kalleah: (arisbe)
[personal profile] kalleah
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Betas: [personal profile] ivydoor, [personal profile] np_complete, [personal profile] platypus, and [personal profile] sensiblecat 

Previous Chapters

In this chapter:
Ian presents Rose with a gift, and there are further domestics at the Trabanes'.

Connor returned with a jumper and a pair of trousers for Rose, who disappeared into the bathroom to change while he and the Doctor resumed their tinkering with the device. She had never expected to be grateful for the dry shampoo, which she combed through her hair to get the worst of the soot and charred smell out. After a quick sponge bath, she changed back into her own knickers and bra and then Emelia's clothes. The khaki trousers were much too long for Rose, but she rolled them up and made the best of it.

As she emerged, a small form shot across the room toward her. Ian. She was too startled to react, so he ended up flinging his arms wide and embracing her hips, his small face pressing against her belly.

"Miss Rose," he hiccupped, and couldn't get anything else out.

Rose unwound him from her lower half and drew him over to the couch, where he immediately crawled into her lap and put his arms around her neck. "I'm fine," she soothed, hugging him close. "See?"

He hiccupped again and gave her a betrayed look. "Where were you today?"

"I needed to rest," she explained. Granted, she hadn't done a lot of resting today, but that had been the original intent of her day off. "I'm glad to see you now." She squeezed him tight against her.

"Are you coming tomorrow?" he demanded, not much appeased, and wiggled in her lap.

"I'm not sure yet." She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Did you just get back?"

"Mister Brandon brought me home," he told her. "I had to stay late." He scooted off the couch and flew across the room to his small rucksack. After a moment of rooting around, he made a pleased squeak and came back to her, carrying something carefully in the palm of his hand. "Look," he said, proudly, and held out his hand to her.

Nestled in his palm was a coffee brown figurine made of clay, covered in a glossy glaze. Its head and long, winding neck curled up and over its shoulder, directing its small eyes slightly back and to one side. Its ears were round and small, flattened back against its head, and she could see the hundreds of small marks indicating its smooth, furry coat.

"Oh, that's lovely," she breathed. "Can I touch it?" Ian's eyes shone as he nodded. She delicately traced the flow of the creature's spine from its snout to its graceful tail. Even inert, it had a dynamic potential energy to it. She half-expected it to leap off Ian's palm and disappear under the coffee table.

"A furmot," she guessed, and Ian smiled.

"I made it for you," he said, with a bold twinkle in his eye as he looked toward his feet. He would be a lady-killer when he was older, she thought. He wasn't a bit shy, but he instinctively knew how to act it for maximum effect.

"It's beautiful," she said. "Are you sure?" She almost laughed at the look he gave her, which so reminded her of the Doctor's earlier incarnation when she had said something he considered to be particularly daft.

"Made it for you," he repeated, pushing it toward her. Her hand closed around the tiny creature quickly, not wanting him to drop it.

"Thanks," she told him, and gave him a quick, impulsive kiss on the cheek.

He squealed and hopped backwards, rubbing his cheek with a grimace. "Didn't have to kiss me," he said, affronted, and ran down the hallway. Rose heard a door thump shut in the distance and giggled.

She stood and showed the Doctor, who examined it through his glasses and nodded approvingly. Connor looked every inch the proud father even though he continued to focus his attention on the device between them.

"He's amazing," she said, studying the fine detail. "I can't believe he made this."

"Quite a prodigy," agreed the Doctor. He held out his hand and Rose passed over the figurine. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at the furmot, bathing it in a pool of blue light. He rotated it around in his hand and made a satisfied grunt before handing it back to Rose.

"What did you do?" she asked. The figurine felt faintly warm in her hands, but seemed otherwise unchanged.

"Just fixed it so you can't break it," he said. "It's hard as a diamond now." He gave her an amused look. "Thought that might come in handy."

Connor's eyes had fallen upon the sonic screwdriver. He bore the look of a man who had seen a miracle. "What – is – that?" he asked slowly, with great emphasis on each word.

"Oh," said the Doctor, so nonchalantly Rose might have missed how pleased he was at the other man's interest. "Sonic screwdriver."

