Don't Blink -44/?
Title: Don't Blink - 44/?
Characters: Ten, Rose
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor? How would they get back to their proper time? Would they want to?
Rating: PG
Beta: nattieb
1~ 2~ 3~ 4~ 5~ 6~ 7~ 8~ 9~ 10~ 11~ 12~ 13~ 14~ 15~ 16~ 17~ 18~ 19~ 20~
21~ 22~ 23~ 24~ 25~ 26~ 27~ 28~ 29~ 30~ 31~ 32~ 33~ 34~ 35~ 36 37~ 38~ 39~ 40~ 41~ 42~ 43~
Rose stared up at the large house, taking in the weathered stone, garland at the doors and windows, and smoke emerging from all the chimneys. There was not a single sign of the building’s true function apart from a discreet sign by the door that read Forth Hall.
“This must have been a beautiful house. I can’t believe it’s been turned into a banquet hall.”
The Doctor took her hand and helped her up the steps. “Many old families eventually die out. Or lose all their money.” He pushed open the massive wooden doors and ushered her inside. They stepped into a hallway with a black and white checkered marble floor. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling and there were fresh red and white flowers in crystal vases on all the surfaces.
“This is gorgeous!” Rose said in awe. “Oh! Look at the portraits!” She pointed to the wall opposite, which was hung with two portraits. One was of a man, the other of a woman, both in what she thought was Regency-era clothing.
The Doctor moved closer and squinted at the portraits, putting his glasses on to do so. Then he looked around at the walls and the wide wooden staircase curving up to the next floor.
“Do you know,” he said in a surprised voice, “I think I’ve been here before.”
“Yeah?” Rose asked absently, looking all around.
“I’m pretty sure I played cards here with the Prince of Wales back in 1805.” He bent down to peer at the wainscoting lining the walls. “I won twelve guineas that night playing faro.”
“You don’t say.” Rose wasn’t really listening.
Her tone of voice made it clear she wasn’t that interested. The Doctor put his glasses away. “Anyway! That’s all in the past now. Obviously. Those are the former owners of the house,” he couldn’t help adding, gesturing to the portraits. “Lord and Lady Forthright. It’s a shame what happened to them.”
He paused, clearly baiting Rose to ask what had happened. She was considering it, just to make him happy, when they heard footsteps on the marble floor. A man was walking toward them, holding a glass of clear liquid in one hand and a smoking cigar in the other. He looked delighted to see them.
“Smith! Decided to come after all, eh?”
“Hello, Roger! Here we are. This is Rose. Rose, Roger.”
Rose smiled at the older man. He was wearing a staid blue suit with a tie patterned with bright red bells, an incongruous combination. With his grey hair he might almost have been a slender Father Christmas, if not for the fat cigar he was puffing on as he looked at Rose.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And you, my dear. And you. You’re even lovelier than your photograph. Go right on into the ballroom. Festivities are underway and the champagne is flowing! I’m just off to, er, see to business.” He gave them both a nod and continued walking down the hallway, where a discreet sign pointed to the washrooms.
“He seems nice,” Rose commented, eyeing the cigar smoke that followed him down the hall. She wondered where he would put the cigar while he used the washroom.
“Yes. A bit pompous sometimes, but harmless.” They came upon the coat closet, and the Doctor reluctantly removed his coat and hung it up. He was wearing his brown suit for the occasion. “Rose?”
She let him help her take her coat off and watched as he carefully hung it up beside his own.
“Yes?”
The Doctor paused to admire her. She was wearing a dark red dress with elbow-length sleeves, a boat-neck top and a full skirt that fell to her knees. It was demure and classic, and even though he privately preferred her in the bright colors and short skirts she used to favor, he thought she was stunning. Her blonde hair was twisted up and away from her face, showing off the dark red drops in her ears.
“I really just want to show you off,” the Doctor confided. “You’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
“What do you mean, ‘sure’? You’re gorgeous.” He offered her his arm.
She took his arm and smiled up at him. “Thanks. And you are looking very handsome.” She patted the lapel of his jacket for emphasis.
She could have sworn he blushed, just a bit.
The party was being held in the home’s former ballroom. People stood about in small groups, chatting and laughing. In one corner was a bar of shining mahogany, staffed by smiling men in black tie. In another corner was a small band of twelve musicians, playing Christmas songs and classical melodies. Tables marched along one wall, covered with bright white cloths and silver trays of food. Smaller round tables covered with the same white cloth were placed around the edges of the dance floor. Some had people seated at them, drinking and eating.
Rose was surprised by the number of people. “Is this just your department? I didn’t think it was this big.”
“I think other departments added themselves,” he admitted. “Cheaper on the fees to go in all together. Once the other chairs caught wind of it, it was rather hard to stop them. I suppose no one wanted another boring holiday party in the staff lounge.”
“Well, the more the merrier, right?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s just hope the English department is better versed than the scientists at having a good time. Otherwise things will be a bit dull.”
Rose touched a pretty potted plant as they walked to the bar. “Will I meet everyone you work with, then?”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, most of them. Some have already left town for the holidays.” There was an odd note in his voice that Rose didn’t recognize. She turned her head to look at him quizzically, but at that moment they reached the bar and the Doctor was already smiling at the closest bartender. “A soda water, please. Rose?”
“Just a Coke, thanks,” she said, and accepted a glass.
They stood together, sipping their drinks and looking around.
“I had my doubts about this one,” Rose admitted, “but it looks like it might be fun.” She gestured to the dance floor, where a young girl in hot pink was dancing with a man whose sideburns were even longer than the Doctor’s.
The Doctor grinned at her. “Fancy a spin around the dance floor?”
