John watched Amy walk to the police box and step inside, slamming the door shut, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Her daughter? What would any of this matter to her daughter? He glanced at the Doctor who looked stricken and then at…Rory, that was his name, who seemed stunned and then recovered a moment later, shooting the Doctor a glare.
"She's right you know," Rory snapped and then walked to the police box and entered.
The Doctor just stood there with a look that told John his mind was somewhere else. One look at Sherlock told him he was also trying to work something out, probably the same thing that stumped John. That mention of Amy's daughter.
He was pretty fed up with the lot of them. Rose had been in her room through the entire row and either hadn't heard what was going on or chose to ignore it. He was beginning to worry about her since she was the one in the middle of all of this.
"I'm going to go check on her. If you two decide to kill each other do us all a favor and keep it down," John shot, eyeing both men before striding across the room.
He knocked on her door and thought he heard a muffled come in. So, he opened it and poked his head inside. She was sitting on the bed hugging one of her pillows. He'd seen her upset, on the verge of tears twice, but he'd never seen her like this.
"Mind if I come in?" he asked.
She gave him a teary smile.
"No, s' all right," she replied, her accent thick with emotion.
He stepped inside, closing the door. Then he crossed the room and sat down next to her. She shifted, turning away, but he wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or if it was an unconscious move to distance herself.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she continued.
"Don't give it a thought. I just want to make sure you're all right," which she wasn't, obviously.
"Yeah, I'm…" she sniffled, "I'm fine."
She averted her gaze, staring at the only window in the room.
"You're not fine, Rose."
She was quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought. He wasn't sure if he should leave or say something, but instead he sat there, waiting for her to go on, knowing she would when she was ready.
"God," she sighed, tightening her hold on the pillow. "I hate this. I'm not this person. At least, I haven't been in a long time and now…" she trailed off burying her mouth in the pillow.
"Anyone in your position would react the same way. You've had a shock. Seeing someone you never thought you'd see again. Someone you…" he let the words die because he wasn't sure he wanted to know. She was his friend and he wanted her to be happy, but there was Sherlock and he knew how the detective felt about her even if he wouldn't even admit it to himself.
She looked at him.
"I…I don't know how I feel right now. I mean, when he left me I…" she trailed off looking away.
"You were hurt," he finished.
"More than hurt. He broke my heart, but when I realized who he was, I don't know, I guess for a moment it didn't matter because he was there and then the pain came back. The rejection I felt when he left me and I hated him for what he did to me."
"Do you want me to punch him again? Cause I'm more than happy to have another go."
She laughed, taking his hand.
"No," she said. "You're a good friend, but you really shouldn't have done that."
"You could always give him another slap."
She laughed.
"I think we're done with the slapping and the punching…" she scooted to the edge of the bed and wiped her eyes, "…and the crying. Time to find out exactly what the Doctor's doing here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, besides this is my flat and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some nine hundred year old alien keep me trapped in my room all night."
"Nine hundred?" John asked as she stood up and crossed the room.
She had to be joking. The fact that he was an alien and had a ship that could travel in space and time was mad enough, but nine hundred years old? He shook his head. It just got madder and madder. He wondered how long it would take before he saw a white rabbit with a pocket watch.
Standard Disclaimer.
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