An Awfully Big Adventure (1/2)
Feb. 10th, 2010 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wishiknewwhoTitle: An Awfully Big Adventure
Author: wishiknewwho
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ten / Rose
Dislcaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and it's probably just as well that I don't because it'd be nothing but hugs and hair ruffling for the foreseeable future.
Spoilers: Another story set in a Series 2 that never ever ends.
Summary: Everyone grows up, everyone leaves home, and all adventures must come to an end.
Author Notes: Written for Challenge 24 at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
then_theres_us. The prompt was Peter Pan. All references are inspired by J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy, 1911. Also, this is freakishly long. You've been warned.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salimali for the beta and hand holding.
Planet PR7-692
Everyone grows up, everyone leaves home, and all adventures must come to an end. Rose Tyler cannot help but be aware of these facts as she stands outside of a busy space port, her hand shielding her eyes as she blinks in the late afternoon sun. The Doctor stands a few feet away from her, looking about as lost as she feels.
“What do we do now?” she asks. She has her mobile in her pocket; he has the sonic screwdriver and whatever else is in his pockets. The key around her neck is cold and dead. She doesn’t think it’s enough to make a difference.
He shrugs, his eyes boring holes into the pavement.
She wants to let out a long sigh of exasperation, but she holds it in, reminding herself that he’s just had everything taken away from him. She needs to be more sympathetic, even if she could use his help.
“Come on then,” she says softly, holding out her hand to him.
He takes it without thinking, without question, his fingers a little sweaty in hers, his skin feeling different than she’s used to. “What are we doing?” he asks, walking alongside her as she leads him from the port and towards what appears to be a city centre.
“We need a place to stay,” she says. “It’ll be dark in a few hours. We’ll need something to eat, somewhere to sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he follows her dutifully.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing and she is so far from home. She can usually find her way in a new place, but she usually has his help.
For the millionth time, Rose curses the stupid planet, the TARDIS, and the bloody black hole that got them into this.
Neverland
“It’s going to be brilliant, Rose,” the Doctor enthused, pulling her from the TARDIS and onto the little island that would be their home for a few weeks.
“I can’t wait,” she said, rolling her eyes, but in that way she did when she found him utterly charming but didn’t want to show it. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, wishing that she hadn’t packed quite so much.
They’d landed in a small town near the ocean, and she could taste the tang of salt on her tongue the moment she stepped from the ship. The TARDIS was parked in an alleyway between two buildings, one a dull red and the other a cheerful yellow.
“Let’s go,” the Doctor said, setting off toward the street, his exuberant stride forcing her to almost run to keep up.
The town was quaint, the buildings cluttered together in a haphazard way, nothing taller than two storeys. The roads were a mixture of dirt and sand, and as Rose looked to the left, she could see the water, sparkling a pale turquoise blue.
“How long are we here again?” she asked, turning to the Doctor.
“Three weeks,” he said. “Maybe four, depending on how long the TARDIS needs to rest.” The ship had been damaged during their last trip and he’d said the only way to fix her was to give her some nice rest and relaxation. Considering the two of them had almost died (again) during said adventure, he’d decided that a holiday was in order.
Rose gave a squeak of delight and set off for the beach, the Doctor in tow. “Where will we stay?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. He took the bag from her, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “We could find a little house to rent, that could be fun. Pretend like we’re normal people on holiday.”
She laughed. “And you think you can do a holiday?” she asked, arching an eyebrow his way.
“Of course I can,” he said. “It’ll be an adventure, Rose.”
Once on the sand, he dropped her bag, and both of them sat down, struggling to get their shoes and socks off before hastily folding the ends of their trousers up and racing each other to the water.
Planet PR7-692
After wandering around the city for almost a half hour, Rose manages to find a hotel and a cash point. She gets the Doctor to use his sonic screwdriver to get them some money. He doesn’t say a word, just adjusts the sonic and hands the money over to her. She hopes it will be enough to get them a room and some food, but she doesn’t ask.
She gets them a room with two beds, not wanting to let him too far out of her sight. She’s never seen him quite in this state, and she isn’t sure what he might do. If he decides to run off, at least she’ll be able to go with him.
He is silent in the lift and as she opens the door. The room is nothing special, outfitted in shades of grey and green, but it is clean and not as small as she is used to, and she decides to make the best of it.
She wanders into the bathroom, and sees that they have the necessary toiletries to get them through at least a couple of nights.
Back in the bedroom, the Doctor is sitting on one of the beds, staring at the window that is covered by curtains. He looks far away, and she’s not sure what to say to him. She crosses and pulls open the curtains, the sound of the little metal track rattling loudly in the quiet room.
“Do you know anything about this planet?” she asks. He loves to do this, to tell her about a new place, to impress her with his boundless knowledge. Maybe if she can make this feel like more of an adventure he will be more like his old self.
But he says nothing, just shakes his head. She wants to slap him, to get a reaction out of him other than this melancholy silence. This isn’t her Doctor. Her Doctor would be figuring things out for them.
She turns back to the window, looking out over the city that looks nothing like home, but somehow manages to look like every other city she’s seen. It’s not London, and it’s not the TARDIS, but she can make do here, at least for a little while.
She waits for him to speak, and when he doesn’t, she begins to worry that she might say something hurtful. She reminds herself again that she needs to be patient with him, but it’s getting difficult when he will barely answer her questions. She gives him one last look before going to take a shower.
