Essence.
It was one of those moments after they stumbled into the TARDIS, Rose breathless, and the Doctor only slightly fatigued due to his hearts. Even so, he collapsed onto the padded seat by the controls, but not only to appear to commiserate with his companion’s physical state. He couldn’t pass up another opportunity to be next to this human woman.
The Doctor put his long legs out and propped his boots on the console. Rose joined him on the seat. He shifted so his right arm draped casually along the back of the seat. Rose saw the gesture, and, being the clever girl she was, rolled her eyes at what he was suggesting.
“Sorry, Doctor, but I’m NOT about to get any closer after all that running and sweating. Good workout-but I really should shower and put on some clean clothes.”
“I could care less about your opinion of yourself. You know that-you are simply Rose to me. ”
“Huh, even you would pass out if I took this jacket off,” she said wryly, but the Doctor caught a playfulness in her voice. “I know your senses are extra-sensitive; don’t try to put me off that fact, Doctor.”
“Rose,” he sighed and stretched his arm down to his fingers, giving her another invitation. “My big nose aside, there is nothing about you that would keep me from offering a shoulder.”
It touched her, he could see that much; there was more to that statement than simple reassurance. In truth, his senses WERE hyper-sensitive, but it didn’t mean he was easily affected. Besides, humans didn’t exude musk to such potency as many other species.
Rose smiled and finally leaned into him, resting her blonde head against his chest, the rest of her curled up on the seat. Faintly, the Doctor wondered if that position was comfortable, but if she wasn’t complaining, he wouldn’t risk losing this feeling of contentment within himself. Only recently had this incarnation admitted contentment within himself, and, after realizing how much he liked being content, he made special efforts to make these moments last.
“Doctor, do you still have the effects of that concoction that was sprayed on you today?” she inquired thoughtfully.
“Maybe?”
Such a powerful elixir could fool the best of noses. The evil Lord Synol’s creation was being sold on the black market on Nossium at a steep price-each crystal vial contained five drops, enough to send the elite Nossiites into near frenzy for it. It caused one’s senses to intensify, sometimes even to the point of allowing the user to discern a distinct smell for every being. A drug with nice side effects, for it was rumored the smells-or, essence, as Synol insisted-accurately defined the character and passions of anyone the user encountered.
“You haven’t noticed anything different about my smelly self?” She positioned her torso and neck so that she could see the Doctor’s face. “Either I reek to biblical proportion, or I have a complete different scent.”
She did smell different, and it replaced the musky scent she was ashamed of. But he wasn’t about to divulge any of that; she’d insist on knowing her essence, and he couldn’t imagine telling her what scent wafted from her close body. In usual fashion, he tried to change the subject.
“Rose, we just outwitted two Nossium Guard dogs because of your sweat glands. That breed of dog is driven to distraction by human secretions. Don’t you find it fantastic that such an ordinary bodily function has the capacity to be extraordinary?”
He flashed a smile at her, but she pulled a face; must have been the words “bodily function.” Or it could have been his mentioning secretions.
“What do you smell?” she asked pointblank, not taking the bait at all. “And please don’t tell me it’s as cliché as roses.”
“Okay. But I’m warning you it’s going to sound strange.”
“Then it must be good!” she said in anticipation.
“You are wild and uncontainable, fluid and fiery,” he said, attempting to put it into the best wording. “Direct and destined, timeless and chaotic.”
Rose didn’t comment for a space; then said, “Funny, I’m not like that at all.”
“Maybe I received a bad batch of the elixir.”
“Why in all of Time and Space do I smell like that? It’s so vague.”
“Untapped potential?” he guessed.
“Well, I always liked mysteries. Perhaps we’ll discover why,” she murmured and settled her head back onto his chest.
Sure she has fallen asleep the Doctor was surprised when Rose spoke. “Do you want to know what your essence is?”
“What?” he cried in alarm. He shifted, which caused Rose to sit up and then slouch down on the worn seat.
“You heard me.” She reached her right hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a crystal vial.
That girl! “When did you get that?”
“I pinched it when I was pushed into a shelf of these at that creepy lord’s laboratory.” Her fingers held the small container in front of her, turning it this way and that in the soft TARDIS light. “I still have four drops left.”
“Rose, don’t tell me you’ve already used it,” he groaned.
“It’s not harmful,” she pointed out, petulant at his implied disapproval. She clutched the vial to her chest as if he would grab it from her.
“No, it’s not harmful,” he admitted, “but there are some experiences that aren’t healthy, no matter if they’re harmful or not.”
“Do you want to know, or not?”
No, he didn’t want to know. The less his Rose knew about him, the better. Some secrets were best locked away-who knows if he even knew the full extent of his essence? He sullenly refused to say anything more.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you anyway…You are the oncoming rain, the static of anticipated lightning, the portent of thunder. The gathering storm.”
It was terse and poetic, so accurate he was astonished. He was aware of her studying eyes; he gulped and stood, pushed and turned a few buttons and knobs to look like he had something to do. He heard Rose walk quietly toward the hall leading to her room.
When she’d gone, he turned and one heart skipped a beat.
She’d left the twinkling vial on the seat.
The Doctor put his long legs out and propped his boots on the console. Rose joined him on the seat. He shifted so his right arm draped casually along the back of the seat. Rose saw the gesture, and, being the clever girl she was, rolled her eyes at what he was suggesting.
“Sorry, Doctor, but I’m NOT about to get any closer after all that running and sweating. Good workout-but I really should shower and put on some clean clothes.”
“I could care less about your opinion of yourself. You know that-you are simply Rose to me. ”
“Huh, even you would pass out if I took this jacket off,” she said wryly, but the Doctor caught a playfulness in her voice. “I know your senses are extra-sensitive; don’t try to put me off that fact, Doctor.”
“Rose,” he sighed and stretched his arm down to his fingers, giving her another invitation. “My big nose aside, there is nothing about you that would keep me from offering a shoulder.”
It touched her, he could see that much; there was more to that statement than simple reassurance. In truth, his senses WERE hyper-sensitive, but it didn’t mean he was easily affected. Besides, humans didn’t exude musk to such potency as many other species.
Rose smiled and finally leaned into him, resting her blonde head against his chest, the rest of her curled up on the seat. Faintly, the Doctor wondered if that position was comfortable, but if she wasn’t complaining, he wouldn’t risk losing this feeling of contentment within himself. Only recently had this incarnation admitted contentment within himself, and, after realizing how much he liked being content, he made special efforts to make these moments last.
“Doctor, do you still have the effects of that concoction that was sprayed on you today?” she inquired thoughtfully.
“Maybe?”
Such a powerful elixir could fool the best of noses. The evil Lord Synol’s creation was being sold on the black market on Nossium at a steep price-each crystal vial contained five drops, enough to send the elite Nossiites into near frenzy for it. It caused one’s senses to intensify, sometimes even to the point of allowing the user to discern a distinct smell for every being. A drug with nice side effects, for it was rumored the smells-or, essence, as Synol insisted-accurately defined the character and passions of anyone the user encountered.
“You haven’t noticed anything different about my smelly self?” She positioned her torso and neck so that she could see the Doctor’s face. “Either I reek to biblical proportion, or I have a complete different scent.”
She did smell different, and it replaced the musky scent she was ashamed of. But he wasn’t about to divulge any of that; she’d insist on knowing her essence, and he couldn’t imagine telling her what scent wafted from her close body. In usual fashion, he tried to change the subject.
“Rose, we just outwitted two Nossium Guard dogs because of your sweat glands. That breed of dog is driven to distraction by human secretions. Don’t you find it fantastic that such an ordinary bodily function has the capacity to be extraordinary?”
He flashed a smile at her, but she pulled a face; must have been the words “bodily function.” Or it could have been his mentioning secretions.
“What do you smell?” she asked pointblank, not taking the bait at all. “And please don’t tell me it’s as cliché as roses.”
“Okay. But I’m warning you it’s going to sound strange.”
“Then it must be good!” she said in anticipation.
“You are wild and uncontainable, fluid and fiery,” he said, attempting to put it into the best wording. “Direct and destined, timeless and chaotic.”
Rose didn’t comment for a space; then said, “Funny, I’m not like that at all.”
“Maybe I received a bad batch of the elixir.”
“Why in all of Time and Space do I smell like that? It’s so vague.”
“Untapped potential?” he guessed.
“Well, I always liked mysteries. Perhaps we’ll discover why,” she murmured and settled her head back onto his chest.
Sure she has fallen asleep the Doctor was surprised when Rose spoke. “Do you want to know what your essence is?”
“What?” he cried in alarm. He shifted, which caused Rose to sit up and then slouch down on the worn seat.
“You heard me.” She reached her right hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a crystal vial.
That girl! “When did you get that?”
“I pinched it when I was pushed into a shelf of these at that creepy lord’s laboratory.” Her fingers held the small container in front of her, turning it this way and that in the soft TARDIS light. “I still have four drops left.”
“Rose, don’t tell me you’ve already used it,” he groaned.
“It’s not harmful,” she pointed out, petulant at his implied disapproval. She clutched the vial to her chest as if he would grab it from her.
“No, it’s not harmful,” he admitted, “but there are some experiences that aren’t healthy, no matter if they’re harmful or not.”
“Do you want to know, or not?”
No, he didn’t want to know. The less his Rose knew about him, the better. Some secrets were best locked away-who knows if he even knew the full extent of his essence? He sullenly refused to say anything more.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you anyway…You are the oncoming rain, the static of anticipated lightning, the portent of thunder. The gathering storm.”
It was terse and poetic, so accurate he was astonished. He was aware of her studying eyes; he gulped and stood, pushed and turned a few buttons and knobs to look like he had something to do. He heard Rose walk quietly toward the hall leading to her room.
When she’d gone, he turned and one heart skipped a beat.
She’d left the twinkling vial on the seat.