Chapter Nine

She woke up slowly with the smell of dawn and linen. The Doctor was still sleeping; she could feel him breathe, slow, steady, and warm against her nape. She had kicked her chemise up around her waist, and his arm was flung loosely there, his palm soft against her belly. A girl could get used to this. She lay still, listening to the town come awake, wanting the moment to last just a little bit longer.

His breath hitched slightly, a word half on his lips. I wonder what he’s dreaming? Slowly, she moved her legs away, pulled out from under his arm, and slid out of the bed. He snorted, sighed and rolled over, snuggling into the blankets. She stood for a moment, tracing the fond smile on her lips with her fingertips. It was much better to leave him like this. The old him would have perhaps smirked sarcastically, made some comment about apes needing to sleep in a pile; that was how he’d kept anyone from getting too close. This new him? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t quite ready to find out.

This wasn’t her lover tucked up in bed, or even just her best mate; he was ancient and strange and wonderful. He frightened her and amazed her. He flirted and blushed, though Jack had assured her that he most definitely danced. And he had asked her, Rose Tyler from Powell Estates, shop girl, to come travel with him. He'd asked her three times.

With a shake of her head, she stepped into her skirt, pulled on her overvest and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her.

For once, there was no smell of baking bread. The cavernous kitchen was empty and the big ovens were cold. There was a smaller stove with banked coals, though, and Rose was able to get a few sticks burning well enough to heat a kettle. With a hot mug and a cold roll, she tucked herself into a padded rocking chair set by a small window and watched the sun come up.

It was moments like this, in the quiet, when everything seemed the most surreal. She could close her eyes and almost imagine she was on Earth, maybe sitting at some country inn, sipping tea, watching the sunrise. But this wasn’t the Sun, it was … a sun. This wasn’t Earth and these people were mostly human.

In fact, everyone that she had ever known was gone. It was hundreds of thousands of years in her future, and her mother, Mickey, Shireen and everyone she’d ever known were dead and gone to dust. Everyone except the Doctor.

Fingers suddenly fumbling, she reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out her phone. With a sigh, she pressed it to her cheek. If she called now, she’d only start blubbering and worry her Mum. Can’t have that. She’d wait until she’d had a chance to see the Doctor, see that ridiculous smile, hear that “Where next, Rose Tyler?” She’d call when she felt the walls of the TARDIS around her.

She was surprised that it still hit her, after all that she’d been through, all the places and the aliens and the two point seven near death experiences per week, but it did. She took a bite of roll and relaxed her head against the back of the chair, pushing off with her toes so that the chair rocked her gently as she chewed.

***

He awoke with a start, his hand reaching out and smacking into the bedside table. “Rose?” he muttered, swallowing the question before he’d really asked it because he knew that he was alone in the room. But he could smell her, a sleepy-Rose-smell, on the sheets, on the pillow.

On his skin.

He brought his right hand up and sniffed it experimentally. Yes, he’d definitely had this hand on Rose Tyler’s bare skin less than an hour ago. He let his eyes fall closed as he tried to bring memory into focus. He remembered being half-carried up the stairs, having most of his clothes hurriedly stripped off, and the feel of her palm holding his head as he was sick. And… and…

Damn.

With something like a growl, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and sat up, kicking at the sheet. One of his few chances for an innocent snuggle with Rose, and he’d missed it because he was sleeping. And because she’d woken first, he’d not even had the pleasure of watching her as she slept.

He allowed himself to mourn his lost opportunity for another thirty-seven seconds. With a mental tsk, he reached for his trousers. And sat for another twenty-two seconds, imagining that perhaps Rose had watched him as he slept. Well. That was almost as pleasant; not quite, but it would suffice.

She was still getting used to this him. And he really did give her credit for that. Remarkably adaptable, humans. Amazing species. He was quite, quite fond of the lot of them.

Take this offshoot, these amazing humans on this planet. Here, he – well, he and Rose, to be honest – had stripped them of their God, undermined the whole of their culture, and what did they do? They had dinner and went to bed.

He picked up his shirt and realized that it was fresh. Someone had laundered it. So, they’d had dinner, cleaned up after his sick, done a bit of laundry, and then went to bed. Amazing. Utterly insane, the whole, brilliant species. He bent down for his plimsolls and shoved his feet into them. That was the thing about Humans, one never had to worry about them; they just kept going and going, loving and killing, dying and living, so fantastically alive that it made one’s hearts ache.

He raked his hands through his hair and gave it up as a bad job. Well, the sight of him would bring a smile to Rose’s face, and that was worth a little loss of dignity to him this morning. “Allonz-y!” he muttered to himself, pushing the door open. “Tea, breakfast and Rose Tyler await!”

***

She was thinking that perhaps she’d go up and check on him when he breezed into the kitchen. The smile that lit his eyes was checked at the sight of Pym sitting at the end of the table, glumly sipping his morning tea. “Yes,” he muttered. “Well.”

