AN: So sorry that this chapter is so incredibly late. I've been super busy, then unwell, then just had a major case of the "You Sucks" LOL. Thanks for all the support and interest in this story. You're ALL amazing. Truly! ∞Ash
Friday November 8, 2013
Within the chilled confines of his bedroom, Jack laid flat on his back, blankly staring at the ceiling while his mind was pelted with a barrage of memories. It had been six years. Six years to the day since his family was torn asunder. Thinking about it now, Jack wasn't sure which was more painful—the death of his father, or the disintegration of his family. He decided that on that day, the breakup of his family was currently the most agonizing. After all that had happened in his life, family was something that held the highest importance. Jack had no recollection of his biological father, as he had passed away just before his third birthday. Not long after his death, his mother, Rachel, decided to return to Cardiff, seeking the comfort of her childhood home and desperate for some semblance of a new start. Though it was much too emotionally difficult for Rachel to return to the States, she made certain that Jack spent the summers with her late husband's father, realizing his importance in her son's life.
Five years after returning to Cardiff, Rachel met Thomas Smith while standing outside Heathrow, both trying to hail an early morning taxi. A fine mist had begun fall and Thomas had insisted, somewhat nervously, that they share. Who would have thought that a chance meeting at 2 AM would have resulted in such a strong mutual attraction? As they approached their destination, both were loath to part, and Rachel was relieved when Thomas stutteringly suggested an early morning breakfast. Once the initial trepidation passed, their conversation flowed, and they were pleasantly surprised to find they had much in common. But the one commonality that stood out the most was that, like her, Thomas was a single parent—also having a son, Ian, who was the same age as Jack. This knowledge served to further endear Thomas to her.
Within two months, they were married in a small ceremony; and for the first time in years, Rachel was fully happy again. Of course, Jack had been and still was her world, but Thomas filled something that had long been absent. And the fact that Thomas accepted Jack as if he was own, just solidified and deepened her love for him. Jack seemed nothing but ecstatic to have, not only a father, but a brother as well. From almost the instant they had been introduced, Jack and Ian had developed a strong comradeship, and Rachel could not deny that she'd never seen Jack so fulfilled. And even though Thomas' sister, Sarah Jane, had been initially wary of their whirlwind courtship, she quickly and warmly welcomed Rachel and Jack into the family, helping to fully unify them. And just like that, their family was complete. They were happy, and nothing could change that—or so they thought.
Four years into their new lives, tragedy struck. One afternoon while at work, Rachel suddenly doubled over in pain, and before the medics could even arrive, she was gone. It was soon thereafter determined that she had suffered from an undiagnosed aortic aneurysm. Her sudden passing left them all in complete shock and utterly heartbroken at the loss of the woman they called sister, wife, and mother. But the four of them rallied together, grieving yet helping to heal each other's wounded hearts. The years passed, and though they were not without their difficulties, the family bond only continued to grow. Thomas watched with pride as his two sons grew into exceptional men, both pursuing a career in law, and eventually joining the same firm. They strove to help those in genuine need, and together they were able to successfully represent multiple clients.
It was that honest desire to assist others that moved Ian to help Harry Saxon, his flatmate during his years at University. In truth, Jack had never been fond of Harry, finding him slightly irritating and bordering on narcissistic. Honestly, Jack couldn't comprehend how Ian had tolerated living with him all those years. Jack only had to be with Harry for all of ten minutes before he felt the overwhelming desire to deck him. But he was Ian's friend, and for the sake of his brother, Jack tolerated the bloody prat.
Thinking of Harry Saxon allowed a new flood of excruciating memories to wash over him, and Jack closed his eyes as he released a shuddering breath. While before Jack had merely dreaded being in his presence, now he cursed Harry's existence. He still remembered everything that transpired that day six years ago with sickening precision. He remembered, down to the minute, when he had received Ian's broken and incoherent phone call. Remembered the temperature of the surgical hallway as he burst through the doors and hurried to find his brother. Remembered the moment he caught sight of Ian, crumpled on the floor, divested of his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up, and scarlet hands clutching his head. Remembered placing his hand on Ian's shoulder, trying to both comfort and garner his attention. Remembered Ian sluggishly turning his gaze upward, his eyes hollow and face void of emotion.
