Rose and 9

A confident smirk stains the Doctor’s lips as red wine would on red sheets when he surveys the situation through the crevice in the wall they’d slipped through — ‘we’re safe in here’, is what she gathers, and she’d have been a fool to not believe him. He’d gotten them out of worse scrapes than this one, yeah? It’s all down to waiting, this, and she fares pretty well… until the dragon gets tired of pursuing them, at least, and Rose Tyler starts yearning for the licking of the flames to her back that she’d been unaware that she’d miss.  It’d been difficult enough crawling into their hideout in the first place, flowing robes and corset and all — the material was unbearably thin, too, especially during the winter season. This, she only notices now as she clutches the light shawl tighter around her shoulders — utterly impractical. Then she’s engulfed in warm leather, and a grateful sigh slips from her lips as she turns her nose into the collar and inhales, taking in the familiar scent. It’s too big for her and makes her feel small (as if she didn’t already feel small beside him), but the battered material is made warm from his residual body heat, and she’s appreciative of the warmth it provides.                                    ——— He’s quick to ruin the moment with a chide her way,                                   even before she has the opportunity to thank him for the loan.  "Didn’t ‘xactly know tha’ a large, fire-breathing dragon was on the prowl, did I?" She hedges a tad defensively, throwing a glance his way. "Assumed it’d been abandoned, an’ I wasn’t gonna jus’… leave it t’ freeze to death." And how was she to care for it, after she’d executed step one? Couldn’t very well have sat on the egg herself, could she, to transfer warmth to it until it hatched? … She’d have figured out something, though, she would have — Rose Tyler’s certain of it. Something akin to a wail (more yowling and howling than wailing, though, when the dragon’s concerned) echoes and reverberates to her ears, then, and she takes the opportunity to creep forward and gaze through the peephole, paying the Doctor no further mind. It’s a yawn, she realises belatedly — her suspicions are further confirmed when the beast repeats the wail, the noise accompanied with an almost lethargic opening of its jaws as it inhales deeply, scaly head settling even closer to the ground as slanted reptilian eyes droop to half-mast.                    ”S’pose we’re going t’ wait ‘til she drops off, then, yeah?”

“Wha'?”

He never did notice how caught up in this particular human he sometimes got until something else broke the spell (listen to him; dragons and spells… Far too much BBC! He’d have to do something about it. Sometime.). This time it was Rose herself who jolted him back to reality and he turned away from her to blink at the dragon. ‘Drops off of what?’ he wondered, spinning back to Rose with a dubious frown.

Then back to the dragon again, but this time – Oh! Oh! Well, of /course/, look at her, already stamping down the earth to make herself comfortable, purring loud enough to rattle their little cave! “Well, sure, takes a massive amount of energy to drag around that bulk, and we're no easy catch," he beamed. "Only a matter of time,” he agreed, as if he’d been waiting for it all along. As if that should have gone without saying.

As if he hadn’t realized it was a viable option until just after she’d mentioned it.

“Shouldn’t be long, now.

“We’ll just –“ Something in the peripheral of his awareness teased at him, though he went on to mumble, “wait,” as he laid a hand on the wall of the cavern.

The vibrations.

No, something wasn’t quite right. Rose-sicles aside, and discounting the sleepy dragon outside…

Ah.

“Hear that?”

Probably not.

Humans.

“D’ya /feel/ that?”

The Doctor slid past Rose, hands walking along the wall as he squeezed furthur back, encroaching on the darkness. With one ear pressed against the stone wall, he pulled a face and looked at the dragon, again, listening more carefully before he complained out loud: “Dragons don’t /purr/.” (Whoever thought /that/ was ridiculous.)

If not the dragon, then… what?  

“What do you suppose has got a mountain purring?” His brows flitted up with the invitation and he disappeared into the black!

Dark

.

“I’m going to speak very softly and you are not going to speak a word,” the Doctor said, as gently as if he were speaking to a frightened child, and he smoothed sweat-slicked hair away from Rose Tyler’s face as he continued. “Rose is waking up now,

“And I hope you realize how very, very lucky you are that Rose is waking up now-

“So listen to me very carefully: I’m going to take her into the TARDIS and you are going to stand right there until I come back for you.

“I am going to end you.

“I am going to take away everything that makes you what you are. I am going to erase every moment you’ve ever lived and I am going to leave whatever husk is left of you here in this room.”