She wishes that she could be enough for him, but he said it himself. The TARDIS is the only thing he has in the universe.
She waits until the water is thumping angrily against the fibreglass of the bath before she lets herself cry.
Neverland
It was nearly dark by the time they left the water, stumbling up the beach and collapsing onto the sand in their damp clothes. The sky was slowly turning to a deep violet and they couldn’t stop laughing.
“Where are we spending the night?” Rose asked, trying to unroll her trousers but the soaked fabric refused to budge.
“I nearly forgot,” the Doctor said. “We’d better find something quickly. It’s getting late.” He stood up, brushed the sand from the back of his trousers, and offered her his hand.
She let him pull her to her feet, then reached down and grabbed her bag. “There were some houses back that way,” she said, nodding in the direction they’d taken to the beach. “Maybe one of them is for rent.”
There was a phone number in the window of one of the houses. It was small and white with a red roof and a swing on the front porch. Rose made a comment about always wanting a swing like that and it was settled; they’d found the house they wanted. He made a call, and the agent, eager to make a sale, met them twenty minutes later and gave them a key.
He unlocked the door and she followed him inside. “Honey, we’re home,” he boomed and she burst out laughing, clutching his arm.
“I’ve always wanted to say that,” he confided.
“Let’s explore,” she said, and he nodded.
The living room was first, and the Doctor flopped down onto the sofa, bouncing a few times for good measure.
“This will be perfect for putting up my feet after those long days at the office.” He waggled his eyebrows and winked. “You’ll rub my feet, won’t you, Rose?” he asked, batting his eyelashes playfully at her.
“Oh, of course,” she said, running toward the kitchen, the Doctor close behind her. The small room was a pale yellow. “Perfect to catch the afternoon sun.” She ran her hand over the work surface. “And of course I’ll be busy in here, preparing you a meal, since you’ve been working so hard.”
“Do you think you could get one of this swishy skirts and an apron?” he asked, giving her belt loop a tug. “Oh, and I could get braces.”
She turned around for a moment to finger his tie. “That would be nice,” she murmured, backing away as he seemed to be leaning in. She wasn’t ready, not just yet. “Let’s see the rest.”
A short corridor led to the bedroom, and the sight of the king-sized bed stopped them in their tracks, their game forgotten.
“Well,” he said, adjusting his tie.
“Yeah,” she agreed, taking a couple of tentative steps into the room. The bed and other furniture were a pale blonde wood, a nice match to the redwood floor. The duvet was white and the sheets a cobalt blue, almost the colour of the TARDIS.
“I can sleep on the sofa,” he offered.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “There’s room for both of us.”
“As long as you don’t steal the covers,” he said, bumping her hip with his. And just like that, the awkward moment was broken.
Planet PR7-692
She stays in the shower as long as she can, until her skin is raw and red from the pulsing heat of the water. She pats herself dry with the skimpy excuse for a towel and avoids her own eyes in the mirror. Still damp, she pulls on her clothes and leaves the bathroom to face him again.
He doesn’t look like he’s moved, still staring out the window, off into the distance.
“Doctor,” she says hesitantly, trying to keep the note of anxiety out of her voice.
He starts at the sound and turns to her. His eyes slowly focus on her, as if just realising that she is there. “Rose,” he says. It’s the first thing he’s said in ages, and his voice cracks, but it’s her name and he almost sounds like himself; the relief that floods her almost brings her to her knees.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, trying to bring a sense of normalcy to the situation.
He thinks for a moment, even going so far as to put his hand to his stomach, an act that at any other time would be comical. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I could eat.”
She wishes that he would do his usual thing, jump up and tell her just what he’d like, what he’s in the mood for. They’ve spent many an evening arguing over what to eat, but it seems that she’s in charge today. “Do you want to go out?” she asks. “I noticed a couple of restaurants on our way here.”
“Do you think we could get takeaway?” he asks, tugging at his ear. “I don’t really feel like going anywhere.”
“Okay,” she says. “Anything in particular you want?”
He shakes his head and goes back to staring out the window. She goes downstairs, and seeing that the hotel has a restaurant, decides not to venture out. She orders something that looks like a close approximation to burgers and chips and waits until it is ready, thumbing through a couple of pamphlets she picked up at the front desk. There are several places she’d like to visit, a large mountain where they could go hiking, and some sort of amusement park with a rollercoaster that goes underwater. She doubts he’ll want to do any of it.
They’re stuck. The TARDIS is gone, and if what the Doctor says is true, then there’s no way to get her back. She’s not happy about the situation, but at least one of them has to make the best of it. If things were left up to him, they’d likely still be back at that space port, standing around and waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.
She takes the food upstairs. He’s moved, but not much. Now he’s lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wonders if maybe he’s working out a way for them to find the TARDIS, if that’s why he’s being so quiet. But if he was doing that, he wouldn’t be acting like this. He’d still be ignoring her, but he’d be manic, papers spread all around him, his glasses askew and his hair sticking up in funny little tufts as he worked. This is not him working.
“I’ve got food,” she says cheerfully, and is grateful when he sits up and even offers her something that resembles a smile.
They eat sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. She asks if he wants the television on, but he says he prefers the quiet. When they are finished, she cleans up the rubbish, stuffing it in the bin. She has an urge to keep this little space neat.