Remembered…
The hallway was deserted, almost eerily so, save for one lone figure slouched on the floor, curled in on himself. The dead silence was shattered when the double doors burst open as Jack blazed through them, desperately searching for his brother. His senses heightened, Jack immediately sighted Ian on the floor, his hands braced on the sides of his head. Jack could almost feel time slow around him as he rushed over and crouched beside Ian, his heart tearing as he felt the unspoken anguish radiate from Ian's rigid form.
"What happened?"
No response came, and Ian continued to bore his eyes into the wall before him.
"Ian?" Jack prodded, gently putting his hand on his shoulder.
At Jack's touch, Ian flinched, almost as if he had been scalded. It was the first discernible emotion that Ian had conveyed, and Jack wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Slowly, painfully, Ian turned his head and allowed his eyes to meet Jack's for one fleeting moment before turning back to the wall, never once uttering a syllable. When no further reaction came, Jack tried once more.
"Ian…talk to me. Tell me what happened." Jack's tone, while gentle, contained enough amount of firmness to garner a response from his mute brother.
"Gone…" Ian finally spoke, his voice detached and strained to the point of breaking.
Jack furrowed his brow, trying to decipher the one-word reply. "What do ya mean 'gone'?"
Again, silence pervaded. Enough panic had surfaced within him, and Jack's voice became snappish and impatient.
"Ian!"
Ian's body responded with lightening precision, and he whipped his head around, his previously hollow eyes now blazing.
"Dead, Jack. He's dead. Our father is dead."
Ian's words felt like a blow to the stomach, and Jack sank to the floor beside him. He could feel his pulse bounding in his ears, and he struggled to keep his vision clear. Wiping his face with his hand, he turned his eyes back to Ian, who had returned to his former stoicism.
"H-how…wha-…," Jack trailed off as he once again noticed Ian's stained hands. He swallowed harshly, batting back the acidic taste in his throat. "Is that his?"
"Well, it bloody well isn't mine. No such luck there," Ian bitterly replied, his hands fisting his hair in rage and anguish.
"Don't say things like that!" Jack snapped. He didn't need or want the idea of losing his brother running through his mind.
"What do you want me to say, Jack?!" Ian snapped, rocketing to his feet.
Jack rose to his feet as well, standing in front of him. "I want you to tell me what hap-..."
"I killed him!" Ian shouted, his eyes wide with pain and feral rage.
Jack's jaw slacked, and he stared dumbly at Ian, unable and unwilling to put any amount of stock into what he had just said.
"Stop it!" Jack finally responded, harsher than he intended. "Just stop! I know that's not what happened!"
"That's exactly what happened!" Ian snarled, and began pacing. "It was me, ME! It doesn't matter if Harry pulled the bloody trigger, I did it! I killed him. I literally have his blood on my hands!"
Feeling hot bile rise in his throat, Jack shook his head, jarring his mind free from the hellish remembrances. Taking a shuddering breath, he looked over at the clock resting on the nightstand beside him. It was already well after 9, and though he had no real desire to venture into the office, Jack also had no desire to slum in bed all day and contemplate how much he'd lost. Nothing good came from dwelling on past hurt, and adding to his morose mood would only make things more difficult when he saw his aunt, Sarah Jane, later that day. He had to be strong for her, even if she was wise to the fact that it was merely a façade. She was also heartsick over the divide that had formed within their family, and the many failed attempts over the years to heal the breach. This last one seemed to have upset her more so than the others, and seeing her pain intensified was almost too much for Jack to bear at times.
Once more, Jack closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath in an attempt to balance himself for the day ahead. Pushing back the now smothering duvet, Jack lifted himself up and sluggishly headed to his en suite to quickly shower before trudging on into work.
"And just what were ya thinkin', runnin' off like that with some random bloke ya hardly know anythin' 'bout? For all you know, he coulda been a bleedin' philanderer or murderer or…or…I don't know…some other sorta nutter!"
Rose rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone resting on the counter in front of her. "Mum, seriously? Do ya realize how ridiculous y'sound right now?"
