fic: you, appearing [eleven/rose]
you, appearing. eleven/rose. pg. romance/angst. They dance for a while, the music guiding them along the dance floor. She never looks down once - he guides her perfectly. She can see his eyes, these beautiful seafoam green eyes, so sad and so old and looking straight into her soul. 1491 words.
Her mother insists on throwing some sort of old-fashioned masked ball, and Rose really doesn't want any of it. She's given up on dresses and trying to impress people she doesn't need or want to show off for. She's done with trying to please her mother when all she wants to do is tinker around in the Torchwood labs. And she doesn't want to feel the pangs of something greater than nostalgia when everyone arrives in their old-fashioned costumes and masks, only making her remember times when the dresses weren't old-fashioned.
She knows if she went she'd only be a drag. She'd wear something modern and totally incongruous with the rest of the setting out of spite for the entire idea. And she certainly wouldn't dance - she realized long ago that there was only one man she would dance with.
She's ready to go back to the lab to focus on the dimension cannon - she's so close, she can just feel it - when her mother stops her on the way out the door.
"Rose Marion Tyler, where are you going?"
Rose rolls her eyes and turns around. "To the lab." She suppresses the urge to lecture her mother about the fact that she's not fifteen any more.
"No, you're not. My party stars in an hour and you're going to be there," Jackie insists, folding her arms. "You've been working obsessively on that thing for nearly a year and you need to take a break."
"Fine, I will, but not now!" Rose protests. "I'm so, so close, mum!"
Her mother sighs and shakes her head. "You're breaking my heart, dear. I don't...I don't think you're gonna see him again."
Rose's eye widen. "Don't you ever say that," she snaps. Jackie jumps back slightly, and the look on her face makes Rose's stomach drop.
"Fine," her mother says, unnervingly calm. She turns around and starts to leave the room.
"Mum, wait," Rose says, reaching out for her mother. "I'll...I'll go to your party for a little bit."
She can see her mother try to suppress a grin and failing badly at it. "Oh, that's wonderful, Rose! I have the perfect dress all picked out for you."
Rose shakes her head, a small smile on her face as her mother enthusiastically drags her out of the room.
The dress is perfect. The violet color of the vintage fabric makes her heart ache with longing and memories. Her shoes are painful, but she's sitting down anyhow and doesn't want to ruin the perfect image of the outfit - for just once, she wants to allow herself to remember, just a little.
She's been asked to dance a few times, always rejecting the offers. She doesn't even offer up an excuse such as, "My shoes are too tight," or, "I'm really very tired, but thank you." She simply shakes her head and says, "No, thank you." Her mother glares at her from across the room.
She's taken another sip of her drink and is prepared to slip off her binding shoes and go to the lab when she feels a hand press against hers. She's shocked for a moment, and looks up at whoever is now holding her hand.
He's tall, and young - she thinks. He's wearing a white mask that covers his upper face. His jaw is square and his lips are curved into a appreciative smile.
"Hello, there," he says, leaning down to kiss her hand. "I was wondering if you would do the honor of dancing with me."
She doesn't want to accept. She doesn't want to dance with any other man but her Doctor. But this man in front of her, his face obscured by a mask, his lips curled up in a knowing smile, all young and fresh and obviously jubilant - he makes her want to dance.
(I'm so sorry, she thinks.)
The moment she stands up and he puts his hand on her waist she knows that there's something different about this. About them. He's still smiling, but it's sadder now, and smaller.
They dance for a while, the music guiding them along the dance floor. She never looks down once - he guides her perfectly. She can see his eyes, these beautiful seafoam green eyes, so sad and so old and looking straight into her soul.
They twirl around, the world around them blurring and fading away. Her breath catches in her throat. This all feels so right and familiar - her violet dress, his smile. She intertwines his fingers with his.
"Who are you?" she whispers, voice cracking. She feels something in the pit of her stomach that travels down to her thighs and falls to the floor.
"Oh, no one," he answers, his smile back, full and loving. "I just wanted to dance with prettiest girl in the room."
She can feel her cheeks flush, a pounding sensation near her eyes. She's unsure whether she's blushing because of the compliment or because for once she's actually hoping. She doesn't dare think the thought that's pervading her mind, because the dance will be over soon and she knows that as soon as it's over, he will no longer be there, holding her hand, staring into her eyes.
"I just stopped by to...to see you," he says, keeping his voice level and ambiguous - but she can hear the years behind his mask of youth. The tone that's so familiar and so jarring and so unbelievably lovely.
"You came back," she says, tears burning her eyes.
He doesn't say anything, but neither does he remove his eyes from hers. She can feel his grip on her waist tighten, nearly possessive.
"I missed you," she chokes out.
He nods, but still says nothing.
"You changed."
He smiles. "Just a bit."
With that she stops dancing and flings her arms around his neck, digging her face into his shoulder. She doesn't care that everyone is staring at her, or that her mother is about to come over, or that her feet are bleeding from the horrid shoes. She just feels his arms tighten around her as he holds her up and can feel the beat of both of his hearts against her chest.
The tears begin to flow and she wants him to hold her forever. She wants to keep her promise, to be with him always, to never let him go. To feel the beats of his hearts, to hold his hand, to see his smile.
The slow, sweet waltz, a solo violin crying out into the room grows silent. The song ends. She sniffs as she uses all of her willpower to take her face from his shoulder and look in his eyes again.
His arms are still around her waist. She looks up at him, and slowly reaches up, removing the white mask. She can see his entire face - it's so young and gentle, but she looks into his eyes and she can see that he is the same man she always knew.
She knows her makeup is smudged and she can feel the hot tears meeting at her chin.
"Did you come back for me?" she chokes out.
He pauses, mouth opening and closing. "I came back to see you," he finally whispers.
She breaks eye contact as she tries to hold back a sob.
"Rose!"
She quickly looks back, out of instinct, to see the worried face of her mother.
She turns back, hoping to hold on to her Doctor as long as she possibly can. But the moment she looks back, he's no longer there. Her heart feels like it's going to sink all the way through her. She didn't even feel him leaving, removing his arms from around her waist, his stare breaking from her.
"Rose!" her mother calls again.
She ignores her mother and the stares of a hundred people and runs out of the room, not caring that her shoes are cutting into her feet. She sprints, holding up her skirts, out the ballroom and into the hall and she breaks through the front doors, feeling the cold air on her hot cheeks.
She desperately runs down the steps, falling out of her heels - a princess in a dark fairytale.
She trips over her violet skirts and falls down a step. She knows he isn't there, that's he's left, and when she hears the noise of the TARDIS she knows that he isn't coming back.
She's shaking with sobs and burying her face in her gloved hands. Her hair is falling out of its updo and she knows that she looks like a total wreck but she can't seem to bring herself to care.
"I'm coming for you," she manages to whisper. "Like you came back for me."
She spends the rest of the night crying, and she can't tell whether it's from heartbreak or happiness. She decides that it all feels the same.