She lies down to sleep while he takes a shower. She closes her eyes, but she can’t get herself to settle down. She can hear the rhythmic pounding of the water and she wonders if he is breaking down like she did. She almost hopes he is. If he won’t let her comfort him, he at least needs to let it out somehow. The water shuts off and she can hear him moving around, the sound of his footsteps as he gets out of the shower and the rustle of his suit as he puts it back on. They’ve been wearing the same thing since they landed on the sanctuary base and she reminds herself that they need to do something about clothes tomorrow.
The bathroom door creaks as he opens it and she slams her eyes shut. She’s not sure why, but she doesn’t want him to know that she’s been lying there awake, listening to him.
He turns down the covers to the other bed and she hazards a glance at him while he’s not looking. He’s only wearing his shirt and trousers, his feet bare and his shoulders slumped. He lies down and she can just make out his quiet heartfelt sigh.
They lie there, together but not talking for almost an hour. She knows he’s awake, and she’s pretty sure that he knows that she’s not sleeping either. She doesn’t know what to say to him. Somehow, “I’m sorry,” doesn’t seem like enough, not this time.
She is almost asleep when she feels a slight depression in the mattress as he climbs into the bed with her. She holds her breath, afraid he might get up again if he realises she’s awake. He doesn’t, though, just moves closer to her, until he’s right behind her and his arm is wrapped around her waist. She settles herself against him, feeling his body curve into hers.
His breath is heavy on the back of her neck, but she doesn’t mind. His other hand creeps under her pillow, and she remembers doing that as a child when she snuck into Jackie’s bed after a nightmare.
She finally feels her limbs grow heavy as his breaths even out after a few minutes, lulling her to sleep.
Neverland
The Doctor decided to cook them dinner that first night.
“We don’t have any food,” Rose pointed out, opening the empty refrigerator to illustrate her point.
“Then we’ll get some,” he said. “There’s bound to be a shop near here.”
“I need to get cleaned up before we go.” She gestured to her jeans, which were still rolled up and damp.
“You can do that later, while I cook.” He sauntered off for the door.
“Doctor,” she said, whining, tilting her head to the side. It didn’t work, though.
“Rose,” he countered, using his own pleading voice. “I’m starving. No one will care that your trousers are wet or that your hair’s a mess.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.
She let him pull her. Sometimes it was easier to just go along with him. “What do you mean my hair’s a mess?”
He just laughed, teasing her as they meandered around the little town, looking for a shop. It was warm, and their shoes kicked up dust on the dirt roads. Rose couldn’t wait to get back and have a shower, but the Doctor insisted on wandering up and down each aisle in the shop, inspecting every shelf and loading their trolley up with more food than ten people could eat, let alone two.
She left him to it, figuring they could leave sooner if she just let him get what he wanted.
“What do you think, Rose,” he asked, “strawberry jam or orange marmalade?”
“Either,” she said, still combing her fingers through her hair. “You got a rubber band in there?” She gestured to his pockets.
“Let me see.” He set the jars back on the shelf and rummaged around his right pocket. “Nope. No. That’s gum. Aha.” He produced a green rubber band and held it out to her. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, gathering her hair back into a ponytail.
“Wait a second,” he said, stopping her as she was about to twist the rubber band around her hair. “You forgot a piece.” He reached forward slowly and carefully swept a curl from her neck and up toward the ponytail, his fingers brushing hers as she grabbed it.
She swallowed and stuttered another “thanks,” her eyes unable to leave his.
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning back to the jam jars. “Now seriously, strawberry or orange?”
She grabbed both of the jars and put them in the trolley, figuring she’d save them both the trouble.
“Thank you, Rose,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and wheeling the trolley off before she could react.
She put her hand to her face and smiled softly under the fluorescent lights. When she went to follow him, she was sure the floor had disappeared from beneath her, she felt so light.
The Doctor decided to make a pizza. Rose smiled at him and went to take a shower. She’d only seen him try to cook once and the results had been disastrous. If it wasn’t toast, he was hopeless.
When she emerged from the shower, she could hear the sounds of his frustration all the way in the bathroom. Bangs and clanks were littered with his shouts of “bloody hell.” Giggling, she hurriedly got dressed and went to see if she could help him.
“Rose,” he said beseechingly when he saw her. “The dough isn’t working. It’s all stuck to the work surface.”
She clicked her tongue at him, and went to help him scrape it up. “Why didn’t you buy the kind that’s already made?” she asked, frowning as the dough accumulated under her nails.
“I wanted to do it all by myself,” he said. Their hands bumped into each other, his fingers dancing over the back of her hand.
She kissed him there, that first night in the new kitchen. His lips were soft against hers, tentative and sweet, and she sighed as his tongue slipped into her mouth to touch hers. She didn’t mind at all that it took her nearly an hour to get the dough out of her hair.
Planet PR7-692
They have been at the hotel for four days and Rose feels like she’s about to come apart with boredom. She’s never seen the Doctor like this. He doesn’t want to leave, explore, do anything. She wants them to find a flat, get out of the cramped little room and into something larger where they can have some space and spread out, but he refuses. He says they are fine where they are.
She wanders the city, which she learns is called Pra’uul. It’s nice here: the people are friendly and the city is clean. It’s nothing special, but she knows there are worse places she could be.
She spends long hours on park benches. They have to make a life here, but she doesn’t know how. She can’t see them living here, having jobs, going shopping, doing those normal day-to-day things that he doesn’t do and she has come to despise. They can’t keep living at the hotel, doing nothing, but she doesn’t see an alternative.
