The Calm Before the Storm (Chapter Twenty)
Mar. 8th, 2007 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalleahOur idyll concludes with this chapter, followed by the epilogue, which I'll post in a moment. I'm triumphant but maudlin, having reached the end of the story.
Previous chapters
Previous chapters
In the morning, they made love again in the leisurely manner Rose had often imagined. He murmured sleepily into her hair and they moved together languidly, reaching for one another with attentive hands, not fully awake, and finally falling deeply into each other and blissful, shivering release. Afterward, the Doctor spooned against her back and they spoke quietly of their plans for the day, the last day of their dreamlike visit to this tranquil place.
"Don't have much to pack," said Rose, drowsily. "Just some clothes." She felt the Doctor nod his agreement into her hair and she smiled. "You probably have everything in your coat pockets, yeah?"
His laugh puffed her hair up around her neck. "Mostly." He squeezed her hip and left his hand there. "Some things don't fit in my pockets."
She heard the soft tolling of the bells, calling the monks to prayers at the hour of Lauds. She closed her eyes and snuggled back against him, shutting the world out for a while longer. His arm shifted around her and his thumb lightly traced the curve of her cheek. "I'm happy," she breathed quietly. He didn't respond, just kept moving his thumb. His offer of the night before wavered in her mind. You just have to ask, he had stated with assurance in his voice. She knew he had meant it, and felt the temptation again in her bones and her blood, to seize the moment, to shut out the world for as long as she could. But, in the end, she opened her eyes and blinked away the mist that had gathered there, her resolve firmly in place.
Behind her, the Doctor lifted up and turned her head to look back at him, his face concerned. "You tensed up," he said.
"Just a little sad about leaving." He brushed some hair behind her ear and studied her closely. "No," she responded before he could speak, "I'm not changing my mind, we can still go to -- Tralaxia, yeah?"
"Tralaxia," agreed the Doctor fondly.
"Fantastic sunrises?"
"Oh, the very best."
Rose turned around to face him. He was propped up on one elbow, head in his hand, with a faint smile across his lips but a shadow of concern in his eyes. Rose leaned in and kissed him quickly. "So, where else?"
He thought for a moment, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling as his mind worked. "Forward or back?"
"Back," suggested Rose. "We usually go forward."
"Some history, then? Perhaps Caesar's Gaul?"
"Somewhere with indoor plumbing."
"That limits the 'back' part of it nicely, then," grumbled the Doctor without rancor. "Roaring twenties? Prohibition Chicago?" His eyes twinkled. "You dressed as a flapper would be something to see."
"Short skirts, yeah?"
"Rather." He ruffled her hair. "Maybe a wig, too? Unless you want to cut your hair."
"Wig, please." She stretched languidly and he continued stroking her hair.
"All right, then?"
"Yeah, all right." She smiled up at him. "Let's go." She sat up, turning and letting her feet fall to the ground. The Doctor pulled the blanket back and ran a single finger down her spine. She turned around to give him a hard look. "Trying to keep me in bed?" He assumed an innocent expression, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Who, me? She grinned and stood up, conscious of his eyes on her. She padded into the bathroom and gathered up the clothes she had flung at him the night before.
When she returned to the main room, the Doctor, naked, stood in the center of the room on his tiptoes with his hands raised above his head. He inhaled and stretched as tall as he would reach, then lowered his arms to his side as he blew out his breath. Rose's eyes widened and he caught her staring, giving her a shameless grin. She held the pile of discarded clothes in front of her a little protectively. "A good stretch after sleep is an excellent way to reinvigorate the body and mind," he said, grinning. "Gets the blood flowing, all that." He casually leaned on the chair and studied Rose speculatively. I will not blush. I will not blush. She retrieved some clean clothes from her rucksack and tucked her dirties inside. When she turned, her mouth dropped open with astonishment.
The Doctor, bare as a babe, had drawn the sheets smooth across the bed, folded the down blanket, and was tucking in the corners with military precision. He glanced up at her. "What?"
