Rose awoke slowly, a fond smile spreading across her face as she took in the off-key singing which rang out over the sound of running water. The Doctor couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but lord, it was wonderful to hear him happy, especially after the week they had had. He was doing better, these days, but a rough mission like last Friday's was still enough to send him into a tailspin.
Her mobile rang, dragging her fully into consciousness. She glanced at the caller ID as she reached for it.
"Hey, Mum. Hang on a sec, yeah?"
She groped under her bed for a slipper and threw it across the room. It impacted the bathroom door with a bang, and the singing stopped abruptly.
"Alright, go."
"Rose! Have you seen it? There's this article, in the Sun, it's about the Doctor –"
"What is it this time?" Rose sighed with equal parts amusement and exasperation, pulling her laptop into reach and waiting for it to start up. "He's gay? He's cheating on me? He gay and cheating on me?"
"Who's what now?" questioned the Doctor, emerging from the bathroom with nothing but the towel which he was using to dry his hair.
"Apparently there's some article in the Sun about you," Rose informed him. "Put some clothes on, will you?"
"If you're feeling left out you can always take yours off," he replied with a cheeky grin, flopping onto the bed and stretching shamelessly.
"I'm on the phone with my mum."
"Well there's a mood-killer for you," he said, making a face as he got up and pulled his pants on. "What's this about an article?"
"I dunno, Mum just told me. What's it about?" she asked into the phone.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Pete's going ballistic trying to figure out who they got it from – I swear if I ever get my hands on them –"
"Mum, what's it about?" Rose repeated, starting to get concerned. The now-clothed Doctor glanced over at the change of tone, a worried frown creasing his face.
"I think you should read it for yourself, sweetheart."
"Alright, one sec . . ." She pulled up the Sun's website, and her heart leapt into her throat. Her mum was still talking, but she couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears as she took in the words on the screen in front of her.
"The Doctor's Hidden Torment!" the headline read. It was plastered across a picture which must have been from months ago, when they first arrived in Pete's World. In it was the Doctor, thinner and paler than he was these days, looking exhausted and haunted as he frowned into the middle distance.
"Our exclusive source gives insight into Dr. John Smith's confidential past" continued the byline, followed by several bullet points. "The secret pain behind his famous smile. Sleep plagued by nightmares. "It's not fair," says Rose."
Her laptop snapped shut, and she jumped.
"Mum, I'll call you back."
She tossed her phone to the side, getting to her feet. The Doctor had paced to the other side of the room and now stood with his arms braced on the windowsill, breathing hard, his back rigid with tension. She came up beside him and laid and hand over his, trying to read his dark, closed expression.
"Doctor. We'll sort this."
He shut his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh, visibly forcing himself to relax. He gave a tiny nod of his head.
"I know." He spun away abruptly, going from still as a statue to a whirlwind of motion in about half a second. "Let's see what 'this' is, shall we?" he asked rhetorically, snatching up her laptop.
"Hmm . . ." he hummed thoughtfully, scrolling through the article at lightning speed. "It looks fairly tame, actually," he said, relaxing further. "They're attributing it to lingering trauma from my supposed double-oh-seven days. There's a bit of speculation on the specifics – torture, death of comrades, extended captivity, all the basics. No one's suggested 'all of the above and mostly my fault,' so that's good, at least . . ."
"Don't," said Rose sharply, seeing him slipping into a familiar pattern of self-recrimination.
"Sorry." He sighed and sat back, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. "It must have been Gregory," he said abruptly, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace.
"Greg?" Rose questioned, startled. "Why Greg?"
"That quote," said the Doctor, spinning on his heel and pointing at the laptop. "When you said it wasn't fair –"
"I don't even remember saying that," said Rose, shaking her head.
"It was five months, one week, two days ago," said the Doctor, and it was evidence of how focused he was that he didn't take the time to tack on the hours, minutes, and seconds which he undoubtedly knew precisely. "The first time we were together in public, remember?"
"That charity thing," said Rose with dawning comprehension. It had been raising money for something to do with some illness. She couldn't remember the specifics; just the strain of trying to smile through exhaustion and worry after having spent a decent portion of the night holding the Doctor as he wept.