She goes in and out of shops, buying clothes for herself and for him. She takes them back to the hotel and shows him what she’s bought. He nods, but won’t wear anything she got for him. His suit is getting a bit desperate, and it takes her throwing a fit just to get him to take it off so she can wash it.
He sits desolately on the bed in the t-shirt and pyjama bottoms she bought for him, looking like a little boy who has lost everything he knows.
“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs her off. She pushes away her anger and hurt and takes their clothes to hotel’s laundry room.
She climbs on top of the dryer once she’s loaded their clothes, letting the soothing hum in the room calm her. If only he’d talk to her, let her try to comfort him. She doesn’t have much to offer him, but it has to be better than him sitting around in silence all day.
He’s still sleeping with her each night, only moving toward her once he thinks she’s asleep. She lives for those moments, his body close to hers, his hearts beating against her back. It’s the only thing she has to stave off the almost unbearable loneliness of her days.
She taps her heels against the dryer and makes a decision. She’ll give him a week, one week, and then things are going to change. She’ll go out and find them a place to live, get a job, find them something to do. Anything has to be better than what they are doing now. And if he doesn’t want to go along with her, to help her, then she’ll bloody well make him.
She’s lying in bed that night, waiting for him. She tries to even out her breaths, so he’ll get in with her. In a few short days, her sleep has become dependent on him. She can’t find rest unless his arms are around her.
He finally gets up. She hears the rustle of his covers and his footsteps on the carpet. She forces her tense body to relax as she prepares for the slight movement of the bed as he carefully climbs in. It doesn’t come though, and moments later she hears the door ease open, a crack of light from the hallway illuminating the room before the door closes again and he’s gone.
Neverland
They fell into a pattern quickly and easily in their little beach home. He woke her each morning with a kiss to her cheek, his hair tickling her neck. She’d roll over to see his dazzling smile, rousing her better than a cup of coffee or tea ever could.
She’d make two mugs of tea and he’d make four slices of toast, and they’d curl up on the swing, sharing their breakfast and watching the little town come to life as people stirred from their houses. The Doctor took to calling hello to people as they passed on their way to work. The only industry was tourism and almost nothing but shops and restaurants lined the street where they lived.
After eating, they got dressed. She’d brought two swimsuits with her, one pink and one red, and she let him choose which she should wear that day. She finished off with a sundress and flip-flops. She never bothered with makeup; it was too hot and the water would ruin it and he said he liked her better without it anyway.
Even the Doctor exchanged his usual suit and sneakers for a t-shirt and a pair of swim trunks, saying that they were on holiday and he had to wear the proper attire. She didn’t mind at all. She liked how comfortable, how familiar he’d become since they’d landed there.
They went to the beach every morning, enjoying the sounds of the water rushing in and meeting with the sand before the rest of the tourists joined them. She’d read one of the books she brought with her from the TARDIS and he would sketch the local landscape. He wasn’t a very good artist, but he said it was refreshing to find something he wasn’t good at. She just rolled her eyes and cocked a grin at him until he kissed the smirk from her mouth.
They had lunch at one of the local restaurants, trying a new one each day, and after they would return to the beach. They usually spent an hour or two in the water, swimming and playing. The Doctor wanted to learn to surf, so he bought a bright orange surfboard. She’d lie on her towel and watch as he paddled furiously to get it our far enough, then sit and wait for what he described as “the perfect wave” in a silly surfer accent. Tall and gangly, he inevitably wiped out more often than he managed to ride one in. She always giggled when he came up spluttering water and wiping his hair from his eyes, but she told him he looked gorgeous to make up for it.
After a few days, her skin turned a lovely bronze colour and his freckles stood out in contrast to his pale skin. She got used to the feel of the sand beneath her bare feet and the way it followed them into the house. At first it drove her crazy and she swept every day, but then she got lazy about it and decided she didn’t mind it all that much.
In the evenings, they practised their cooking skills. The Doctor had attacked the dough with vigour, and after making a few adjustments to his recipe, made a pizza that they both agreed was the best they’d had. Rose found them a cookbook at the local library, and they opened it to random pages, cooking whatever they found. Some nights it worked and some nights it didn’t, but they had so much fun they didn’t care. They shared most of their kisses in the kitchen.
They stayed up late, sipping the local wine, watching telly or reading to each other from their books. Rose had never been much for reading, but as she got wrapped up in one book after another, she began to suspect that she’d never liked it because she’d never found the right books.
If it was a clear night, they often found themselves on the swing, nestled under a blanket to ward off the cooler air, stretching their heads back to look at the stars. She asked him if he missed them, but he always said he was happy and they’d be back to travelling before she knew it.
They stumbled down the hallway late at night, tipsy from the wine and the sun, giggling as they changed into their pyjamas and fell into bed. They’d kiss good night, his hands growing a little bolder each night before they fell asleep curled around one another. They didn’t make love, not yet, not in those early days.
They never really got tired of their little pretend life, but when they did, they explored. There were forests right outside of town, and they both discovered a love for hiking. They’d pack a lunch and set off, ready to see what they could find.
Rose found herself blissfully happy, happier than she ever thought she’d be with a normal life. She loved their life on the TARDIS, and wouldn’t swap it for anything, but there was something to be said for the two of them living quietly, getting to know each other in a way they’d never done before. She had to remind herself that it was only temporary and that she shouldn’t get too used to the idea. As he said, it would be over before she knew it.
