Author's Note: So sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for all the lovely support - my readers are the best!
Beta'd by lastincurableromantic
Update 05/24/14 - I'm so sorry for my absence! Family crises combined with a wonderful yet very tired first trimester have shifted this to the back burner. I am working on it, however slowly, and hope to be back on track in the next couple weeks. Love you all, and thanks for being patient with me! :)
Life had almost settled into its familiar cadence after the Saxons' departure. There were trips into town, the usual engagements (though no balls), and often a visit from Mrs. Philips or one of their other neighbors. Rose spent much of her time enjoying the brisk autumn air, far too distracted to sew (which she seldom had patience for anyway) or even to read. Sometimes Donna joined her, though by unspoken agreement they did not speak of those persons who occupied most of their thoughts and weighed heaviest in their hearts.
Several days had passed in this fashion when their Aunt Philips came bustling up the drive, beckoning excitedly for Rose and Donna to follow her into the house. "Come on, then, girls - you won't want to miss this! C'mon! Just wait 'til you hear!"
The sisters exchanged an amused glance but complied. Once inside they both settled in on the sofa, judging from their aunt's enthusiasm that this latest news might require some length of time in the telling. Jackie latched onto her sister's mood immediately, rushing to embrace her quickly before demanding, "Well? Spill it, Bev!"
"Oh, you'll never guess!" she gushed, delighting in the honor of bearing such momentous news. "Of course you won't, so I'll just tell you. I was headed to Mrs. Henrick's - she's gotten in the loveliest bit of cambric, by the way…"
A sound of pure exasperation escaped Jackie's throat. "Oh, for the love of…"
"Anyway," Aunt Philips continued, eyeing her sister reproachfully, "who should I run into but Mrs. Nicholls, the housekeeper from Torchwood, on her way to place an order at the butcher's!" She glanced around, reveling in their looks of surprise, before confirming what everyone now suspected. "Mr. Harkness is returning to Torchwood!"
Though outwardly Donna looked unfazed, Rose had heard her breath catch as the realization hit. Gently she placed her hand over Donna's trembling one, feeling a gentle squeeze in return as her sister exhaled shakily.
"Mr. Harkness, returning?!" Jackie exclaimed in wonder. However, as other recollections occurred to her, her attitude quickly shifted. "So he's returning, is he? S'good, I suppose. It seems a waste, letting that lovely house stand empty so many months. It's not much to us either way. I for one am perfectly content if he never shows his face here again, after what he…"
She broke off, her eyes darting quickly to Donna before continuing more carefully, "But of course he's welcome to do as he pleases. It's no concern of ours. Now, sister, you mentioned something about a new piece at Henrick's…?"
Whether it was motherly compassion or fear of wakening Donna's ire again Rose didn't know, but gratitude filled her just the same. She listened absently as the others continued to trade gossip. However, the subject inevitably returned at dinnertime, when Mrs. Tyler, after informing her husband of their neighbor's return, insisted that he call upon Mr. Harkness the day he arrived.
Pete Tyler sighed. "I will not. It's a silly custom, Jacks. He knows who we are and where we live, and he may visit us whenever he likes. I don't think it fair or kind, that a man can't return to his house in peace, without all this to-do."
Jackie harrumphed. "To-do! It's called manners, love. Honestly. Well, you can't stop me from inviting him to dinner later in the week, an' I mean to. If," she hesitated, glancing at Donna with concern, "if that's alright, sweetheart?"
Donna, who had been steadfastly occupied with her soup, finally looked up as the silence lengthened, choking a little when she realized they were focused on her. "What?" she stammered, flustered. "'Course it's all right! It's not… I mean, he's not…"
Taking a calming breath, she turned to face her mother. "Of course you should invite him, mum. He's a good man and our neighbor," she replied.
Jackie smiled back warmly. "That's my girl. Now, about the meal. We must have three courses at least…"
At last just Rose and Donna were left in the sitting room, the others having gone up to ready themselves for bed. They did not speak at first, simply enjoying the stillness and the rich, mellow hues of the setting sun.
Finally Donna spoke. "I know you were worried about me, Rose, but I'm alright, I promise. It just caught me off guard, is all."
Rose tilted her head to the side, studying her thoughtfully. Memories of Gallifrey - of Mr. Harkness' subdued manner, of the curious, almost entreating way he'd spoken with her - kept presenting themselves to her mind.
"Don't give me that look, Rose," she said sternly, though her mouth twitched a little. "I resolved all that long ago. I have no expectations, and feel perfectly at ease with seeing him again. I am only afraid of what others will say."
Rose bit her lip to hide her own smile. Much as Donna was trying to tamp it down, her sister's eyes sparkled in a way she hadn't seen in months. "Then I will try to remain silent, though it is hard."
Donna's eyes narrowed, but she continued on as if Rose hadn't spoken. "Besides, he does not bring a large party. He is probably only visiting, and will be gone in a few days."