“As soon as I eat something. I’m starving!”
He set his glass down quickly. “I’ll get you a plate.” He moved off in the direction of the food. Rose was irresistibly drawn to the music and took a step closer to the band.
“Hello! I don’t think we’ve met. Are you one of the secretaries?”
Not for the first time, Rose wished that the woman’s movement would hurry up and set itself into motion. Before arriving in this time period she’d never once been mistaken for office help. She fixed a smile on her face and turned to look at the man speaking to her. He was young and clearly had had too much to drink, but his smile was friendly enough. Rose pegged him as one of the more trendy types. His suit had wide lapels and his sideburns were long, and his hair was much shaggier than the older men milling about the room.
“No,” she stated firmly. “No, I’m not.”
“What, from the typing pool, then?”
She stared at the man with a mixture of outrage and amazement. “I’m a guest,” she said coldly. The tone of her voice was something she had picked up from Iris to express extreme displeasure. She was very glad to use it now.
His grin grew larger. “Yeah? Who are you with? Someone I can pry you away from, I hope.”
Really, men were just unbelievable in this time! Did he think all he had to do was smile at her and she’d leave with him? “I’m Rose Tyler,” she responded, biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude.
He looked thoughtful, then confused. “I don’t know any Tylers.” Rose began to suspect he’d had a bit too much to drink.
“Don’t be an idiot, Jerry,” someone said sharply, elbowing him out of the way. “Didn’t you see her with Smith just now?”
“Oh! Smith!” It dawned on Jerry and he looked alarmed. “I say, you won’t mention this to him, will you? He’s always spoken of you like, that is...” His voice trailed off as he considered what the Doctor might do.
“Smith would have his hide if he knew you were being bothered,” the second man finished for him. “Go away, Jerry. Stay away from the bar.”
“Yes, yes I will,” Jerry said in relief, and hurried off.
Rose scowled after him before turning to smile at her rescuer. “Thanks. He wasn’t exactly taking a hint.”
“You’re welcome. He’s harmless, but sometimes he puts his foot in his mouth and can’t get it out again.” He held out his hand. “Ian Chesterton.”
She held out her own. “I’m Rose.”
“I must apologize for my young colleague. He’s a product of his time, and the men of today aren’t always as courteous as they ought to be.”
Rose smiled wryly. “I know that all too well,” she said ruefully, recalling various catcalls and rude comments she’d heard on the streets of London.
“In any case, I am glad to make your acquaintance. Your Smith doesn’t like to talk, but I have seen the snap of you that he keeps on his desk.”
“He doesn’t like to talk?” Rose echoed. Were they talking about the same man?
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than two sentences, but he’s a good chap. Not that I need to tell you, eh?”
Rose looked around the room until she found the Doctor. He was facing her on the other side of the room, holding a plate and carrying on a conversation with a man wearing a dark green suit that Rose suspected was velvet. He looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself, so instead of scowling at him when he met her glance, she only smiled and gave a tiny wave. He smiled back, but as he looked at her his expression changed, going from happy to...Rose didn’t know what it was. Shock? Unease?
She nodded encouragingly to show that she was just fine on her own. He smiled back, but he still looked unsettled. As he turned to answer something his companion said, Rose resolved to find out what was wrong the next time they spoke. Having decided on that, she turned her attention back to Ian.
“He has his moments,” she admitted.
“Of course I’m sure he’s a different fellow when he’s not teaching,” Ian allowed. “Have you met Henry and Tom?”
With an enviable ease, Ian steered her towards some of his colleagues, and they were welcomed into the circle of scientists, English literature professors and their spouses.
It was nice just to listen to the conversation. Everyone was in a jovial mood and for once she did not feel inadequate because of her lack of education. Rose nodded occasionally but her attention was caught by a woman standing in another group of people a few feet away. She was an attractive brunette with hair pulled back in a French twist. She wore a simple black dress and pearls, but it was her manner that Rose found fascinating. In one hand the woman held a glass from which she occasionally sipped. The expression on her face was impassive, and occasionally she would smile. Rose was wondering who the woman was when she heard her own name.
“Sorry?” she asked, turning back to the rest of the group.
“We were just asking saying what a shame you hadn’t found a flat in Cambridge yet,” said the man who’d introduced himself as Henry. “It’s such a long commute for your husband.” Henry was in his forties and wearing a dark suit that did not quite button over his stomach.
“You ought to try harder to get out of London,” Henry’s wife added from his elbow. She was as plump as her husband, but her dress fit her better than his suit fit him.
“We like London,” Rose replied.
“Well, of course you do,” Henry’s wife said with a tone of condescension that Rose instantly took exception to. “But really, with your husband at the university and you at home, you might as well be closer to Cambridge.”
“Oh, I have a job in London,” Rose corrected her. “I had it before the, before he came to Cambridge.”
It was as if she’d confessed to being a kicker of puppies. The group around her grew quiet as they all gazed at her. With a sigh, Rose recalled that this was most likely a conservative bunch who thought a woman’s place was in the home.
“Well, it’s not like they have any children yet,” a man muttered finally. “I suppose it keeps her busy.”
Rose’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to issue a blistering comeback, but someone beat her to it.
“Mrs. Smith is entitled to do as she pleases without our input,” someone from the English department said, albeit with a hint of disapproval. “Smith isn’t exactly the most conventional chap, is he?”
“Tyler,” Rose said before she could stop herself. “My name is Tyler.”
More shocked looks, and this time people looked uncomfortable. Rose was really anxious for the women’s movement to kick in.