"I don't care how I sound! The fact is, ya know nothin' 'bout this man, and ya invite 'im to a familydinner and then just scamper off right in the middle of it! Not the smartest choice, Rose."
"Mum, would ya give it a rest? I've told you multiple times, Mickey is the one who told Ian to stay and have dinner with us. And we wouldn't have run off, if you hadn't started talkin' 'bout your bloody uterus! Who's the nutter there?"
"Don't ya go blamin' me for your actin' like some bleedin' moon-eyed schoolgirl!"
"I was not moon-eyed, Mum!" Rose protested irritably. "An' I'm not blamin' ya for anythin'. I'm simply pointing out that no one needed to hear 'bout your inner bits. For God's sake, Gramps was there!"
"I'll have ya know, Rose Marion Tyler, tha-…"
Just as her mum was beginning another round of tirades, Sally walked into the shop, and Rose sighed in relief. Her mind kicking into gear, she immediately took her mum off of speakerphone and held it out to Sally as she approached the counter.
"What?" Sally asked as she dropped her coat onto a nearby stool.
Rose shrugged, continuing to hold the mobile out for her to take. "It's for you."
Frowning in slight confusion, Sally took the mobile and put it to her ear. "Hello?"
Immediately, Sally's face twisted and she glared daggers at Rose. "I hate you," she mouthed. Rose simply smirked and blew a kiss at her. Sally pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow in irritation.
"No, Aunt Jacks, I don't know how long Rose and Ian have been seein' each other….No…no I don't know anythin' 'bout 'im either, but don't worry. I'll make sure I find out all about 'im. Every. Little. Detail," she emphasized, looking pointedly at Rose as she spoke.
Rose narrowed her eyes into slits, causing Sally to respond with a smirk of her own and blow a mocking kiss back at her. Rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out for good measure, Rose went to the kitchen to finish preparing the scheduled order for Jones, Matheson, & Harkness.
A good fifteen minutes passed before Sally made her way to the back, handing Rose back her mobile.
"Y'know, I could kill ya for doin' that to me. I love your mum, but I swear, sometimes she's like a dog with a bone!"
Rose pocketed the phone and snorted. "Why d'ya think I said it was for you?"
"An' for that, you're gonna pay! Ya better believe I'm gonna make good on my word. I'm gonna get every bit of info I can on that bloke of yours!"
Rose released a growly sigh. "He's n-…"
"…not my bloke," Sally finished with her, rolling her eyes at the expected response. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, ya can deny it all ya want, but when ya 've got brown smudges round your lips, it's clear ya 've been eating chocolate."
Rose's brows knitted together and her eyes widened in complete confusion. "What does that even mean?"
"It means that you can stand there all ya like and deny that there's anythin' goin' on with you an' Ian, but all signs point to a different story."
Releasing a small sigh, Rose tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "No matter what ya may think, Ian an' me are not seein' each other. Not like that, at least. We're friends, s'all. But if it'll get ya to leave well enough alone, I'll give ya one question."
"Five," Sally upped, eyes sparkling in excitement.
"Three," Rose relented, crossing her arms and taking a firm stance. "And that's more than generous."
"Fine, fine. I'll take what I can get," Sally sighed, turning to go back to the front.
"Wait!" Rose called after her in surprise. "Aren't ya gonna ask me anythin'?"
Sally turned around. "If all I get is three measly questions, I gotta make 'em count. I can't just ask the first thing that pops into my head. I gotta take some time to think about this," she finished, looking at Rose as if this explanation should have been completely obvious from the beginning. Without another word, Sally turned on her heel and marched to the front.
The last batch of pastries had ten more minutes left on the timer, and after that, the order for Jones, Matheson, & Harkness would be ready to be delivered. It was nearing eleven, and Rose was pleased to realize that she was running ahead of schedule. Even though there had been no complaints, her tardiness with last week's delivery still perturbed her. It was trying at times to run a business, especially as such a young woman, and Rose had striven to develop a solid reputation. Any personal slip up, even if minor, always weighed on her.