"So we will just leave him be."
"Exactly."
Glad that they could bring some levity to such a tender subject, Rose gave her a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling.
"Stop it, Rose."
Word soon reached them, through the many sets of eyes Jackie had employed to keep watch, that Mr. Harkness had indeed arrived at Torchwood. She waited impatiently for the appropriate length of time to pass before he could be invited to dinner, grumbling about their father's recalcitrance. Fortunately she was not forced to wait very long, as three days later they received a surprise visit.
Lynda, who had been staring listlessly out the window, suddenly bounced up in excitement. "Oooh! Someone's coming! A gentleman… he rides very well… Wait. I almost think… it is! It's Mr. Harkness!"
Donna blushed and started slightly from her seat. Rose reached out and caught her hand, trying to send her waves of support and reassurance through the simple gesture.
The air zinged with anticipation. Jackie started to stand, only to immediately sit back down. Moments later, Lynda astonished them even farther. "Wait! There is someone with him…" A pause. "Oh, it's what's-his-name! Y'know, the tall, proud one?"
Rose's head snapped around, her heart beating wildly within her. "Not… not Mr. Smith?"
"Yeah, that's it!"
Rose closed her eyes, her breath unsteady. Mr. Smith was here.
A firm squeeze to her fingers brought her back to reality, however ill-prepared she felt for it. Her eyes flashed to Donna's, where she saw a play of emotions similar to her own - an overwhelming flood of both excitement and nerves, happiness and fear. And, on her part, an unspeakable gratitude. He had returned here, to those he had rescued from so much pain and distress, yet she alone knew what he had done. She had not told Donna about the note she'd written to their aunt, nor the reply she'd received, whether from shame at having caved or some strange loyalty to him, in not sharing what he obviously did not want known.
But each knew that, behind the brave front they wore, this reunion had the potential to change everything, to either encourage or extinguish the tenacious spark of hope that persisted within them. Hands clasped tightly, they let go only when the servant opened the door to announce the gentlemen's arrival.
Rose's eyes quickly flicked past Mr. Harkness to where Mr. Smith himself stood, and it was like something locked within her sprang free. Simply seeing him again sent a flood of joy and relief through her that surprised her with its intensity. She took in the trim, familiar form clad in finely tailored clothes, the controlled wildness of his dark brown hair, the noble lines of his face. But his posture was stiff, his expression aloof, with none of the ease and warmth she had witnessed at his home in Gallifrey. It reminded her of their initial meeting, and even though she now felt she understood him better, it still hurt to see him look this way again. And why wouldn't he look at her? Rose's heart sank.
At last their eyes met, locking briefly before he forcibly drew them back to her mother, who she realized with a start was talking. Apprehension seized her. "Oh, Mr. Harkness! It is wonderful to see you again! We were all a bit afraid you'd left for good, but I'm glad you've proved us wrong. Please, sit down!" she gushed effusively, her earlier nonchalance forgotten. Sparing a passing glance at Mr. Smith, her demeanor cooled significantly. "And Mr. Smith, you are welcome, too, I suppose."
Rose ducked her head, feeling her face grow hot at her mother's incivility. If she'd been nervous before, there were no words for her anxiety now.
Mr. Harkness settled into the armchair Pete Tyler often occupied, while Mr. Smith moved to stand by the window, his expression austere and unreadable.
"If you don't mind me askin', are you just down for a visit, or do you mean to stay awhile?" Jackie pressed. Unable to lift her gaze to Mr. Smith again, Rose endeavored to stealthily observe Donna and Mr. Harkness instead.
"I haven't decided yet. I hope…" he paused, a wide if somewhat nervous smile on his face. Curious, Donna looked up, smiling softly when their eyes met, which caused his own grin to grow immeasurably brighter. He shifted his attention back to Jackie. "No, I'm quite certain I will be staying for some time."
Jackie beamed; her shrewd eyes had not missed that exchange, either. "I'm so glad! It will be lovely to have you at Torchwood again. But so much has happened while you were away! Miss Jones has married Mr. Collins and moved to Kent, and our youngest is newly married, too. Did you hear of it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"She's Mrs. Saxon now. Rather a quiet affair, but they seem quite happy. He's taken a position with a Northern regiment. I do hate to have my Lucy so far away, but I suppose it's for the best. He is fortunate to have some friends who will help him," she declared, the reproach in her tone clearly aimed at Mr. Smith.
Her pulse pounding in her ears, Rose braved a glance at his face. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but otherwise he seemed unperturbed. He did not look at Mrs. Tyler or herself, but instead turned aside to look out at the gardens.
"Well, when you've shot all your own birds, you are welcome to come here and shoot all you like. I'm sure Mr. Tyler would be happy to have you."