“Honestly, for educated men and women you are all being very close-minded.” The attractive brunette had joined them, and she laughed as she shook her head at them. “There is so much more to life than the word you know.” She smiled at Rose. “I for one am pleased to meet a woman with outside interests.”
There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence as they stared at the newcomer, and then everyone made excuses and started to drift away. Rose thought one of the men muttered, “Of course she would think so.” as he left.
The brunette’s face briefly creased with annoyance before she looked back at Rose. “You mustn’t mind them. Old women, the lot of them.”
Rose laughed, so grateful to have met someone who didn’t think she was a freak of nature.
“Thanks. I hope I didn’t make things harder for the...for them. Or my husband.” She added the last part hesitantly, and only because that seemed to be the assumption of everyone she’d met. She still wasn’t sure whether he knew that they were supposed to be married.
“Don’t worry about them.” Ian smiled at Rose and proceeded to slide his arm around the brunette’s waist. “Where have you been hiding, my dear?” he asked, bending down to kiss the brunette’s cheek.
“Just listening to all the gossip,” she said lightly.
“Where are my manners? This is my wife, Barbara,” Ian said to Rose. “This is Rose Smith. Er, Tyler.”
“Hello.” Ian’s wife smiled a kind smile and shook Rose’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Rose said truthfully.
“Have you mentioned a Mr. Smith to me?” Barbara asked her husband.
“In passing, I’m sure. He’s the quiet one.”
Barbara nodded in recognition and Rose was left to frown in confusion. Surely there were two Smiths in the department? There didn’t seem to be a smooth way to ask that, though, and they were joined by more of Ian’s colleagues before she could think of a way to frame her words.
As the men spoke Barbara turned to Rose. “You really mustn’t let others make you feel wrong for your choices. I know it isn’t easy these days. I myself am one of those professional women, you know. I’ve taken a sabbatical for the year, but I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be a woman in the workforce.”
“Are you espousing unpopular beliefs again?” Ian asked lightly.
Barbara shrugged easily. “Every chance I get. Some people can’t see progress when it’s getting ready to slap them in the face.”
“It shouldn’t be this difficult for women to do what they want,” Rose complained. “Honestly, sometimes it’s like we’re living in the dark ages!” She bit her lip as she realized what she was saying. She knew what the future was like- this woman only knew this time and place, and while times were changing, they weren’t changing very fast.
Ian and Barbara shared a quick, amused glance.
“Times have changed since then,” Ian agreed with a small grin. “But we’ll just carry on and wait for the rest of the world to catch up to us.”
“There you are, Rose.” The Doctor came over and took her hand. “What have you been doing?” He glanced quickly at her companions and then away again.
“Hello, Smith! I’ve been chatting with your Rose. Allow me to introduce my wife.”
“Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Barbara.”
He stared at her with is mouth slightly open. Rose didn’t blame him - Barbara’s dark features were beautiful. “Yes,” the Doctor said. “Yes. Yes. Ian’s wife. Of course.” He took her hand and shook it before dropping his hand away, his eyes briefly meeting hers and then sliding away.
“Ian has spoken of you a few times.” Barbara gave him a friendly smile.
“Yes. He’s a good man,” the Doctor said automatically.
“I wish I could say the same,” Rose said reproachfully. “I’ve heard many of the names tonight, but I don’t think he’s ever mentioned Ian.”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “There are so many things going on at work,” he muttered. “I thought you were out of town this week and next?” he asked Ian, his voice pitched just slightly higher than usual.
“Our plans have changed,” Ian replied. “The in-laws decided to come to us, instead, and insisted we come out for a few hours.”
“Our son is cutting a few new teeth, and we knew that travel with him would be awful,” Barbara said. She turned to Rose. “He’s seven months.”
Rose nodded. “I’ve heard that can be painful. What’s his name?”
Barbara smiled. “John.” She opened up her pocketbook and handed Rose a picture. It was a black and white snap of an infant.
“He’s gorgeous,” Rose said.
“Thank you.” Barbara put her picture away.
“He’s a very handsome boy,” Ian agreed. “And one that is hopefully fast asleep. Shall we dance, my dear, while we can?”
“Oh, yes! I hope to see you again soon, Rose. Nice meeting you,” Barbara said over her shoulder as Ian ushered her away.
The Doctor let out a deep breath as they walked away.
Rose looked at him in puzzlement. He hadn’t been overly friendly, he hadn’t been rude. He’d just been...weird.
“Do you get along with him?” she asked.
He started. “With Ian? Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“He said - ” She shook her head. “No reason. Would you dance with me?”
His face lit up with a grin. “I’d love to.”
She thought about asking him if they were meant to be a married couple to his colleagues. But it felt so nice to feel his arms wrapped around her as they swayed to the music, so she decided to leave it for another time.
The Doctor held Rose close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. How long had he wanted to do exactly this and never found the courage to do it? What an idiot he’d been. For a brilliant man he could be quite thick sometimes.
Rose snuggled in closer. A strange, unfamiliar feeling stole over him. He thought it was happiness.
It wasn’t often Rose had free time lately. Christmas was just ten days away, and she was at the shop more often than she was home. The Doctor saw her off to work on Saturday morning and spent his free time planning out the afternoon. He ran out to pick up a few items for dinner once he’d seen her safely inside the shop. He thought he’d beat her back home, but he was distracted by all the Christmas decorations and gift possibilities, and he arrived back at the flat to find her seated at the kitchen table.
“You’re back!” he said happily, dumping his shopping bag on the counter. Tins spilled out haphazardly, and he caught an apple before it spun off onto the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I only stared for an hour to make sure the holiday help had things under control. I’m writing out Christmas cards.”
He stared at Rose in utter confusion. “What?”