In between various batches, Rose would man the front with Sally. Normally the conversation between the two of them was easy and thoroughly enjoyable, seeing as they were exceptionally close. However, Rose was in a state of perpetual anxiety as the morning had passed, and Sally had still not taken advantage of her "three question pass." What was worse was the fact that Sally was taking immense joy in riling her up, making a sly comment here and there, all in an effort to draw out more tidbits of information or a telltale expression. Rose found it most annoying. Honestly, why did Sally have to drag the topic out? Couldn't she just ask her three questions so Rose could go back to her own secret and delightful ponderings about Ian Smith?
Much to her relief, while waiting for the last timer to go off, Sally popped off to the chemist's to collect a prescription, giving Rose a small mental reprieve. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since Sally had left, before a customer entered the bakery. Rose regarded the woman rather quickly—older, average height, brunette with random strands of gray, and having an air of poise and sophistication. Rose greeted the woman with a warm smile which she reciprocated; though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"G'morning," Rose greeted cheerily. "How are ya today?"
"Fine, thank you," the woman replied, a small smile still on her lips. "Yourself?"
"Can't complain too much," Rose answered, broadening her smile in an attempt to draw the woman out further. "What can I help ya with?"
The woman's eyes drifted from pastry to pastry. "I'm not quite sure, to be honest. This is my first time in here. My nephew is always raving about this place, and I thought that today…," she swallowed harshly, "I thought I'd surprise him with something from here."
"Oh, really? Can I ask his name?"
"Jack Harkness."
"Jack? Really?" Rose asked, her eye sparkling with recognition. "I know Jack. Not too well, mind, but still. I'm Rose, Rose Tyler," she extended her hand, "I own the shop."
She took the offered hand, her smile a tad wider than before. "Sarah Jane. Lovely to meet you."
"Likewise. Now then, what can I get ya?"
Once again, Sarah Jane looked at the various displays. "Well, what do you suggest?"
"Hmm," Rose hummed, pursing her lips in thought. "Let's see… well, I know he likes the pecan braids. The lavender scones are fairly popular. There's peppermint bark . Annnd…" Looking around, Rose grinned as a certain item caught her eye. "The banana crème cupcakes are a personal favorite."
"They certainly look delectable."
Rose bit her lower lip absentmindedly. "Mm-hmm," she agreed, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks.
Sarah Jane glanced up at her and had to stifle a chuckle as she saw Rose's faraway expression. Obviously, the young woman was not thinking strictly of cupcakes. She politely cleared her throat, bringing Rose back to the present. She saw Sarah Jane's small knowing smile, and her blush intensified, although now out of embarrassment.
"Well, I think you've sold me on the cupcakes," Sarah Jane grinned. "I'll take two of those and two of the pecan braids you mentioned."
"Sure," Rose said hurriedly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She pulled out one of the takeaway boxes from under the counter just as the over timer sounded. Excusing herself, Rose quickly ran to the kitchen and placed the sweet rolls onto the cooling rack. As she returned to the front, Sally came running through the door, drenched.
"I'm gonna kill that Calypso chick," Sally growled. "She said it was s'posed to be sunny all day."
"Doesn't she do traffic?" Sarah Jane piped up.
"She transferred over. Doesn't matter, though. She's crap at both!" Sally wiped at arms, vainly trying to dry herself off. She plodded over to Rose, flinging her purse to the counter.
"I have a spare hoodie in the back," Rose offered.
"Thanks," Sally said, plaiting her wet strands as she went to retrieve the hoodie.
Sarah Jane looked out the window at the steady rainfall before turning her frowning face back towards Rose.
Assuming the woman had walked to the bakery, Rose said, "I'm gettin' ready to make a delivery to Jack's law firm. If ya'd like, you can ride over with me."
Sarah Jane was somewhat surprised at the offer. She turned her eyes to the rain and then again to Rose. "Are you sure? I don't want to trouble."
"No, no, no," Rose shook her head. "'S no trouble at all! Lemme just pack up the sweet rolls, and then we can set off."
Thirty minutes later, Rose and Sarah Jane found themselves stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, thanks to a three vehicle pileup. For the umpteenth time, Rose fought back the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. Here it was—raining, traffic backed up, and her most influential client's aunt was riding shotgun for all of it. Rose glanced out of her periphery and saw Sarah Jane staring out the window, an unreadable expression on her face.