"You're," she stuttered, "making the bed."
"What, did you think there were gnomes for that, too? It's good guest behavior. Didn't your mum teach you manners?"
She opened and closed her mouth several times in rapid succession and finally gave up. The Doctor fluffed the pillows tidily at the head of the bed and began putting on his own clothes, socks first. Rose followed his example, although she saved her socks for last. When she was fully dressed, she returned to the en-suite, washed up, and gave herself a hard stare in the mirror. Her hair had dried naturally during the night, but beyond that, she thought she looked rested. She brushed it out and twined it into a loose braid, and applied her usual makeup. When she finished, she gathered up her bottles, jars, and other implements to stash in her rucksack.
The Doctor was dressed by this time, seated in the chair with his glasses on, reading the copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Rose realized she hadn't finished it. While she knew the story, she felt a pang at leaving it half read, the story in limbo, characters waiting and plot lines unresolved. "Do you have a copy of that in the TARDIS library?" she asked hesitantly.
The Doctor looked up and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, the whole series if you want it." He closed the book and stood up, putting it back on the shelf and enfolding her in a hug. "Rose, this is a pause, not a full stop." He kissed her. "I said we'd come back." She nodded against him. He let go and picked up her rucksack. "All set?"
Rose put on a bright smile and opened the door for him. They walked a little way down the path before the Doctor shrugged the bag onto his shoulder and reached out a hand to her. She took it gladly.
I will be back. We will be back. She repeated the mantra silently to herself as they walked, letting her eyes wander among the graceful, tall pines, across the scattering of leaves as a small brown bird searched for food, the bright, incongruous pinks and reds of wild camellias. The Doctor, beside her, was uncharacteristically silent, and she wondered if he memorized the scene as she did.
When they emerged at the central clearing, before the dining hall, the line of monks queued to enter the building. Rose's eyes searched for Jacob, finding his bald head and prominent white beard easily even as he moved in a group of identically dressed men with equally bald heads. She grinned happily at him, and he nodded in response, his beard bowing up and down as his head moved. The Doctor squeezed her hand lightly in support as Jacob approached them.
"Good morning," the monk said, his voice resonant and full. "Did you decide?" He, like the Doctor, looked directly at Rose for an answer to the question. She nodded and returned a tentative smile. "Ah," said Jacob. "I thought as much. I will miss you both, and you know you are welcome any time you want to return."
Rose's throat closed and she reached forward, hugging the monk to her. He patted her back. When she pulled away, the Doctor had wandered off toward the dining hall, leaving the two of them alone. Jacob gave the retreating form a thoughtful look. "He's not good at goodbyes," he mused.
"You think?" Rose laughed at the understatement.
"He is trying, in his own way, to change."
"Why does he come back here, when he doesn't come back to anywhere else?" she asked.
"You'd have to ask him," responded Jacob gravely. "Even a wanderer needs roots, in the end." They walked together, following the others and the Doctor inside.
After the shared meal, Jacob told them firmly to stay, in a tone that brooked no argument, even from the Doctor, and went to pray with the others. Rose and the Doctor wandered around, sharing some "remember when" stories, as if their time here had been years, not days. The echoes of voices raised in song and in speech filtered out from within the church, and when Rose looked in that direction for the eighth or ninth time, the Doctor stopped and looked at her.
"You could have gone, too," he chided gently.
"But you didn't --"
"I never have, but that doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't. Do what you want, Rose. I'll wait for you."
"Too late now," she said, not wanting to interrupt. He chuckled at her easy excuse and resumed pacing, drawing her along with him by the hand. After a time, Jacob rejoined them and they parted easily to let him walk between them, Rose taking his arm.
"Walk with us to the TARDIS?" asked the Doctor of Jacob.
"Not going in, Doctor."
