SPOILERS: The End of Time, Part II
CHARACTERS: Ten, 10.5, Rose, Donna, The Beatles
RATING: This chapter is PG - that's pretty steamy by my standards.
NOTE: I've been having a lot of trouble with LJ cuts lately. If this one doesn't work, please let me know.
CREDITS: Thanks to unfolded73 for the icon. And Yoko Ono (who probably owns it now) for the title.
Here he was, warm and breathing and wonderfully, physically human next to her. This was their moment, and she wasn’t having any interruptions, thanks all the same. “I’m really here,” she told him, covering his face with kisses. “It’s me. It’s all right, Doctor. You’re safe. You’re home.”
All Rose and Ten want now is a little bit of private time...
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullabye
Post-regenerative healing comas could last anything from a few minutes to several days, the human Doctor had warned her. After such a traumatic regeneration, recovery might be prolonged. He’d feel cold, confused, giddy, disorientated. He might look like death warmed up – so she was ready for his shredded suit. And they’d brought a bed into the TARDIS, because that was the safest place for him to be until things settled down.
In the end it had all been remarkably low-key, Rose reflected as she lay beside him, watching his regular breathing as he slipped into unconsciousness. Her Doctor had gone into the trance state he used for trying to connect with his double and the only words he’d spoken before golden light began to pulse around him were, “He doesn’t want to go.”
That didn’t surprise her. Her Tenth Doctor had never wanted to let go of anything without a fight. Why should this life be any different? He was a survivor through and through, raging against the indignity of death even as his life had become less and less rewarding. They had known, from the fragments of his consciousness they’d managed to pick up, that he was disintegrating, mentally and emotionally, ever since they had sensed him disrupting a fixed point in time.
“Can’t you see?” her own Doctor had insisted. “This isn’t selfish. You’re not replacing me. You’re healing something that could pull the universe apart if it isn’t sorted out. He’s taken all the darkness into his own soul and it’s destroying him. It’s only his sheer stubbornness that’s kept him straight this far.”
She hadn’t wanted to think about it, the image of the man she still loved sinking into the dangerous depths of despair. But, as her Doctor had pointed out, the Doctor she had known had died, straight after the Dalek bolt had fried his body. Only his willpower had kept him in his present form, the determination to salvage something from the wreckage that would bring her, he hoped, lasting happiness.
“And there’s one thing that’ll protect him,” he’d explained. “He acted out of love. It’s not that different from what you did, taking the Vortex into yourself.” (Oh yes, there were a lot of things this Doctor had explained – he had far fewer hang-ups). “That’s why you managed to survive it without becoming a vengeful God. And he manipulated the same forces – not quite such powerful ones – but enough to destroy him and a lot more besides, if it hadn’t been for that.”
“So how can we help him? He won’t even let us in!” she’d protested. “We could make it so much easier for him…"
The Doctor had sighed deeply. “He can’t bear to keep getting glimpses of our happiness together. And we are happy, aren’t we?” He didn’t say it rhetorically, or even in a way that made her feel emotionally pressured into giving him a certain answer. Besides, it was true, they were happy. They had a nice life together – a life that most people in their world, including her mother, would have said was more than good enough. Time to settle down, to make do.
But they weren’t the settling type, either of them. They had always wanted to do the impossible. The Doctor she lived with now was only half the man she loved – the better half, but human enough to understand that she could never be content while the other suffered alone.
So it had begun, the plan to wait for his regeneration and build up enough psychic energy to make him whole again. The Doctor had explained that your past regenerations never completely died, but remained in your matrix of consciousness, ageing alongside you as humans did, occasionally popping in for a visit if your mental barriers were down and your needs demanded it. What they had to do was to steer the Doctor’s transforming soul in the direction of home. If that remained undone, he might regenerate in the other universe with no outward sign of anything being wrong, but his dark shadow would not dissipate as it should.
It had taken two years, but finally the night had come. They had one last meal together and then moved solemnly into their TARDIS and begun their vigil.
“I’ll never forget you,” she told her human Doctor, fighting back her tears.
He smiled. “You won’t have to. I’ll be right there beside you.”
And now he was. It was no hardship to her, having to lie beside him, even in slumber, looking at his ravaged, weary face and torn clothing, when it was in her power to make him whole again. Perhaps she even slept a while herself – her last few nights had been restless, filled with strange images of the Doctor with a gun in his hand, or broken and bleeding on a marble floor, or curled up in agony as lethal radiation flooded his body. Images made all the more horrible by lack of context, her inability to piece together the sequence of events involved.
