Dreams
He came to her in her dreams.
The first time, he looked as surprised as she. It was real, as real as anything that she'd ever tasted or touched.
When it happened again, she whooped with pleasure while he stood there, looking surprised and then intrigued. As the days and nights passed, she longed for sleep, cherished it, dove into it. Mum was getting worried, but she told her that she was just tired. "Haven't I been through enough? Don't I deserve a little rest?" And Jackie had nodded and felt her forhead and agreed that a little bit of rest would be alright.
It felt so good to slip between the soft sheets and not care about a thing, just slide down into sleep and think, "Doctor, here I am. Doctor. Come to me!"
“You mustn’t sleep so much, Rose.” His face was sad as he ran his fingertips over her brow and down her temple. “It’s not good for you.” Those eyes, the color and shape had changed, but the eyes never did; his eyes searched her face and he smiled. “You're so full of life! You should be out there, living and laughing. Loving…”
She needed to understand why this dream was not just a dream. “Why.... how ...it's...a part of you was in my head, and I ... I was there with you.”
“Cassandra,” he nodded. “She pulled us back and forth, like a goldfish jumping from one fish bowl to another; a bit of “water” came along for the ride.”
“I can see you when I sleep.” Rose reached out and took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I can hear you.” With a soft squeeze, she brought his fingers to her face, rubbing them against her cheek, “…touch you.” His fingers were cool on her skin.
She watched him as her fingers twined with his, watched his mouth soften, his eyes grow large and dark. “If you didn’t want me, too,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t come.”
Slowly, he dropped to his knees beside the bed, bringing his face close to hers. “Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully. We cannot do this.” His lips pursed, biting back something, and he blew out a breath. “I've seen this, Rose! It's… like a drug, yeah? It’s not real! You'll sleep more and more, and grow thin and wasted. Your skin will turn dull and your hair will fade…” His eyes swam, and he blinked. “I… I can’t let that happen, Rose. I can’t.”
“Well, then,” her voice was barely a whisper. “What’s to do? Because I can’t let you go yet.” She narrowed her eyes and raised her chin. “I can’t.”
He blinked at her stubbornness and his free hand came up and touched her on the point of her chin. “Weeelll,” his voice was soft and a grin flashed across his face, “look at that! Rose Tyler with her chin raised in defiance!” He shook his head admiringly. “That’s more like it.”
In a bounce, he was up and on the bed next to her, nose to nose. “Hmm,” with idle fingers, he took a tress of her hair and swept it over his lips, “a plan…a plan.” He nibbled the hair and then pushed it out with the tip of his tongue. “We need a plan; can’t have you sleeping yourself to death, and can’t have you…” he smiled at her again, one side of his mouth lifting up, “can’t have you heartbroken.”
“No,” Rose agreed, “can’t have that.”
“Right!” He rolled onto his back and tucked his hands under his head, so that Rose had to scramble away or be hit in the nose with an elbow. “Hmm...” After he settled, Rose lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. He brought his arm down absently, hugging her close. “Right,” the Doctor nodded in sudden decision. “First, some ground rules.” His hand rubbed up and down the smoothness of her arm. “You have to know -- and I mean really know -- deep down in your heart that this isn’t real.” He turned to look at her, so close that their lips almost touched. “You have to convince me,” his voice gentled, “so that I know that you know that this isn’t real.”
“I can do that.”
“Fantastic!” He turned his contemplative gaze back to the ceiling. “Secondly, there has to be limits. You can’t keep calling on me. I … I won’t come.”
She didn’t believe him, but she nodded. “Yeah, alright, limits.” She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of limits?”
“Oh, I dunno… ah, why don’t we start with once a week?” He frowned up at the ceiling and nodded. “Once a week.”
Once a week… Rose swallowed. “Once a week. I… yeah. I can do that.”
“And..” he was getting into it now, excited by the possibilities, “I want to hear all about what you’re doing. You have such … potential, Rose.” He turned toward her again, laying a hand on her cheek and pushing his fingers through her hair. “You’re quick as mercury, and bright as sunlight on water. And,” he leaned into her and brushed a kiss her onto the forehead, “your heart can hold all of the world.”
He was so close. Rose closed her eyes, reached out and stroked his temple. “I don’t want the world.”
As her fingertips traced down his sharp cheekbone, he became very still. She stroked her fingers down the softness of his neck, down his shoulder, across the small of his back, and felt his muscles loosen. His breath came out in a long, warm sigh. She glanced up at him from under her lashes and watched his eyes softly close.
They lay pressed together for just a moment, eyes closed, breathing in each other's breath. With a start, he shook himself, blinking into her face. “Once a week.” Slowly, he pulled away, rolling on his back again, stretching himself out on the bed, hands behind his head.
Rose curled up, facing him, watching him as he studied the ceiling. Like a drug. Yeah. “Doctor,” she smiled, a slow, relaxed smile, “tell me a story, will you?”
He turned his head, and the darkness that had been gathering there blew away. “A story?” He propped his head on his palm. “A story, eh? Rose! That’s a fantastic idea!" His smile beamed. "Brilliant! A story. Hmm, yes, well,” he tapped his front tooth with a fingertip, “where to start…”
Rose cuddled up in the blankets and sighed.
