. Knocked heads with my old man the day they died and went on disappointing him for a while after."
Rose opened her mouth for a moment but no words came out. Blinking, she tried to collect her thoughts and started again. "Doctor, you can't still think you've let them down. Anyone would look at you now and be proud."
"You didn't know them," he said. "Thought they were pillars of society, cared about upholding the family name and leaving a legacy. Even if an army medic had been good enough for them, which it never would, I damaged the family reputation."
"Everyone is a bit rebellious young, that doesn't mean they wouldn't have seen all the wonderful things you've done, all the people you've helped." Rose protested.
Sighing, John mustered a small smile and allowed his hand to rest briefly on her shoulder. "I don't want you fussing over this, Rose. It all happened a long time ago."
"But, surely if they could see you now-"
"This is who I am, right here, right now," John said sharply. "What they wanted, what I might have been, doesn't matter. All that matters is I know who I am, this man, standing next to you. This is me. Alright?"
Rose was taken aback by his sudden abrasiveness, and briefly regretted having said anything about his family. "Yeah, of course, I…absolutely, alright, yeah. I only want you to be you."
"I just thought what?" He asked, softer but still gruff.
"What?"
"'I just thought.'S'what you were going to say, wasn't it."
"It doesn't matter." Rose answered stiffly.
"Yes, you do." John said, contrite. "What did you want to say?"
"I just…" she began hesitantly. "Look, I don't mean to pry into your past or nothing, I know you don't like talking about it. I just thought, whatever it is with your parents shouldn't hold you back. And if you just don't want the job there's nothing wrong with that. Only, you should know you won't disappoint anyone."
He pressed his lips into a thin line before offering a piercing look tempered by a grave tone. "Have I disappointed you?"
"No!" Rose shook her head vehemently. "No, never."
She stared at him imploringly, even when his gaze fell away for a moment. Rose felt almost as though she had bumped into a table and set something fragile wobbling; she wasn't sure if she should reach out to steady it or if it would be better to step back and trust gravity to return everything to its place.
"Good." He murmured quietly, before allowing a few seconds to lapse in silence.
"The thing is, Rose, I do carry it with me. Not the disappoint, but the reasons we disagreed. All of the things I didn't like about my father's work, I put on any magistrate I meet. And I shouldn't, because the job isn't the man. But I know it won't due to put myself in that situation."
"I could never be disappointed in you for that."
He gave a small harrumph. "Maybe you should, if I'm being judgmental and not trying to change."
"Be fair, we all do that. It's like, oh, I dunno," Rose almost visibly cast her mind around for a metaphor, crinkling her nose. "Like, if you taste something and you don't like it, no one expects you to keep eating it just in case you change your mind. Except when you're a kid and your mum says you have to eat vegetables whether you threaten to heave at the table or not. But when you're grown, it's ok to not like it, you just eat other things."
John eyed her closely before his stern expression broke into bemused grin. Shaking his head, he mostly held back a laugh and rewarded her effort with a smile. "Yeah, ok. Fair enough, then, no one says I have to try it again."
"You're laughing at me!" Rose squealed in mock indignation, betrayed by her own bright smirk.
"No, really, you made your point." John said lightly. "You just let me know you're hungry at the same time."
"Be fair, I can smell chips!" she whined.
"I suppose you want to eat, then?"
"Come on Doctor, don't disappoint me now." Rose brought out her special tongue-touched grin, knowing she was about to get exactly what she wanted.
John only smiled brighter in return. "Alright then, chips on me. Let's go."
April 1943
"For you." John said, pressing a chaste kiss to Rose's cheek and a small parcel into her hands. He had been off yet again, this time to Cambridge for a conference on microbial diseases.
"What is it?" Rose asked. He had left their small town more times that she would have liked over the last several months, but never had he returned with a gift.
Instead of answering John simply waited for her to finish removing the brown paper wrapping to reveal a small novel.
"The Ruby in the Smoke." She read out.
"I thought you might like it, it's a mystery." He replied nonchalantly, but watching closely to find out if he had chosen well.