"I'm so sorry 'bout this, Sarah Jane," Rose said in earnest, grimacing at the poor impression she must be making.
Sarah Jane remained silent, seemingly deaf to Rose's words.
Rose reached her hand out hesitantly and touched her shoulder. "Sarah Jane?" she called again, her voice gentle and laced with just a hint of worry.
"Hmm?" Sarah Jane answered, turning her head towards the young woman. She had been so lost in thoughts and recollections of the day, that she hadn't realized that Rose was talking to her.
"I was just sayin' I'm sorry 'bout getting' stuck. You're probably wishin' ya'd just walked there. Ya mighta gotten soaked, but least ya'd be there by now," Rose said with an apologetic smile.
A small smile graced Sarah Jane's lips as she shook her head in response. "No, not at all. The extra time is…helpful."
Taking in the woman's manner, Rose's brows knitted together. The look Sarah Jane was wearing was near identical to the one she had seen on Jack's face last Friday. Overcome with the desire to be some sort of help, Rose summoned her courage and spoke.
"Sorry. I know this probably isn't my place, and please feel free to tell me to 'shut it' but…is everythin' alright?" On seeing something in her eyes alter, Rose fumbled onward. "'S just…well…Jack had the same look on his face last time I saw 'im. I could tell somethin' had really shaken 'im. And I thought maybe I…," she trailed off and worried her bottom lip, nervous and unsure of herself. She should really learn to mind her own business. She didn't always have to try and fix everything.
Sarah Jane silently stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. The sincerity in Rose's words and demeanor was surprising, but pleasantly appreciated. Seeing that Rose was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable, Sarah Jane reached over and patted her hand reassuringly.
"It's alright, Rose. I appreciate your concern. I can't speak to what was bothering Jack, although I think I remember that day you're speaking about." Sarah Jane sighed as she continued. "It's a difficult time of year for our family. Their father—my brother—died six years ago today. It was a rather…violent death."
Rose felt tears come to her eyes as she witnessed Sarah Jane's efforts to manage her pain. She squeezed Sarah Jane's lingering hand, trying to impart comfort since words felt inadequate. Sarah Jane turned her eyes toward Rose, who smiled affectionately at her. She returned the smile with one of unspoken gratitude.
A word in Sarah's last statement caught Rose's attention. "You said 'their'…I didn't realize Jack had siblings, that is, I've never heard 'im mention any."
She nodded her head faintly. "Just one. A brother. It's just the three of us now—me, Jack, and Ian."
Rose felt her stomach drop and the blood rush to her ears. Ian? Her Ian? Surely not. Although something in the recesses of Rose's mind told her that it was highly probable. Ian, though never by name, had mentioned that he had a brother. Then there was the way he grew tense and closed off when she'd attempted to ask about his father. Still…the likelihood of this woman being his aunt… Granted, they were constantly being thrown into each other's path, but this? Wasn't this just too much? Rose could feel her mind pull in opposing directions. She desperately wanted to ask more questions, but at the same time, she knew it wasn't her place to pry more than she already had into this woman's life.
"I think we're finally starting to move," Sarah Jane said suddenly, turning her eyes to the traffic.
"What?" Rose responded distractedly, turning her head forward. "Oh, moving…right." She forced herself to halt her racing thoughts, and focus on the task at hand. There would be time for things like breathing later.
Ian didn't want to wake up that morning. Waking up meant that he was back in the present— a present where Rose wasn't his, where his little Olivia didn't exist. He just wanted to sleep the hours away until he could awaken to find Rose cuddled into his side, her arm wrapped possessively around his middle. But that was not an option, and Ian knew it. He also knew that he couldn't ignore the significance of the day. It was doing its upmost to shove its way to the forefront of his mind, but years of experience allowed Ian to stifle its assault; instead, allowing it to dwell in the background and send its pain in waves.