"We paused outside," said the Doctor. "You looked tired; I offered to sleep in a different room; said that it wasn't fair that I was keeping you up at night. You said that it wasn't fair to me, either, and then –"
"And then Greg opened the door for us," Rose finished. "Yeah, okay, so it looks bad. But why would Greg do something like that? He's worked for Pete for ages. I mean, I know he had a bit of a crush on me –"
"He has a lot of a crush on you," the Doctor corrected. "Trust me," he added, his lips quirking into a wry smile which chased most the shadows from his eyes. "I know the signs."
"Oh, god," Rose groaned, sinking onto the bed and burying her face in her hands, flushing with shame and embarrassment. "I had no idea – and then I slammed the door on his face a couple days ago. He must have gotten upset; wanted to get back at us – at me – god, I'm so sorry. It's Adam all over again, isn't it?"
"Rose."
The Doctor's voice, warm and amused, combined with his cool hands tugging at her wrists, made her look up. He was smiling, a soft, loving expression which wiped away all traces of his earlier anger.
"Being nice to some poor bloke who's completely infatuated with you is not the same as inviting a conceited pretty boy onto my TARDIS, and leaking mildly embarrassing things about me to the press is not the same as nearly letting said TARDIS fall into the hands of a malevolent ceiling dweller. Like you said –" He pressed a kiss to her lips. "—we'll sort this."
-DW-
Jackie's raised voice could be heard where Rose stood on the doorstep of the Tyler mansion. Beside her, the Doctor looked about ready to bolt. She rolled her eyes.
"Calm down," she said as she unlocked the door. "She's angry for you, not at you."
"Well, you'd think so, but it's hard to tell with her . . . Jackie!" His face broke into a wide, false grin as Jackie pulled the door open.
"Oh, come here, sweetheart," said Jackie, pulling him into a tight hug. Rose slipped around them, smiling at the face the Doctor was making. She knew that he secretly enjoyed being coddled, at least a little bit. "Are you alright?" Jackie asked concernedly as she pulled back.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," said the Doctor impatiently, shaking her off. "I just need to talk to Pete, he in his study?" He ducked around the corner and out of sight without waiting for a response.
"That man," Jackie huffed, shaking her head after him. "He can't stand not to be running off somewhere, can he?" There was a fondness behind her irritation, though, and she softened as she turned back to Rose. "How are you, really?" she asked.
"We're okay," said Rose, wondering vaguely when she and the Doctor had become a single unit. Somehow each of their individual states of mind had become so intertwined that it was impossible for her to think of them in isolation anymore. It was never 'he's okay' or 'I'm okay,' just 'we're okay,' because if he wasn't, she wasn't, and if she wasn't, he wasn't.
That was, perhaps, a little unhealthy. She really couldn't bring herself to worry about it.
"Are you sure?" Jackie questioned as she led the way into the kitchen.
"Yeah. We will be, anyway. We're not quite as sunshine and daisies as he'd have you believe – he was pretty riled up earlier; I think I scared him off and he's trying to keep from upsetting me; you know he gets. But still –"
"Wose!" The delighted exclamation cut her off, and she grinned at the sight of Tony, eating jam on toast and well on his way to creating an unbreakable bond between himself and his booster seat. At three and a half, he was eloquent enough (partially a result of the Doctor's firm refusal to talk down to him), but he still hadn't quite mastered the 'R' sounds.
"Hi, Tony!" said Rose, sitting down across from him (but carefully out of his reach). "How's my favorite little brother today?"
"Sticky," said Jackie disapprovingly, fetching a cloth from the sink. "Finish your breakfast, Tony, so I can get you cleaned up."
"Issa Doctor here?" asked Tony eagerly, ignoring his mother's instructions.
"Oh, I see how it is," Rose laughed, not offended in the least. In all honesty, Tony's adoration of the Doctor was the sweetest thing she had ever seen. "Yeah, he's here. He's talking to Daddy right now."
"Mummy, wanna get down," said Tony decisively, wriggling against the straps which held him in the seat. At this point, they were more for everyone else's safety than for his.
"As soon as you finish your toast and get clean," Jackie said firmly. Tony immediately began to scarf down his remaining food with lightning speed, and within seconds his plate was clean – sort of.
"All done now, Mummy," the small boy declared.
"Good job," praised Jackie, descending on him with a damp cloth. "Now, Tony," she said, as she wiped stickiness from all the impossible places he had managed to smear it. "I want you to be extra nice to the Doctor. No bothering him if he wants to be left alone."
