Stormy Teal

The next day the storm broke.

The morning had started out wonderfully, the two lovers stumbling out from bed and bath midmorning, after a very long and incredibly satisfying night of passion and mutual discovery. I'm going to be sore for a week! thought Rose with a smirk. And it was worth every twinge. (She was glad he hadn't answered that one breathless, ecstatic question - "where in the world did you learn to DO that?" - and merely smiled mysteriously. She didn't actually want to know.)

They puttered around the kitchen, making breakfast, "accidentally" bumping in to each other and giggling, as only new lovers do. Under her direction, Corin pulled a box of leftover Chinese food out of the fridge and was dicing up the bigger hunks of veggies while she whisked some eggs to make something she called a "chop suey omelet", chattering happily, mindlessly away.

"No, the planet with those huge table-sized melons, remember? I took Donna back there and her eyes just bugged out. I told her and told her not to try the dumplings, they were too hot even for me to eat, but Donna being Donna, she just... just..."

The world tilted sideways, and the knife clattered from his nerveless fingers to the chopping board, as the knowledge he'd suppressed while hugging Donna goodbye the day before burst through his brain. Human-Time Lord metacrises can't happen. She wouldn't be able to maintain it. She'd... No. She was already gone.

Tears stinging, he turned to Rose to tell her, and the world tilted again. Rose was standing facing him a few feet away, fists clenched, eyes murderous. Shocked into utter stillness, he could only stand and gape while she forced out between clenched teeth: "Don't. Ever. Say that name to me again."

He opened his mouth to verify, "Donna?", realizing just in time how suicidal that would be, and shut it again while she went on, starting low but building fast to volcanic proportions as the awful pressure within shot past the boiling point. She'd shocked herself with her reaction, as a scorching ball of pain, jealousy and fury had come roaring out of nowhere at the mention of the other woman who'd been on the beach, and she knew she was being cruel and unfair, she could see in his eyes how much she was hurting him in return, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I swear to god, if I ever see that self-righteous, arrogant, pompous bitch again, I'm going to scratch her fucking eyes out!" A malicious falsetto: "'Oh, can't you see what else he's giving you?' See this, bitch! The only thing I see is YOU waltzing away with the man I spent three fucking years beating my brains out across the universe to find!" Yelling now. "AND EQUALS? YOU COULDN'T EQUAL HIS FINGERNAIL CLIPPINGS IF YOU PUT YOUR BEST ONE HUNDRED YEARS TOGETHER!" She took a breath, and finally managed to edge closer to the true, raw, gaping wound, though she couldn't tame her screaming voice. "WHY HER, CORIN? WHY?" Gasping, she stopped cold. Please understand. Please...

As completely unprepared for the question and the sudden silence as he had been for the outburst, all Corin could do was gulp. Part of his mind knew there was more going on here than jealousy, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. She was still waiting for an answer. He had to say something.

"I... I'm taking my life in my hands, I know, but I'm just going to say one.. no, two things.. " quickly, placatingly, "neither of which is intended in any way to justify or defend D- her, but instead hopefully help you feel just a little bit better. OK?" he asked hopefully. Thunderous silence. "OK, talk fast.

"One. I'm ninety-nine point nine nine percent certain that there is no Doctor-Donna anymore. He'll have had to take it away from her, for the same reason I had to take it away from you. Because her human brain can't handle it, and she'd tear herself apart trying. In fact," another wave of realization hitting as he spoke, "I'm reasonably certain that in order to save her life, he'll have to take away not just the Time Lord mind, but all her memories of him, as well. By this time, she's back to her boring old life in Chiswick, with no memories of ever having met the Doctor or traveled around the galaxy." He knew some of his sorrow was showing through, but couldn't help it. He quashed his tears ruthlessly, though, and went on. He'd mourn his friend in private later.

"Two. The reason she went on about being friends is because I did, way back at the beginning. I didn't even want her to come along, she practically forced herself on me and the TARDIS. I made it absolutely clear, though, that friends is all it ever was or ever would be, that there wouldn't ever be anything more, and there wasn't. She's just – so not my type. Can I stop digging now?" he said quickly, hoping a bit of humor might help.

It didn't. In fact, what came next was even worse. Tears streaming unchecked, voice cracking with every word, Rose sobbed out, baring the wound itself, "Then why? WHY? Wasn't I smart enough? Or pretty enough? I went through hell for three years, shooting myself across alternate realities and even correcting timelines, just to get back to him. Wasn't that good enough? Why? What - what did I do wrong?" Choking on the last words, she halted, both hands pressed to her mouth to hold in the howls that threatened to come pouring out.

Realization flooded through him, and he was devastated for her. Neither jealousy of Donna, nor love of the Doctor, it was the sheer agony and humiliation of having been publicly rejected in favor of another – in front of that other – by the man she'd loved so much that she'd nearly killed herself to find him.

"Oh, no, baby, no!" he moaned. He reached to comfort her, but she flinched back, tear-drenched eyes locked on his. He understood: she needed his words, not his arms.