The sonic buzzed, loosing the bonds that tied Rose, and whined as it scanned her. He went absolutely rigid upon inspecting the results. “Oooh,” a slow, mournful sound; and then, slowly, “Oh, but I hope you run,” the Doctor growled, coming to his feet with Rose cradled in his arms. He swept her away with the tightly controlled urgency of a soldier. 

pinkspacechips 

Between tearing through cupboards to find what was needed and … and just tearing through cupboards… the medroom was in a state of disarray that was a sharp contrast to the two, still figures. It bore the brunt of his temper, for he did not leave the room once he brought Rose in and laid her down.

 He’d gone so far as to turn away from her, to storm the door… but he’d reached out to clutch the frame, an anchor against what he was about to do. A shuddering breath. Another. One hand lashed out at something on the counter beside him. It shattered against the floor and the sound set loose something primeval in him; he swept that counter clear with a strangled cry. Still wild, he turned to grab something across from him to hurl it out of the room and slammed the door closed after it and that wasn’t enough – it was not enough – but he stopped.

 Palms flat against the now cleared countertop, the Doctor’s shoulders heaving with each gulp of air he forced into his lungs, it wasn’t long before he was moving through the room with tight, measured actions, retrieving those items he would need for her care.

 The week had brought the Doctor low. It was a triumph for the man who’d taken Rose.

 If he had not overestimated the Doctor’s kindness, it might have been a win.

 He set about her care with the quiet dignity a real doctor might posses, and if he stopped once or frice to brush her hair or to lay his forehead to hers, there was no one the wiser for it. It was a very tenuous thread holding his pieces together as she lay numb, unresponsive, listless; everything that made Rose … Rose… slumbering (he hoped) beneathe a drug induced haze, leaden because she was ill, not because she was…

 When there was nothing else to do, when he couldn’t even pretend to do more; when she was clean and cared for and treated with all the very best he had at his disposal (which was quite a lot, and very, /very/ good), he sat, and he waited, and he did not move or think or do. 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY // open

  Benny smirked. “Um hi?  You were saying?”  She folded her arms across her chest. “Evidently  not,” she chuckled. “Right TARDIS, wrong time, right? So umm who is the lucky girl? or boy.”

Benny stood there awkwardly holding the  bouquet, unsure if she was supposed give it back. She was sure her own Doctor had some thing special for her anyway. Hopefully something even more divine as this. But already that bouquet was  making her damn hungry.

"Wrong-" the Doctor spluttered, his insult only half-feigned. "I'll have you know that, well, yes, in fact." He deflated; he /pouted/. "It may be the wrong... time..." 

He huffed, twice, and snatched the bouquet from her arms. "Well. The lucky - Both, actually! Both, yes!" he hummed, smug behind his bananas. "They - Oh, never mind. Spoilers, and all that.

"Here you are, Benny!" the Doctor declared, his tone lighter as he handed the bouquet back to her with an air of showmanship. "You would have liked this! I wanted the one with the strawberries anyway. And pineapple," he twittered, rubbing his once-again-freed hands together in anticipation. 

He turned to leave but paused, glancing back at her, taking her in. He swallowed, just that one, tiny crack in his well-practiced air of unaffected normalcy. "Well. Happy Valentine's Day, Benny. I'm sure I'll see you later! Oh, you know what I mean! You can tell him it's from you!" he added, indicating the basket. 

"I'd /love/ a good banana bouquet!"

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY // open

  Benny heard the banging on the TARDIS door. The Doctor couldn’t of locked himself out could he? Even so she walked over to the door pulling it open. Peeking over the large bouquet.

Even though this was going to be rather awkward having a future Doctor appear in the TARDIS, however she couldn’t stop herself grinning like an excited child.  

"Did you get the wrong TARDIS?" she asks taking the bouquet.  Now this was what she always wanted her own Doctor to buy.. Forget boring flowers that die within a few days. This bouquet was absolutely divine, she could eat it, although that was possible the purpose for it.

The Doctor blinked, slowly, as the strange voice took away his bouquet. "What! No!" he snapped, the denial holding more than a little sneer. "I'd no my own TARDIS," scolded the Time Lord. He scoffed, marching inside to make sure, squeezing full around her before he stomped back outside. "And this," he drawled, his sharp attitude slowly melting into a state of flummox. "This is.... the wrong TARDIS."

He parted a few of the bananas down the middle so that he could see who he was talking to. "Oh," he whinged, his lips pursed and puffed, and ready for a B word: Blast? Bloody? Bother? "Benny!" be blurted, with a huff. 