"Why?"
"He's a little sad today, that's all."
"Why?"
"Somebody told something to the newspapers that was supposed to be secret," said Jackie carefully.
"Why?"
"I don't know why," she sighed exasperatedly. "And you're not to ask him about it!" she called after Tony as he went darting off towards Pete's study.
"Don't worry about it, Mum," said Rose, standing again as Jackie made to follow her youngest. "I'll keep an eye on him. On both of them."
-DW-
One of the many advantages of a very large house was that most of the rooms had more than one entrance and several ways to get to them. This meant that Rose easily reached Pete's study before Tony did, and was able to stop outside the lesser-used door and observe unseen.
Pete had evidently stepped out for some reason, leaving the Doctor frowning at papers and computer screens with a look of intense concentration. Politics, Rose knew, were a bit like weapons in the Doctor's mind. He didn't like them, he tried to avoid them, but when necessary he could use them with devastating accuracy.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the main door creaked up and a small, blond head poked in. The Doctor heard it too, and turned around, his face lighting up.
"Mr. Anthony Tyler!" he exclaimed, with the exact same delight which had colored Tony's greeting a few minutes earlier. Tony laughed and hurled himself at his knees, squealing with delight as the Doctor caught him and spun him around, finally coming to a halt, sinking into the chair, and setting the boy down on his knee in one smooth movement. "What have you been up to, Mr. Tony?"
"Had jam," said Tony.
"Oh, that's brilliant, I love jam," said the Doctor. "Marmalade, too, marmalade's delicious. D'you like marmalade, Tony?"
"Nu'uh," said Tony, shaking his head. "I's got bits in."
"Ah, yes, I suppose it does," the Doctor agreed, looking a little disappointed. "Still, maybe when you're older. I'm afraid you're evolutionarily programmed to dislike unfamiliar foods, at the moment. That'll pass, though. In a few years you'll be trying all sorts of new things! It's really incredible the things you lot have come up with. Calamari, fried insects, stuffed zucchini flowers . . ."
He trailed off. Tony had stuck his thumb in his mouth and was gazing at him solemnly.
"Something wrong, Tony?" the Doctor questioned.
Tony pulled his thumb out of his mouth and said, with great gravity,
"If you cry, Mummy'll give you biccies."
The Doctor blinked.
"Sorry, what?"
"If you cry, Mummy will give you biccies," Tony repeated, more slowly.
"Is that so?" asked the Doctor, looking bemused.
"Yup," answered Tony, popping the P in a perfect imitation of his favorite good-as-family member. Rose bit back a laugh.
"What 'appens if you tell a secret?" asked Tony.
"What do you mean?" asked the Doctor, looking more puzzled than ever by this seeming non sequitur.
"If you tell a lie, your pants set fire –"
"Catch fire," the Doctor corrected, with his typical sense of priority.
"Catch fire," Tony repeated obediently. "So what 'appens if you tell a secret?"
"Hmm," said the Doctor, frowning thoughtfully. Rose couldn't tell whether it was a show for Tony's benefit, or if he was seriously considering the question. "I suppose that depends on what sort of secret it is," he said at last. "If it's a friend's secret, they'll probably get angry with you. If it's a government secret, you could go to jail, or get executed. Some secrets could tear the Universe apart. And in most criminal organizations –"
Rose decided that it was time to cut in.
"Tony!" she said brightly, stepping into the room. "Why don't you go ask Mummy for some biccies? Tell her they're for the Doctor."
"Me too?" asked Tony plaintively, cosmic consequences forgotten.
"The Doctor will share," Rose assured him, and watched until he was out of earshot before turning to the Doctor with a disapproving frown. "We do not tell three-year-olds about mob justice," she informed him.
"Three-and-a-half."
"Still. He doesn't need to hear about people getting their teeth yanked out or whatever."
"Tongues, actually," said the Doctor, lounging back in his chair. "They cut out the tongues. But yes, I see your point. Sorry. I was thinking about something else; my mouth just kept going by itself."
"Yeah, I've noticed it does that," said Rose, clearing some papers out of the way and hopping up onto the desk. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just . . . Gregory's not a bad bloke, really."
Rose blinked.
"What?"