Part Two
Author: wishiknewwho
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ten / Rose
Dislcaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and it's probably just as well that I don't because it'd be nothing but hugs and hair ruffling for the foreseeable future.
Spoilers: Another story set in a Series 2 that never ever ends.
Summary: Everyone grows up, everyone leaves home, and all adventures must come to an end.
Author Notes: Written for Challenge 24 at
then_theres_us. The prompt was Peter Pan. All references are inspired by J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy, 1911. Also, this is freakishly long. You've been warned.Thanks to
salimali for the beta and hand holding.Planet PR7-692
Everyone grows up, everyone leaves home, and all adventures must come to an end. Rose Tyler cannot help but be aware of these facts as she stands outside of a busy space port, her hand shielding her eyes as she blinks in the late afternoon sun. The Doctor stands a few feet away from her, looking about as lost as she feels.
“What do we do now?” she asks. She has her mobile in her pocket; he has the sonic screwdriver and whatever else is in his pockets. The key around her neck is cold and dead. She doesn’t think it’s enough to make a difference.
He shrugs, his eyes boring holes into the pavement.
She wants to let out a long sigh of exasperation, but she holds it in, reminding herself that he’s just had everything taken away from him. She needs to be more sympathetic, even if she could use his help.
“Come on then,” she says softly, holding out her hand to him.
He takes it without thinking, without question, his fingers a little sweaty in hers, his skin feeling different than she’s used to. “What are we doing?” he asks, walking alongside her as she leads him from the port and towards what appears to be a city centre.
“We need a place to stay,” she says. “It’ll be dark in a few hours. We’ll need something to eat, somewhere to sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he follows her dutifully.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing and she is so far from home. She can usually find her way in a new place, but she usually has his help.
For the millionth time, Rose curses the stupid planet, the TARDIS, and the bloody black hole that got them into this.
Neverland
“It’s going to be brilliant, Rose,” the Doctor enthused, pulling her from the TARDIS and onto the little island that would be their home for a few weeks.
“I can’t wait,” she said, rolling her eyes, but in that way she did when she found him utterly charming but didn’t want to show it. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, wishing that she hadn’t packed quite so much.
They’d landed in a small town near the ocean, and she could taste the tang of salt on her tongue the moment she stepped from the ship. The TARDIS was parked in an alleyway between two buildings, one a dull red and the other a cheerful yellow.
“Let’s go,” the Doctor said, setting off toward the street, his exuberant stride forcing her to almost run to keep up.
The town was quaint, the buildings cluttered together in a haphazard way, nothing taller than two storeys. The roads were a mixture of dirt and sand, and as Rose looked to the left, she could see the water, sparkling a pale turquoise blue.
“How long are we here again?” she asked, turning to the Doctor.
“Three weeks,” he said. “Maybe four, depending on how long the TARDIS needs to rest.” The ship had been damaged during their last trip and he’d said the only way to fix her was to give her some nice rest and relaxation. Considering the two of them had almost died (again) during said adventure, he’d decided that a holiday was in order.
Rose gave a squeak of delight and set off for the beach, the Doctor in tow. “Where will we stay?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. He took the bag from her, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “We could find a little house to rent, that could be fun. Pretend like we’re normal people on holiday.”
She laughed. “And you think you can do a holiday?” she asked, arching an eyebrow his way.
“Of course I can,” he said. “It’ll be an adventure, Rose.”
Once on the sand, he dropped her bag, and both of them sat down, struggling to get their shoes and socks off before hastily folding the ends of their trousers up and racing each other to the water.
Planet PR7-692
After wandering around the city for almost a half hour, Rose manages to find a hotel and a cash point. She gets the Doctor to use his sonic screwdriver to get them some money. He doesn’t say a word, just adjusts the sonic and hands the money over to her. She hopes it will be enough to get them a room and some food, but she doesn’t ask.
She gets them a room with two beds, not wanting to let him too far out of her sight. She’s never seen him quite in this state, and she isn’t sure what he might do. If he decides to run off, at least she’ll be able to go with him.
He is silent in the lift and as she opens the door. The room is nothing special, outfitted in shades of grey and green, but it is clean and not as small as she is used to, and she decides to make the best of it.
She wanders into the bathroom, and sees that they have the necessary toiletries to get them through at least a couple of nights.
Back in the bedroom, the Doctor is sitting on one of the beds, staring at the window that is covered by curtains. He looks far away, and she’s not sure what to say to him. She crosses and pulls open the curtains, the sound of the little metal track rattling loudly in the quiet room.
“Do you know anything about this planet?” she asks. He loves to do this, to tell her about a new place, to impress her with his boundless knowledge. Maybe if she can make this feel like more of an adventure he will be more like his old self.
But he says nothing, just shakes his head. She wants to slap him, to get a reaction out of him other than this melancholy silence. This isn’t her Doctor. Her Doctor would be figuring things out for them.
She turns back to the window, looking out over the city that looks nothing like home, but somehow manages to look like every other city she’s seen. It’s not London, and it’s not the TARDIS, but she can make do here, at least for a little while.
She waits for him to speak, and when he doesn’t, she begins to worry that she might say something hurtful. She reminds herself again that she needs to be patient with him, but it’s getting difficult when he will barely answer her questions. She gives him one last look before going to take a shower.
She wishes that she could be enough for him, but he said it himself. The TARDIS is the only thing he has in the universe.