“Good morning.” Rose gestured with her mug. “Kettle’s on, and there’s some day olds there on the counter.”

She played a little guessing game with herself and smiled when he pulled out the big, gooey one with all the caramel and nuts. Not much of a challenge. The old him would’ve gone for the currant scone. A sudden pang of longing flared and she could see him, right there, all dark and smelling of leather. Daft old face.

She buried herself in her mug, but when he plopped down in the chair across from her, she looked up directly into his eyes. He knew. He knew, so she let him see and he gave her a small smile, still me, and she nodded, suddenly happy, yes. A stiffness that she hadn’t even noticed until it was gone left his shoulders and he grinned. “Oh,” she giggled, “look at your hair.”

Pym snorted at that and the Doctor raised a brow. “Mr. Pym,” he said lightly, “I think you must be dead.”

“Yes. I suppose so. Though they’ll know you escaped with the shuttle.”

The Doctor licked at a thread of caramel that was oozing down the side of his hand. “Mmm. Yes.” He studied Pym, eyes narrowed. “We will leave for the Shadow Proclamation in an hours’ time. Don’t wander off.”

Pym looked away and swallowed. “Alright.”

Gella stepped into the kitchen in a dressing gown, her hair falling thickly down her back. “Oh! How wonderful it is to sleep in! I think I will never wake before dawn, again.”

The Doctor raised his mug to her. “Nor should you!” He swiveled toward her, “Gella, please join us. I’d like a word, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“On your way? Just like that?”

The words were lightly spoken, but Rose could feel dark currents move, more worrisome words left unsaid. Gella sat beside the Doctor and stirred honey into her tea.

“Oh, you Humans! You’ll do wonderfully!” He smiled at Gella and nudged her lightly with his elbow. “Six impossible things before breakfast, that’s you lot.” He quirked an eyebrow at Rose, “I should take you to see Charles; fascinating man.” He turned to Gella again. “Everything will be different. And you! Gella! You still have so much living left to do!”

Gella’s eyes lit and her lips pressed together. “I have been thinking..”

The Doctor leaned toward her, “Yes?”

“Well, we must get word out of what has happened.  I thought we might travel about, Alvie an' me, telling the story of the Flame and the Angels,” she tipped her head toward Pym. “Tell them all about his lot.”

Rose thought that the Doctor might just evaporate with delight. “Why, yes! That’s just the ticket!”

“If you could come with me, Doctor, just this first time, when I tell the Reverend our story.” She waved her hand through the air, “So he knows that I’m not some crazed old woman.”

“Gella,” the Doctor laid his palm over the woman’s work-worn hand. “Please believe me when I tell you that you are not old. Not even close.”

“So, will you come with me, with us, Alvie and me?”

"Wait," Rose smiled, "you want them to think you're not crazy?"

The Doctor sniffed austerly at Rose and then turned a beaming smile on Gella.  “I will certainly accompany you.  As you said, you must spread the word.” He leaned back in his chair and considered her. “You are living on a new world, Gella. Everything will change.” He shook his head, “Weell, already changed, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

Gella’s eyes lit and her lips pulled into a fierce grin. “Yes.”

***

“Oh, Mum, you should have seen it! All the town gathered while Gella told the story, and then, to back her up, me an’ the Doctor and that git Pym piled into the Tardis and off we went! The look on that minister’s face!

An’ then, well, we dropped Pym off at the … at the copper’s, yeah? The Shadow Proclamation, they’re called.

Now? Well, I don’t rightly know. But I’ll call you… Yeah, I know, I’ll be careful…. ‘bye, Mum! I love you!”

She was standing at the Console, still wearing the skirt and overvest. With a frown, she pulled the neckline of her chemise away and sniffed. “Oi! A shower for me!”

The Doctor was slouched in the jumpseat, feet wedged between Rose and the monitor. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yep.”

Rose snorted and he blinked, “Oh, that is, well,” his feet hit the floor and he raked his fingers though his hair, “I suppose we both could use a bit of a clean up and a sandwich?”

“Right." She decided to let him off the hook, and grinned.  "Gella left us with a big crock of that hummus-like stuff, and those things that taste like plums… meet you in the kitchen in a bit?”  He looks tired.  “And then… Doctor, would you mind … could we just stay in tonight? Maybe light a fire in the library?”

“You wouldn’t be bored?”

“No! I think that would be … nice.”

“Well,” he tugged an ear, looking away. “I could perhaps dig up some Lewis Carroll. Do you, that is, would you like to hear a bit?”

“Yeah,” she peeked at him from under her lashes, suddenly shy. “You readin’ to me? That’d be nice.”

“Alright.” He nodded, eyes going dark and then looking away. “Yes, well, off we go! Showers all ‘round!” He stood and bounced out of the control room. “Sandwiches, tea and Jabberwocky!”

the end