As Ian reluctantly made his way out of bed and readied for the day, he was astonished to realize that this was the first anniversary where he'd not suffered from nightmares. In fact, since he had been rotating between realities, Ian had only had one nightmare. A rarity, that. More times than not, his sleeping hours were tormented with images and impressions of that day, and all the mistakes he had made. But today, today there was no such torment. Ian found himself wishing even more to be in the other reality. His wife—his Rose—had somehow managed to keep the nightmares away, to ease the pain that was far too often crippling. He wondered how he'd manage the day without her presence. An overwhelming part of him wanted to find her and just hide away, but Ian swiftly talked himself out of that idea. He had no claim to Rose in this reality. Nothing was definite here. In the other, she was his completely, irrevocably. Here? Well, 'here' was an unknown, and Ian didn't do well with unknowns.
Ian spent much of the morning reexamining his caseload, examining each file meticulously. Roughly around 1, Ian's mobile began to ring. Picking it up, he saw that it was Jack phoning. Ian silenced the ringer, but didn't decline the call, instead staring at the screen as Jack attempted to reach him, his thumb hovering over the Answer key. Time ran out, however, taking the decision away from him. He continued to stare silently at the mobile in his hand, unsure what action to take next. Just then, New Voicemail appeared on the screen. This time, without hesitation, Ian tapped the icon to listen to the message.
Hey… it's me. I don't figure you'll actually listen to this, but…(sigh)…Aunt Sarah and I are going by the cemetery around four. We...I get it if you don't wanna come, but we just really want to see you or at least hear from you. Anyway… I guess that's it… Bye.
When the message ended, Ian rested his hand against his mouth. He wasn't sure where to go from there. Every year since his father's death, Ian had steadfastly ignored all of his family's attempts to contact him on that day—it was just too much for him. But as he sat there and continued to replay Jack's message over in his mind, Ian found himself reaching a decision. Before he could fully process his actions, Ian was already pulling on his coat and walking past Cathica.
His hand on the doorknob, Ian turned to her long enough to say, "I'm unreachable for the rest of the day. No exceptions," and then left without preamble.
A stiff breeze blew through the nearly vacant cemetery, stirring up whatever leaves had managed to remain relatively dry despite the earlier rain. In response to the cold, both Sarah Jane and Jack pulled their coats taut.
"At least it stopped raining," Jack said, filling the silence that had recently descended.
Sarah Jane smiled softly at him. "Yes, I guess we can be grateful for that."
Another few beats passed before Jack sighed and looked over at his aunt. "He's not coming. You know that, right?"
She faintly nodded. "I'm aware of that probability."
"Then why are we still waiting here, in the cold, while it gets darker by the minute?"
"Someplace else you need to be, Jackson?" she asked, gazing upon him with slight disappointment.
Jack sighed inwardly at the full use of his first name. Obviously Sarah Jane wasn't pleased with his desire to leave. "No. No, I don't. I just don't like either of us getting our hopes up, only to have them crushed yet again."
Her expression softened as she laced her arm through his. "I like hope. Hope's a good emotion."
Jack squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Yes, yes it is."
After another small pause, Sarah Jane initiated a new topic. "So that Rose Tyler seems like a nice one."
"Yeah," Jack nodded, "Yeah, she is."
"So… anythin' there?"
"With me and Rose?" On seeing her nod, Jack snorted. "No. Nothing there."
"Why not? Don't tell me she's not your type, because I know that's pure nonsense. She's breathing. Based on your previous choices, she's already met criteria."
Jack, though marginally ruffled by that remark, couldn't help but smirk. "I'll have you know that my taste is becoming more refined."
"Happy to hear it. Now, answer my question."
He ran a hand through his hair as he answered. "I don't know. I mean she's gorgeous, but… I just don't get that… vibe, I guess you can call it, from her. I see her and I think 'friend,' not 'girlfriend.'"
"Hmm…"
"What?"
"That's rather mature of you, Jack," Sarah Jane said with a teasing grin.
"I know," he mockingly shuddered, causing both of them to laugh. Another breeze swept through, and Sarah Jane shivered at its frigidness.
"C'mon," Jack said, leading her towards the exit, "I'm starving."
Giving the darkening area one more sweep, she nodded and allowed Jack to guide her out of the cemetery, neither of them aware of the shadowed Ian watching them in the background.