(end)
The first time, he looked as surprised as she. It was real, as real as anything that she'd ever tasted or touched.
When it happened again, she whooped with pleasure while he stood there, looking surprised and then intrigued. As the days and nights passed, she longed for sleep, cherished it, dove into it. Mum was getting worried, but she told her that she was just tired. "Haven't I been through enough? Don't I deserve a little rest?" And Jackie had nodded and felt her forhead and agreed that a little bit of rest would be alright.
It felt so good to slip between the soft sheets and not care about a thing, just slide down into sleep and think, "Doctor, here I am. Doctor. Come to me!"
“You mustn’t sleep so much, Rose.” His face was sad as he ran his fingertips over her brow and down her temple. “It’s not good for you.” Those eyes, the color and shape had changed, but the eyes never did; his eyes searched her face and he smiled. “You're so full of life! You should be out there, living and laughing. Loving…”
She needed to understand why this dream was not just a dream. “Why.... how ...it's...a part of you was in my head, and I ... I was there with you.”
“Cassandra,” he nodded. “She pulled us back and forth, like a goldfish jumping from one fish bowl to another; a bit of “water” came along for the ride.”
“I can see you when I sleep.” Rose reached out and took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I can hear you.” With a soft squeeze, she brought his fingers to her face, rubbing them against her cheek, “…touch you.” His fingers were cool on her skin.
She watched him as her fingers twined with his, watched his mouth soften, his eyes grow large and dark. “If you didn’t want me, too,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t come.”
Slowly, he dropped to his knees beside the bed, bringing his face close to hers. “Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully. We cannot do this.” His lips pursed, biting back something, and he blew out a breath. “I've seen this, Rose! It's… like a drug, yeah? It’s not real! You'll sleep more and more, and grow thin and wasted. Your skin will turn dull and your hair will fade…” His eyes swam, and he blinked. “I… I can’t let that happen, Rose. I can’t.”
“Well, then,” her voice was barely a whisper. “What’s to do? Because I can’t let you go yet.” She narrowed her eyes and raised her chin. “I can’t.”
He blinked at her stubbornness and his free hand came up and touched her on the point of her chin. “Weeelll,” his voice was soft and a grin flashed across his face, “look at that! Rose Tyler with her chin raised in defiance!” He shook his head admiringly. “That’s more like it.”
In a bounce, he was up and on the bed next to her, nose to nose. “Hmm,” with idle fingers, he took a tress of her hair and swept it over his lips, “a plan…a plan.” He nibbled the hair and then pushed it out with the tip of his tongue. “We need a plan; can’t have you sleeping yourself to death, and can’t have you…” he smiled at her again, one side of his mouth lifting up, “can’t have you heartbroken.”
“No,” Rose agreed, “can’t have that.”
“Right!” He rolled onto his back and tucked his hands under his head, so that Rose had to scramble away or be hit in the nose with an elbow. “Hmm...” After he settled, Rose lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. He brought his arm down absently, hugging her close. “Right,” the Doctor nodded in sudden decision. “First, some ground rules.” His hand rubbed up and down the smoothness of her arm. “You have to know -- and I mean really know -- deep down in your heart that this isn’t real.” He turned to look at her, so close that their lips almost touched. “You have to convince me,” his voice gentled, “so that I know that you know that this isn’t real.”
“I can do that.”
“Fantastic!” He turned his contemplative gaze back to the ceiling. “Secondly, there has to be limits. You can’t keep calling on me. I … I won’t come.”
She didn’t believe him, but she nodded. “Yeah, alright, limits.” She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of limits?”
“Oh, I dunno… ah, why don’t we start with once a week?” He frowned up at the ceiling and nodded. “Once a week.”
Once a week… Rose swallowed. “Once a week. I… yeah. I can do that.”
“And..” he was getting into it now, excited by the possibilities, “I want to hear all about what you’re doing. You have such … potential, Rose.” He turned toward her again, laying a hand on her cheek and pushing his fingers through her hair. “You’re quick as mercury, and bright as sunlight on water. And,” he leaned into her and brushed a kiss her onto the forehead, “your heart can hold all of the world.”
He was so close. Rose closed her eyes, reached out and stroked his temple. “I don’t want the world.”
As her fingertips traced down his sharp cheekbone, he became very still. She stroked her fingers down the softness of his neck, down his shoulder, across the small of his back, and felt his muscles loosen. His breath came out in a long, warm sigh. She glanced up at him from under her lashes and watched his eyes softly close.
They lay pressed together for just a moment, eyes closed, breathing in each other's breath. With a start, he shook himself, blinking into her face. “Once a week.” Slowly, he pulled away, rolling on his back again, stretching himself out on the bed, hands behind his head.
Rose curled up, facing him, watching him as he studied the ceiling. Like a drug. Yeah. “Doctor,” she smiled, a slow, relaxed smile, “tell me a story, will you?”
He turned his head, and the darkness that had been gathering there blew away. “A story?” He propped his head on his palm. “A story, eh? Rose! That’s a fantastic idea!" His smile beamed. "Brilliant! A story. Hmm, yes, well,” he tapped his front tooth with a fingertip, “where to start…”
Rose cuddled up in the blankets and sighed.
(end)