Fic: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (15/17)
Her room is exactly the way she left it all those years ago. The bed's unmade, clothes are discarded in a pile by the door, makeup is strewn across the vanity. And there's the unmistakable smell of Rose just beneath the musty odor of a room so long left undisturbed.
The Doctor used to spend a lot of time in here. Well, not actually in here, as he never really had the nerve to enter fully. He'd stand in the doorway, toes just pushing past the threshold, eyes sweeping the room, searching for the ghost of her presence.
It was a nightly ritual: come stand outside her room for an hour or two and immerse himself in what little he had left of her.
For nearly a year, he had done this, made it part of his routine. At the close of every adventure and non-adventure, he'd come here and remember. Even after Martha showed up, even though he knew it made her uncomfortable, he refused to give up this one comfort in a universef gone cold. It wasn't until running into the Cult of Skaro in 1930's New York that he finally stopped.
Seeing them again, knowing that some of them had survived...it was just too much for him. After everything, after every attempt at their destruction (the Time War, Satellite Five, Canary Wharf), they wouldn't die. They just kept coming back, planning and scheming, holding onto life, while he suffers. They lose nothing and he loses everything.
He lost the woman he loves, forever.
Although, not forever, he thinks to himself, smiling down at the peacefully sleeping form in his arms. Because by some miracle, he got her back. He wonders if maybe, just maybe, all those years ago, she knew this. That somehow, through some gut instinct, Rose knew they would always be together.
“You know what - they keep trying to split us up, but they never ever will.”
He didn't believe her back then, thought it was just a young woman's wishful thinking. But now he knows she was right. Because now that he has her back, he will do anything and everything within his power to keep her by his side.
He crosses the room and pauses alongside her bed. He doesn't want to lose this contact with her, but he still has to deal with Jack. And, even though the Doctor rarely needs sleep, he feels a draining weariness in his bones. With the utmost care, he leans down and gently lays her within the comfort of Rose duvet and the multiple pillows she always insisted on using. She's fully clothed but he doesn't feel comfortable undressing her, so he settles for tucking her in, making sure she's as comfortable as possible.
He really should go now, but he just can't bear the thought of being away from her again, even if it's just a few corridors away. She's here and she's safe, and he's with her and they're together, against all the odds. All that time on the Wraith ship, thinking he'd never see her again...and, yet, here he is with Rose. His Rose. The girl he is so deeply in love with that he's willing to toss aside all his former rules and boundaries just to be with her. He's going to fix things, he'd promised himself that on the Dart. That he would take the plunge, brave unknown waters, just to be with her. And he's not about to let her go now.
It only takes a moment to make the decision to stay a little longer.
Toeing off his chucks, he gently sits on the bed with her. If she were to wake up right now, the situation would be awkward, so he holds himself still, just looking at her. The urge to touch her is so strong, he has to bunch his hands in his coat pockets to keep from reaching out to her.
Contenting himself with merely watching the rise and fall of her chest, he slowly slides down into a laying position and lets his eyes trace the contours of her face.
Twenty minutes later, he wakes to a dead weight lying halfway across his chest and something tickling at his nose. Brushing the annoyance aside, he opens his eyes and sees soft blond hair. His arms are wrapped tightly around her and she's warm and soft and feels so good pressed up against him that he can feel his body beginning to respond to her.
Whether she snuggled up next to him first or he drew her into his embrace, he's not sure, but he doesn't much care either. It feels so good to hold her like this, hold her like he's never done before. Never dared. Yes, there were always lots of hugs between them, always hugs. But this is different...more intimate. He can feel her every curve molded along the lines of his body. Can feel--
Gently extracting himself, he rolls her over onto her back and looks at her, really looks.
It was obvious, back in the console room, that she had lost some weight. Her shirt was hanging off her body, her trousers looking like, with one false move, they might just slide off her hips. But he didn't really understand, wasn't paying enough attention, to just how thin she'd become. Just now though, with her tangled up in his embrace, he could feel the gauntness of her body, the bony protrusions jabbing him in the sides.
She felt as though she would slip from his grasp at any moment.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the sonic screwdriver and slowly scans her body. The results are not surprising and, yet, shocking. It's obvious that she hasn't been eating well for weeks. That combined with the drinking and too little sleep, has left her body weakened and stressed. It's a wonder she's managed to get up every morning and go to work.
Throw in the frightening hallucinations she's been suffering through and he can't even begin to imagine how hard it's been on her. Doesn't want to think about it either. And no one, not a single person here has tried to help, tried to save her.
He can feel rage beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.
~~~
Jack is waiting for him in the console room. He knows there are things they need to discuss, things the Doctor needs to get off his chest. Frankly, Jack has a few issues of his own he wants to bring up. So he's more then ready. Ready for the accusations and blame that he is sure the Doctor is going to level at him.
It isn't as if he's the only one that could've stopped Rose's downward spiral, though he does know he's played his part in it. But, in his defense, he didn't even know about the drinking until Jackie approached him a few weeks ago. He's been busy. Busy trying to find a way home and keep his team together. Busy trying to make the best out of a bad situation.
And he was grieving in his own way as well. Rose wasn't the only one who felt the impact of the loss of the Doctor.
Even still, there's a tight knot of guilt that's been eating away at him since before the Doctor sacrificed himself in a fit of hopelessness. Truth is, Jack knows that everything, all the horrible things that have happened to his friends of late, might've been prevented...if only he'd made wiser decisions. If he'd just tried that little bit harder to convince Rose to talk to the Doctor, instead of
helping her hide away at Torchwood with him.
If he's being completely honest, he knows on some deeper level, he didn't want her to leave. He had wanted to keep her for himself. One can only stand so much loneliness, and in Rose, he'd found the kindred spirit he never would've thought possible.
