The Calm Before the Storm (Chapter Six)
Feb. 5th, 2007 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalleahThis came out in a rush, and isn't as long as other chapters, but it was a logical point for a pause. I'll likely come back to this later in the week. May take a moment to write something silly for the Happy!Who challenge to clear my head from Deep Thoughts.
For those of you who have commented, I am humbled by your praise. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For those who have read without commenting, I thank you for coming along with me, and hope this has been as rewarding to read as it has been for me to write.
The quotation is from the Bible, 1 John 4:16 (but if you haven't started reading, don't let that scare you away.)
( Chapter One )
( Chapter Two )
( Chapter Three )
For those of you who have commented, I am humbled by your praise. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For those who have read without commenting, I thank you for coming along with me, and hope this has been as rewarding to read as it has been for me to write.
The quotation is from the Bible, 1 John 4:16 (but if you haven't started reading, don't let that scare you away.)
( Chapter One )
( Chapter Two )
( Chapter Three )
( Chapter Four )
( Chapter Five )
Rose had imagined, despite her frequent and guilty efforts to stop imagining, waking up with the Doctor. Her mind had drifted through several scenarios, some of which involved him waking her gently with a kiss and most of which involved a scandalous lack of nightclothes. When she did wake to find the Doctor still in bed beside her, she found it to be a more intimate moment than she had envisioned.
She drifted awake to find herself on her side, facing the Doctor. In the night, their arms and legs had tangled together, one of her calves on one of his knobby knees and one of his legs thrown up and over her thigh. Rose immediately felt self-conscious and aware of every place where their bodies touched.
The Doctor, in contrast, still slept soundly. Rose studied his face, as relaxed and unguarded as she had ever seen him. After his regeneration, she had tucked him into her bed and watched him tirelessly as he recovered, but his face then had been clammy with fevered sweat and tense with illness. The lines around his eyes now were soft and straight, not crinkled as they were when he smiled wickedly or laughed, or when he worried. His hair had dried as they slept, now sticking up and she smiled to think of the terrible bed head he would have when he sat up. She wanted to touch his face, to stroke the hair at his temples, to brush his forehead, but didn't dare make a move that would jolt him out of such a deep and peaceful sleep. It was selfish to want him to look at her and want to touch her in return. Her heart was light and she could not sustain a selfish thought at his expense.
After some time, however, one leg began to go to sleep on its own. She eased back slightly, just a fraction, and curled her leg away. The Doctor sighed softly in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Rose was now pressed between him and the wall, which, while a snug fit, allowed her to stretch her cramped leg out and make a relieved O with her mouth as it prickled back to normal awareness. Once she had stretched, she pressed into the Doctor's side and rested her head on the pillow, breathing in again the smell of him, wool and man, a slight sharpness from the cotton shirt that had dried in the night. She felt a lethargic, effusive joy in her soul and tears welled in her eyes momentarily.
She thought for some time about his revelations of the night before. He obviously wanted forgiveness for his actions in the Time War, but she knew enough about his philosophy to know that he wouldn't view anyone's forgiveness as enough. Perhaps the souls of his dead people could forgive him, but none of those among the living could give him what he sought. Only he could forgive himself, and that might be less probable than returning his lost planet from beyond time. The gentle Jacob could not offer him solace, and --
Rose started as her mind leaped back to Jacob, on what could be his deathbed, and her promise that she would see him again in the morning. She had not heard the bells toll to signal the end of the morning's service, and the light filtering in through the window was still indistinct as a watercolor, but she did not have long before her conscience would force her away from the Doctor and to Jacob's side. She let her eyes fall closed and let herself enjoy, for a few more moments, the warmth of him next to her, his undisturbed, rhythmic breathing, the sense of being so close to him in the little twin bed. When the bells sound, she thought, I will go to Jacob.
The bells tolled, extending their gentle reminder to her, before she fell back asleep, and she put all of her gymnastics training to good use as she clambered cautiously around and over the Doctor to get out of bed. He made a snuffling snort at one point, which made her slap her hand over her mouth to avoid a full-fledged shout of laughter, and furrowed his brow, but after a moment, his face slackened back into sleep. She dressed quietly and stood over him, wondering what to do next. She couldn't just leave him. She hastily searched the room and found a notebook and pen in her bag. She flipped it open, scrawled a note, and angled the notepad prominently on the bedside table to face him.
Doctor - Gone to visit Jacob, didn't want to wake you. Please don't go far. I'll be back soon. - Rose
Feeling somewhat comforted by her message for him, she tiptoed out of the room and had a terrible moment when the hinges stuck and threatened to squeak horribly, but didn't. She made a face at the door once it was closed and headed off down the path to the main clearing.
