kalleah | Voyages of Discovery (Chapter Twenty-Four)

Bit of a longer chapter for you, and a little gut-wrenching at that.

Previous Chapters

"It was the noise
Of ancient trees falling while all was still
Before the storm, in the long interval
Between the gathering clouds and that light breeze
Which Germans call the Wind's bride."
Charles Godfrey Leland

"I want to record the message here," said Rose, interrupting the Doctor in the middle of a description of what the recording would entail. She wasn't interested in the logistics of three-dimensional data capture, and she could tell the Doctor wasn't as enraptured with his own explanation as he normally was. "I don't want to do it in the TARDIS."

"Maybe with the river as a backdrop?" suggested Jacob. "Over on that hill?"

Rose smiled faintly at his kindness. "That could be nice."

"Doctor, why don't you go and fetch your equipment? We'll wait here." Jacob's statement, while ostensibly phrased as a question, did not leave room for discussion, and the Doctor wisely nodded in agreement and headed off for the TARDIS.

"He's doing it for me," said Rose hollowly. "He's going back for me." Jacob didn't speak, but he again closed his hand around hers in silent support. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"I do," he answered. "I told him, when you were apart, that he would see you again. I do not believe this miracle will be undone so casually."

"A miracle?" said Rose, trying to summon some humour. "From his explanation, it sounds like the universe rejected me."

"Rose," Jacob said kindly. "Don't dismiss it so easily."

She stared off into the distance and felt the breeze stir her hair. "Be careful what you wish for," she murmured, and stood to pace around. He remained seated, but his watchful gaze followed her restless circling.

The Doctor returned, and the three of them walked to the top of the hill Jacob had pointed out. Below them, the river snaked through a sea of brittle, waving marsh grass. Rose pivoted around, trying to find just the right angle, and settled at last on a vista with a lush camellia, weighted down with Spanish moss, the river just visible in the distance. She stood in front of it, jutting her chin up into the air, and the Doctor adjusted what looked to be a plain camera on a tripod in front of her.

"Here," he said, pressing a thin plastic device with two buttons on top into her hand. "This starts and stops the recording, and this allows you to skip back if you want to record over something." He leaned in and kissed her. "We'll be back at the table when you're ready."

"You're not staying?" she asked, momentarily confused.

He shook his head. "I thought you might want to be alone for this," he told her softly.

She nodded dazedly. As the two men walked away, Jacob stumbled and the Doctor offered his arm to steady his friend.

"Right," she told herself, looking at the camera. "I can do this. Right." She drew in a breath and thought of the last time she had seen her mother, indignant at the lack of progress in the baby's birth. Who said anything about nature? she heard Jackie squawk in her mind.

She focused on the camera and pressed the first button. "Begin recording now," it said, in a voice identical to K-9. Rose involuntarily grinned in response.

"Mum," she started. "I'm safe. I want you to know I'm safe, and I'm happy, and I love you so much." As she spoke, the words tumbled out easier than she had expected in her short preparation time. She told her mother of the doorway, the choice she had made, and tried to explain why.

"I had this chance to get back to the Doctor, and I just took it," she said, brushing her hair back out of her face. Her gaze followed the winding path down the hill before snapping back to focus on the camera. "Don't be angry with him, Mum. He didn't do anything. It was my choice. I love him, and he – he loves me, too. You've known that longer than we have, haven't you, Mum?" She smiled.

She spoke of the quiet peace of the monastery and even of Jacob, her friend. She spoke of the baby, the Doctor's theory of her counterpart, her sense that Pete would be a good father.

"He's not Dad, is he? I wanted him to be, and that wasn't fair. He's his own man, and a good man. He loves you so much, and he will love the baby, too. I think – she may turn out a lot like me, Mum, but don't expect her to be me, just like Pete isn't Dad."

In the end, she didn't cry, and she was as proud of that fact as of anything she had managed in her life. Her mother would see her strong, happy, loved, and loving her.

"Tell Mickey and Pete I'm all right. I'm with the Doctor," she said. "I love you."

She pressed the button. "Recording stopped," said the machine perkily. Only then did she put her face in her hands and let herself cry. When she stopped, she resolutely wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath.

Now, she thought, comes the hard part.

