lostwolf | Acquainted with the Night

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 9. Tea and Tantrums

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Rose and the Doctor enjoyed a leisurely cup of tea and cake in the Heart’s Desire café, an amazing little place that, as far as Rose could work out, analysed your taste buds and read your surface thoughts as you contemplated your order and created a perfect representation of your ideal beverage and snack. She didn’t care how it worked when the results were as divine as they turned out to be. Of course, the Doctor was in seventh heaven, a perfect cup of tea and a snack filled with lots of useful potassium. His equanimity had been restored by the dead-end of her lead about disappearances and he was back to his most benign and charming. On their way back to the hotel he’d even detoured and brought her the red dress she’d wanted so much the previous day.

‘You can wear it tonight. For dinner,’ he announced as he handed it over.

Rose gawked at him, ‘Okay, who are you and what have you done with the Doctor?’ she demanded, crossing her arms and looking at him sceptically, a cheeky grin creasing her lips, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.

‘What? Can’t I buy you a present now?’

‘When have you ever brought me a present? In fact, when have you ever bought me a present and taken me to dinner?’ she demanded incredulously.

‘I have. I must have done. Some time. There was that time on Proxius Delta…’

Rose raised an eyebrow, ‘Buying my own clothes back after I lost them as a result of your bad driving does not count, Doctor!’

‘I bought you chips once!’

‘I bought the chips. You said you had no money, remember?’

The Doctor fidgeted, crossing his leather-clad arms defensively. His reply, when it came, was clipped and grumpy, ‘Well, if your gonna be like that I’ll just take it back, shall I?’

Rose blinked, this conversation was not developing in the way she had anticipated, ‘I didn’t say I didn’t want it!’

‘Nah, just turned it into a big domestic deal.’

Rose stared at him alarm, noting his rigid posture and closed expression. ‘You’re the one who suggested dinner!’

‘Yeah, and now I’m regretting it. Just forget it. I’m …’ he looked around him and Rose realised that, had they been in the TARDIS, this was one of those moments when he’d storm off in a huff, claiming he had important maintenance to do, and would disappear for hours into the bowels of his remarkable ship. Stuck in Babel, though, he had no excuse for a rapid retreat and nowhere obvious to go. ‘I’m going for a walk. Sniff needs the exercise.’ Grabbing the dog’s lead from Rose, he yanked the poor animal towards him and took off at an impressive pace. Sniff tried to drag his heels, tugging backwards and looking morosely at Rose, but, in the face of the Doctor’s superior strength, the little dog gave way, albeit with a miserable expression, his tail forlornly between his legs.

Rose watched them go, wondering why the teasing that would normally have been fun and mutual seemed to have turned into a row. Something was definitely wrong with the Doctor. Maybe being separated from his ship was upsetting him more than he’d let on. She just wished he’d talk to her about it. Feeling hollow and confused and incredibly lonely, Rose wandered back to the hotel, deciding that she’d dress for dinner and hope that, when the Doctor came back from his walk, he would have calmed down enough to accept her apology for teasing him. Clearly, despite what he’d said, things weren’t back to normal between them yet; 1987 and the stuff with her dad, not to mention her stupidity on Phoses, had obviously not been forgiven or forgotten. Before she’d stuffed things up they’d had fun, had a laugh, been comfortable with one another. Even Adam and the horrible mistake she’d made trusting him hadn’t damaged things between them, if anything it had made things stronger, but now … now it felt worse than when she’d first met him. He’d been dismissive of her then but he’d not been cold. And he’d listened, at least a bit, to her ideas. Especially after the Gelph, but even before then. Now, at the slightest little thing, he took offence and shoved her firmly back in her place. As she rode the lift back to their hotel room she wondered if, when they got out of here, he was going to find some excuse to dump her off back home, cause he clearly didn’t want her around anymore. She bit back self-pitying tears. It was bound to happen at some point, she’d better just enjoy it and him while she could. Soon she’d be back to a life of chips and the sofa and telly. As he’d reminded her; his ship, his rules.

Rose waited until curfew, but still the Doctor had not appeared. Eventually, afraid for him, she attempted to leave the hotel, only to find herself politely but firmly restrained and returned to the foyer. Guards covered the exits and made it impossible for her to sneak out; had she had the psychic paper she might have been able to swing it, but without it she was powerless; her tearful appeal to their better natures, all wide eyes and hopeless femininity, had had absolutely no impact and the flirting had made even less of an impression, despite the visual impact she knew she made in the red dress the Doctor had given her. Disgruntled, she trudged back to their room, appetite robbed by worry, and took up vigil by the panoramic window. Dawn’s rays were filtering over the horizon when she eventually dropped into a fitful, reluctant sleep.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the Judoon teleported off the surface and the sun rose, announcing the end of curfew. He’d been stupid, incredibly stupid. Rickey the idiot levels of stupid. He’d been so busy going over and over his conversation with Rose, smarting at her criticism, berating himself for getting domestic, railing against his irrational reaction to what he knew had been harmless teasing on her part, that he had completely failed to notice that it was getting dark. He, Lord of Time, had lost track of it and, by the time he’d realised his mistake it had been too late. The curfew alert had sounded and he’d been forced, by a stern and angry looking policeman, to take refuge for the night in a bar. He found himself pitying Lariff’s husband, moments before the extent of his folly hit home. Rose would be worried sick. She’d try to find him. She could get hurt. Rassilon, she could be killed; the Judoon would not take kindly to anyone breaking curfew and their judgement and punishment would be swift and fatal. He had to get back to her. Except he couldn’t, because every attempt to leave resulted in his being propelled back to his seat with force. Eventually, he’d been cuffed, hands behind his back, to a metal chair. Sniff had sat at his feet and whined. For once, though, he’d not resented the animal; he knew just how it felt. He felt like whining too, as his impressive brain conjured up every possible scenario regarding Rose and what was happening to her in his absence. He could only cling to the hope that there were equally fastidious guards at the Estoria and that, regardless of her wiles, she would not be able to find a way to search for him.