She waits until the water is thumping angrily against the fibreglass of the bath before she lets herself cry.
Neverland
It was nearly dark by the time they left the water, stumbling up the beach and collapsing onto the sand in their damp clothes. The sky was slowly turning to a deep violet and they couldn’t stop laughing.
“Where are we spending the night?” Rose asked, trying to unroll her trousers but the soaked fabric refused to budge.
“I nearly forgot,” the Doctor said. “We’d better find something quickly. It’s getting late.” He stood up, brushed the sand from the back of his trousers, and offered her his hand.
She let him pull her to her feet, then reached down and grabbed her bag. “There were some houses back that way,” she said, nodding in the direction they’d taken to the beach. “Maybe one of them is for rent.”
There was a phone number in the window of one of the houses. It was small and white with a red roof and a swing on the front porch. Rose made a comment about always wanting a swing like that and it was settled; they’d found the house they wanted. He made a call, and the agent, eager to make a sale, met them twenty minutes later and gave them a key.
He unlocked the door and she followed him inside. “Honey, we’re home,” he boomed and she burst out laughing, clutching his arm.
“I’ve always wanted to say that,” he confided.
“Let’s explore,” she said, and he nodded.
The living room was first, and the Doctor flopped down onto the sofa, bouncing a few times for good measure.
“This will be perfect for putting up my feet after those long days at the office.” He waggled his eyebrows and winked. “You’ll rub my feet, won’t you, Rose?” he asked, batting his eyelashes playfully at her.
“Oh, of course,” she said, running toward the kitchen, the Doctor close behind her. The small room was a pale yellow. “Perfect to catch the afternoon sun.” She ran her hand over the work surface. “And of course I’ll be busy in here, preparing you a meal, since you’ve been working so hard.”
“Do you think you could get one of this swishy skirts and an apron?” he asked, giving her belt loop a tug. “Oh, and I could get braces.”
She turned around for a moment to finger his tie. “That would be nice,” she murmured, backing away as he seemed to be leaning in. She wasn’t ready, not just yet. “Let’s see the rest.”
A short corridor led to the bedroom, and the sight of the king-sized bed stopped them in their tracks, their game forgotten.
“Well,” he said, adjusting his tie.
“Yeah,” she agreed, taking a couple of tentative steps into the room. The bed and other furniture were a pale blonde wood, a nice match to the redwood floor. The duvet was white and the sheets a cobalt blue, almost the colour of the TARDIS.
“I can sleep on the sofa,” he offered.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “There’s room for both of us.”
“As long as you don’t steal the covers,” he said, bumping her hip with his. And just like that, the awkward moment was broken.
Planet PR7-692
She stays in the shower as long as she can, until her skin is raw and red from the pulsing heat of the water. She pats herself dry with the skimpy excuse for a towel and avoids her own eyes in the mirror. Still damp, she pulls on her clothes and leaves the bathroom to face him again.
He doesn’t look like he’s moved, still staring out the window, off into the distance.
“Doctor,” she says hesitantly, trying to keep the note of anxiety out of her voice.
He starts at the sound and turns to her. His eyes slowly focus on her, as if just realising that she is there. “Rose,” he says. It’s the first thing he’s said in ages, and his voice cracks, but it’s her name and he almost sounds like himself; the relief that floods her almost brings her to her knees.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, trying to bring a sense of normalcy to the situation.
He thinks for a moment, even going so far as to put his hand to his stomach, an act that at any other time would be comical. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I could eat.”
She wishes that he would do his usual thing, jump up and tell her just what he’d like, what he’s in the mood for. They’ve spent many an evening arguing over what to eat, but it seems that she’s in charge today. “Do you want to go out?” she asks. “I noticed a couple of restaurants on our way here.”
“Do you think we could get takeaway?” he asks, tugging at his ear. “I don’t really feel like going anywhere.”
“Okay,” she says. “Anything in particular you want?”
He shakes his head and goes back to staring out the window. She goes downstairs, and seeing that the hotel has a restaurant, decides not to venture out. She orders something that looks like a close approximation to burgers and chips and waits until it is ready, thumbing through a couple of pamphlets she picked up at the front desk. There are several places she’d like to visit, a large mountain where they could go hiking, and some sort of amusement park with a rollercoaster that goes underwater. She doubts he’ll want to do any of it.
They’re stuck. The TARDIS is gone, and if what the Doctor says is true, then there’s no way to get her back. She’s not happy about the situation, but at least one of them has to make the best of it. If things were left up to him, they’d likely still be back at that space port, standing around and waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.
She takes the food upstairs. He’s moved, but not much. Now he’s lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wonders if maybe he’s working out a way for them to find the TARDIS, if that’s why he’s being so quiet. But if he was doing that, he wouldn’t be acting like this. He’d still be ignoring her, but he’d be manic, papers spread all around him, his glasses askew and his hair sticking up in funny little tufts as he worked. This is not him working.
“I’ve got food,” she says cheerfully, and is grateful when he sits up and even offers her something that resembles a smile.
They eat sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. She asks if he wants the television on, but he says he prefers the quiet. When they are finished, she cleans up the rubbish, stuffing it in the bin. She has an urge to keep this little space neat.
