Voyages of Discovery (Chapter Thirty)
Apr. 30th, 2007 08:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalleahA short chapter, but an important conversation between the Doctor and Rose.
I have, as surprising as this may sound, finished this story, which will conclude with an epilogue after chapter thirty-three. I'm daunted, looking back, at how long I've carried on and how much support and enthusiasm I've received. Thank you, so much, for all your kind words, compliments, and questioning.
My betas,ivydoor, sensiblecat, and platypus have been fantastic and I'd like to publicly thank them all for their input, support, and ideas. This is a far better tale than I could have told on my own.
And now, I will simply thank the Academy and get to the next chapter. Again, this one is relatively short.
Previous Chapters
I have, as surprising as this may sound, finished this story, which will conclude with an epilogue after chapter thirty-three. I'm daunted, looking back, at how long I've carried on and how much support and enthusiasm I've received. Thank you, so much, for all your kind words, compliments, and questioning.
My betas,
ivydoor, sensiblecat, and platypus have been fantastic and I'd like to publicly thank them all for their input, support, and ideas. This is a far better tale than I could have told on my own.And now, I will simply thank the Academy and get to the next chapter. Again, this one is relatively short.
Previous Chapters
“We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine.”
Eduardo Galeano
In the time before the evening meal, the Doctor and Rose walked in the garden. She let him lead, although they seemed to be more rambling than going anywhere in particular. They didn't speak often, content to hold hands and simply be together in the bright, cheerful day. When they emerged from the woods, Rose spotted the bench where she had napped on the first day, long ago, at the monastery.
"Remember that day?" she said, and he seemed to follow her logic, smiling broadly and sitting down on the bench with her. "You gave me your coat. You and Jacob were rattling on about – something, I'm not even sure what – and I fell asleep here."
"I remember," he replied, his voice full of amusement. "You were so surprised that I had a monk as a friend."
"Well, you have to admit it is a little odd," she pointed out. "You being such an atheist and all."
"Perhaps. I've known Jacob longer than he's been a man of God, practically since he was in nappies." He waggled his eyebrows up and down teasingly.
Rose suppressed the mental image his words summoned. "I can imagine. You two go on like you've known each other forever."
"Not forever. Just a very, very, very long time," he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side. She scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder, relieved and happy to have him safely back with her.
He removed his arm from around her and shifted her so she was sitting on the bench with her legs thrown over his. In that position, she could see his face, so familiar and beloved, relaxed and neutral, only the faint quiver around the corners of his mouth indicating his mood. She impulsively reached up and traced the line of his cheekbone, memorizing his features.
"Remember, when we were here before," she said, tentatively, "you said we could stay." She looked at him with huge, anxious eyes.
He nodded, slowly. "Is that what you want?"
She didn't answer directly. "You said I'd domesticated you and I was wondering if that was true. I mean, you've changed, yeah. I want to be with you but I don't want to change who you are."
"Of course you change me," he said. "I've changed you, too. I worry about that. You've left your family and your whole life for me. No going back." He swallowed and looked away briefly. "I worry that you'll resent me for that one day."
"And you won't resent being saddled with an aging human?" she replied. "There's no convenient place to drop me off now."
"Stop it," he said sharply, his face hardening. "I'm not leaving you behind. You know better than that."
She did know better, and she looked apologetically up at him. He relaxed fractionally. "Sorry," she said, and meant it. "If I can't keep up – when I can't keep up – what will we do?"
"Got the lab," he reminded her, his hand coming to rest protectively on her thigh. "That will be a long time from now. A very, very, very long time."
She pushed on, not wanting him to change the subject as he so adroitly could do. "What will we do then?"
"Find somewhere quiet," he responded tensely. The hand on her leg squeezed. "I'll stay with you." He looked straight at her, lips pursed, daring her to say something different.
She didn't contradict him. "Could we come back here?"
"Yes," he said, and then, in a pleading voice: "Can we not talk about it? I'm not leaving you behind, not ever. I know you'll grow old and I won't, but can't we just enjoy what we have now? There is enough time to be properly mournful later on. I've had quite enough of that for a couple of lifetimes."