Started with a Call // lost-rose-tyler + 11

He regressed back to furtive glances and stolen looks for several minutes as he made himself very busy with the console. “She’s um, well, she’s *Clara,*” he mumbled, hands flying over the input as he sorted the data to be read. “Os…win? You know, I don’t think that’s her real name. Os..good, no… Os…. Bah, something Oz.” He twittered and waved for Rose’s attention; held a finger up to ask her to wait in almost the same gesture. “Oh, oh, the wizard! In his gadget box!” He flew around the console and shoved a lever up; a giant, broken image of his head, super-imposed around the time rotor, flickered to life. “Eh? They got that from /me!/” he laughed, and so did the head. The head’s voice was scrambled and slightly out of sync, never mind octaves lower than it should have been. “Ran into a-” He ducked away as the head continued to shout over him. “Oh, shut up,” they both complained before the Doctor shut down the hologram with a backhanded swat to the switch. “Bad spot of trouble with a Fileezian. Now, Shirley Temple, there’s a nice girl. /Perfectly/ nice. I’m sorry I didn’t get her home in time for the filming. She would have been lovely in that film. Just lovely!” He sighed, content, leaning back against the console to smile at Rose, watching her to see that she was properly impressed. She was /always/ the best audience, always, even when he didn’t realize he was showing off - even when he did! - even when he didn’t and she called him out on it - even when he knew exactly what he was doing and she let him get away with it anyway - oh yes, especially then. 

*Well, that seemed the best answer she was going to get. Unless she met the girl-which may or may not happen. The furtive glances and stolen looks he shot her weren’t completely missed; and she rather felt like a school girl herself-being fawned over by a crush, or something. But she arched her brows a bit all the same and continued for the moment to lean on the console and watch him as he danced and pirouetted about fiddling with things and making random comments. All for her, but she didn’t quite know that. Not really. Though her eyes certainly seemed to sparkle as she watched-giving in to few giggles here and there, one that caused her chin to slip off of her palm as she looked off to one side for a moment to cover the laugh.*

                                       “The hologram just needs a teeny bit of work.”

*It was a wonderful visual likeness…at least. She wondered what the Fileezians looked like and then asked* 

                                      “You took Shirley Temple for a ride on the TARDIS?”

*Looking back at him, a proper grin in her face.*

                                      “That must have been a riot.” *She was certainly letting him get away with it for now. And why not? She had missed this. Oh she’d call him out on it at some point, but for the moment-she’d let him have his moment…She let her forearms slide down to lay across the console, as she lifted her waist up a tad on her heels, and cocked her head a bit.*

                                    “You’ve been messing with the controls, do we have a destination? Has the Sonic given us somewhere?“

*A flick of her hand indicated the screwdriver that he’d inserted into the console earlier and smirked at him*

                                     “Or do I have to pick some place to go?”

"Not the controls," he answered, looking up at her. He frowned and made one further admission. "Diagnostics." Then, he spun a dial. "It can wait. I think." He waited, counting three full rounds, and stopped it. He stroked the dial, once, before moving to retrieve the sonic from its slot. He flipped it, sighed, and smiled! "I'd know it if the universe was imploding, eh? I'm something of an expert, you know! Why, I've... Well... Never mind, that. "Off we go! What would you like, Rose Tyler? Backwards or forwards? Home or away? Lady's choice," he added, a term River had certainly made sure he was familiar with. "Ooo, I'd better not say that around you, again," he complained, aloud, pushing River back into her compartment. He rubbed his cheek, remembering slaps, imagining new ones, and wondering about Rose. He gave her a strange look and threw the lever. "Random it is!" he cried and grabbed hold of the console as the TARDIS started her shaky journey into the unknown! 

Started with a Call // lost-rose-tyler + 11

"I don’t know," he said, and the truth of that admission acted like a bucket of cold water, snapping the Doctor out of his Rose-tinted … whatever it was she had put him into. He’d have to watch that. Time Lord, not a school boy. He dropped his arms and gently disentangled himself from her. He was not as susceptible to her, he said to himself and it was, perhaps, slightly true. Last time round, all brown and pinstripes, he had utterly been hers (and look where that had got them). Now, though, oh, this one had been born of pain and loneliness and was well equipped for dealing with both. He swallowed and took a breath before he stepped away. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, Rose; shouldn’t be possible; can’t be safe,” he muttered, moving around Rose to the monitor. “You can go and try to find your old room, if you want to,” he paused and whirled on her, “but I make no promises!” His fingers wiggled in the air as if he might elaborate, but he only grimaced and threw his hands up. No quick explanations for all of that! “The old girl’s been banged up a /lot/ since you last left! Quite a lot. There’s bunk beds,” he added, turning back to the monitor and taking out his sonic. “Somewhere, I don’t know where, but there are. “Bunk beds,” he hummed, happily, and he shoved the sonic into an outlet on the console. It was not a cold dismissal, but she had very clearly been dismissed. 