"Come on," the Doctor crooned, almost in a pleading tone. "I could take a look at your heart and lungs and maybe do a little --"
"Your brand of jiggery-pokery? I think not. I will leave my faith in God for my body and soul."
Rose jiggled Jacob's arm. "It won't hurt a bit," she said. "Just a quick scan or something, yeah?" She wanted to know that Jacob would be all right when they left him. He had to be.
"No, Rose." His words were final, and even the Doctor stopped trying to persuade him in the end.
The incongruous, bright blue police box stood on the same rise in the grassy clearing where it had waited for several days. The Doctor beamed and touched his hand to the door reverently, then looked back toward Rose and Jacob, standing slightly below him. Rose turned and looked down the slope toward the river, undulating gracefully in a sea of dry marsh grass. The waves crested in tiny whitecaps, barely perceptible at this distance, in the wind. She turned and embraced Jacob, who hugged her back and said in a whisper against her ear, "Take care of him, will you, Rose?" She nodded back, unable to speak, and released him, studying the lines of his familiar, dear face before she stepped back.
The Doctor dipped his head in farewell to his friend, who reached out and took both his hands instead. "I will pray for you," said Jacob.
"If you must," sighed the Doctor.
Jacob's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I must, I'm afraid." His eyes turned to Rose, and back to the Doctor. "'Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you,'" he intoned, smiling. "I will see you again, in this world or the next." He let the Doctor's hands fall away and kissed Rose gently on the forehead, in benediction and farewell.
The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and held out a hand to Rose. She took it, felt the warm, strong pulse of his hearts, his firm grip. For a moment they were utterly alone, all the world and the TARDIS and Jacob and the river falling away from them.
At last, they stepped, as one, through the door.
"Don't have much to pack," said Rose, drowsily. "Just some clothes." She felt the Doctor nod his agreement into her hair and she smiled. "You probably have everything in your coat pockets, yeah?"
His laugh puffed her hair up around her neck. "Mostly." He squeezed her hip and left his hand there. "Some things don't fit in my pockets."
She heard the soft tolling of the bells, calling the monks to prayers at the hour of Lauds. She closed her eyes and snuggled back against him, shutting the world out for a while longer. His arm shifted around her and his thumb lightly traced the curve of her cheek. "I'm happy," she breathed quietly. He didn't respond, just kept moving his thumb. His offer of the night before wavered in her mind. You just have to ask, he had stated with assurance in his voice. She knew he had meant it, and felt the temptation again in her bones and her blood, to seize the moment, to shut out the world for as long as she could. But, in the end, she opened her eyes and blinked away the mist that had gathered there, her resolve firmly in place.
Behind her, the Doctor lifted up and turned her head to look back at him, his face concerned. "You tensed up," he said.
"Just a little sad about leaving." He brushed some hair behind her ear and studied her closely. "No," she responded before he could speak, "I'm not changing my mind, we can still go to -- Tralaxia, yeah?"
"Tralaxia," agreed the Doctor fondly.
"Fantastic sunrises?"
"Oh, the very best."
Rose turned around to face him. He was propped up on one elbow, head in his hand, with a faint smile across his lips but a shadow of concern in his eyes. Rose leaned in and kissed him quickly. "So, where else?"
He thought for a moment, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling as his mind worked. "Forward or back?"
"Back," suggested Rose. "We usually go forward."
"Some history, then? Perhaps Caesar's Gaul?"
"Somewhere with indoor plumbing."
"That limits the 'back' part of it nicely, then," grumbled the Doctor without rancor. "Roaring twenties? Prohibition Chicago?" His eyes twinkled. "You dressed as a flapper would be something to see."
"Short skirts, yeah?"
"Rather." He ruffled her hair. "Maybe a wig, too? Unless you want to cut your hair."
"Wig, please." She stretched languidly and he continued stroking her hair.
"All right, then?"