"Sonic?" The question had been asked before, but Rose had never heard anyone say it with quite the reverence that Connor used. "So you just used ultrasonic waves to create a crystal matrix?"

The Doctor grinned back. "Well, not exactly. It's even better than that." He began to explain with his customary flourishes, and Connor hung on every word.

Rose abandoned the two of them to their happy technobabble and joined Jonah on the floor. "Jonah, look at this," she said, and held out the furmot figurine toward him.

He cocked his head to the side, listening to something she didn't hear, and then reached out with his small hand. He explored every ridge and curve, as she had, and finally took it from her. She marveled as he studied it intently, turning it around. The glaze caught the light and sparkled back at them.

"Ian made it," she said. "It's a furmot, like Freddy and Felicity." Suddenly, her vision and perspective shifted, and she was no longer in the Trabanes' flat.

She careened through the water, which bubbled around her in the stream and hissed against the rocks. Up, up, and out, breath of air, back down again, the cold exhilarating. She wriggled, agile as a snake, flying through the water, emerging with a splash onto the grassy bank and flopping down in the warm sunlight with a grateful, glorious sigh.

The shared experience was so vivid that Rose had to blink several times to clear her vision. Jonah was still motionless, looking at the figurine in his hand. She shivered, half convinced that she was soaking wet from the stream, but finding herself still dry and clad in Emelia's clothes.

"Rose?" said the Doctor gently, sitting down beside her. She turned to face him, knowing she looked dazed but unable to do anything about it.

"Just startled me," she stammered. "It was so real."

"He's got quite an imagination." He reached out a hand and carefully traced his fingers against the boy's temple. Jonah put the furmot down on the floor and returned to his bricks.

Connor had crossed over and knelt next to Jonah. "Everyone all right?" he asked, worry evident in his voice and face.

"Yes," the Doctor told him. "Jonah showed us a furmot." Rose gaped slightly at the understatement. It had been more than a simple image of a furmot. She had been the furmot, at least in Jonah's mind. The Doctor made a barely perceptible shake of his head and she straightened, trying to compose herself.

"That's fantastic," said Connor enthusiastically. He turned to the little boy. "Jonah, that's fantastic." He reached out, hesitated, and then did squeeze Jonah's shoulder lightly.

His gentle touch against Rose's mind shimmered with longing, and she felt the Doctor's hand settle into hers. She tangled her fingers with his and swallowed hard.



Emelia returned, looking harried, and flopped down on the couch. "We've got new habitation assignments for everyone," she said. "You're in section 8, unit K. I'll update your keycards after a bit."

"Can we get into our old flat?" asked Rose, heading off the Doctor's inevitable question. "Just for a bit."

"Yes," said Emelia, with a curious look at the Doctor. "There's a very odd blue box in there that seems to be completely undamaged, despite the fact that most of the building burned down around it. You want to explain that?"

"That's our ship," said the Doctor, as if that were perfectly obvious.

Emelia was the only one who looked surprised, and she gave Connor a resigned look. "I suppose you knew all about this?"

"They told me a bit about it while you were gone today," Connor put in hastily. "I haven't seen it or anything."

Emelia shrugged. "All right, your ship then. Fine." She stood up. "I'm famished. Go fetch your ship or do what you want. I don't suppose anyone fed Ian and Jonah?" No one responded. "Sandwiches, then."

"I'll help," said Rose, hopping up and giving the Doctor a warning look. Behave, she thought emphatically. She doubted he could hear her, but she hoped her expression conveyed her meaning well enough.

She followed Emelia into the kitchen and found herself tasked with spreading paste onto thin slices of bread. The paste was different from the one she'd had at the nursery cafeteria, and her curiosity got the better of her.

"What is this?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't regret the question later.

"Special Recipe 7 protein paste," said Emelia, pulling a bottle of clear amber liquid out of a cabinet and pouring it into two glasses. "It's the only one Jonah will eat without a fuss." She piled the sandwiches onto plates and Rose carried the glasses into the other room.

"Sandwiches!" said the Doctor with delight. "Brilliant. Don't suppose they're cucumber? Maybe with a little cream cheese?"