"Thank you!" Rose offered along with a bright smile.
"You're welcome." John grinned, pleased with her reaction. "I haven't eaten; do you have time to catch me up over a bite?"
"Sure. I don't think there are any appointments today, let me just check…" Rose ran her finger over the ledger on her small desk. "No, not until tomorrow. Mrs. Harcourt again, in the afternoon."
"Which will be delightful, I'm sure." John rolled his eyes while Rose fetched her hat.
"Doctor, be nice." She chided.
"I am always nice." John insisted, shutting the door behind them and turning in the direction of warm food. "But it would be nice if she'd follow my instructions for once. I don't suppose she has actually been resting?"
"Of course not." Rose said. "Since when does the town busybody let something like arthritis keep her from going out and about?"
As they strolled closer towards the public house promising good food John's attention was drawn across the street to a smartly dressed young man whose eyes were at the moment following Rose.
"That's a pretty one you've got there, Rose." He interrupted her explanation of how James Bowen's stitches were holding up to draw her attention to their observer. The young man's eyes met John's for a moment before he gave the pair a curt nod and went on his way.
"What, him?" Rose asked. "Nah, I only just met him yesterday. Besides, he was probably looking at you."
"I can't see why he would, other than being out with you." John tried to keep his tone light, already aware that she was eyeing him sideways. Internally he fought back the feeling of someone entering his turf, trying to shake the possessiveness he quite suddenly felt towards Rose.
"Because that's the man who wants your job." She said matter-of-factly.
John started, and Rose smirked.
"Charlie Whittaker, the man who wrote to you before you left for Cambridge this time. Just got out of school, wants to be a doctor around here? He'll be wanting to meet you." Rose prodded his memory.
"Right, right, Whittaker." John mumbled, shaking his head. "Of course, I should speak to him. No matter, you were saying about James Bowen?"
As they were about to enter the pub Rose allowed the conversation to revert back to small talk. They then proceeded to discuss the meal-friendly aspects of John's conference, but his mind was elsewhere and Rose knew it was focused on the enthusiastic medical graduate who had arrived by train the day before.
Charles Whittaker had been born in that very town and now hoped to return and set down roots afresh. He had served a brief tour before returning to England injured, choosing then to leave the service for medical college. His studies were largely motivated by the horrors mustard gas had reaped on his friends in the army and upon graduation Whittaker maintained a fascination with lung complaints. He hoped to find a niche among the factory towns of his birthplace.
"Still thinking about what to do with our newcomer?" Rose queried as they returned to the clinic.
"It's nothing to worry about. I'm sure we'll have him sorted by the time you finish that new book of yours." John replied, still somewhat aloof.
"Who said I was worried?" She replied lightly. In fact she did worry about him, but she wasn't about to say so. "The only thing anyone needs to be worried about right now is whether or not Mrs. Harcourt is going to catch you rolling your eyes at her this time."
"I have never rolled my eyes at a patient!"
Rose merely gave him a look, and he amended his statement.
"Alright, I have never rolled my eyes at a patient who was still in the room."
"Yeah, well I know how the conversation with Mrs. Harcourt is going to go. You should watch yourself."
"Survived Germany, me. I think I know how to watch out for myself." John said a bit dryly.
"You say that, but one of these days you're going to come off on the wrong end of an encounter with her, Doctor, just you wait."
"I'll take my chances."
"On your own head be it."
"Would it really kill her to follow my instructions? I dunno why she even keeps calling me back, if she won't listen. I've got other things to do than repeat myself to her." John grumbled.
"What, more important things like your research friends?" Rose narrowed her eyes at his tone.
"We are looking at the possibility of a new class of drugs that will cure hundreds of illnesses across the globe. Thousands of lives, Rose, thousands could be saved, and you think I don't care enough about one stupid person? I can save someone from disease, but I can't do anything about their own decisions." He said imperiously.
"So that's it then, you're moving on. Bigger and better things out there, yeah?" She shot back, stung.
"Someone's got to."