When she woke again, the Doctor in bed beside her was still sleeping, but she could hear a gentle knocking on the door of her consciousness. She’d learned a lot about psychic transfer in the last two years, and she knew who was on the doorstep, as it were
You okay? she began.
- Yep. Bumpy landing, though. But I did the right thing coming over when I did. He’d have been on his own.
That’s what we were worried about. And he went back to see me?
- He did. It all happened on the Powell Estate, but the arton energy wave blasted us right into orbit. We just crash-landed. Could be anywhere.
What’s the new one like?
- Oh, you know. Arms, legs, feet down below his knees. I hope he’s handy with a paintbrush, ‘cos the poor old TARDIS is an absolute wreck.…
And is he…
- Ginger? No, just sort of brown. Maybe it’s for the best.
So, how long you gonna stick around there?
- Just until he finds somebody else. How’s Donna?
- Oi, I’m not deaf and dumb, you know. And what do you mean, still not ginger? You having a go, or something? Ginger kids need role models! I’ve a good mind to complain to the BBC about you!
Oh, don’t start! I didn’t mean it like that!
Rose smiled. She could almost see the “Now what have I done?” expression on his face.
But then, her own Doctor stirred. He really did seem to be waking up properly this time. Gotta go, she said, breaking the connection. And you two – show a bit of sensitivity – right? We might be needing some – um – private time.
If a psychic pout was possible, she received one as the mental Doctor withdrew.
So, back to reality. Whatever passed as reality in the Doctor’s crazy existence. Not that she was complaining. Here he was, warm and breathing and wonderfully, physically human next to her. This was their moment, and she wasn’t having any interruptions, thanks all the same.
“I’m really here,” she told him, covering his face with kisses. “It’s me. It’s all right, Doctor. You’re safe. You’re home.”
He blinked open his eyes and she saw that he was beginning to believe her. “That’s the last thing you said to me. Get on home…”
“I know,” she gulped. “Had a dream. You came back, didn’t you, right at the end, back to the Estate before I’d ever met you? And that was when we knew. I’d been dreaming every night – about you going round and seeing everybody. Sarah Jane, Martha and Mickey, some woman in a bookshop.” Emotion overcame her and she had to stop. “And when you got to me, that’s when he said we’d better come in here and wait for you. Because if it wasn’t right before the end, you’d never do anything that dangerous.”
“I stayed in the shadows,” he sighed. “Didn’t want you to recognise me.”
She stroked his cheek. “It wasn’t like the other dreams. I knew it had really happened, all that time ago and tonight at the same time. He said my memories were being remade. And we came in here and started singing you home. He’d taught me how to do it.”
“You sang me home?” His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his reaction to that; she saw that he hadn’t had anybody with him – really with him – for a long time. Just the thought of someone’s caring was enough to unman him.
“We used to do that back on Gallifrey. It was an honour, to attend somebody and sing them in to their next life. You can carry away the loss of the old, and that gives them strength to adjust to the new.” And he swallowed hard again. “It’s so much harder on your own.”
“You’re not on your own now. You don’t have to be ever again.”
He looked very fragile, not at all like his old bouncy self as he turned his head away from her and a silent tear rolled down his cheek. “Oh Rose,” he said, in a very small voice.
Cradling his head against her, she murmured, “I’m here, Doctor. I’m here.”
His face twisted in regret. “I keep doing this too you, don’t I? Changing and making you start all over again, just when you could be happy. Believe me when I tell you, I'd never do you any harm.”
“I could never be totally happy without you. And now I don’t have to be. Got you both, haven’t I, back in the same body, like it should be.”
His hand tightened around hers and he swallowed hard. “I so much wanted you to be happy. Really happy. Not just making do.”
“Then you shouldn’t have left me.” She stopped and sat up straight. “No, that’s not fair. We were happy, but he never felt he was complete. That’s why we didn’t get married. ‘Cause it was like we were waiting, waiting for the right time to come. We just had to go on believing it would, and we’d know.”
“He’s gone,” he repeated, his voice filled with remorse.
“No, you daft git!” She laughed and squashed him against her. “You’re two halves of one person. And if you hadn’t kept shutting us out of your mind, we could’ve had this settled long ago.”
“You were having some private times,” he said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She saw a shyness in his expression, a tentative beginning of hope – the hope that this could be real. “I wasn’t going to intrude.”
“ ‘s was the only way we could be close to you,” she said. And then she broke into a smile. “ ‘Til now.”