She skipped the dining hall, where presumably the majority of the monastery was occupied, and went straight to the dormitory. She let herself through the big door and had a moment of panic when faced with the hallway of identical doors. Fortunately, all but one were open, and the rooms behind them empty. She tapped lightly on the door and heard an indistinct sound in reply. She hoped it was "come in," but couldn't be sure. She went in.
Jacob appeared much as he had the night before, sitting up in his bed with a book in his lap. He brightened when he saw her.
"Rose, I am glad you came," he said with enthusiasm, although his voice was unsteady.
"Yes," she said, "I wouldn't miss it. Can I go get you some breakfast?"
"Oh, thank you, dear, but I ate a little this morning already. You are kind to offer. Please, sit down, sit down." She did. He studied her, the sharpness in his eyes undiminished by his failing health. "Did you speak to the Doctor last night?"
"Yes. He's -- sleeping." Rose was suddenly unsure of what and how much to share with Jacob -- a monk, after all, and she wasn't sure how much he would approve of the Doctor in her bed, however chastely.
"Nightmares?" said Jacob, and gave her a look that told her not to hold back.
"No, I -- I don't think so."
He nodded, looking relieved, and took a long breath. "I worry," he said, and Rose smiled involuntarily. "I am not in a position to offer comfort to him now, when he's faced with my mortality in addition to everything else. I wish that it would be otherwise," again, a sigh, "but he is as he is."
"I think he will come," Rose said hesitantly, not sure if what she said was true. You humans, you decay, you wither and die, came the Doctor's words back to her, and she heard again the pain in his voice, and understood some of it. She had known Jacob only a little while, and she could see the enormous energy and potential in him. What must the Doctor see, with his friend, so full of life, fading away, and the prospect of the same happening to everyone he met? Could she ask him to watch it happen to her in time? "Jacob, are we selfish to ask it of him?"
"Of course we are," the monk responded in a quiet voice. "We want to be with the ones we care about, who bring meaning and purpose to our lives. But is it selfish also to send them away, to hold them at arms' length when they want to be close to us, to keep them safe from hurt? Yes, that is selfish too. We are flawed beings, Rose. Only God has selfless love for all beings, and we can only reflect some of that love to each other."
"Is it worth it?"
"Oh," said Jacob, his eyes shining intensely, "oh yes. Every day. Every moment. Seize it and love it and each other and be in God's creation with your whole heart. As John said, 'And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.'"
This time, it was Jacob who offered her his hand, and Rose took it gladly, tears sparkling in her own eyes. They sat companionably together, hands clasped, the traveler and the man who was home, the uncertain and the devoted. When Jacob's eyes drifted shut and he was breathing evenly, Rose gently placed his hand across his chest and quietly left the room.
She drifted awake to find herself on her side, facing the Doctor. In the night, their arms and legs had tangled together, one of her calves on one of his knobby knees and one of his legs thrown up and over her thigh. Rose immediately felt self-conscious and aware of every place where their bodies touched.
The Doctor, in contrast, still slept soundly. Rose studied his face, as relaxed and unguarded as she had ever seen him. After his regeneration, she had tucked him into her bed and watched him tirelessly as he recovered, but his face then had been clammy with fevered sweat and tense with illness. The lines around his eyes now were soft and straight, not crinkled as they were when he smiled wickedly or laughed, or when he worried. His hair had dried as they slept, now sticking up and she smiled to think of the terrible bed head he would have when he sat up. She wanted to touch his face, to stroke the hair at his temples, to brush his forehead, but didn't dare make a move that would jolt him out of such a deep and peaceful sleep. It was selfish to want him to look at her and want to touch her in return. Her heart was light and she could not sustain a selfish thought at his expense.
After some time, however, one leg began to go to sleep on its own. She eased back slightly, just a fraction, and curled her leg away. The Doctor sighed softly in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Rose was now pressed between him and the wall, which, while a snug fit, allowed her to stretch her cramped leg out and make a relieved O with her mouth as it prickled back to normal awareness. Once she had stretched, she pressed into the Doctor's side and rested her head on the pillow, breathing in again the smell of him, wool and man, a slight sharpness from the cotton shirt that had dried in the night. She felt a lethargic, effusive joy in her soul and tears welled in her eyes momentarily.