"Yeah, all right." She smiled up at him. "Let's go." She sat up, turning and letting her feet fall to the ground. The Doctor pulled the blanket back and ran a single finger down her spine. She turned around to give him a hard look. "Trying to keep me in bed?" He assumed an innocent expression, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Who, me? She grinned and stood up, conscious of his eyes on her. She padded into the bathroom and gathered up the clothes she had flung at him the night before.
When she returned to the main room, the Doctor, naked, stood in the center of the room on his tiptoes with his hands raised above his head. He inhaled and stretched as tall as he would reach, then lowered his arms to his side as he blew out his breath. Rose's eyes widened and he caught her staring, giving her a shameless grin. She held the pile of discarded clothes in front of her a little protectively. "A good stretch after sleep is an excellent way to reinvigorate the body and mind," he said, grinning. "Gets the blood flowing, all that." He casually leaned on the chair and studied Rose speculatively. I will not blush. I will not blush. She retrieved some clean clothes from her rucksack and tucked her dirties inside. When she turned, her mouth dropped open with astonishment.
The Doctor, bare as a babe, had drawn the sheets smooth across the bed, folded the down blanket, and was tucking in the corners with military precision. He glanced up at her. "What?"
"You're," she stuttered, "making the bed."
"What, did you think there were gnomes for that, too? It's good guest behavior. Didn't your mum teach you manners?"
She opened and closed her mouth several times in rapid succession and finally gave up. The Doctor fluffed the pillows tidily at the head of the bed and began putting on his own clothes, socks first. Rose followed his example, although she saved her socks for last. When she was fully dressed, she returned to the en-suite, washed up, and gave herself a hard stare in the mirror. Her hair had dried naturally during the night, but beyond that, she thought she looked rested. She brushed it out and twined it into a loose braid, and applied her usual makeup. When she finished, she gathered up her bottles, jars, and other implements to stash in her rucksack.
The Doctor was dressed by this time, seated in the chair with his glasses on, reading the copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Rose realized she hadn't finished it. While she knew the story, she felt a pang at leaving it half read, the story in limbo, characters waiting and plot lines unresolved. "Do you have a copy of that in the TARDIS library?" she asked hesitantly.
The Doctor looked up and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, the whole series if you want it." He closed the book and stood up, putting it back on the shelf and enfolding her in a hug. "Rose, this is a pause, not a full stop." He kissed her. "I said we'd come back." She nodded against him. He let go and picked up her rucksack. "All set?"
Rose put on a bright smile and opened the door for him. They walked a little way down the path before the Doctor shrugged the bag onto his shoulder and reached out a hand to her. She took it gladly.
I will be back. We will be back. She repeated the mantra silently to herself as they walked, letting her eyes wander among the graceful, tall pines, across the scattering of leaves as a small brown bird searched for food, the bright, incongruous pinks and reds of wild camellias. The Doctor, beside her, was uncharacteristically silent, and she wondered if he memorized the scene as she did.
When they emerged at the central clearing, before the dining hall, the line of monks queued to enter the building. Rose's eyes searched for Jacob, finding his bald head and prominent white beard easily even as he moved in a group of identically dressed men with equally bald heads. She grinned happily at him, and he nodded in response, his beard bowing up and down as his head moved. The Doctor squeezed her hand lightly in support as Jacob approached them.
"Good morning," the monk said, his voice resonant and full. "Did you decide?" He, like the Doctor, looked directly at Rose for an answer to the question. She nodded and returned a tentative smile. "Ah," said Jacob. "I thought as much. I will miss you both, and you know you are welcome any time you want to return."
Rose's throat closed and she reached forward, hugging the monk to her. He patted her back. When she pulled away, the Doctor had wandered off toward the dining hall, leaving the two of them alone. Jacob gave the retreating form a thoughtful look. "He's not good at goodbyes," he mused.
"You think?" Rose laughed at the understatement.
"He is trying, in his own way, to change."
"Why does he come back here, when he doesn't come back to anywhere else?" she asked.
"You'd have to ask him," responded Jacob gravely. "Even a wanderer needs roots, in the end." They walked together, following the others and the Doctor inside.