She lies down to sleep while he takes a shower. She closes her eyes, but she can’t get herself to settle down. She can hear the rhythmic pounding of the water and she wonders if he is breaking down like she did. She almost hopes he is. If he won’t let her comfort him, he at least needs to let it out somehow. The water shuts off and she can hear him moving around, the sound of his footsteps as he gets out of the shower and the rustle of his suit as he puts it back on. They’ve been wearing the same thing since they landed on the sanctuary base and she reminds herself that they need to do something about clothes tomorrow.
The bathroom door creaks as he opens it and she slams her eyes shut. She’s not sure why, but she doesn’t want him to know that she’s been lying there awake, listening to him.
He turns down the covers to the other bed and she hazards a glance at him while he’s not looking. He’s only wearing his shirt and trousers, his feet bare and his shoulders slumped. He lies down and she can just make out his quiet heartfelt sigh.
They lie there, together but not talking for almost an hour. She knows he’s awake, and she’s pretty sure that he knows that she’s not sleeping either. She doesn’t know what to say to him. Somehow, “I’m sorry,” doesn’t seem like enough, not this time.
She is almost asleep when she feels a slight depression in the mattress as he climbs into the bed with her. She holds her breath, afraid he might get up again if he realises she’s awake. He doesn’t, though, just moves closer to her, until he’s right behind her and his arm is wrapped around her waist. She settles herself against him, feeling his body curve into hers.
His breath is heavy on the back of her neck, but she doesn’t mind. His other hand creeps under her pillow, and she remembers doing that as a child when she snuck into Jackie’s bed after a nightmare.
She finally feels her limbs grow heavy as his breaths even out after a few minutes, lulling her to sleep.
Neverland
The Doctor decided to cook them dinner that first night.
“We don’t have any food,” Rose pointed out, opening the empty refrigerator to illustrate her point.
“Then we’ll get some,” he said. “There’s bound to be a shop near here.”
“I need to get cleaned up before we go.” She gestured to her jeans, which were still rolled up and damp.
“You can do that later, while I cook.” He sauntered off for the door.
“Doctor,” she said, whining, tilting her head to the side. It didn’t work, though.
“Rose,” he countered, using his own pleading voice. “I’m starving. No one will care that your trousers are wet or that your hair’s a mess.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.
She let him pull her. Sometimes it was easier to just go along with him. “What do you mean my hair’s a mess?”
He just laughed, teasing her as they meandered around the little town, looking for a shop. It was warm, and their shoes kicked up dust on the dirt roads. Rose couldn’t wait to get back and have a shower, but the Doctor insisted on wandering up and down each aisle in the shop, inspecting every shelf and loading their trolley up with more food than ten people could eat, let alone two.
She left him to it, figuring they could leave sooner if she just let him get what he wanted.
“What do you think, Rose,” he asked, “strawberry jam or orange marmalade?”
“Either,” she said, still combing her fingers through her hair. “You got a rubber band in there?” She gestured to his pockets.
“Let me see.” He set the jars back on the shelf and rummaged around his right pocket. “Nope. No. That’s gum. Aha.” He produced a green rubber band and held it out to her. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, gathering her hair back into a ponytail.
“Wait a second,” he said, stopping her as she was about to twist the rubber band around her hair. “You forgot a piece.” He reached forward slowly and carefully swept a curl from her neck and up toward the ponytail, his fingers brushing hers as she grabbed it.
She swallowed and stuttered another “thanks,” her eyes unable to leave his.
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning back to the jam jars. “Now seriously, strawberry or orange?”
She grabbed both of the jars and put them in the trolley, figuring she’d save them both the trouble.
“Thank you, Rose,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and wheeling the trolley off before she could react.
She put her hand to her face and smiled softly under the fluorescent lights. When she went to follow him, she was sure the floor had disappeared from beneath her, she felt so light.
The Doctor decided to make a pizza. Rose smiled at him and went to take a shower. She’d only seen him try to cook once and the results had been disastrous. If it wasn’t toast, he was hopeless.
When she emerged from the shower, she could hear the sounds of his frustration all the way in the bathroom. Bangs and clanks were littered with his shouts of “bloody hell.” Giggling, she hurriedly got dressed and went to see if she could help him.
“Rose,” he said beseechingly when he saw her. “The dough isn’t working. It’s all stuck to the work surface.”
She clicked her tongue at him, and went to help him scrape it up. “Why didn’t you buy the kind that’s already made?” she asked, frowning as the dough accumulated under her nails.
“I wanted to do it all by myself,” he said. Their hands bumped into each other, his fingers dancing over the back of her hand.
She kissed him there, that first night in the new kitchen. His lips were soft against hers, tentative and sweet, and she sighed as his tongue slipped into her mouth to touch hers. She didn’t mind at all that it took her nearly an hour to get the dough out of her hair.
Planet PR7-692
They have been at the hotel for four days and Rose feels like she’s about to come apart with boredom. She’s never seen the Doctor like this. He doesn’t want to leave, explore, do anything. She wants them to find a flat, get out of the cramped little room and into something larger where they can have some space and spread out, but he refuses. He says they are fine where they are.
She wanders the city, which she learns is called Pra’uul. It’s nice here: the people are friendly and the city is clean. It’s nothing special, but she knows there are worse places she could be.
She spends long hours on park benches. They have to make a life here, but she doesn’t know how. She can’t see them living here, having jobs, going shopping, doing those normal day-to-day things that he doesn’t do and she has come to despise. They can’t keep living at the hotel, doing nothing, but she doesn’t see an alternative.