She thought for some time about his revelations of the night before. He obviously wanted forgiveness for his actions in the Time War, but she knew enough about his philosophy to know that he wouldn't view anyone's forgiveness as enough. Perhaps the souls of his dead people could forgive him, but none of those among the living could give him what he sought. Only he could forgive himself, and that might be less probable than returning his lost planet from beyond time. The gentle Jacob could not offer him solace, and --
Rose started as her mind leaped back to Jacob, on what could be his deathbed, and her promise that she would see him again in the morning. She had not heard the bells toll to signal the end of the morning's service, and the light filtering in through the window was still indistinct as a watercolor, but she did not have long before her conscience would force her away from the Doctor and to Jacob's side. She let her eyes fall closed and let herself enjoy, for a few more moments, the warmth of him next to her, his undisturbed, rhythmic breathing, the sense of being so close to him in the little twin bed. When the bells sound, she thought, I will go to Jacob.
The bells tolled, extending their gentle reminder to her, before she fell back asleep, and she put all of her gymnastics training to good use as she clambered cautiously around and over the Doctor to get out of bed. He made a snuffling snort at one point, which made her slap her hand over her mouth to avoid a full-fledged shout of laughter, and furrowed his brow, but after a moment, his face slackened back into sleep. She dressed quietly and stood over him, wondering what to do next. She couldn't just leave him. She hastily searched the room and found a notebook and pen in her bag. She flipped it open, scrawled a note, and angled the notepad prominently on the bedside table to face him.
Doctor - Gone to visit Jacob, didn't want to wake you. Please don't go far. I'll be back soon. - Rose
Feeling somewhat comforted by her message for him, she tiptoed out of the room and had a terrible moment when the hinges stuck and threatened to squeak horribly, but didn't. She made a face at the door once it was closed and headed off down the path to the main clearing.
She skipped the dining hall, where presumably the majority of the monastery was occupied, and went straight to the dormitory. She let herself through the big door and had a moment of panic when faced with the hallway of identical doors. Fortunately, all but one were open, and the rooms behind them empty. She tapped lightly on the door and heard an indistinct sound in reply. She hoped it was "come in," but couldn't be sure. She went in.
Jacob appeared much as he had the night before, sitting up in his bed with a book in his lap. He brightened when he saw her.
"Rose, I am glad you came," he said with enthusiasm, although his voice was unsteady.
"Yes," she said, "I wouldn't miss it. Can I go get you some breakfast?"
"Oh, thank you, dear, but I ate a little this morning already. You are kind to offer. Please, sit down, sit down." She did. He studied her, the sharpness in his eyes undiminished by his failing health. "Did you speak to the Doctor last night?"
"Yes. He's -- sleeping." Rose was suddenly unsure of what and how much to share with Jacob -- a monk, after all, and she wasn't sure how much he would approve of the Doctor in her bed, however chastely.
"Nightmares?" said Jacob, and gave her a look that told her not to hold back.
"No, I -- I don't think so."
He nodded, looking relieved, and took a long breath. "I worry," he said, and Rose smiled involuntarily. "I am not in a position to offer comfort to him now, when he's faced with my mortality in addition to everything else. I wish that it would be otherwise," again, a sigh, "but he is as he is."
"I think he will come," Rose said hesitantly, not sure if what she said was true. You humans, you decay, you wither and die, came the Doctor's words back to her, and she heard again the pain in his voice, and understood some of it. She had known Jacob only a little while, and she could see the enormous energy and potential in him. What must the Doctor see, with his friend, so full of life, fading away, and the prospect of the same happening to everyone he met? Could she ask him to watch it happen to her in time? "Jacob, are we selfish to ask it of him?"
"Of course we are," the monk responded in a quiet voice. "We want to be with the ones we care about, who bring meaning and purpose to our lives. But is it selfish also to send them away, to hold them at arms' length when they want to be close to us, to keep them safe from hurt? Yes, that is selfish too. We are flawed beings, Rose. Only God has selfless love for all beings, and we can only reflect some of that love to each other."
"Is it worth it?"
"Oh," said Jacob, his eyes shining intensely, "oh yes. Every day. Every moment. Seize it and love it and each other and be in God's creation with your whole heart. As John said, 'And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.'"
This time, it was Jacob who offered her his hand, and Rose took it gladly, tears sparkling in her own eyes. They sat companionably together, hands clasped, the traveler and the man who was home, the uncertain and the devoted. When Jacob's eyes drifted shut and he was breathing evenly, Rose gently placed his hand across his chest and quietly left the room.
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Date: 2007-02-07 03:09 am (UTC)I have never described myself as a particularly spiritual person but I've attended a lot of services for different faiths and have visited religious communities like the Trappist monastery that got the ball rolling on this for me recently. I keep coming back also to my yoga practice, which is all about the physical, being present in your own body, awareness. It's helped me with the pace of this story as well.
I would love some input with your background on services -- I feel that Rose's curiosity and respect for Jacob will inevitably lead her to attend prayer services with the brothers (as she was invited to do so early on), and sketching that will be very difficult for me.