So when the Doctor comes in, eyes flashing in anger, jaw set, Jack doesn't even flinch.
They stand there in silence, the physical distance between them nothing compared to the distance their friendship is suffering. Jack speaks up first, needing to get something out on the table before the Doctor starts laying into him. "I'm sorry it got this out of hand."
A dark chuckle escapes the Doctor's lips. “Sorry for what, Jack?” He crosses the room slowly. “Sorry you weren't there for her like you promised you would be? Or sorry I found out?” He stops on the other side of the console.
“Doc--”
“No, don't Doc me,” his voice is calm, but Jack senses the fury underneath his cool exterior. “We discussed this before. Do you remember? I told you she needed you, needed your friendship. And you let her down.”
Jack is stung by the truth in the Doctor's words.
“And you knew,” the Doctor continues, “you knew she was suffering. Knew all about the lack of sleep and not eating and drinking herself into nothingness. You knew, Jack, and yet you still didn't stop her!” His voice is rising, becoming brutal. “Did you even bother trying?”
Jack flinches at the question, knowing the Doctor is right; he didn't try hard enough. Words spill out before he can stop himself, “I didn't know what to do! She was so far gone--”
The Doctor slammed his fist into the console, eyes dark with contempt. “That's no excuse. What if something had happened? Something worse than this? What if she had hurt herself?”
He shakes his head. “It wouldn't have mattered even if she--” Realizing what he's saying, Jack cuts himself off, though the words are already out there and he can't take them back now.
The Doctor's eyes sharpen on him. “You have five minutes.” The vein in his neck is straining, pulsing just underneath the skin in tempo to the erratic beating of his hearts. The sight and sound is so frightening, it reminds Jack of another rhythm, another beat, another Time Lord who, not too long ago, destroyed the world. “Five minutes to say goodbye after she wakes up. I'll be watching.”
~~~
She wakes slowly, languidly, her body feeling more rested than it has in weeks. Stretching with a contentment that she's forgotten she is even capable of feeling anymore, she opens her eyes and sees the lines and designs of a very familiar ceiling. If there was any doubt that what she thought was a dream had really happened, it's extinguished the instant she looks upon the comforting confines of the TARDIS. The second she recognizes the consoling hum of the time rotor.
Fisting her hands in the downy duvet, she tries to dredge up the memories of last night. Some of it is still fresh in her mind; the date, drinking herself into oblivion, dozing off on the floor near the console. The rest she remembers too, but the images aren't as clear in her mind. There's an...an unreal quality to them like a photograph blurred by water. She can decipher who's in the snapshot, can even see what they're doing, but the feelings and emotions that should be so apparent on their faces are distorted.
Eyes scrunched tight, she tries to figure out what all of it means. The Doctor, really there, really here, smiling at her.
Smiling? After all she's done, after all the hurt she inflicted upon him, he can still find it in himself to smile at her?
And then there was funny tasting tea and him and Jack watching over her like...like they thought she was going to shatter before their very eyes. She knows at some point she passed out, the exhaustion of weeks on edge and too much drinking finally taking their toll on her weakened body. But that was in the kitchen. This is...
Her eyes pop open as she jerks her body up into a sitting position. Her room. Her room on the TARDIS. This is...but that's--that's--
“He kept it, all this time.” The voice sneaks up on her from a shadowed corner of the room.
She can't see whom it belongs to, the darkness there is too thick and her eyes are still sticky with sleep, but she knows the owner. “I asked him about it once, about a year after you...” there's a pause and she can hear Jack take a few deep breaths. “I asked him about it and he said that he made the mistake of letting go of you once and that he couldn't bear to get rid of everything that reminded him of you.”
There's a lump in her throat and her vision blurs a little bit more. Looking around the room slowly, she gives herself time to take it all in. And what she sees frightens and amazes her all at the same time. It's exactly the same as the day she left. There isn't a dirty sock out of place or a vase of flowers two centimeters off on her vanity.
She should know. She's kept her images of this place crisp and clear in her mind, refusing to let any detail of her home--or the alien who piloted it--fade.
That was her though; she was supposed to be that upset. But the idea of the Doctor keeping her room like a shrine? That was dark and obsessive.
“You never did realize just how much you meant...mean to him.” Jack is standing now, moving across the room and into the light spilling across the floor as the brutal truth of what is staring her right in the face makes her heart clench.
He saved all this. Kept it, planned on keeping it forever, just so that he could be reminded of her. Silly human ape with a penchant for trouble. He left her room the way that it was because she meant...she means...she...
Eyes widening in shock, she turns to face Jack, who's now standing beside her bed. “Jack--”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gives her a level gaze. “I tried to explain it to you before, Rose. I have never seen a man more infatuated, more in love, with someone than the Doctor is with you.” There's something in his eyes, something in his expression, that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She shifts her weight on the bed, meaning to reach out and offer him comfort, but he steps back. “And after you left...he was a mess. Martha saw it. Donna did too, though she was only with him for a short time. But that was right after...” he pauses again, eyes downcast. “That was right after he lost you.”
Seizing the opportunity that his avoidance gives her, Rose scrambles off the bed, rushing to his side. “Jack, what is it? What's wrong?” she asks, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. They've always been close, her and Jack. Not nearly as close as she was with the Doctor but she doubts that's something that's even possible. Working side by side at Torchwood together, sharing in the pain of past mistakes and the despair of futures that hold nothing only cemented that bond even more.
“Oh, Rose,” he whispers, leaning into her touch for a brief moment. Then his eyes dart behind her shoulder and he's pulling back, and she can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.
“I think it's time you leave, Jack.” She didn't even hear him come in, didn't hear the door open or anything. She does however hear the anger simmering in his voice, threatening to boil over at any minute. “Rose and I need to talk.”
Chapter Sixteen...