She held up a bright red piece of paper. “Christmas cards! I’m sending out our Christmas greetings!”
“You’re sending out...to who?” he asked in amazement.
“To everyone! Billy and Jeff, and Iris. Nancy, of course! And look!” She waved another card at him, and the Doctor stepped closer to take it. “It’s from Kathy Costello. Sally Sparrow’s friend, remember?”
“Kathy,” he echoed, opening it up. “Of course. Kathy from Hull.” Kathy had written a friendly greeting to them, asking them to keep in touch and enjoy their stay in the past.
“People send out Christmas cards all the time. I thought it’d be fun.” She handed him one that she’d already filled out. She’d signed it “Love, Rose and the Doctor.” He stared at their names together for a long moment.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rose said when he didn’t respond. “It’s all really, really domestic, and I know you hate that, but -”
“I love it,” he interrupted her.
“You do?” Her voice rose in surprise.
“Yeah. I do.” He gave her a slow smile, one that lit up his face but also made him look shy and very young. “I do.”
The look in his eye made her stomach do a pleasant little flip. “Good.”
“Let’s finish these up,” he suggested. “I’m making you dinner and then we’re going out.”
“We are? Where?”
“Just a walk. A walk through the snow.” The Doctor stood up and began moving pots and pans about.
“A walk through the snow?” she repeated.
“A walk through the snow. Is that alright?”
It was sweet and romantic and the loveliest thing she’d ever heard.
“It’s sounds wonderful,” Rose told him. “I can’t wait.”
That Christmas morning was a time Rose would never forget. Her childhood with Jackie had called for modest gifts, time with family, and usually some argument breaking out among the adults. The last time she’d had so much fun was the Christmas dinner they’d spent with Jackie and Mickey after defeating the Sycorax. The Doctor had been a brand new man, younger and handsome and happy, and she hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glances at him.
It was even better today, because they’d come so far from that Christmas.
The Doctor couldn’t wait for her to wake up. “Rose! Father Christmas came!”
She rolled over in bed and opened one sleepy eye. “What?”
“It’s Christmas! Come on!” He knelt beside her and pulled the covers off, urging her up.
She groaned but stood up, blearily accepting his help in tying the belt to her pink fuzzy dressing gown. The Doctor was wearing the pajama pants and long-sleeved shirt he’d put on after their walk last night, and he looked as well-rested as always.
“What time is it?” she mumbled as he ushered her out of the room.
“Morning,” he said evasively. “Here’s some tea!”
“Oh, thank you,” she murmured gratefully, and happily sat down on the sofa while she watched the Doctor turn the Christmas lights on.
“That’s better,” he said in satisfaction.
Together they looked around the room. Lights were strung up along the wall, and a very short strand of them was wrapped around the Christmas tree. The little plastic angel wobbled on top, and a small stack of wrapped parcels sat on the floor beneath the tree. Fastened to the top of the television, hanging down over the screen, were their Christmas stockings, a red one for Rose and a blue one for the Doctor. She’d filled his with sweets the night before. She saw chocolates and what looked like lipsticks and nail varnish in her own.
“Here you are.” The Doctor dropped a package in Rose’s lap. It was covered in shiny red paper and topped with a lopsided green bow. “Happy Christmas.”
“Thank you.” She set aside her tea and opened it to find a hat, scarf and mittens set in bright red. “This is so pretty!” She put the hat on her head. “And so soft!”
“It’s cashmere,” he explained. “I know how cold it gets in the morning. I want you to be nice and warm.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I love it.” She leaned forward and kissed him. In response he wrapped the scarf around her neck while she laughed.
There were other gifts, from him and from her, but Rose grew more and more anxious until they’d unwrapped the last one.
“I have one more thing for you,” she said, biting her lip.
He looked around the room, which was now covered in paper. “You couldn’t possibly.”
That made her laugh. “Just one more! Well. I say one more. Maybe two or three more. Wait right there!” She nipped out of the room as he sat there, wearing the brightly striped scarf she’d gotten him after he’d mentioned having one a long, long time ago.
She came back into the room carrying a large white box. He immediately jumped up and took it from her.
“You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy,” he said reproachfully. “How did you get this home?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that heavy. Set it down and open it.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” she smiled, and wiggled in anticipation.
He threw her a look of amusement, but set the box on the floor, undid the red bow, and lifted the lid. After sifting through several layers of tissue paper, he came upon a piece of fabric.
“Did you buy me a flag?” he wanted to know, lifting it out of the box. As he unfurled it, the amusement left his face. He silently took in the brown material with the thin blue stripes, the blue lining, the buttons. He looked from the jacket to Rose, a question in his eyes.
“Yours isn’t going to last forever. You’ve been worrying about what the cleaning is doing to it, so...I thought I’d order you another suit. It’s copied on yours, exactly! The tailor did a great job, don’t you think? It took six weeks just to find the right material.” He continued to gaze at the jacket. Rose took a deep breath. “I ordered two of the brown ones. And I picked out one more. It’s on the bottom.”
He set down the jacket and rummaged through the box, coming out with a blue jacket. There was a thin red stripe running through it, and the lining was red.
“That was my choice,” Rose continued on, feeling more nervous by the moment. “I thought some red trainers would look - Doctor, say something!” she finally burst out.
He set down the suit jacket and looked up at her with shining eyes.
“Rose. I love them. Thank you so much.”
She let out her breath in relief. “You do?”
He quickly got to his feet to gather her up in a hug. “They’re wonderful. I love them. I love you,” he said fiercely into her hair. “I don’t deserve you, Rose, not at all.”
She clung to him, content to let him kiss her mouth, her hair, her neck.
“You do,” she whispered. “You do.”