*Well, the regeneration before hadn’t been entirely all hers. Perhaps the one with the leather jacket had been though. As far as she knew-she’d been that regeneration’s first and last companion. And that one had been broken and cold and hard due to a destructive war that had cost him his planet…and she’d had to work at softening him up again-but even that was stretching it: calling him all hers, that is. She let her hand slip away from his cheek as he stepped away from her. Drawing her arms up and pushing them over her shoulders to shove her hair back she watched him as he moved toward the sleek monitor.*

                                     “Well, that’s what I meant…Mostly…”

*She admitted when he commented about her being here.*

                                     “That rip that I came through isn’t good news no matter which way we look at it…but I could be just an innocent casualty of it…with no harm in staying at all.”

*She pointed out, and then exhaled and drew her arms back down to her sides.*                                      “I guess there’s no point in getting hopes too high though. Least till we have facts…”

*She added, before glancing at him as he told her she could try to find her old room…Keyword there she knew would be /try/. New TARDIS, new layout, new rooms…She didn’t expect anything less from that end.*

                                     “Ooh. Bunk beds…reminds me of being a kid again. Ha. Though, if its all the same to you-I’ll go look for a room later…I don’t have any things and I’m a bit too wound up to bother laying my head down.” 

*She moved around to peer over his shoulder, looking down at the outlet he’d inserted the sonic into, and then back up, before she danced off to one side and leaned her elbows on the console, chin in her palms and looked at him, with a grin.*                                    “So! Clara. Who is she?”

He regressed back to furtive glances and stolen looks for several minutes as he made himself very busy with the console. "She's um, well, she's *Clara,*" he mumbled, hands flying over the input as he sorted the data to be read. "Os...win? You know, I don't think that's her real name. Os..good, no... Os.... Bah, something Oz." He twittered and waved for Rose's attention; held a finger up to ask her to wait in almost the same gesture. "Oh, oh, the wizard! In his gadget box!" He flew around the console and shoved a lever up; a giant, broken image of his head, super-imposed around the time rotor, flickered to life. "Eh? They got that from /me!/" he laughed, and so did the head. The head's voice was scrambled and slightly out of sync, never mind octaves lower than it should have been. "Ran into a-" He ducked away as the head continued to shout over him. "Oh, shut up," they both complained before the Doctor shut down the hologram with a backhanded swat to the switch. "Bad spot of trouble with a Fileezian. Now, Shirley Temple, there's a nice girl. /Perfectly/ nice. I'm sorry I didn't get her home in time for the filming. She would have been lovely in that film. Just lovely!" He sighed, content, leaning back against the console to smile at Rose, watching her to see that she was properly impressed. She was /always/ the best audience, always, even when he didn't realize he was showing off - even when he did! - even when he didn't and she called him out on it - even when he knew exactly what he was doing and she let him get away with it anyway - oh yes, especially then. 

Started with a Call // lost-rose-tyler + 11

Well. He pulled a face and looked down at her. That’s not at all what Lady Mary had done. Still, his exceptional people relations seemed to have done the trick, at least. He didn’t realize his hand was petting her hair; he noticed that it smelled good, and that he had missed her excessive fragrances. He lowered his head so that he could breathe her in, sorting through strawberries and tea and London, to find her. Just Rose. How his chest ached.  "Would you like to stay?" He froze the second the words were out. His head shot up and his hands flew to her shoulders, as if to push her away. He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d been thinking it, of course, and his inner voice had been tormenting him: ‘Ha! After everything you did do didn’t do should have done! Don’t you dare.’ He hadn’t meant to say them out loud, and now that he had, he wanted to run.  He held her shoulders, trying not to squeeze too hard; coward. Always a coward. Afraid of her answer. A no would break him and a yes? What would a yes do to him? What would she expect from him? Now? Were things different? Should they be? Would she want them to be? Did he? "Don’t," he began and ended and begged.

