Thanks to all those who are reviewing, favouriting and following! If you're reading and haven't reviewed yet, please do as I love to hear your feedback. I love this little story and can't get enough of writing it - I just dashed this chapter off after work today; inspiration keeps striking me as I think about how Ten2 and Rose's life together could begin. I hope you're enjoying it as much as me. x
The next few days passed in a tedious blur; eat, sleep, visit the TARDIS, repeat. The sort-of-Doctor wasn't sure just exactly how long it had been since his argument with Jackie, and time passing in a linear fashion had never been his favourite way to live. He made a point of rising before everyone else, cramming some semblance of breakfast into his mouth (usually a banana if he could get his hands on one) before trudging off and jumping the train to Torchwood, paying any expenses he may have with the company card Pete had so generously loaned him. The rest of his day was spent in the tropically warm room that acted as an incubator for the tiny growing TARDIS, who was starting to settle into her new environment. His sharp eyes detected a 0.39% growth in her every time he spent the day with and spoke to her, and knew that before long she would be able to forge a telepathic connection with him; that was if he still possessed any kind of telepathic ability, of course. He doubted he did, but the presence of the other would be enough to keep both him and the ship going.
Pete had arranged for a plush sofa to be brought into the TARDIS room, which was where the sort-of-Doctor was currently reclined, the book he had been reading resting on his chest. He'd fallen asleep, thick rimmed black glasses askew (he'd spotted these in the window of Boots and couldn't resist buying them, even if he didn't need them – old habits die hard indeed). It was either sleep here or wander aimlessly around the business district of London: he had become so restless, having to remain in one place for so long with no hope of escaping any time soon. Not seeing Rose was also taking its toll, but the sort-of-Doctor was surprised how easily he had reverted to type in this respect… it was so easy to be lonely, so easy to play the martyr. He slept on.
"Alright Clive? How're the new probes coming along?" Rose grinned, throwing herself into the spinning chair and leaning forward. Clive Rivkin, even with impossibly strong glasses, found it very difficult to see more than three inches in front of his face. He smiled absently at her, his mind obviously still focused on the calculations in front of him.
"Fine, Rose! Just excellent, actually. They'll be ready to be deployed within the next month. It's all very exciting," he said, trailing off and returning his attention to the pages of numbers and symbols that looked, to Rose, like a calculator had vomited all over the paper. The blonde pressed her lips together impatiently.
"Haven't seen your hero around here recently have you?" she pressed, dropping her friend an innocent smile and leaning nonchalantly on her palm. Clive squinted briefly in her direction.
"Your father? He's in his office."
"No, not Pete, you plum. The other one. Probably wearing a suit?"
"Oh!" She really had his attention now: his bleary eyes lit up with brightness something akin to real worship. "You mean the Doctor?"
"Yeah. Him."
"He's in CP6. Don't know what he does in there every day – comes in about six when the cleaner is just leaving and leaves just before me… Nine-ish?"
"How does he look?"
"Tired, mostly. And bored."
"He stays here all day? Doesn't leave at all?" she frowned; her Doctor wasn't the type to remain in one place for so long. Four walls made him jittery. Clive had started to lose interest again, his left hand inching back towards the pencil he had dropped in his excitement. A small crease had appeared between his eyebrows now, and his tone was far less pleasant when he next spoke.
"Rose, I don't keep tabs on him, none of us do. Mr Tyler told us to leave him alone, so we do. If it bothers you so much, go and see him!" he sighed heavily, jabbing the point of his pencil threateningly in her direction. She took this as a hint to get moving, and off she toddled to CP6. Her gentle knock on the door was met with silence, so she entered, angry words poised on the tip of her tongue.
Rose's voice caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her. The sort-of-Doctor was spread out, long and lithe as ever, with a book on his chest and those damned sexy glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. The small piece of TARDIS coral sat on a plinth in the middle of the room, a very faint golden glow shimmering around her. The air was hot, damp and heavy – Rose felt it weighing in on her from all sides. It reminded her slightly of a school history trip she'd taken in her last year to somewhere in South America – Jackie had had to sell a family heirloom to pay for it. A soft snore escaped the sort-of-Doctor and she smiled fondly, crossing over and sliding the glasses from his face, folding the legs and placing them neatly on the little side table. A sly glance at his book told her he'd been reading to the growing time ship; Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. There were a few minor changes to the plot in this world, but it remained essentially the same story the Doctor so adored. Prising the book from his hands, she settled down on the floor at the end of the couch and picked up from where he had left off. Nervously, she cleared her throat.
"Chapter Seven: The Sorting Hat."
The sort-of-Doctor lay awake and listened to her voice; intonation, pitch, pace, clarity, emotion – it was all there, and he was delighted to find that she even did all the different voices just like him. He thrilled to listen to her speak uninterrupted, and found her presence just as soothing as that of the TARDIS. She read on and on, getting through three chapters before she paused and closed the book, leaning her head back against the couch with her eyes closed.