Forty-five
Characters: Ten, Rose
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor? How would they get back to their proper time? Would they want to?
Rating: PG
Beta: nattieb
1~ 2~ 3~ 4~ 5~ 6~ 7~ 8~ 9~ 10~ 11~ 12~ 13~ 14~ 15~ 16~ 17~ 18~ 19~ 20~
21~ 22~ 23~ 24~ 25~ 26~ 27~ 28~ 29~ 30~ 31~ 32~ 33~ 34~ 35~ 36 37~ 38~ 39~ 40~ 41~ 42~ 43~
Rose stared up at the large house, taking in the weathered stone, garland at the doors and windows, and smoke emerging from all the chimneys. There was not a single sign of the building’s true function apart from a discreet sign by the door that read Forth Hall.
“This must have been a beautiful house. I can’t believe it’s been turned into a banquet hall.”
The Doctor took her hand and helped her up the steps. “Many old families eventually die out. Or lose all their money.” He pushed open the massive wooden doors and ushered her inside. They stepped into a hallway with a black and white checkered marble floor. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling and there were fresh red and white flowers in crystal vases on all the surfaces.
“This is gorgeous!” Rose said in awe. “Oh! Look at the portraits!” She pointed to the wall opposite, which was hung with two portraits. One was of a man, the other of a woman, both in what she thought was Regency-era clothing.
The Doctor moved closer and squinted at the portraits, putting his glasses on to do so. Then he looked around at the walls and the wide wooden staircase curving up to the next floor.
“Do you know,” he said in a surprised voice, “I think I’ve been here before.”
“Yeah?” Rose asked absently, looking all around.
“I’m pretty sure I played cards here with the Prince of Wales back in 1805.” He bent down to peer at the wainscoting lining the walls. “I won twelve guineas that night playing faro.”
“You don’t say.” Rose wasn’t really listening.
Her tone of voice made it clear she wasn’t that interested. The Doctor put his glasses away. “Anyway! That’s all in the past now. Obviously. Those are the former owners of the house,” he couldn’t help adding, gesturing to the portraits. “Lord and Lady Forthright. It’s a shame what happened to them.”
He paused, clearly baiting Rose to ask what had happened. She was considering it, just to make him happy, when they heard footsteps on the marble floor. A man was walking toward them, holding a glass of clear liquid in one hand and a smoking cigar in the other. He looked delighted to see them.
“Smith! Decided to come after all, eh?”
“Hello, Roger! Here we are. This is Rose. Rose, Roger.”
Rose smiled at the older man. He was wearing a staid blue suit with a tie patterned with bright red bells, an incongruous combination. With his grey hair he might almost have been a slender Father Christmas, if not for the fat cigar he was puffing on as he looked at Rose.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And you, my dear. And you. You’re even lovelier than your photograph. Go right on into the ballroom. Festivities are underway and the champagne is flowing! I’m just off to, er, see to business.” He gave them both a nod and continued walking down the hallway, where a discreet sign pointed to the washrooms.
“He seems nice,” Rose commented, eyeing the cigar smoke that followed him down the hall. She wondered where he would put the cigar while he used the washroom.
“Yes. A bit pompous sometimes, but harmless.” They came upon the coat closet, and the Doctor reluctantly removed his coat and hung it up. He was wearing his brown suit for the occasion. “Rose?”
She let him help her take her coat off and watched as he carefully hung it up beside his own.
“Yes?”
The Doctor paused to admire her. She was wearing a dark red dress with elbow-length sleeves, a boat-neck top and a full skirt that fell to her knees. It was demure and classic, and even though he privately preferred her in the bright colors and short skirts she used to favor, he thought she was stunning. Her blonde hair was twisted up and away from her face, showing off the dark red drops in her ears.
“I really just want to show you off,” the Doctor confided. “You’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
“What do you mean, ‘sure’? You’re gorgeous.” He offered her his arm.
She took his arm and smiled up at him. “Thanks. And you are looking very handsome.” She patted the lapel of his jacket for emphasis.
She could have sworn he blushed, just a bit.
The party was being held in the home’s former ballroom. People stood about in small groups, chatting and laughing. In one corner was a bar of shining mahogany, staffed by smiling men in black tie. In another corner was a small band of twelve musicians, playing Christmas songs and classical melodies. Tables marched along one wall, covered with bright white cloths and silver trays of food. Smaller round tables covered with the same white cloth were placed around the edges of the dance floor. Some had people seated at them, drinking and eating.
Rose was surprised by the number of people. “Is this just your department? I didn’t think it was this big.”
“I think other departments added themselves,” he admitted. “Cheaper on the fees to go in all together. Once the other chairs caught wind of it, it was rather hard to stop them. I suppose no one wanted another boring holiday party in the staff lounge.”
“Well, the more the merrier, right?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s just hope the English department is better versed than the scientists at having a good time. Otherwise things will be a bit dull.”
Rose touched a pretty potted plant as they walked to the bar. “Will I meet everyone you work with, then?”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, most of them. Some have already left town for the holidays.” There was an odd note in his voice that Rose didn’t recognize. She turned her head to look at him quizzically, but at that moment they reached the bar and the Doctor was already smiling at the closest bartender. “A soda water, please. Rose?”
“Just a Coke, thanks,” she said, and accepted a glass.
They stood together, sipping their drinks and looking around.
“I had my doubts about this one,” Rose admitted, “but it looks like it might be fun.” She gestured to the dance floor, where a young girl in hot pink was dancing with a man whose sideburns were even longer than the Doctor’s.
The Doctor grinned at her. “Fancy a spin around the dance floor?”