When the local police finally uncuffed him and sent him on his way he erupted from the bar like a bullet, grabbing Sniff and stuffing the small dog under his arm as he ran. He arrived at the Estoria panting, despite his impressive lung capacity, and cannoned into the lift like a man possessed. He only paused as he reached the door to their room, suddenly more than a little afraid of what he would find inside. Rose was a lovely girl, but she was also Jackie’s daughter. He was almost as afraid of finding her inside as he was of finding her absent, but only almost. And ultimately there was nothing she could say to him that could possibly be worse than he had berated himself with through the long night hours. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed opened the door.

The suite was cast in darkness, not a single lamp lit. The only light came via the large window, though the night time privacy shields were still partly deployed, filtering the morning light and robbing it of its glare. In the gentle glow she shone like a beacon, the red of her dress catching the sun and flaming more vibrantly than the most exquisite of sun rises. She was sleeping, reclining on the sofa, curled into a tight ball, her head resting on the arm, her legs tucked up beneath her. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, her hands clenched in lose fists; for all her repose the distress in which she had fallen to sleep was manifest. Her face, too, was far from relaxed; a small frown crumpled her face and tear tracks had dried in mascara-highlighted paths down her cheeks, her hair a messy nimbus of gold that drew into sharp relief the pale distress of her features. If she was sleeping beauty, she was a sleeping beauty beset by nightmares. He grimaced, guilt gripping his stomach with fierce fingers; he’d done this, and all because he, a nine hundred year old alien, had over-reacted to the harmless teasing of a child. Yes, he was tired, but that was no excuse. He’d permitted himself to become distracted, he’d lost track of time, he’d lost control, and he’d hurt her.

He was trying to work out how to wake her and what to say when he did when, with an indignant yelp, Sniff wriggled free of his grasp and thudded to the ground, making immediately for his much missed mistress. Before the Doctor could move, Sniff had launched himself at Rose, leaping onto her lap and making for her face with his wet tongue, his enthusiastic tail thumping against her stomach with all the force of a small overexcited canine. Rose mumbled and then, moments later, shot to awareness.

‘Doctor?’

‘Oh, fantastic, mistaking dog-breath for me now,’ he responded, his voice artificially flippant and droll.

The words had barely left his mouth before Rose collided with his torso, wrapping her arms around him with frantic joy, ‘You’re alright!’ she cried into his chest, before drawing back and thumping him hard on the arm. ‘You bastard!’ She shrieked, sounding alarming like her mother, ‘Where the bloody hell were you?’

The Doctor mumbled something incomprehensible.

‘What?’ Rose demanded, her voice still shockingly shrill.

‘I lost track of time, alright? Happy now? I had to wait out the curfew in a bar.’

‘And they didn’t have phones in this bar?’

The Doctor blinked. Oh. Oh dear. At his revealing silence Rose seemed to slump in upon herself, her shine dulling. She stepped back from him, her eyelids dipping to shield her eyes from view.

‘Didn’t even occur to you did it?’ She asked resignedly. She turned away, lifting Sniff into her arms and hugging him tightly, burying her nose for a moment in his soft fur, breathing in his comforting scent. The Doctor watched her back, entirely unsure. Something had shifted, quite suddenly and without warning, and he found himself entirely at a loss. He felt cold, though he didn’t know why. He scraped his hand through his short hair, scraping at his scalp, trying to work out what else there was to say, except sorry. Rose’s bark of laughter halted the apology before it came.

‘For someone who doesn’t do domestic, you’re bloody good at it. Staying out all night at a lock down, forgetting to call the missus.’ Bending down, she set Sniff on the ground, her chuckle mirthless and forced, ‘’Cept I’m not your missus and I’ve got no right to be upset, have I?’ She drew herself upright, her back still resolutely presented towards him. When she spoke again her voice was light but inflectionless and the Doctor felt his stomach clench at the unnaturalness of the sound, ‘Well, now you're back, I think I’ll go get changed. I won’t be long, yeah?’ Without looking at him again she walked to the bedroom and closed the door softy but firmly behind her.

The Doctor stared at the wooden panelled door blankly. Just how, he wondered, had things gone so badly wrong?

Chapter 10

Current Mood: chipper
Current Location: home, as ususal, I'm a good girl and don't do this at work!
Current Music: Paolo Nutini

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Date: 2008-03-03 06:07 pm (UTC)

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