Flinging his hand through his hair, thinking frantically, he felt a wave of fury and disgust with his former – now absent – self. This is why you threw her at me, isn't it? So somebody else could clean up your mess. Again. He knew that wasn't quite fair or accurate, but he was beyond caring. He was on the other side now. Fine. Time to throw the Doctor under the bus. I've no loyalty left there anyway. You made sure of that, too, didn't you? he added bitterly to himself.

With all the earnestness he could muster, he began again. "Rose, sweetheart, it wasn't you. It was fear. Fear of losing you again, fear of having to go through that agony again. Fear of having to watch you die, or watch you walk away. Because that's what happens to the Doctor's companions. Always. They die or they leave, one way or another, sooner or later. And he's left all alone, the dry centuries stretching out before him, with nothing to hold on to but memories.

"And the more he cares, the more he loves, the worse it is when the inevitable happens. He just couldn't go through that again, not with you. Baby, I died when you fell through the vortex and the wall closed. For three years, I was a walking zombie, and everyone around me knew it, and knew it was because of you. And he just couldn't go through that again. Because he was afraid. The same paralyzing fear that kept me from telling you how I felt all the time we were together, made him cut and run.

"I don't know – maybe it's the anger in me that let me cut through that fear. Maybe it's the knowledge that I only have this one life left that makes me realize that I can't afford to waste a single minute of it living without you. Maybe it's the memory of how it felt to come alive again when I turned and saw you at the other end of that street that lets me know I never want to lose that feeling again, that I want to wrap myself up in it and live it till I die. I don't know.

"But I do know this. You didn't do anything wrong. Hell, you did everything absolutely, completely right. And that's what scared him shitless. So he ran, as far and as fast as he could. It had nothing to do with Donna. Nothing.

"It was pure chickenshit self-preservation."

She heard him. She understood. Her tears started faster, and the sobs she had held forcibly back with her hands broke through. He reached for her again, and this time she let him gather her up, flinging her arms around his neck and sagging against him, unable to hold the unbearable pain inside any longer. She clung to him for what seemed like hours, wracked by spasms that threatened to tear her body apart like a wild thing clawing to escape.

He didn't try to soothe or stop her, somehow knowing that she had to let this out completely now or it would eat away at her until it turned her heart to acid. Tears streamed unnoticed down his own cheeks, for the woman he loved, for the friend he'd lost, for the bleak self-destructive path of fear and loneliness of his former self. They held on to each other for dear life and love.

Finally, gradually, her sobs began to ease and the tears dwindled. They didn't move, didn't speak, until long after they had ceased; they simply stood there, silently clinging to each other.

Rose was utterly drained, as empty as last night's wine bottle, nothing left but dregs. Slowly, slowly, she felt herself coming back to life, bit by tiny bit. Her love for this man, this good man, her friend, companion, and lover, threaded quietly through her heart, bringing acceptance and release. A tiny spark of determination to take control of her life again began to glow and spread.

After half an eternity, she whispered against his shoulder, "OK."

He was perplexed. OK, what? He waited, mute.

A long pause, gathering strength, then she continued. "All right." She took a long shuddering breath. "I said I wasn't going to spend my life crying over what I'd lost, and I'm not. That's the last time I'm going to waste my tears over the likes o' him." She said it quietly, levelly, but he heard the strength of her will within the words, and his heart relearned hope. She eased back a bit, and they searched each other's eyes. She pulled her arms back to gently wipe away his tears with her fingers. "I'm here," she told him. "I'm all here."

He found he couldn't speak, so he simply kissed her tenderly. Then, "And I will always be here for you."

Closing their eyes, foreheads touching, they stood that way for a while longer. Then, finally, she pulled back, taking a deep breath, and began to disengage, wanting to return to normal. He let her go. She started to turn towards the breakfast makings, then suddenly turned back, finger poking at his chest. "But I still don't ever want to hear that name again." She couldn't have said herself whether she was joking or not.

Cupping his hands in front of his mouth to "radio-ify" his voice, he announced, "Attention, please. All women in the UK with the first name D-O-N-N-A are hereby required to change it immediately, by order of Dame Rose of the Powell Estate. Compliance is mandatory." Hands still hiding his mouth – and the incipient smile – he waited to watch the effect.

Rose went from lip-twitch to snicker to snort to full guffaw in 5.2 seconds, with Corin a delighted beat behind. Sinking to the floor, they howled in relieved laughter, far more than called for, but sweet release after the tempest. Corin felt a wave break over him, equal parts relief at having weathered the storm, joy at hearing her first genuine, full laughter since they had landed at Bad Wolf Bay, and gleeful pride at having been the one to evoke it.

As her laughter began to calm, he decided to prolong it by tickling her, so she tried to attack him back. Which inevitably wound up with him bounding to his feet, sweeping her up in his arms, and carrying her back to the bedroom again to show her exactly how much he loved her.

Luckily, as they discovered much later, they hadn't yet turned on the cooker under the omelet pan.