“As soon as I eat something. I’m starving!”
He set his glass down quickly. “I’ll get you a plate.” He moved off in the direction of the food. Rose was irresistibly drawn to the music and took a step closer to the band.
“Hello! I don’t think we’ve met. Are you one of the secretaries?”
Not for the first time, Rose wished that the woman’s movement would hurry up and set itself into motion. Before arriving in this time period she’d never once been mistaken for office help. She fixed a smile on her face and turned to look at the man speaking to her. He was young and clearly had had too much to drink, but his smile was friendly enough. Rose pegged him as one of the more trendy types. His suit had wide lapels and his sideburns were long, and his hair was much shaggier than the older men milling about the room.
“No,” she stated firmly. “No, I’m not.”
“What, from the typing pool, then?”
She stared at the man with a mixture of outrage and amazement. “I’m a guest,” she said coldly. The tone of her voice was something she had picked up from Iris to express extreme displeasure. She was very glad to use it now.
His grin grew larger. “Yeah? Who are you with? Someone I can pry you away from, I hope.”
Really, men were just unbelievable in this time! Did he think all he had to do was smile at her and she’d leave with him? “I’m Rose Tyler,” she responded, biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude.
He looked thoughtful, then confused. “I don’t know any Tylers.” Rose began to suspect he’d had a bit too much to drink.
“Don’t be an idiot, Jerry,” someone said sharply, elbowing him out of the way. “Didn’t you see her with Smith just now?”
“Oh! Smith!” It dawned on Jerry and he looked alarmed. “I say, you won’t mention this to him, will you? He’s always spoken of you like, that is...” His voice trailed off as he considered what the Doctor might do.
“Smith would have his hide if he knew you were being bothered,” the second man finished for him. “Go away, Jerry. Stay away from the bar.”
“Yes, yes I will,” Jerry said in relief, and hurried off.
Rose scowled after him before turning to smile at her rescuer. “Thanks. He wasn’t exactly taking a hint.”
“You’re welcome. He’s harmless, but sometimes he puts his foot in his mouth and can’t get it out again.” He held out his hand. “Ian Chesterton.”
She held out her own. “I’m Rose.”
“I must apologize for my young colleague. He’s a product of his time, and the men of today aren’t always as courteous as they ought to be.”
Rose smiled wryly. “I know that all too well,” she said ruefully, recalling various catcalls and rude comments she’d heard on the streets of London.
“In any case, I am glad to make your acquaintance. Your Smith doesn’t like to talk, but I have seen the snap of you that he keeps on his desk.”
“He doesn’t like to talk?” Rose echoed. Were they talking about the same man?
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than two sentences, but he’s a good chap. Not that I need to tell you, eh?”
Rose looked around the room until she found the Doctor. He was facing her on the other side of the room, holding a plate and carrying on a conversation with a man wearing a dark green suit that Rose suspected was velvet. He looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself, so instead of scowling at him when he met her glance, she only smiled and gave a tiny wave. He smiled back, but as he looked at her his expression changed, going from happy to...Rose didn’t know what it was. Shock? Unease?
She nodded encouragingly to show that she was just fine on her own. He smiled back, but he still looked unsettled. As he turned to answer something his companion said, Rose resolved to find out what was wrong the next time they spoke. Having decided on that, she turned her attention back to Ian.
“He has his moments,” she admitted.
“Of course I’m sure he’s a different fellow when he’s not teaching,” Ian allowed. “Have you met Henry and Tom?”
With an enviable ease, Ian steered her towards some of his colleagues, and they were welcomed into the circle of scientists, English literature professors and their spouses.
It was nice just to listen to the conversation. Everyone was in a jovial mood and for once she did not feel inadequate because of her lack of education. Rose nodded occasionally but her attention was caught by a woman standing in another group of people a few feet away. She was an attractive brunette with hair pulled back in a French twist. She wore a simple black dress and pearls, but it was her manner that Rose found fascinating. In one hand the woman held a glass from which she occasionally sipped. The expression on her face was impassive, and occasionally she would smile. Rose was wondering who the woman was when she heard her own name.
“Sorry?” she asked, turning back to the rest of the group.
“We were just asking saying what a shame you hadn’t found a flat in Cambridge yet,” said the man who’d introduced himself as Henry. “It’s such a long commute for your husband.” Henry was in his forties and wearing a dark suit that did not quite button over his stomach.
“You ought to try harder to get out of London,” Henry’s wife added from his elbow. She was as plump as her husband, but her dress fit her better than his suit fit him.
“We like London,” Rose replied.
“Well, of course you do,” Henry’s wife said with a tone of condescension that Rose instantly took exception to. “But really, with your husband at the university and you at home, you might as well be closer to Cambridge.”
“Oh, I have a job in London,” Rose corrected her. “I had it before the, before he came to Cambridge.”
It was as if she’d confessed to being a kicker of puppies. The group around her grew quiet as they all gazed at her. With a sigh, Rose recalled that this was most likely a conservative bunch who thought a woman’s place was in the home.
“Well, it’s not like they have any children yet,” a man muttered finally. “I suppose it keeps her busy.”
Rose’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to issue a blistering comeback, but someone beat her to it.
“Mrs. Smith is entitled to do as she pleases without our input,” someone from the English department said, albeit with a hint of disapproval. “Smith isn’t exactly the most conventional chap, is he?”
“Tyler,” Rose said before she could stop herself. “My name is Tyler.”
More shocked looks, and this time people looked uncomfortable. Rose was really anxious for the women’s movement to kick in.
“Honestly, for educated men and women you are all being very close-minded.” The attractive brunette had joined them, and she laughed as she shook her head at them. “There is so much more to life than the word you know.” She smiled at Rose. “I for one am pleased to meet a woman with outside interests.”