She goes in and out of shops, buying clothes for herself and for him. She takes them back to the hotel and shows him what she’s bought. He nods, but won’t wear anything she got for him. His suit is getting a bit desperate, and it takes her throwing a fit just to get him to take it off so she can wash it.
He sits desolately on the bed in the t-shirt and pyjama bottoms she bought for him, looking like a little boy who has lost everything he knows.
“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs her off. She pushes away her anger and hurt and takes their clothes to hotel’s laundry room.
She climbs on top of the dryer once she’s loaded their clothes, letting the soothing hum in the room calm her. If only he’d talk to her, let her try to comfort him. She doesn’t have much to offer him, but it has to be better than him sitting around in silence all day.
He’s still sleeping with her each night, only moving toward her once he thinks she’s asleep. She lives for those moments, his body close to hers, his hearts beating against her back. It’s the only thing she has to stave off the almost unbearable loneliness of her days.
She taps her heels against the dryer and makes a decision. She’ll give him a week, one week, and then things are going to change. She’ll go out and find them a place to live, get a job, find them something to do. Anything has to be better than what they are doing now. And if he doesn’t want to go along with her, to help her, then she’ll bloody well make him.
She’s lying in bed that night, waiting for him. She tries to even out her breaths, so he’ll get in with her. In a few short days, her sleep has become dependent on him. She can’t find rest unless his arms are around her.
He finally gets up. She hears the rustle of his covers and his footsteps on the carpet. She forces her tense body to relax as she prepares for the slight movement of the bed as he carefully climbs in. It doesn’t come though, and moments later she hears the door ease open, a crack of light from the hallway illuminating the room before the door closes again and he’s gone.
Neverland
They fell into a pattern quickly and easily in their little beach home. He woke her each morning with a kiss to her cheek, his hair tickling her neck. She’d roll over to see his dazzling smile, rousing her better than a cup of coffee or tea ever could.
She’d make two mugs of tea and he’d make four slices of toast, and they’d curl up on the swing, sharing their breakfast and watching the little town come to life as people stirred from their houses. The Doctor took to calling hello to people as they passed on their way to work. The only industry was tourism and almost nothing but shops and restaurants lined the street where they lived.
After eating, they got dressed. She’d brought two swimsuits with her, one pink and one red, and she let him choose which she should wear that day. She finished off with a sundress and flip-flops. She never bothered with makeup; it was too hot and the water would ruin it and he said he liked her better without it anyway.
Even the Doctor exchanged his usual suit and sneakers for a t-shirt and a pair of swim trunks, saying that they were on holiday and he had to wear the proper attire. She didn’t mind at all. She liked how comfortable, how familiar he’d become since they’d landed there.
They went to the beach every morning, enjoying the sounds of the water rushing in and meeting with the sand before the rest of the tourists joined them. She’d read one of the books she brought with her from the TARDIS and he would sketch the local landscape. He wasn’t a very good artist, but he said it was refreshing to find something he wasn’t good at. She just rolled her eyes and cocked a grin at him until he kissed the smirk from her mouth.
They had lunch at one of the local restaurants, trying a new one each day, and after they would return to the beach. They usually spent an hour or two in the water, swimming and playing. The Doctor wanted to learn to surf, so he bought a bright orange surfboard. She’d lie on her towel and watch as he paddled furiously to get it our far enough, then sit and wait for what he described as “the perfect wave” in a silly surfer accent. Tall and gangly, he inevitably wiped out more often than he managed to ride one in. She always giggled when he came up spluttering water and wiping his hair from his eyes, but she told him he looked gorgeous to make up for it.
After a few days, her skin turned a lovely bronze colour and his freckles stood out in contrast to his pale skin. She got used to the feel of the sand beneath her bare feet and the way it followed them into the house. At first it drove her crazy and she swept every day, but then she got lazy about it and decided she didn’t mind it all that much.
In the evenings, they practised their cooking skills. The Doctor had attacked the dough with vigour, and after making a few adjustments to his recipe, made a pizza that they both agreed was the best they’d had. Rose found them a cookbook at the local library, and they opened it to random pages, cooking whatever they found. Some nights it worked and some nights it didn’t, but they had so much fun they didn’t care. They shared most of their kisses in the kitchen.
They stayed up late, sipping the local wine, watching telly or reading to each other from their books. Rose had never been much for reading, but as she got wrapped up in one book after another, she began to suspect that she’d never liked it because she’d never found the right books.
If it was a clear night, they often found themselves on the swing, nestled under a blanket to ward off the cooler air, stretching their heads back to look at the stars. She asked him if he missed them, but he always said he was happy and they’d be back to travelling before she knew it.
They stumbled down the hallway late at night, tipsy from the wine and the sun, giggling as they changed into their pyjamas and fell into bed. They’d kiss good night, his hands growing a little bolder each night before they fell asleep curled around one another. They didn’t make love, not yet, not in those early days.
They never really got tired of their little pretend life, but when they did, they explored. There were forests right outside of town, and they both discovered a love for hiking. They’d pack a lunch and set off, ready to see what they could find.
Rose found herself blissfully happy, happier than she ever thought she’d be with a normal life. She loved their life on the TARDIS, and wouldn’t swap it for anything, but there was something to be said for the two of them living quietly, getting to know each other in a way they’d never done before. She had to remind herself that it was only temporary and that she shouldn’t get too used to the idea. As he said, it would be over before she knew it.
Part Two
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Date: 2010-02-15 07:19 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading!