AN: Sorry. I totally forgot to post a note! Thanks so much to all who read! I'm thrilled you are interested. There's two more chapters after this. One more confrontation to go. Thanks to Flawless Angst for the title choice! *hugs*

Saturday, November 16, 2013

He's…here…

Time ceased and all movement stilled as Rose stared, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief, at the man standing before her. Of all the scenarios that she'd conjured over the past few days, this was definitely not one of them. He was supposed to be in London, living a life free from her…taint. He'd made it quite clear she wasn't what he needed or wanted, so then why was he here and asking for her? How was he even aware that she was here, in New York?

The questions continued to mount at a rapid pace, but ceased at the sound of her mug shattering against the hardwood floor beneath her. In that instant everything surged into motion, and Rose was brought back to reality. Her subconscious must have sensed her inability to articulate, and therefore took control of her physically, dropping her to her knees so she could pick up the remains of her mug.

Though momentarily surprised, both men moved towards the kneeling Rose, Jim reaching her first. Ian remained standing close by, suddenly unsure of himself now that he'd finally found Rose.

"Geez, Rose! Are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly as he watched her begin picking up the shards of porcelain.

"What? Oh...yeah, 'm fine. I'm just...clumsy," Rose replied dazedly, maintaining her focus downward. "S-sorry 'bout the m-..."

"Don't even bother worryin' about," Jim assured her, "It's not like it's the Holy Grail or anything. Just some crappy mug Bev picked up on vacation." Jim could see the slight trembling of her hands, and a protective instinct settled over him. Kneeling down and reaching over, he gently clutched her wrists, halting her efforts. "It's alright, I got this."

"No, no...," she shook her head pitifully, "I made the mess, I sh-..."

"Rose," Jim stopped her, his quiet voice firm yet warm. His tone finally catching her attention, Rose slowly lifted her head, though only enough for their eyes to meet. "Unless you give me a reason why not, I've got this."

Searching his eyes, Rose understood the unspoken meaning in his words. Jim was giving her an out, an opportunity to signal for his aid. Even though they barely knew each other, in that moment, Rose felt strong affection for the man—a man she suddenly had the desire to call 'uncle.' Inhaling silently, she nodded in acknowledgment, offering him a nervous smile as he released her wrists.

"I'm gonna clean this up and then make a few more business calls," he said, looking between Ian and Rose as he spoke, "There's a, uh, sunroom at the back of the house. 'S outta the way. You two can catch up back there, if you want."

"That…," Ian cleared his throat of his nerves, "That sounds good—that is if you want to, Rose," he finished, finally looking at her directly.

For one fleeting moment their eyes met, and just like every time prior, an indescribable sensation passed between them. The intensity was virtually overwhelming, threatening to consume them then and there. However, the moment was over all too soon as Rose diverted her eyes, nodding her head in approval.

"Where'd y'say it was, Jim?" Rose asked, her voice quiet and strained with barely withheld emotion.

Holding the remaining pieces of mug in his hand, Jim straightened before motioning with his head and answering, "It's just past the living room. Instead of going right at the end of the hallway, turn left. You'll see it."

Offering another nervous smile, she wordlessly turned and followed Jim's directions, not seeing, yet feeling Ian's presence closely following her. Being near him again…well, it was something for which Rose found it difficult to define. Was it truly possible to put into words something that was so intrinsic? Even if she tried, all attempts would be lacking.

Both entered the room with Rose keeping her back to Ian. On hearing the click of the door closing, she slowly turned around, keeping her head down and allowing her hair to hide her face. She could feel the weight of Ian's gaze, however, neither of them spoke, instead allowing silence to persist. Rose had never fully appreciated the meaning of "painfully silent" until that moment. The silence between them was just that–painful. Each second felt like an eternity. Rose knew she couldn't go on like that anymore. Her heart might have been torn asunder, but she didn't have to show it. She would not be defeated.

Steeling her resolve and securing the guard around her heart, Rose lifted her eyes, and for the first time since his arrival, properly looked at the love of her life. As she took in his appearance, she felt anguish ripple over her. It was more than abundantly clear that he was exhausted–dark circles underscoring his equally dark eyes, a rough shadow covering his jawline, his naturally unruly hair more unkempt than usual. Her limbs twitched with the desire to go to him, to softly thread her fingers through his mane, to trace away the anxiety written on his face with her fingertips.

Before she could further her examination, Ian broke the stalemate and stepped forward.

"Hello," Ian said in strained softness.

Just hearing the sound of his voice sent a slight shiver down Rose's spine, and lighted a small spark within her heart.

Reining in her flutter of emotions, she managed to find her voice.

"Hello."

A beat passed as they continued to face each other—uncertainty, confusion, and a plethora of other emotions surrounding them.

"H-how…how are you?" Ian managed to stutter out. As soon as the question fell from his lips, he knew it was a mistake—a stupid, thoughtless mistake. This was immediately confirmed as he saw incredulity and anger flash in her whiskey eyes.

"How am…," she trailed off in her repetition, turning her head to the side and pursing her lips. After a beat, she turned back to face him, and Ian saw a familiar guard etched into her features. Well, it was familiar to him, having worn such a mask for years. But on Rose…on her it was foreign and unnatural. It was agonizing to witness, and Ian knew he had no one to attribute it to but himself.

She nervously pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and pulled her sweater taut. It was then that Ian recognized that sweater. Rose had been wearing it when he'd returned to the house that first morning in the future. Had worn it when Olivia took her first steps. She'd clearly favored it, and to be honest, so had he. Seeing it on her again, in light of what he knew now, Ian felt a surge of warmth and tenderness course through his veins.

Taking a silent breath, Rose finally answered his question. "I'm fine."

Ian's dark eyes roved over her, studying every aspect with tender concern.

"No, you're not," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's obvious you're not."

There was another flash in her eyes before she arched a brow. "Seriously? You of all people are gonna accuse me of lying? That's more than just a bit hypocritical, Ian."

"I deserve that," Ian agreed, nodding his head. He knew it was true, but it still didn't dull the bitingness of her tone.

A sudden grimace appeared on her face and Rose looked down at her wrist briefly. He realized that something about her wrist was causing her pain, and he frowned, taking a step forward.

"What happened to your wrist?"

"S'nothin'," she answered dismissively.

Knowing she was withholding from him, Ian altered the expression in his gaze; it became determined, never faltering as he waited for the true answer. He wasn't going to allow her anger and distance to prevent him from showing his concern. He'd been running from his emotions for far too long, denying they even existed. However, Ian was through with running. He loved the woman before him with every fiber of his being, and nothing would keep him from her.

As his gaze continued to remain steadfast, Rose felt her resolve begin to weaken. Unwilling to permit its full collapse, she decided to answer him and hopefully break the spell his eyes were putting her under.

"It's just a bit of a burn. Some of the tea musta splashed on me when I dropped the mug," she shrugged, turning her eyes aside, "Like I said, s'nothin'."

No words were spoken, but Rose suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. She quickly turned her head to find Ian standing directly in front of her, slightly more than an arm's length away, causing her heart to beat wildly and the air to leave her lungs. His encroachment into her sphere was wholly unexpected and threw her off kilter.

Ian's dark eyes never left hers as he reached out and gently took her wrist into his hand, careful of her injury. Flicking his eyes downward, he examined her wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the small red welt that had formed. Ian raised his eyes and the incredible tenderness and warmth she witnessed nearly brought her to her knees. It took resounding strength for her to remain standing. Rose swallowed harshly, hoping he couldn't see she was so affected.

"I hear aloe works wonders on burns," Ian said with a small smile, continuing to graze his thumb across the softness of her skin. He couldn't help but remember that first morning with her and how her careful ministrations had left him just as affected as he could see she was at the moment.

As they maintained contact, Rose struggled to find her voice, managing just above a whisper. "Bev…Bev's not really the home remedy type. Prefers the chemist."

Ian faintly nodded, his hand still gently cradling her wrist. Each passing second was a blow to the guard she was so desperately trying to maintain. Any longer and she knew that she would most certainly cave, allowing her heart to be exposed and vulnerable. Mustering every trace of her vanishing strength, Rose pulled her wrist away, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest and taking a few steps back.

"W-what are y'doin' here, Ian? How did ya even know where I was?"

"I…," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I wanted to see you."

Rose snorted in disbelief. "Well, I certainly didn't think ya came here on holiday."

"Rose, I-…"

"I asked why you came. And I want the truth, not some bloody drivel y'think sounds good. 'Cause I seriously doubt you actually wanted to see me. Ya made that very clear the last time we saw each other."

The anger in her words was blatantly obvious, but her tone was a contradiction—an equal mixture of fire and ice.

Ian sighed. For all his experience with words, he was always at a loss for them when it came to Rose. "I came because I needed to see you, Rose," he insisted.

"'Needed to see me,'" she scoffed, "And just what did you need to see me for? What—was there somethin' ya forgot to shout at me the other night? Some other hateful thing ya left out?"

Each pained word wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He knew he'd hurt her, and now he was beginning to see the depth of that hurt.

A sudden desperation entered his expression and he took a step towards her. "Rose, I-…"

"Go on…," she demanded, the heat in her words rising. "Tell me! Tell me again how I'm nothin' but a mistake!" she charged, her eyes blazing. "Somethin' ya wish you could back and erase. Go on! Say it again!"

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Ian rushed forward, closing the distance between them, and grasped her arms. "I can't say that, Rose! I won't say it, not ever!"

Fiercely she wrenched her arms out of his hold, slightly stumbling backwards. "Well, lucky for you, y'don't have to say it, 'cause I can hear it. Every day. Over and over. It doesn't matter what I do, I can't drown it out!"

Seeing the anguish in Rose's eyes felt like a knife had pierced his heart. There was no denying he deserved her anger, but it still pained him to experience it. However, all of that was inconsequential; he was never going to stop fighting for her.

"Neither can I!" Ian admitted. "I can't forget it. Not just the words, but the look on your face. The sob you held back. All of it, Rose. I remember all of it."

Rose's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly batted them away, turning her head downward to regain her composure. There was a war raging within her as every emotion from the past two weeks fought for dominance. She'd meant what she'd said—every moment with him had been worth the heartache; but did he have to follow her across the Atlantic and torture her like this?

Ian scrubbed his face, sighing. "I remember, and… and it was all a lie."

At his words, Rose's head shot up. "What?"

"A lie…," he stepped forward, "Every single word."

Rose felt her hands begin to tremble with nervous uncertainty, so she tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping to expel the energy.

"So…why then?"

Sighing, Ian roughly raked his fingers through his hair. "Because…I...Rose...," he turned a full circle and growled in frustration, "God, why is this so bloody difficult to get out?"

Rose could only mutely look on. She could see that he was struggling to put something vital into words, but for whatever reason, it was more difficult than anticipated. There was a small spark begging to be kindled, but she just couldn't yield to it. However, a question that had been haunting her for days came to the forefront, persistently prodding at her. One that weighed on her soul.

"Wh-…why don't you want me?"

Ian halted his frustrated pacing and stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. Seeing his expression alter, Rose felt her stomach plummet to the floor as she realized that she'd given voice to the question. A small part of her being chastised her for sounding so weak. But the greater part, the part that housed her broken heart, couldn't help but desire to know the answer.

Ian could hardly process the words that hung in the air. The broken quietness of Rose's question felt like a dropkick to the stomach. In those five words, Ian finally understood the severity of his actions and the depth of Rose's heartbreak. If not for his steel resolve to win her back, the guilt would have been crippling.

"I-I…I didn't mean to…say that…," Rose managed to sputter embarrassedly, her cheeks pinking as she diverted her eyes.

"It was never about not wanting you, Rose…," Ian answered quietly, "That was the problem."

Her eyes flitted back to Ian. "I…I don't understand."

Closing his eyes briefly, Ian ran his hand through his hair yet again before resuming his pacing. "Neither did I… From the very beginning there was something about you. I don't have words for what it was or how it happened. All I know is that it was there. I couldn't understand any of what I felt. Everything I…experienced…it defied logic. And it was bloody maddening…"

As Ian continued to pace, Rose stood quietly and stared confusedly at him. His words were strained, as if he was having difficulty bringing them together. And as of yet, she still didn't understand his earlier answer. She felt the pull to prod further, to question his meaning; but she sensed the importance of letting it unfold naturally, without force.

Taking a step back, Rose felt the back of her knees hit something plush. Immediately identifying what it was, her knees grew weaker and she quickly sank onto the waiting chair.

Out of his periphery Ian could see Rose and how her knees had slightly buckled. More than that, he could sense her patiently waiting for him to speak, feel her eyes make a study of him. He again reproved his inability to just speak without inhibition. He'd been certain that there would be nothing that could hinder him; however, now being in her presence, Ian felt at a loss. He felt as if he would burst from all that he wanted to say, but at the same time, unable to find his voice.

The last thing Ian wanted to do was give some sort of longwinded speech professing himself. To do so would feel cliché and false. No, there was no need for exaggerations or flowery words; it needed to be real.

Suddenly stopping his thoughtful movements, he released a pent up breath and faced Rose.

"Why did you never tell me that you knew?" he asked, changing gears on the subject.

She blinked several times, trying to understand his meaning. Unable to do so, she inquired, "What do y'mean? Knew what?"

"Everything. Knew Jack, my aunt Sarah. Knew about…Harry…about…my father," he finished with a tone just as sorrowful as his eyes.

Taken aback by the clarification, Rose's lips parted ever so slightly. She quickly closed them and curled her hair behind her ear. Turning her gaze downward, she began fiddling with the edge of her sleeves.

Several minutes passed as Rose remained silent.

"Rose?"

"Because it…it didn't…," she trailed off, looking off to the side and sighing.

Impatience took hold of him. "Didn't what, Rose?" he prodded in frustration.

She snapped her head back to center, displeased with his tone. "It didn't matter to me."

Now it was Ian's turn to be taken aback. He was certain what to make of her answer. "Didn't matter?" he echoed slowly.

Rose ran her hands over her hair, frustrated with her poor response. "God, that's not what I meant," she grumbled. "I dunno… there just wasn't a reason to bring it up."

"How could you know what happened and not want to say anything? It wasn't as if you found out my favorite color or how I take my coffee. My father was gunned down in front of me by a psychopathic narcissist who just happened to be my friend. A friend I promised to help. Promised and failed. You knew all of that was on my hands, and you didn't once think to mention it?" Ian asked with a tone of rising incredulity.

"No, I didn't," Rose answered calmly, maintaining eye contact.

Ian took several steps towards her, hands upturned in confusion. "I don't understand. How could you know all of that, and it not change anything? Not change how you saw me?"

"It did!" she countered, her volume rising. "When I found out 'bout what happened, it changed how I saw you. It made me lo-…," she halted, fear holding back that particular admission, "It made what I…felt…stronger."

"How could you feel anything for me? Why weren't you disgusted? Why didn't you blame me?" Ian asked confusedly. Even though he'd begun to let go of the stronghold he had on guilt, he still couldn't understand her reaction.

"Bl-…," Rose's eyes widened and brow lifted in disbelief, "Blame you? Why would I ever blame you for what happened?"

"B-because…," Ian trailed off, his voice hoarse with past and present anguish. "Because I did."

The agony laced within those words settled like an anvil on Rose's heart, causing hot tears to prickle the back of her eyes. Ian turned his gaze from her, and Rose could see how valiantly he was trying to control his emotions. His breathing increased and his form had tensed, clearly a last ditch effort to avoid crumbling. It was then that complete understanding dawned. From the beginning Rose had seen his pain; but it was only now that she felt the entirety of his turmoil, almost as if those three words had transferred every agonizing memory and emotion into her soul. And in that instant, she understood the actions of that night.

Slowly she rose from her seat, approaching him purposefully, her earlier trepidation no longer a hindrance. Ian suddenly turned his head back to her and she stopped her movement. She was close enough to touch him, but something in her told her to wait, that it wasn't yet time. But that didn't mean she would remain silent.

"When I read about what happened to your dad, it broke my heart. All I could think about was that I wish I coulda been there for you. To hold your hand. And then Jack told me 'bout the rest, and… and it made me realize just who you are. You're a man who's incredibly loyal. Who gives without a thought to himself. Who cares so much, feels so deeply. There was never anythin' to blame ya for."

Without breaking her gaze, she reached out and took hold of his hand.

As Ian heard her answer, felt their fingers intertwine, he felt his heart rise into his throat and his eyes mist. How could he ever have believed that the Rose of this reality and the other were not one and the same? Every tender expression, every loving word, every smile…they were identical. Rose was a constant, no matter the circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hovering just above a whisper.

Rose tightened her hold on his hand. "I know…and I forgive you."

Ian closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I…I don't deserve you, Rose."

The quiet conviction of his statement caused her tears to finally fall. "Yes, you do. I…I made my choice, a long time ago, in fact. And there's…there's no place I'd rather be than with you. You…you're worth every smile, every tear, every fight. You're worth…everything. You're what I deserve. You're…you're what I want."

Ian's eyes flew open after hearing her answer. Seeing the tears silently falling, he lifted his free hand and cupped her face. Slowly he grazed his thumb across her soft cheek, wiping away the glistening tracks. He heard her breath hitch, and for some unknown reason, this gave him that last bit of confidence he needed to fill the growing need within him.

His eyes never broke their hold with hers as he lowered his head. Just as Ian's lips were about to descend upon hers, he stopped, hovering just a hair's breadth away. Rose searched his eyes as saw the reason for his hesitancy. This was him giving her one final chance to change her mind, to back out with no questions asked.

Rose knew there was only one way to make him understand the truth and absolute resolve of her words. Reaching up ever so slightly, her eyes fluttered shut as her lips found their home. It was slow, gentle—more reassurance than anything else. Slowly, Ian released her hand, wrapping it around her waist. Rose responded by wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, stroking the hair at the nape.

This action spurred Ian to change the message their kiss was sending. He pulled her closer to him, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair. He barely waited for permission before deepening the kiss. This was no longer about reassurance. This was atonement for every harsh word. Manifestation of looks exchanged. This was promises words could never express. Love no longer denied.

Kiss after kiss transpired, each more consuming than last. They were loath to part, fearful of separation, but the necessity for air made the decision for them. Slowly relinquishing each other, they attempted to gain their breath, eyes closed and foreheads resting against each other.

Realizing that there was one thing he'd yet to admit, Ian found his voice.

"Rose Tyler… I love you. More than anything…"

Though her eyes remained closed in bliss, a brilliant smile broke slowly spread across her face.

"And I love you. With everythin'…"

A mirroring smile emerged before Ian placed another gentle kiss to her lips. "Stay with me?"

Rose pulled back just enough to where she could look into his eyes. This wasn't some fleeting request. This was something deeper, something profound. Rose understood his true meaning, what he was proposing, and she had never been more certain of anything in her life.

"Forever, Cillian. Forever."