"How long have you been awake?" Rose muttered, massaging her right temple with the tips of her fingers. Reading for extended periods always gave her headaches because the moment she became engrossed, she leaned as far in to the page she could get – her nose and paper were practically magnetised. The sort-of-Doctor smiled impishly.
"Long enough to know that I'm still dying to try on the Sorting Hat," he replied with a grin, throwing his eyes skyward at the blindingly white ceiling. Rose snorted.
"Were you even asleep when I came in?"
"Must have been, I didn't hear you. Your voice woke me up, that's all," he finished, twining his fingers together and sliding them under his head, noting with annoyance how flat his hair had become in recent days. They were silent for a moment, until he piped up again. "Which house do you think you'd be in?"
"I dunno… Hufflepuff? You're a definite Gryffindor though," she replied, stretching up and sliding awkwardly onto the end of the couch, nudging his feet away with her hip. The sort-of-Doctor wrinkled his nose.
"Nah. You're the brave one, so you're Gryffindor. I'm either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin."
"Never a Slytherin, mate."
"Why not?"
She paused, worrying her bottom lip with straight white teeth. Her mind whirred into overdrive, but she was surprised to find that she honestly meant her next words.
"Because you're too good," she whispered, admittedly spitting out the final word like it disgusted her. He laughed derisively.
"Only you could say that and make it sound like an insult!"
"It was meant to be a compliment, actually. Sort of," she retorted, turning to face him with her legs in a basket and arms folded to match. Sitting up straight, the sort-of-Doctor did his Donna pout again and stared into her blazing eyes, refusing to be the one to back down. Rose, apparently, had taken the same tack and they eventually broke eye contact at the same moment once it had become too uncomfortable.
"How's the TARDIS doing?" the blonde asked lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension that had escalated very quickly between them. The sort-of-Doctor looked sideways at the coral, his eyes becoming faraway.
"She's doing well. At this rate she'll be ready in just under a year, then I'll be out of your hair. For good."
The finality in his tone startled Rose: their relationship was too complicated for him to be making point blank statements like that, and she resented the implication that he was something she really wanted rid of, like… Like a tummy bug, or something. She poked at the thick rubber sole of her shoe as she considered her next words carefully. Her eyes downcast, she spoke as if learning a new language.
"You know, you wouldn't have to leave… Right away. Without me, I mean. We could… Y'know… Maybe take a trip or two? For old time's sake?"
She looked up and saw that his eyes had hardened into that Oncoming Storm glare that either sent her weak at the knees or trembling in terror; this time it was the latter. He looked utterly furious as a biting, bitter smile crossed his face, tongue poking maliciously through his teeth.
"Of course, that's how it is. Once I can give you the universe, you want me again."
"That's not what I-"
He was suddenly on his feet, pacing backwards and forwards while clutching at fistfuls of his hair like a madman. He didn't look at her as he continued, his voice rising in determination and pitch with every word. He threw his head backwards and looked skyward as if proclaiming his outrange to some higher being or deity.
"Of course that's what you meant! I left you behind what I thought you wanted – me! Forever! A version of me that you could work your magic on all over again; a man who could tell you his feelings and love you the way you should be loved and even give you a family one day if you wanted it. All I asked in return was a hand to hold – but then I was as stupid as ever and told you that I was dangerous and now you can't bear to look at me, and just because I'm not a completely unattainable clone you don't want me! Until, of course, I get my little blue box of magic back and can take you soaring through the stars again. It was never me you loved, it was that! How could I have been so idiotic?" The sort-of-Doctor continued to rant in a language Rose couldn't understand; a melodic sound punctuated by guttural snarls of rage.
Her own blood boiled and she uncurled slowly, planting one foot stoically on the floor, followed soon by the other. Balling her hands into fists, she put one trainer clad foot in front of the other, crossing the room until she stood in the sort-of-Doctor's path. When he stopped dead and glared down at her, she put her hand to his chest and shoved him backwards, top lip curled back over her teeth.
"Are you angry?" she cried, pushing him again, harder this time. He stared down at her wordlessly. "Do you feel abandoned? That you left yourself here without a ship and only little me for comfort?"
Still he looked at her, corners of his mouth turning down dangerously as his nostrils flared. She yearned to give him a good hard punch in the face, but she held it back. "Are you angry? Answer me! Do you know how it feels yet?" Her final punch came, not with a physical blow, but a verbal one. "Are you angry, human?"
The sort-of-Doctor's heart dropped at the word, and frantic tears pricked behind his brown eyes. This was the kind of situation he should be running from. Instead of running, he found himself lurching forward and grabbing his companion roughly around the waist. He lowered his face to hers, so close they were nose to nose. When he spoke, his voice was dangerous.
"Of course I'm fucking angry," he said, his breath dancing over her lips. The obscenity was so out of character, so unexpected, that she felt almost excited to hear it. Her eyelashes fluttered infinitesimally and her heartbeat stuttered.
"So. Am. I."
With that, he kissed her.
Dun dun DUUUUUN.
As you were.