Rose was exhausted, no doubt about it. After finally managing to deliver both the baked goods and Sarah Jane, Rose had returned to the bakery to find Sally and Isobel swamped with customers. The day continued to be hectic, barely allowing Rose time to use the loo. After closing up, she did some necessary shopping before tiredly stumbling into her flat around 7. As she entered the flat, her arms laden with grocery bags, she was immediately greeted by the sight of Martha and four others surrounded by books and papers. She recognized three of them as Martha's classmates, but the fourth was unknown to her. He was tall, blond, and didn't appear too far north of 25. On hearing her entrance, they all looked up, and the unknown blond quickly rose to his feet and helped her take the bags to the kitchen.
"Thanks," Rose said, still confused as to who this man could be.
"My pleasure," he smiled, his green eyes sparking at her.
"Uh, not to sound rude, but who are you?"
"Right, sorry. We've never actually met, have we? Fenton Buchanan," he extended his hand, "I'm in several of Martha's classes."
Warily, but with a small smile, Rose shook his hand briefly. "Rose, nice to meet you. So… you're here 'cause?"
"I'm desperate," Fenton answered somewhat sheepishly. "I'm not one for these group study sessions, but it's final exams, and Martha's at the top of the class. Seemed stupid to not take advantage of the opportunity to get a bit of extra help."
"Well, Martha's brilliant. You're in good hands. Well," she sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes, "Thanks for your help. Good luck with the studying." Without waiting for a response, Rose left the kitchen and walked towards her room, leaving an admiring Fenton in her wake.
An hour later, a freshly showered Rose was curled up in bed, searching through her Kindle library. Over on the nightstand, her mobile began to ring. She reached, and on glancing at the ID, smiled as she answered.
"Yes, Sally?"
"So… I think I've got 'em."
"Got what?" Rose frowned into the phone.
"The questions. I think I've decided on what I wanna ask."
Rose couldn't help the slight groan that escaped her. "Alright…fine. What are they?"
"Alright. Number one—have ya kissed?"
"Uh…define 'kiss.'"
"Defi-…Lip smashed against lip."
"Then no, we haven't kissed."
"Hmm…the definition bit means some kind of physical contact happened. But, shelving that for now. Okay, number two—what's your favorite part?"
"Part of what?" Rose asked confusedly.
"Of Ian! What is it—hair, eyes, teeth, bum…?"
Rose felt a steady blush come over her at Sally's question. "I dunno," she mumbled.
"Oh, please! Don't hand me that!"
"What, I'm serious! I like the whole package."
"Whatever…You're no fun. So, final question—is he it? The one ya say you're waiting for."
Rose felt the sudden need for air. Before she could reply, Sally spoke again.
"And don't give me the 'it's too soon' or the 'I dunno.' Deep down, what do ya think—is he the one you're waitin' on?"
Rose swallowed harshly at the nervous lump in her throat. Taking a breath, a smile curled her lips and she replied with firm conviction.
"Yeah…yeah, he is."
Ian laid there for a long while in the dark of his bedroom, allowing the thoughts and events of the day to process. He'd almost approached Sarah Jane and Jack several times. But each time, fear and guilt restrained him. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter what warred within him.
As his eyes became heavy, Ian heard music coming from the above floor. Even in his tired state, something in the melody struck him as familiar, and he focused the remaining amount of his faculties onto the sound. It was only a few notes before Ian identified the song—Fever. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Rose and her altered lyrics. Recollections of her image and voice drew a smile to his lips, and it was those impressions that were on his mind as he finally drifted off.
As dawn ascended, Ian turned onto his side and immediately registered Rose's absence. He extended his hand further towards her side of the bed, but was met with only cold sheets. He groaned outwardly.
"Rose," he called tiredly.
There was no response. Bracing himself on his elbow, he began rubbing his sleep ridden eyes. "Rose, if you're trying to sneak off again, I-…"
The words died on Ian's lips as allowed the room to come into focus.
No. No, this isn't right…
Ian could feel the panic rise in his chest and he scurried out of the bed, throwing open the bedroom door. As he took in the surroundings, Ian felt everything come crumbling down around him. Rose wasn't there. There was no way she could be there, because Ian had awoken in his flat.
No. No, no, no… This can't be happening!
The room now spinning, Ian stumbled over to the nightstand and grabbed his mobile. On hitting the Home button, he saw something that literally brought him to his knees. It was Saturday, November 9th.
2013.