"Pete's talking about lawsuits," said the Doctor, gesturing at the papers which covered the desk. "It all seems like a bit of an overreaction. He got upset, he did something stupid. Obviously he can't be trusted in his job, but it doesn't seem like anything to ruin his life over."
Rose frowned.
"If it had been me he had leaked secrets about, you'd be wanting to tear him to pieces right now."
"Probably, yeah," the Doctor agreed mildly. "But it's not you, and it's not worth it."
"You mean you're not worth it," said Rose sharply. The burning anger which the Time Lord Doctor had been so concerned about had never frightened her half as much as the cold self-hatred which it had swiftly hardened into in the absence of crises. Slowly, and with a lot of effort from both of them, they were beginning to chip away at it, but it was a long process.
"No," said the Doctor. "I mean that nobody's dead and nobody's injured and the only person he's done serious damage to is himself. I want to talk to him, nothing more."
"I'd like to 'talk' to him myself," said Rose darkly.
"Rose." He was trying to look disapproving, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips.
"I know, I know," she sighed. "It just feels like he's getting away with it, that's all."
"Well, he is getting sacked, don't forget. Isn't he, Pete?"
"Yes," confirmed Pete as he stepped into the room, tucking his mobile away. "Morning, Rose."
"Morning. I want to be there, when you give him the sack."
"No violence," said the Doctor, waving a long, scolding finger at her.
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Rose innocently, hopping down and pecking him on the cheek.
"Decided against the lawsuit, then?" Pete asked, sitting in his own chair.
"Yep," said the Doctor. Anything else he was going to say was cut off by the arrival of Tony and Jackie, the small boy staggering slightly under the weight of an enormous plate of biscuits. He looked up at the desk, apparently decided not to risk it, set the plate down on the floor, and plopped down beside it.
"Brought biccies," he informed the Doctor, holding up a chocolate digestive to demonstrate.
"So you have," the Doctor agreed, grinning. He stood, folded like an origami crane, and ended up cross-legged on the floor facing Tony. "Thank you very much," he added, plucking up a Jammy Dodger.
"You're welcome," Tony recited.
"So?" Jackie demanded, pulling Rose's attention away from the exchange. "Have you tracked down who it was?"
"It's Greg Henning," Pete said. "Our resident Sherlock Holmes there figured it out." He nodded at the Doctor, who remained oblivious as he debated with Tony about which type of biscuit was best.
"And?"
"And I will be personally firing him, as soon as I can get to the office."
"And?"
"And I expect the Doctor will be asking for an apology. Right?"
"Hm?" The Doctor looked up from his dissertation on the merits of Jammy Dodgers, looked puzzled for a moment, and then caught on. "Oh, yes, right. Why not? May as well give him the opportunity."
"And?" Jackie demanded, looking about ready to blow a fuse.
"And nothing, Mum," said Rose. "That's it."
"I thought you said you could get him on beach contract or something!" said Jackie, rounding on Pete.
"Breach of contract. We can," said Pete, holding up his hands defensively. "We could, but the Doctor doesn't want to press the issue."
"What?" shrieked Jackie, spinning to face the Doctor and making both the biscuit eaters jump.
"I don't do vengeance," said the Doctor lightly. "If I started going in for it now, I'd have quite a lot of backlog to deal with before I got anywhere near Gregory Henning."
"Mum, can I have a word with you?" Rose cut in, before the Doctor could attempt to engage her less-than-rational mother in a philosophical debate. She dragged Jackie through the glass French doors and into the next room. "Mum, listen," she said lowly. "We're not just letting him go. The Doctor's going to have a talk with him."
"A talk?" repeated Jackie incredulously. "He deserves more than a talk! He deserves to be jailed; he deserves to be shot –"
"Mum!" Rose yelped, slightly alarmed by her mother's vehemence. "Nobody's shooting anyone – and trust me, when the Doctor says he's going to have a talk with someone, that's not letting them off easy."
Jackie looked skeptical, shooting a pointed glance at the subject of their conversation, who was currently balancing a biscuit on his nose for Tony's amusement.
"I mean it," said Rose. "This one's up to the Doctor. He can handle it."
"If you're sure, sweetheart," said Jackie doubtfully.
Rose watched the Doctor snap his head back and catch the biscuit in his mouth. Tony burst into peals of delighted laughter, and the Doctor grinned, bright and shining and genuine.
"I am."