After the shared meal, Jacob told them firmly to stay, in a tone that brooked no argument, even from the Doctor, and went to pray with the others. Rose and the Doctor wandered around, sharing some "remember when" stories, as if their time here had been years, not days. The echoes of voices raised in song and in speech filtered out from within the church, and when Rose looked in that direction for the eighth or ninth time, the Doctor stopped and looked at her.
"You could have gone, too," he chided gently.
"But you didn't --"
"I never have, but that doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't. Do what you want, Rose. I'll wait for you."
"Too late now," she said, not wanting to interrupt. He chuckled at her easy excuse and resumed pacing, drawing her along with him by the hand. After a time, Jacob rejoined them and they parted easily to let him walk between them, Rose taking his arm.
"Walk with us to the TARDIS?" asked the Doctor of Jacob.
"Not going in, Doctor."
"Come on," the Doctor crooned, almost in a pleading tone. "I could take a look at your heart and lungs and maybe do a little --"
"Your brand of jiggery-pokery? I think not. I will leave my faith in God for my body and soul."
Rose jiggled Jacob's arm. "It won't hurt a bit," she said. "Just a quick scan or something, yeah?" She wanted to know that Jacob would be all right when they left him. He had to be.
"No, Rose." His words were final, and even the Doctor stopped trying to persuade him in the end.
The incongruous, bright blue police box stood on the same rise in the grassy clearing where it had waited for several days. The Doctor beamed and touched his hand to the door reverently, then looked back toward Rose and Jacob, standing slightly below him. Rose turned and looked down the slope toward the river, undulating gracefully in a sea of dry marsh grass. The waves crested in tiny whitecaps, barely perceptible at this distance, in the wind. She turned and embraced Jacob, who hugged her back and said in a whisper against her ear, "Take care of him, will you, Rose?" She nodded back, unable to speak, and released him, studying the lines of his familiar, dear face before she stepped back.
The Doctor dipped his head in farewell to his friend, who reached out and took both his hands instead. "I will pray for you," said Jacob.
"If you must," sighed the Doctor.
Jacob's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I must, I'm afraid." His eyes turned to Rose, and back to the Doctor. "'Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you,'" he intoned, smiling. "I will see you again, in this world or the next." He let the Doctor's hands fall away and kissed Rose gently on the forehead, in benediction and farewell.
The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and held out a hand to Rose. She took it, felt the warm, strong pulse of his hearts, his firm grip. For a moment they were utterly alone, all the world and the TARDIS and Jacob and the river falling away from them.
At last, they stepped, as one, through the door.
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 09:32 am (UTC)How prophetic!
God... Do I really want to read the epilogue??? Knowing what's coming???
Arh...
Poor Doctor and poor Rose... They will never be back... And I do have the feeling they both know it...
no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 09:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 05:00 am (UTC)She felt the Doctor nod his agreement into his hair and she smiled.
Her hair, I believe :).
She heard the soft tolling of the bells, calling the monks to prayers at the hour of Lauds.
I love the names of the hours so much. They're so beautiful and evocative, and I like the way they find their way into the story (and Rose's consciousness).
I will not blush. I will not blush. I think you'd typically italicize this, as a direct quote of a thought.
It's cute that the question of who made the bed the other day has been resolved :).
I will be back. We will be back. Again, this was probably supposed to be italicized?
At last, they stepped, as one, through the door.
Sigh. Perfect ending. I know the strange, disconnected feeling of returning to normal life after an interlude like this. It's hard, and you captured the feeling of knowing you have to leave, not wanting to, trying to wring out every last memory from your final moments there. And then that last little note of unity.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 11:50 pm (UTC)Technically, it was a paragraph. ;)
I fixed the italics -- funny, it was noted that was in the original doc and then LJ just didn't add it as it normally does. ::shrugs:: Anyway, it's done.
I had to have him make the bed. It just seemed necessary.