He simply lay there for a moment, drinking it all in – her face, her hair, her presence before his eyes. “I’ve only got one heart,” he said, at last. “It’s weird. If I ever stop breathing, you’ll have to remind me…”
“Shut up,” she ordered him gently, and bent to give him a kiss. Moving closer still, she added, "Think it might be time to unzip those trousers, Doctor?"
"Hmm." He rolled over onto his back and watched the duvet tenting itself, apparently intrigued by this unexpected development. "Rose Tyler, I assume you're asking me, will my love grow? I don't know. I don't know. You stick around and it may show..."
"Hey!" she interrupted, getting increasingly irritated. "You can talk about the day you jammed with George Harrison some other time."
"Aww, but I'm sure I never mentioned helping John out when he got busted in 1968. Happy days. My working-class hero phase. And Paul, well, I asked him out for a drink but he complained that I never carried any money, just funny paper. Always was a bit of a skinflint, was Paul..."
"Right!" said Rose, grabbing his zipper. "Full stern ahead, I'm going in. Before you start on Ringo."
"Oh what joy, for every girl and boy..."
"Stop singing!" Having released him, she got to work on his mouth.
“Long time, no see,” she said, softly, rubbing her tongue against his lips with a quiet giggle.
His Adams Apple pulsed in the middle of his pale throat. “Get this tie off me,” he gasped, “before I suffocate!"
Willingly, she obliged. A shudder of longing convulsed her as she slipped her fingertips under the collar of his shirt and circled his throat to loosen the knot. And there it was, off at last and in her hand. She pulled his hands together and wound it around her wrists.
“No funny business,” she told him, in mocking severity. “You’re mine now, all mine, the both of you.”
“Oh Rose. I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad.” She saw quite clearly what was happening to him – he wasn’t (yet he was) the first Time Lord she’d seen wake up beside her in a human body. A pulse of arousal went through his cock, hoisting up his eyebrows with it, and he had to bite hard on his lip to control himself.
He needed help. “Get these trousers off me. Is this what it’s like, for a human? It’s so fast. Why didn’t anybody tell me? So, so…oh, oh, OHH…”
She released him. "Oh yeah! All right!" he whooped. Then he practically tore off her loose top with his teeth, his eyebrows rising in a little arc of surprise and pleasure as he realised was in her nightclothes. With a growl, and one fast, deft movement, he sat up and pinned her beneath her. “Here I come!” he announced. He shook off his shirt and jacket in seconds; she wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do that and she didn’t care.
“Come here!” he demanded, with a huge smile, as he pulled her up into a hug. “Oh Rose, Rose Tyler, you are amazing!”
“You think this is amazing? Wait until I get my pants off!” she challenged him.
“Well, if you need any help…”
“Oh yes! Yes, please.”
“Arr!” he growled, as he contorted his lips into shapes she couldn’t begin to name and began to work on her breasts, as if he expected them to be full of banana milkshake and he’d every intention of drinking them dry. “Arr, oh yes, arrr, oh, this is a bit one-sided, isn’t it?”
“You’ve only got one mouth,” she pointed out.
“But I’ve two very versatile hands. And I intend to use them.” And use them he immediately did, one cupping her breast as his eyes twinkled over her face, and the other somewhere even more stimulating.
She arched her back and screamed in release. “Oh. My. God. How did you do that?”
“Just the same way as I always did. Not something I’d be likely to forget. In fact, I could do it twice if you like…”
“Oh yes. God, yes!” And he obliged, bringing her to a shuddering climax.
“Come here, you!” she demanded, pulling him inside her while she still had enough left to give.
He came in a rush and sank against her body, breathless and spent. She felt his cock shrink inside her and tilted her pelvis upward, holding onto him, wanting to relish every second of reunion.
“Why did you shout ‘Piss Off!’ when you came?” she asked him.
“Oh – um – er. Well, we’re a competitive lot, us Time Lords. He just asked rather a personal question.”
“He’s been watching us? I’ll bloody kill him!” Rose cried indignantly.
“Yep.” He poked at his eyes. “Marks out of ten were mentioned. Donna gave me 8.5. Personally I think it was at least…Ow, what did I do to deserve that?”
“Sorry,” Rose said, her hand still stinging a little where it had briefly connected with his cheek. “Just the Donna in me coming out.”
“Can’t complain. There was plenty coming out of me just then.”
“And you’re human now.” Her eyes twinkled at him as she watched the implications of that play across his face.
“Ah, yes. Bugger.”
She laughed and pulled him towards her again. “ ‘S okay. I’m on the Pill."
- Current Mood: amused
- Current Music:Abbey Road