There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence as they stared at the newcomer, and then everyone made excuses and started to drift away. Rose thought one of the men muttered, “Of course she would think so.” as he left.
The brunette’s face briefly creased with annoyance before she looked back at Rose. “You mustn’t mind them. Old women, the lot of them.”
Rose laughed, so grateful to have met someone who didn’t think she was a freak of nature.
“Thanks. I hope I didn’t make things harder for the...for them. Or my husband.” She added the last part hesitantly, and only because that seemed to be the assumption of everyone she’d met. She still wasn’t sure whether he knew that they were supposed to be married.
“Don’t worry about them.” Ian smiled at Rose and proceeded to slide his arm around the brunette’s waist. “Where have you been hiding, my dear?” he asked, bending down to kiss the brunette’s cheek.
“Just listening to all the gossip,” she said lightly.
“Where are my manners? This is my wife, Barbara,” Ian said to Rose. “This is Rose Smith. Er, Tyler.”
“Hello.” Ian’s wife smiled a kind smile and shook Rose’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Rose said truthfully.
“Have you mentioned a Mr. Smith to me?” Barbara asked her husband.
“In passing, I’m sure. He’s the quiet one.”
Barbara nodded in recognition and Rose was left to frown in confusion. Surely there were two Smiths in the department? There didn’t seem to be a smooth way to ask that, though, and they were joined by more of Ian’s colleagues before she could think of a way to frame her words.
As the men spoke Barbara turned to Rose. “You really mustn’t let others make you feel wrong for your choices. I know it isn’t easy these days. I myself am one of those professional women, you know. I’ve taken a sabbatical for the year, but I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be a woman in the workforce.”
“Are you espousing unpopular beliefs again?” Ian asked lightly.
Barbara shrugged easily. “Every chance I get. Some people can’t see progress when it’s getting ready to slap them in the face.”
“It shouldn’t be this difficult for women to do what they want,” Rose complained. “Honestly, sometimes it’s like we’re living in the dark ages!” She bit her lip as she realized what she was saying. She knew what the future was like- this woman only knew this time and place, and while times were changing, they weren’t changing very fast.
Ian and Barbara shared a quick, amused glance.
“Times have changed since then,” Ian agreed with a small grin. “But we’ll just carry on and wait for the rest of the world to catch up to us.”
“There you are, Rose.” The Doctor came over and took her hand. “What have you been doing?” He glanced quickly at her companions and then away again.
“Hello, Smith! I’ve been chatting with your Rose. Allow me to introduce my wife.”
“Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Barbara.”
He stared at her with is mouth slightly open. Rose didn’t blame him - Barbara’s dark features were beautiful. “Yes,” the Doctor said. “Yes. Yes. Ian’s wife. Of course.” He took her hand and shook it before dropping his hand away, his eyes briefly meeting hers and then sliding away.
“Ian has spoken of you a few times.” Barbara gave him a friendly smile.
“Yes. He’s a good man,” the Doctor said automatically.
“I wish I could say the same,” Rose said reproachfully. “I’ve heard many of the names tonight, but I don’t think he’s ever mentioned Ian.”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “There are so many things going on at work,” he muttered. “I thought you were out of town this week and next?” he asked Ian, his voice pitched just slightly higher than usual.
“Our plans have changed,” Ian replied. “The in-laws decided to come to us, instead, and insisted we come out for a few hours.”
“Our son is cutting a few new teeth, and we knew that travel with him would be awful,” Barbara said. She turned to Rose. “He’s seven months.”
Rose nodded. “I’ve heard that can be painful. What’s his name?”
Barbara smiled. “John.” She opened up her pocketbook and handed Rose a picture. It was a black and white snap of an infant.
“He’s gorgeous,” Rose said.
“Thank you.” Barbara put her picture away.
“He’s a very handsome boy,” Ian agreed. “And one that is hopefully fast asleep. Shall we dance, my dear, while we can?”
“Oh, yes! I hope to see you again soon, Rose. Nice meeting you,” Barbara said over her shoulder as Ian ushered her away.
The Doctor let out a deep breath as they walked away.
Rose looked at him in puzzlement. He hadn’t been overly friendly, he hadn’t been rude. He’d just been...weird.
“Do you get along with him?” she asked.
He started. “With Ian? Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“He said - ” She shook her head. “No reason. Would you dance with me?”
His face lit up with a grin. “I’d love to.”
She thought about asking him if they were meant to be a married couple to his colleagues. But it felt so nice to feel his arms wrapped around her as they swayed to the music, so she decided to leave it for another time.
The Doctor held Rose close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. How long had he wanted to do exactly this and never found the courage to do it? What an idiot he’d been. For a brilliant man he could be quite thick sometimes.
Rose snuggled in closer. A strange, unfamiliar feeling stole over him. He thought it was happiness.
It wasn’t often Rose had free time lately. Christmas was just ten days away, and she was at the shop more often than she was home. The Doctor saw her off to work on Saturday morning and spent his free time planning out the afternoon. He ran out to pick up a few items for dinner once he’d seen her safely inside the shop. He thought he’d beat her back home, but he was distracted by all the Christmas decorations and gift possibilities, and he arrived back at the flat to find her seated at the kitchen table.
“You’re back!” he said happily, dumping his shopping bag on the counter. Tins spilled out haphazardly, and he caught an apple before it spun off onto the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I only stared for an hour to make sure the holiday help had things under control. I’m writing out Christmas cards.”
He stared at Rose in utter confusion. “What?”
She held up a bright red piece of paper. “Christmas cards! I’m sending out our Christmas greetings!”