"Protein paste," said Emelia. "Don't push your luck." She put the plate of sandwiches down on a table in the back corner of the long room where Connor was unfolding chairs. Rose set the glasses down and returned to the kitchen, finding four more glasses filled with the same liquid she'd drunk at the welcome party.
"I'd say we need some fortification," said Emelia, entering behind her, and tipped a glass back. "Ian! Dinner time."

Rose found the scene oddly charming. The six of them sat around the table in slightly wobbly, standard-issue folding chairs and ate protein paste sandwiches. Connor and Emelia asked Ian about his day, and he talked with his mouth full despite several cautions from his parents. Jonah ate without much interest in the conversation, but he seemed content enough.

In short, it was the perfect nuclear family dinner hour – except that they were on an alien planet, with one of the children silent and psychic, and joined by a woman from the past and the last of an ancient race. She shrugged. It wasn't exactly the sort of family she had dreamed off when she was a girl, fantasizing about a mum and a dad and even perhaps a sibling, but there was real love here, and that was more than enough.



"Ian," said Emelia. "Bedtime." He whined, predictably, and held tightly onto Rose.

"Can Miss Rose read me a story?" he asked, with hope shining in his eyes.

"If she's not too tired," said Connor, with a questioning look at Rose. She gave him a broad grin and hopped to her feet, pulling Ian with her.

"You pick," she said. Ian squealed with pleasure and ran off down the hallway.

Emelia led Jonah down the hallway after Rose, who followed the rather enthusiastic sounds coming from what she presumed was Ian's room. She stuck her head around the corner and found him in a room with two twin beds and a dresser.

He was tugging a pajama top on, and most of the sleeve was jammed down over his head. He grunted and made a flailing motion with one hand. Rose giggled and helped him get into it properly, with head out the top and one arm in each sleeve. This was not as straightforward an activity as it might have been, as Ian was in a fine state of excitement.

"Ian," said Emelia. "For heaven's sake, be still."

Ian leaped onto his bed with a flourish and assumed a rigid pose, his eyes opened wide and his arms and legs stuck out at odd angles. From across the room, his mother laughed and shook her head. Rose looked back at her, again startled at the sound of the other woman's unexpected laughter.

"I'm still," said Ian from between clenched teeth, staring straight ahead.

Rose tickled him on the sides and his breath came out as a shout. His arms and legs flew out at all angles until she relented and let him come up for air.

"Mummy!" he cried. "Tell –" gasp – "her –" gasp – "to stop!" Rose couldn't stop smiling, but she suppressed the urge to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek. A boy could only suffer so much indignity in a single evening, after all.

Jonah struggled with his pajamas as well, although in a different way than Ian had. Emelia carefully removed his shirt and tucked one arm, then another, into his pajama top. She spoke soothingly to him as she buttoned up the front. Rose could see him shaking slightly, and she fairly shook herself with the waves of anxiety rolling off him.

Her skin itched with the pressure of the nubby fabric, which seemed to relent only when Emelia fastened the final button. His shoes, socks, and trousers came off, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Emelia lifted one foot, then the other, to slip on his pajama bottoms and tugged them up over his legs and bum. Rose let out a sigh of relief and saw Jonah relax and become once again still.

Once the boys were all tucked in, Emelia kissed them both on the foreheads and told them goodnight. Rose eyed the selection of books on the shelf and decided that she would steer well clear of the Freddy and Felicity series for tonight. Her experience with Jonah, while harmless, had been intensely vivid and not a little exhausting.

"Don't read," said Ian, shifting under the covers and looking up at her with liquid eyes. "Tell me a story."

"Want one with kissing in it?" she teased. Ian pulled a face and she waved him off. "Just joking."

"Something scary," he urged. She gave a look over at Jonah in the other bed and decided that a horror story would perhaps not be the wisest choice, all things considered. She smiled, knowing what story she would tell.

"Once upon a time," she began with a steadily growing smile, "there was a girl named Rose, and she worked in a shop ..."

Date: 2007-08-26 08:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kalleah.livejournal.com
Rose did enjoy the paste sandwich she had at the nursery, although she didn't know what it was then. (Granted, we still don't really know.)

I'm glad that Ian and Jonah are vivid -- I have very clear images of both of them in my mind.

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September 2012

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