"I would like that," Mr. Harkness replied, gracing them all with the easy smile Rose remembered. She smiled back, grateful for his efforts to keep things amiable and reminded of how much she had enjoyed his company before. Once again she saw Donna's questioning eyes meet his, her heart growing warm at the hesitant smiles that passed between them.
"And himself may come, too, if he likes," Jackie continued with obvious reluctance.
Rose winced. Looking up at last, she took in the tense line of his shoulders, and unable to bear it anymore said, with a hint of desperation in her voice, "How is your sister, Mr. Smith? Is she still at Gallifrey with her friends?"
He turned to face her, and though his manner was still reserved, she imagined she saw him thaw a little under her solicitude. "She is well, thank you. She and Mrs. Annesley are still there, but the others have gone on to Scarborough." Though he spoke kindly, he still would not quite meet her gaze, looking just past her. Her courage faltering, Rose nodded and looked away, blushing, unaware of the lovely study she made for those warm brown eyes moments later.
The gentlemen parted soon after, with a promise from Mr. Harkness that he would dine with them soon. Needing an escape, Donna and Rose wandered along the lane, each lost in their own thoughts.
"I am glad that's over," Donna said, exhaling sharply. "Now I know I can handle it, that I'm strong enough. When we meet each other again, it will be as neighbors, friendly but indifferent."
Brushing her unhappy thoughts of Mr. Smith aside, Rose turned her head a little to peek at Donna, smiling knowingly. "Uh-huh. Very indifferent. Steady on, sister."
Donna stopped, hands on her hips. "Oi! You don't really think I'm in any danger now, do you?"
"Only of making him love you more than ever," Rose said impishly.
"Ugh. You're impossible!" Donna replied, rolling her eyes and marching on ahead. However, she didn't protest when Rose hurried to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, instead returning the embrace.
Looking over his shoulder, John smiled at the lovestruck determination on his friend's face. Silently he put his coat inside the carriage, waiting for his friend to speak his mind.
"I'm going to marry that girl, John," Jack declared, his chin jutting out defiantly. "You know how much I value your friendship and your advice; you're like a brother to me. But I should never have left like I did. It will be a miracle if she takes me back, but she's worth fighting for."
"You're right. I'm happy for you, Jack, and I'm sorry I got in the way before. It was arrogant of me…" Here Jack's mouth fell open in astonishment. "Yes, alright, I admit it, now close your mouth; you look ridiculous. As I was saying, I didn't recognize the strength of your feelings, or of hers. I had no right to interfere."
Still reeling from the first direct apology he had ever heard from his friend's lips, Jack's conscience smote him as things clicked into place. "You believe now that she cared about me… then?"
John met his gaze unflinchingly. Though he wanted to run, he forced himself to meet Jack's gaze, hoping he would see the sincerity of his regret and remorse.
"And I just left, without a word…"
Hearing the emotion in his voice John finally averted his eyes, giving the other man a moment to compose himself. He knew there was more that needed to be said, but it seemed especially hard to admit to it now. "Erm, there's something else you should know," he began, scratching the back of his neck as he looked up at the clouds scudding by overhead. "She might have, welll, she was in fact in London. For a little while. A few weeks, or perhaps a month or two?"
Silence. Finally he couldn't bear it any longer and looked down, quickly wishing he hadn't. Jack's usually laughing blue eyes were glaring now, his jaw set, hands clenched at his sides. John knew now that he had never truly seen his friend angry until this moment, and he froze, unable to brace himself for the inevitable (and well-deserved) impact. "She was there? You knew, and you didn't tell me?" he ground out.
John nodded slightly. "I'm so so-…" he began, but Jack cut him off.
"My sisters knew." It was a statement, not a question. When John made no reply, Jack swore softly under his breath.
"I was wrong," John repeated.
Suddenly Jack's anger seemed to dissipate, a change John watched with both relief and concern. "Yeah, you were, but I was a fool. Am a fool," Jack replied.
They were quiet for a moment. "So I have your approval, then?" Jack asked.
Mr. Smith's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Do you need it?" he countered, trying not to smile.
"No," Jack said definitively, a grin lighting his face. "But I'd like to have it, anyway."
"Go on, then," he replied indulgently, motioning him on with a slight nod. Jack smiled back, suddenly engulfing him in a fierce hug.
As he stepped into the carriage, John's mood sobered. While he was immensely happy for his friend, he felt much less sure about his own future. Seeing Rose again had been… well, it have been wonderful, like that first breath of fresh air after a long convalescence. But it had also been immensely difficult. At Gallifrey he'd thought, no, he'd felt that they'd connected, meshed in a way that almost frightened him. But that had been cut short too soon, and so much had happened since. And then this afternoon she had hardly looked at him. Perhaps he was holding on to a foolish hope. Perhaps this trip to London would help him clear his head, removing him from the turbulent emotions he felt whenever she was near.