“You’re sending out...to who?” he asked in amazement.
“To everyone! Billy and Jeff, and Iris. Nancy, of course! And look!” She waved another card at him, and the Doctor stepped closer to take it. “It’s from Kathy Costello. Sally Sparrow’s friend, remember?”
“Kathy,” he echoed, opening it up. “Of course. Kathy from Hull.” Kathy had written a friendly greeting to them, asking them to keep in touch and enjoy their stay in the past.
“People send out Christmas cards all the time. I thought it’d be fun.” She handed him one that she’d already filled out. She’d signed it “Love, Rose and the Doctor.” He stared at their names together for a long moment.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rose said when he didn’t respond. “It’s all really, really domestic, and I know you hate that, but -”
“I love it,” he interrupted her.
“You do?” Her voice rose in surprise.
“Yeah. I do.” He gave her a slow smile, one that lit up his face but also made him look shy and very young. “I do.”
The look in his eye made her stomach do a pleasant little flip. “Good.”
“Let’s finish these up,” he suggested. “I’m making you dinner and then we’re going out.”
“We are? Where?”
“Just a walk. A walk through the snow.” The Doctor stood up and began moving pots and pans about.
“A walk through the snow?” she repeated.
“A walk through the snow. Is that alright?”
It was sweet and romantic and the loveliest thing she’d ever heard.
“It’s sounds wonderful,” Rose told him. “I can’t wait.”
That Christmas morning was a time Rose would never forget. Her childhood with Jackie had called for modest gifts, time with family, and usually some argument breaking out among the adults. The last time she’d had so much fun was the Christmas dinner they’d spent with Jackie and Mickey after defeating the Sycorax. The Doctor had been a brand new man, younger and handsome and happy, and she hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glances at him.
It was even better today, because they’d come so far from that Christmas.
The Doctor couldn’t wait for her to wake up. “Rose! Father Christmas came!”
She rolled over in bed and opened one sleepy eye. “What?”
“It’s Christmas! Come on!” He knelt beside her and pulled the covers off, urging her up.
She groaned but stood up, blearily accepting his help in tying the belt to her pink fuzzy dressing gown. The Doctor was wearing the pajama pants and long-sleeved shirt he’d put on after their walk last night, and he looked as well-rested as always.
“What time is it?” she mumbled as he ushered her out of the room.
“Morning,” he said evasively. “Here’s some tea!”
“Oh, thank you,” she murmured gratefully, and happily sat down on the sofa while she watched the Doctor turn the Christmas lights on.
“That’s better,” he said in satisfaction.
Together they looked around the room. Lights were strung up along the wall, and a very short strand of them was wrapped around the Christmas tree. The little plastic angel wobbled on top, and a small stack of wrapped parcels sat on the floor beneath the tree. Fastened to the top of the television, hanging down over the screen, were their Christmas stockings, a red one for Rose and a blue one for the Doctor. She’d filled his with sweets the night before. She saw chocolates and what looked like lipsticks and nail varnish in her own.
“Here you are.” The Doctor dropped a package in Rose’s lap. It was covered in shiny red paper and topped with a lopsided green bow. “Happy Christmas.”
“Thank you.” She set aside her tea and opened it to find a hat, scarf and mittens set in bright red. “This is so pretty!” She put the hat on her head. “And so soft!”
“It’s cashmere,” he explained. “I know how cold it gets in the morning. I want you to be nice and warm.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I love it.” She leaned forward and kissed him. In response he wrapped the scarf around her neck while she laughed.
There were other gifts, from him and from her, but Rose grew more and more anxious until they’d unwrapped the last one.
“I have one more thing for you,” she said, biting her lip.
He looked around the room, which was now covered in paper. “You couldn’t possibly.”
That made her laugh. “Just one more! Well. I say one more. Maybe two or three more. Wait right there!” She nipped out of the room as he sat there, wearing the brightly striped scarf she’d gotten him after he’d mentioned having one a long, long time ago.
She came back into the room carrying a large white box. He immediately jumped up and took it from her.
“You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy,” he said reproachfully. “How did you get this home?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that heavy. Set it down and open it.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” she smiled, and wiggled in anticipation.
He threw her a look of amusement, but set the box on the floor, undid the red bow, and lifted the lid. After sifting through several layers of tissue paper, he came upon a piece of fabric.
“Did you buy me a flag?” he wanted to know, lifting it out of the box. As he unfurled it, the amusement left his face. He silently took in the brown material with the thin blue stripes, the blue lining, the buttons. He looked from the jacket to Rose, a question in his eyes.
“Yours isn’t going to last forever. You’ve been worrying about what the cleaning is doing to it, so...I thought I’d order you another suit. It’s copied on yours, exactly! The tailor did a great job, don’t you think? It took six weeks just to find the right material.” He continued to gaze at the jacket. Rose took a deep breath. “I ordered two of the brown ones. And I picked out one more. It’s on the bottom.”
He set down the jacket and rummaged through the box, coming out with a blue jacket. There was a thin red stripe running through it, and the lining was red.
“That was my choice,” Rose continued on, feeling more nervous by the moment. “I thought some red trainers would look - Doctor, say something!” she finally burst out.
He set down the suit jacket and looked up at her with shining eyes.
“Rose. I love them. Thank you so much.”
She let out her breath in relief. “You do?”
He quickly got to his feet to gather her up in a hug. “They’re wonderful. I love them. I love you,” he said fiercely into her hair. “I don’t deserve you, Rose, not at all.”
She clung to him, content to let him kiss her mouth, her hair, her neck.
“You do,” she whispered. “You do.”
Forty-five