*Well, Rose wasn’t necessarily a soap opera star either. Though it had worked nonetheless. Grief was not something she wanted to visit right now, so his slightly unorthodox way of comforting her had made her giggle at the right time. She closed her eyes as his pats somehow morphed into gentle pets, a simple smile was drawn on her face as she kept her face against his jacket and drank in what was undeniably the Doctor through her perception senses. Hearing the double thunder of his hearts’ beating under her ear was soothing in a way,  The feel of him there in her arms, and his light caress-and also the smell of him too-something she could never quite place mixed in with cinnamon and cloves…Spicy whatever it was. And then-he asked that… Words she never thought she’d hear him say. Words he apparently didn’t expect to hear himself say. Her eyes flew open as he snagged her shoulders and pulled her from him. As his mind berated himself hers flew to the question: ‘would the universe be alright if I did stay?’ But of course Mickey had stayed. And it was still in one piece. She gazed at him intently, and moved a step closer in again, gently forcing his arms to relax some as she did, and caught his face with one hand, turning it lightly to hers. This time it was her turn to make him look at her. The pain and fear was etched across his face again. Made her own heart ache.*                                     “’Don’t…? ‘”

*she repeated softly*

                                     “Don’t what? Don’t answer? Doctor, what would you have me do then?  Could I stay—if I answered anyway; and said yes?”

"I don't know," he said, and the truth of that admission acted like a bucket of cold water, snapping the Doctor out of his Rose-tinted ... whatever it was she had put him into. He'd have to watch that. Time Lord, not a school boy. He dropped his arms and gently disentangled himself from her. He was not as susceptible to her, he said to himself and it was, perhaps, slightly true. Last time round, all brown and pinstripes, he had utterly been hers (and look where that had got them). Now, though, oh, this one had been born of pain and loneliness and was well equipped for dealing with both. He swallowed and took a breath before he stepped away. "I don't know why you're here in the first place, Rose; shouldn't be possible; can't be safe," he muttered, moving around Rose to the monitor. "You can go and try to find your old room, if you want to," he paused and whirled on her, "but I make no promises!" His fingers wiggled in the air as if he might elaborate, but he only grimaced and threw his hands up. No quick explanations for all of that! "The old girl's been banged up a /lot/ since you last left! Quite a lot. There's bunk beds," he added, turning back to the monitor and taking out his sonic. "Somewhere, I don't know where, but there are. "Bunk beds," he hummed, happily, and he shoved the sonic into an outlet on the console. It was not a cold dismissal, but she had very clearly been dismissed. 

Started with a Call // lost-rose-tyler + 11

His hands pulled back to his chest where he twisted them nervously. “Ah. Oh, I see.” He gulped, obviously unsure of himself now that he had his answer.  "Oh," he added, eloquently, before a sudden, excited burst. His brows shot up and he held his hands out to her. "Oh! I know this one!" Then he was right there, again, and he grabbed her, pulling her to him and patting her back with his fingers, and making tutting noises. "There, there. You have yourself a good cry. That’s what’s needed now." Oh, clever, old Mr. Carson! He’d never complain about Clara’s TV shows another day in his life!

*She took the opportunity he shifted back to nervously ponder over a proper reaction, to raise her first up and rub her eyes clear—It had been a year ago now…so she could control some of herself…A brow lifted again and she peered at him through her lashes and over her fist as he made a Eureka sounding ‘Oh!’ Only to have her eyes widen some as he bounced back right beside her again and yanked her frame to his-and pat her back… Honestly, she didn’t quite know what to do with this uncalculated reaction from him-but after standing there against him for a couple stunned moments-she let out a small bubbling, sniffily laugh. Lifting her arms she encircled the Doctor’s waist and turned her face into his jacket*

                        “Thank you, Doctor…Always there to save me. Even from myself it seems.”

Well. He pulled a face and looked down at her. That's not at all what Lady Mary had done. Still, his exceptional people relations seemed to have done the trick, at least. He didn't realize his hand was petting her hair; he noticed that it smelled good, and that he had missed her excessive fragrances. He lowered his head so that he could breathe her in, sorting through strawberries and tea and London, to find her. Just Rose. How his chest ached.  "Would you like to stay?" He froze the second the words were out. His head shot up and his hands flew to her shoulders, as if to push her away. He hadn't meant to say that. He'd been thinking it, of course, and his inner voice had been tormenting him: 'Ha! After everything you did do didn't do should have done! Don't you dare.' He hadn't meant to say them out loud, and now that he had, he wanted to run.  He held her shoulders, trying not to squeeze too hard; coward. Always a coward. Afraid of her answer. A no would break him and a yes? What would a yes do to him? What would she expect from him? Now? Were things different? Should they be? Would she want them to be? Did he? "Don't," he began and ended and begged.