"Don't you go changing on me, Doctor. When I met you, if there was a man in front of you needing help you cared only about doing what you could for him, no matter what was going on around you. And what about now? Do you even want to see your patients anymore?"
"Oh, and you've never been a bit put off on your own patients, have you? Never got tired of seeing the same things every day, never wanted more of a challenge?" John barked, though still gentlemanly enough to hold their clinic's door open for her.
"I didn't just swan off whenever it struck my fancy!"
"Don't act like I've left this town high and dry! I can go away because you are here to mind everything and you've not had any trouble yet."
"Yeah, well, you can't just go on thinking I'm the solution, then. You think every things fine, so you're going to start staying away for longer, and then why even come back? Leaving me here isn't good enough, I'm not a doctor."
"You're right, you're not a doctor." John snapped, causing Rose to bristle with anger and hurt. "But I thought you could handle this, that you were fine without your hand being held. But if this is too much-"
"It isn't too much, I'm fine!" She nearly shrieked. "But after everything I've seen from you I'm not going to stand aside and let you forget why you wanted this job!"
"I know damn well why I wanted this job!"
"And since when are lab rats more interesting than people?"
"If I can figure out how to save someone's life, why do you care if I administer the medicine or not? I'll still have made it possible!"
"All those individual people you helped, the ones who looked you in the eye and made you proud of your work, and you're just gonna forget about them? Gonna leave me behind too?"
"Rose, that isn't going to happen! I wouldn't, I just meant-" He trailed off, frustrated.
"I know." She said, shortly. "I know, I…I'm sorry, forget it. I'll go an' make you a cuppa."
"Rose-" but she had already slipped out of the office.
John was half tempted to follow her, but constrained himself to pacing his office in an attempt to collect his thoughts and his temper.
"Here." She returned a few minutes later, setting the cup down on his desk.
In an instant he was there, laying a hand over her wrist and praying she wouldn't pull away.
"Rose," he began, now strained but calm.
"It's fine, I'll let you get on with your work." She replied stiffly, but did not force her hand away from his touch.
"No it isn't, I shouldn't have shouted. I…I get so focused, I need you to remind me why I've come here. I do appreciate you, Rose, and not just because you mind the office while I'm away. I've spent so long, trying to forget…so many things, it's become my nature. And now I've stopped holding on to all of the good things too. I'm sorry."
Rose glance down at their hands for a moment, but when she looked up her hazel eyes were soft and accepting. "I am still glad I came. Although, you are lucky you didn't get slapped."
They shared a tentative chuckle. "Yeah, I think I'll try to avoid that, thanks."
Rose gave his hand a squeeze before backing towards the door. "Go on then, back to work."
"Rose?" he stopped her just before she could pull the door shut.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Remind me of this before I go see Mrs. Harcourt tomorrow."
Her smile appeared, however smaller than usual. "I promise."
Within a couple of days their fight had blown over and all was back to normal, though John made a point of sharing less about his latest jaunt to Cambridge. No more was said about the new Mr. Whittaker, though Rose knew he had meet with John on Wednesday. Not until Friday evening, when John and Rose paused over the kettle Rose kept in the office.
"How are you liking that book, then?"
"So you've figured out what to do with Whittaker, yeah?" Rose countered.
"I don't think that answers my question." John said lightly, taking his tea from her. He wanted to be in control of this conversation, even if playing the game was a risk.
Rose huffed and regarded him for a moment before answering. "Finished it last night, it was good. I like Sally. The jacket says there's another book about her, it's a series. I'd like to find a copy one of these days."
"Good, I'm glad you liked it. I didn't realize you were through it already."
"We had a busy morning."
"Yes, we did." He took a sip of his tea before setting it down and bracing an arm against the tabletop.
"You've been right, thinking I've been spreading myself thin these last few months, not caring enough about what was happening here. I know you never said at the time," He stopped her from retorting before she could find the words. "You didn't have to; I noticed it in the look you gave me every time I said I was taking off. But I brushed it off, because I didn't want to face it."
"Yeah, but you've manage it." Rose conceded.
"I did, but it isn't right for a physician to be away from his town so much. So I think it is best that Mr. Whittaker take up here. He wants to stay and work."
"He'll be working alongside you, then? I'll clear my desk for him, I can use the table in the file room."
"No," John glanced down at his tea before returning his eyes to hers. "I mean to hand over the practice to him."
"Oh," Rose paused for a moment, processing, before giving her doctor a weak half smile. "I suppose I'm not actually so surprised. You never did seem to like holding still. This town got a bit small for you, eh Doctor? Where to next?"
"I've been offered to join a fellowship with Dr. Cunningham at a research laboratory in Oxford. Antibiotics, Rose. You won't believe what they are achieving, what we think we'll be able to achieve." He stepped away from the table and took Rose by the shoulders, earnestly imploring her to understand what he was doing. "There is a whole network of doctors and scientists working on this, and Oxford is a hub here in England. We can head back there, and have the entire rail system right there for going off around Britain. This is history happening, good things, right here, right now. What do you say?"
If Rose had thought John was pleased to tell her he was leaving London, she had no idea how fervent he could become at the prospect of a new start. With the same half-smile still stuck in place she opened her mouth to offer some sort of congratulations until one of his words caught up with her.
"Do research laboratories need many nurses?" She asked, cocking her head slightly.
"How should I know?" John asked in turn, mildly perplexed by the question.
"I dunno." Rose replied, sounding equally puzzled. "It's just, you said 'we' like you meant you and me, like when we came here. Only I came with you here because you needed a nurse?"
Rose didn't realize she was now holding her breath, wondering anxiously if this time, she wasn't mistaking his intent.
"Ah," John blinked. "I just meant, I'd like you to come. I don't need you to be a nurse; I just want you to come, to be with me."
"You want me to stay with you?" Rose managed, eyes wide at his declared intentions.
"Yes." His blue eyes were soft and hopeful, without any of the vulnerability that accompanied his first suggestion that she leave town with him.
Rose laughed, too happy to help it. "Better with two?"
"Much better." John declared, abruptly halting her lingering laughter with a kiss that left her flushed but content in his arms.
September 1943
The last warm days before summer gave way to autumn begged to be enjoyed, and for once John and Rose paused their whirl-wind life long enough to do so. In the months since their arrival in Cambridge the pair had become friendly with the conductor of the nearest train station, either darting off to pay visit to a colleague of John's or simply because he insisted there was far too much adventure to be found on English soil for them to stay at home a miss any of it. Not to mention too much time spent in the lab without stretching his legs tended to make John grumpy.
"Come on, then. We're taking the scenic route." John unfurled his arm from hers, seizing her hand and tugging her towards the dirt lane.
Rose smiled easily at him, allowing him to lead her away from the well marked road. "You really aren't in any rush to get back to town, are you?"
"Don't you get bored in town? This is an adventure, and you, Rose, are going to enjoy it!" His eyes sparkled and boyish look crossed his face as he looked over his shoulder, causing Rose to laugh out loud and hurry to match her pace to his.
"I always enjoy it when you take me someplace new."
The main road was not long out of sight when John spotted a narrow foot path meandering off through the woods that sheltered the eastern side of the lane. Before Rose could protest to the idea he landed a well timed jibe about her having become far too ladylike to tromp about in her town shoes, and John quickly found himself the follower as they dove into the shade of the trees.
Presently the footpath came to the edge of the trees where it was briefly interrupted by the cross bar of an old post and rail fence, which had been lowered on one side. Over the downed rail was a fair sized meadow, once fenced for keeping ponies but now empty and allowed to grow dense and unkempt. The worn footpath grew skinny and followed closely along the line of the damaged fencing, edging the knee high faded grass dotted with small yellow flowers. Rose stopped at the fence line and tested the sturdiness of a post carefully before deeming it safe enough to lean on. The soft smile she had been wearing faded slightly as she took in the pastoral view. John's own lazy grin slipped at the sight of her far away expression.
"What's wrong?" His voice, though soothing, had risen ever so slightly as to betray his concern.
Rose sighed, letting her gaze linger on the grassy expanse a moment longer before turning to her doctor with a small reassuring smile.
"Nothing," she said, eyes honest yet unsurprised to see John's concern unappeased. They flickered back to the landscape as she continued. "It's just, growing up in London, I never saw fields like this except maybe in a painting once or twice. Until I went to France. And those fields…they weren't like this. Never peaceful, even when all was quiet. Always bodies. But this, it's so, nice, so quiet and safe feeling."
John found himself blinking away his own memories of the battlefields as he reached a comforting hand out to trace lightly along her shoulder blade. Rose again turned, feeling warmth spreading throughout her from the tips of his fingers.
"Don't," she murmured, ducking her head to nudge at his arm playfully before stepping away from the post and moving to face him. "I didn't mean to be all somber. It all just caught up to me I suppose, feeling so safe and happy now no matter where we go. But we're still going, yeah? Lots more to see."
She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and watched his expression soften.
"Rose," he began as she stepped backwards towards the meadow. But he could see her mind was already moving on.
"So tell me, then—"
"Mind!" he interrupted, grabbing her shoulders to prevent her from tripping over the downed rail. Half stumbling the pair managed to emerge from the edge of the woods still upright and laughing lightly.
"You didn't live in a big city, yeah? See things like this a lot as a kid?" Rose had long since given up prying more family details out of John, but couldn't help but still be curious about his life before they met.
"Fields? Sure. They always put ideas in my head, 'specially when I was sent off somewhere proper-like. Always looking for a bit of mischief, me." The boyish glint returned to his eyes as he spoke.
"Oh?" Rose smirked. "And how exactly did you do that?"
John paused for only a second, weighing his chances. Then, with a grin, he snatched up her hand.
"RUN!"
Rose shrieked as they tore across the open pasture at full speed, simply because they could.
They did not slow as they neared the far side of the meadow and John nearly didn't notice the hole left by some animal's burrow, just the right size for turning an ankle. Rose felt like the end of a crack-the-whip line as he suddenly zig-zaged and found herself hauled about, his iron grip on her hand the only thing keeping her more or less on her feet. She yelped again, nearly tumbling down, and he laughed with more gleeful abandon than she had ever heard.
Impossibly agile, John turned to catch Rose's free hand and began swinging her around in hopelessly fast circles. Both lost count of how many times they spiraled across the grass until Rose's feet finally tangled and she fell into his arms. John managed one more rotation, just enough to ensure he would hit the ground first as they collapsed in a heap of laughter.
"D'you feel that?" he asked as Rose rolled off him, sprawling out flat on her back and gulping down air in between laughs. "The earth, it's moving! Turning right under us, do you feel it?"
"The tress won't stay still!" she managed to gasp before succumbing to another bout of giggles. John's smile widened even more as he watched her rolling her head in a circular motion with the enchanted innocence of a dizzy child. Watching the trees that wouldn't stay still.
The pair remained lying on the dry turf for several minutes after they had caught their breath, soaking in the freeing feeling of giving themselves over to utter abandonment.
"Adventure, yeah?" he asked eventually, smiling through the grass.
"Yeah," she smiled back, reaching out to brush her fingertips across his.
"Not over, though!" Rose suddenly flung herself upright, popping to her feet gracefully. She held out a hand to help John up, a tantalizing gleam in her eye. "What do you say we find a bit more mischief?"
"Your wish is my command!" With that, John cast his eye on a distant building and the pair once again took off.
"Did you go to church growing up, Doctor?" Rose asked. The building had resolved itself to be a still-distant but picturesque chapel.
"Yeah, the Alderton's were churchgoers. Every week growing up, unless I chanced an escape across a field. Not sure much of it stuck." His words came with surprising easy. Rose looked up curiously but soon found him perfectly relaxed and seemingly unmotivated to make his usual effort to close off at any mention of his past. John noted her surprise with a small chuckle, his expression still soft and happy.
"Aren't you going to ask?" he nudged gently. Her self-restraint endeared her to him perceptibly, but in that moment he felt no need to deny the curiosity she had known for so long.
"Ask what?" Rose put on an air of naïveté, offering him an out before the mood could turn. But John didn't want it.
He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand comfortingly. "About my name."
She paused for only a second longer, finding the permission in his eyes before offering a statement more so than a question.
"Alderton."
"Yup."
"Alderton," she repeated, studying his face while testing the syllabus. "Sounds a bit…I dunno, a bit formal maybe. S'more memorable than 'Smith,' I suppose. John?"
He shook his head. "Daniel."
Rose's brow furrowed a bit with concentration. "Daniel Alderton."
"Yup." He nodded in assent, still remarkably unperturbed by the revelation. "What do you say, does it suit me?"
Rose stopped walking and turned to face him fully, biting her tongue and allowing her eyes to rove over his features. Her mind was spinning from his ready offering of such an intimate detail of the past and her breath caught in her chest when she suddenly understood just how content her doctor was with her, with their life, that he would reveal this truth to her. However secure she had been in their relationship, however confident, she now felt a wave of certainty rolling over her. Whatever name her doctor preferred, he was hers and she his.
He looked at her expectantly, watching her tongue emerge from a growing smirk. Rose's eyes sparkled as she tried to picture him responding to this new name. Perhaps it was right that so remarkable a man wouldn't have a name so commonplace as 'John Smith.' But then again, there was just a hint of something too proper, too much of a molded identity, and she couldn't settle on it.
"It might, I think. Better than 'John Smith' does, anyway." She cocked her head and watched him process her words. "But, I'd much rather use 'Doctor' any day."
His eyes lit up with just a trace of smugness mixed in with his delight. "From you, I'll take 'Doctor' any day."
Rose gave him the tongue-tipped grin rarely shared with anyone else. "As you should!"
The surprise name took up residence in the back of Rose's mind, demanding to be mulled over. But feeling beautifully content, walking hand in hand with her doctor through the countryside on a fair day, Rose forced the thoughts back until another time. At the moment she fixated on the man himself, who was spewing forth impressive knowledge about the surrounding flora and fauna.
As they strolled through the glen, drawing closer to the church, John's ramblings slowed. Rose watched his clear eyes roaming over the stone chapel and wondered at the reverence in his expression. Did he indeed believe in a higher power, despite his earlier words about skiving off sermons, or was he indulging in a moment of nostalgia? Her attention seemed to break the spell and he turned to look back at her, making Rose feel momentarily remorseful for intruding on his moment. But the look he gave her, one of absolute surety, captivated her and refused to allow her to retreat.
"Tell you what," he said. "At times I've believed there is a God and at times only that there is a Devil. I've seen happiness that may have come from heaven and I know I've seen hell here on earth. But there is one thing that I do believe in, that I am certain I will always believe in, and that, Rose Tyler, is you."
"What…?" she stared, taken aback.
"I believe in you." He repeated, steady and intense. "And what's more, I believe that I will be happy, happier than I have ever deserved to be, as long as you are beside me."
"Doctor…" Rose still didn't know what to say, but the earnestness in his now dark blue eyes was making her stomach swoop and she could feel a pleasurable little flush creeping over her cheeks.
"Marry me, Rose?"
Rose's eyes went larger than he had ever seen and she gaped at him in honest astonishment. "Wha…" the syllable trailed off without managing to form one simple word.
"Marry me. Please." He repeated, simple and unwavering. Though John's eyes remained locked on hers, he caught the twist at the corners of her mouth before perhaps it registered in Rose's mind.
"Yes." She uttered, still awestruck but with clarity. A smile began to creep across her face and she bobbed her head, feeling half numb and half flushed. "Yes, I will."
John's own smile swiftly grew to match hers and in an instant he was kissing her breathless. When they finally broke apart for air he leaned his forehead against hers, reveling in her nearness. Never before had he felt a single moment of untainted joy so intensely.
"You want to get married." Rose mused happily, twining her arms around his neck.
"Yes." He said happily. "Shocks you, does it?"
"Yes!" Rose laughed. John looked mock-affronted.
"Oi! You thought I'd never make an honest woman of you?" He challenged, squeezing her waist to make her jump.
"No," Rose giggled again, squirming a bit in his fingers. "I think you like tromping on the rules, yeah, living in sin and all. And besides that, if you could have found a vaccine against domesticity by now you would have done!"
It was John's turn to laugh and he did before capturing her lips once more. "You underestimate what you do to me."
"Do I?" she murmured happily.
"Absolutely." He nodded gravely, eyes shining.
"Does that mean I'll get you to help plan the wedding, then?"
"Plan? What's there to plan? I've got you and a church just there. Let's get married now."
"Now!" she exclaimed. The reality of their engagement was just barely beginning to sink in.
"Why not?" John gazed fondly at her for a moment before taking her stunned smile as an agreement. He stepped back and offered Rose his hand. When she took it unhesitatingly John though his heart might just burst.
As they sauntered up the knoll Rose couldn't resist curling her free hand around John's upper arm and offering the tongue-tipped smile he loved.
"This isn't what I meant when I said 'mischief'!"
Flushed and smiling, the pair found the parish's bemused preacher and convinced him to marry them without delay. They sent Rose off to sweet talk the first person she found into being their witness while John spoke further with the churchman.
Then, quite simply, John and Rose found themselves standing at the altar of a small, sunlit chapel in the presence of the sexton and his young granddaughter, exchanging vows unadorned with rings or flowers.
Lingering only a few minutes to thank their attendants, John and Rose processed down the aisle and out into the fading afternoon sunshine arm in arm feeling as though they walked on air rather than centuries old stone, free and without a care in the world.
"Well then, what shall we do now, Doctor?" Rose asked as they ambled away from the churchyard.
"Anything you would like, Mrs. Smith." John replied, looking at her adoringly. He felt a rush of pride watching the way the name made Rose swell and nearly preen with happiness.
"Home, then." She pronounced after a few moments of mulling over her thoughts. Noticing his raised eyebrow, Rose pressed a kiss to his cheek without breaking stride. "My husband, the doctor, has lives to save."
Epilogue – 1947
Standing on a dock for the first time in many years, John's eyes darkened as he gazed out over the English Channel. He had not sailed since his release from the German prison camp, and he had not wanted to.
A gurgling mumble interrupted his train of thought, leading John to shift the squirming two year old in his arms. Babbling happily, the little boy reached towards the seagull that had alighted on a post several yards away. Seating the toddler in the crook of his arm, John set about tugging the little boy's half-removed mitten back over his hand before it could fall and blow into the water.
The glare of winter sunlight glinting off the famed white cliffs into his peripheral vision was suddenly lessened as his wife appeared at his side. John wouldn't know that she had held back for just a moment, watching him hold their son tenderly from a few paces away. But he knew the delight in her eyes and the comfort of her hand when it came to rest on his shoulder. Though she looked down to coo at their baby, Rose was well aware of the shadow behind her husband's eyes.
Years of hard work had brought groundbreaking success to John and his colleagues at the molecular pharmacology research laboratory. Rose recalled vividly how the celebratory feeling peaked the day John burst into their home bearing the invitation to present his discovery at an international forum held at the University of Copenhagen. Somewhere amidst the rapid ramblings about the science and the history of Denmark memories of the only just ended war emerged and struck a heavy blow. John seemed to become visibly withdrawn as he suddenly relived the voyage when he first deployed, the days he watched ships come and go from Dunkirk, and the day he finally returned to his homeland after years of dwindling hope. Rose's heart broke, then swelled with pride when he decided to go regardless.
Now, it was time to put the unwillingness to sail aside and discover what the future had in store across the sea. A faint whistle, caught in the sea breeze, called the passengers to begin boarding.
"Are you ready?" Rose asked, her soothing hand still firmly on his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said quietly, glancing back at the channel before pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm so glad I met you."
"Me too, my Doctor. Me too."
A/N: There is was. If you are reading this, then you've clearly put some time into getting here. Don't stop just yet. You have thoughts, leave them in a review! And many many thanks to all of my readers.