Rose's hands were steady as she lifted the camera off the tripod and slung its strap over her shoulder. To her surprise, when she went to pick up the tripod, it made a whirring sound and popped its metal legs together. She dropped back in astonishment and watched as it folded itself up with a chorus of mechanical clicking, dropping into a neatly folded package onto the ground in front of her.

"That's convenient," she muttered, picking it up. "Wonder if he has any maps that do that?" She picked up the tripod by its built-in handle and, with a fortifying breath, walked back down the path to where the Doctor and Jacob waited for her.

The two of them were seated at the stone table, speaking intensely in low voices that carried only as indistinct murmurs to Rose. The Doctor looked up as she approached and she caught a glimpse of his taut, worried face before the careful mask of neutrality slipped back into place.

She rushed to him and he caught her up in a crushing embrace before taking the camera and tripod from her. Jacob had risen and stood quietly by the table, waiting.

"I'm fine," Rose said in response to the unasked but obvious question they both had. "It's done. When do you want to take it to Mickey?" She directed the last part to the Doctor, who rocked back and forth from one foot to the other and bounced the tripod up and down in his right hand.

"Don't see much reason for delay," he said, looking at her and assuming an unaffected tone with marginal success. She heard the strain in his voice, the too-casual note not ringing true. "Sooner we get it done, the sooner we can stop worrying about it."

"Are you worried?" she asked, a little more harshly than she intended.

"Of course," he retorted. "You know how I feel about Torchwood in general and Canary Wharf in particular." He stuck the tripod and camera in one of his coat's voluminous inside pockets. "I'm not exactly looking forward to going back there."

"Doctor, Rose," said Jacob in a soothing voice. "Stop it. You're both scared and taking it out on each other. It's a natural reaction, but don't be this way with each other."

Rose looked away, knowing the rightness of Jacob's words and feeling some shame. She felt the Doctor's fingers brush her hand and then slide between her own fingers, the fit comfortable and confident. She tightened her grip in return and looked back at him. The diffuse rays of the sun filtered off the surrounding leaves and branches and covered him in a kind, gentle light. His eyes opened a little too much, exposing the whites above his deep brown irises. He was obviously trying to smile and not having a successful time of it.

"I'm scared," she admitted, and saw what was left of his smile waver and falter completely.

"So am I," he breathed. He tugged her forward and put his free hand around her, settling into her back. He exhaled gently into her hair and kissed the top of her head. She let her head fall against him and felt the strong support of his thin body, tense with anticipation.

"I'll be right here," she said finally, pulling away from him. She reached up and traced one of the deeply grooved laugh lines at the corner of his mouth. They still held hands tightly.

"Come to the TARDIS and see me off?" he asked, almost shyly, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," she said. "I can do that."

They turned as one and looked at Jacob, who shook his head. "I'll get my things and be with the camellias," he said. "Rose, come and find me when you're done. We'll stay busy while he's delivering the message."

Rose's steps alongside the Doctor were not any faster or slower than her regular pace, but she felt the weight of her fear bearing down on her shoulders and her sternum as she tried to breathe. Their threaded fingers moved occasionally, reassuring each other of their continued presence. When they reached the TARDIS, she was shaking enough for him to notice.

"Rose," he said, leaning in toward her. His lips pressed against hers and she gladly opened her mouth for him. They stood there in front of the TARDIS, kissing each other desperately, hands clasped together. Rose's free hand wound up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer against her. He reached up and touched her temple, and she felt the not-entirely-unfamiliar lurch as he projected towards her. She saw the scene as he saw it, her hair blowing in the light breeze behind her and a sad smile on her face, felt the kiss through his lips and hers, the pull of her hand in his hair. She shivered and felt the ripple of her own movement all against his body.

When he pulled away, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping his eyes fixed on hers the whole time. "I love you," he said for the second time, and his lips fumbled around the unfamiliar words.

"I love you too," she said, and hugged him close again.

At long last, she let go and pursed her lips together, waiting. He turned, unlocked the TARDIS door, and hesitated before he went inside. He looked her up and down, fixing on her face, and gave her a broad grin. "Further up and further in," he said. "I'll tell Mister Mickey you said hello."

Rose closed the TARDIS door behind him and stepped back onto the grass. The wind kicked up as the TARDIS began to fade away, receding translucently into the background. When she blinked, it was gone, and the grating whirr of its dematerialization was just an echo in the wind.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: a-ha, "This Alone Is Love"