"Oh Doctor," she sighed. For a man with time and space at his beck and call, he so often balked at discussing the future. She couldn't blame him for that. She reached down for the hand on her leg and slid her fingers between his, relishing how well they fit together. "Want to set off again, say tomorrow?" she asked.
He brightened. "Backwards or forwards?"
"You can pick," she said. "Or rather, the TARDIS can pick."
"Oi," he said. "Not fair." She pointedly did not remind him of his most recent landing misadventure, although she didn't think the TARDIS would have intentionally put her through all that worry.
Eduardo Galeano
In the time before the evening meal, the Doctor and Rose walked in the garden. She let him lead, although they seemed to be more rambling than going anywhere in particular. They didn't speak often, content to hold hands and simply be together in the bright, cheerful day. When they emerged from the woods, Rose spotted the bench where she had napped on the first day, long ago, at the monastery.
"Remember that day?" she said, and he seemed to follow her logic, smiling broadly and sitting down on the bench with her. "You gave me your coat. You and Jacob were rattling on about – something, I'm not even sure what – and I fell asleep here."
"I remember," he replied, his voice full of amusement. "You were so surprised that I had a monk as a friend."
"Well, you have to admit it is a little odd," she pointed out. "You being such an atheist and all."
"Perhaps. I've known Jacob longer than he's been a man of God, practically since he was in nappies." He waggled his eyebrows up and down teasingly.
Rose suppressed the mental image his words summoned. "I can imagine. You two go on like you've known each other forever."
"Not forever. Just a very, very, very long time," he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side. She scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder, relieved and happy to have him safely back with her.
He removed his arm from around her and shifted her so she was sitting on the bench with her legs thrown over his. In that position, she could see his face, so familiar and beloved, relaxed and neutral, only the faint quiver around the corners of his mouth indicating his mood. She impulsively reached up and traced the line of his cheekbone, memorizing his features.
"Remember, when we were here before," she said, tentatively, "you said we could stay." She looked at him with huge, anxious eyes.
He nodded, slowly. "Is that what you want?"
She didn't answer directly. "You said I'd domesticated you and I was wondering if that was true. I mean, you've changed, yeah. I want to be with you but I don't want to change who you are."
"Of course you change me," he said. "I've changed you, too. I worry about that. You've left your family and your whole life for me. No going back." He swallowed and looked away briefly. "I worry that you'll resent me for that one day."
"And you won't resent being saddled with an aging human?" she replied. "There's no convenient place to drop me off now."
"Stop it," he said sharply, his face hardening. "I'm not leaving you behind. You know better than that."
She did know better, and she looked apologetically up at him. He relaxed fractionally. "Sorry," she said, and meant it. "If I can't keep up – when I can't keep up – what will we do?"
"Got the lab," he reminded her, his hand coming to rest protectively on her thigh. "That will be a long time from now. A very, very, very long time."
She pushed on, not wanting him to change the subject as he so adroitly could do. "What will we do then?"
"Find somewhere quiet," he responded tensely. The hand on her leg squeezed. "I'll stay with you." He looked straight at her, lips pursed, daring her to say something different.
She didn't contradict him. "Could we come back here?"
"Yes," he said, and then, in a pleading voice: "Can we not talk about it? I'm not leaving you behind, not ever. I know you'll grow old and I won't, but can't we just enjoy what we have now? There is enough time to be properly mournful later on. I've had quite enough of that for a couple of lifetimes."
"Oh Doctor," she sighed. For a man with time and space at his beck and call, he so often balked at discussing the future. She couldn't blame him for that. She reached down for the hand on her leg and slid her fingers between his, relishing how well they fit together. "Want to set off again, say tomorrow?" she asked.
He brightened. "Backwards or forwards?"
"You can pick," she said. "Or rather, the TARDIS can pick."
"Oi," he said. "Not fair." She pointedly did not remind him of his most recent landing misadventure, although she didn't think the TARDIS would have intentionally put her through all that worry.
