Spark (1/1)

[amberfocus]

A/N:  Ten2 and Rose in the Forward Steps Along the Path series, set nearly two years on from Inflame.  PG.

Rose thinks she might be pregnant and she’s not sure what to do about it. Besides one conversation on a park bench nearly two years ago when he’d asked her if she wanted a baby with him and she’d said yes, and a second the night before they’d made love for the first time, the Doctor hasn’t mentioned it since. It’s not like they’ve even been trying for a baby, they’ve only been married two months and she thinks that maybe it happened that night in Barcelona on their honeymoon when the pair of them had run through the city streets and he’d pulled her behind an ancient church with a wicked grin and made love to her up against the sea wall with a bit of desperation, still not fully believing two days from their wedding that this was forever, that she was his wife now and he her husband. By the end of their honeymoon they both were convinced.

One of their bags had been lost en route or stolen right out of their train car and her birth control pills had been inside and so they’d had to buy condoms. And the Doctor hadn’t had one with him because it wasn’t like they’d planned to do this, but they’d both wanted it, and they’d not really thought anymore about it. It was one time, just one time, and the odds were pretty low at that point in her cycle anyway and after all they were married now so if something did happen…Well, mostly it was because neither one of them had wanted to run all the way back to the hotel, not when they could be making love right that minute under the stars and with every possibility of getting caught adding to the illicit deliciousness of the whole situation.

She’s been ill enough the last three days running to call in sick to work and stay cuddled up under the TARDIS blue duvet on their bed. It’s always worse in the mornings, though she remains queasy throughout the day. It could just be a virus only she’s not had her period since coming back from Barcelona now that she thinks on it.

He doesn’t want to leave her that third morning, but it’s Friday and he has so many projects he needs to put to bed for the weekend. So he goes to work anyway and that night when he comes home it’s with a large container of egg flower soup and some other food from her favorite Chinese takeaway place and a pink and white box from the drugstore.

He hands it to her wordlessly and she should have known that even though they haven’t talked about it at all, his mind would travel in the same direction as hers had. She hadn’t been alone making love against that wall after all and she isn’t alone in her suspicions now. “It’s too soon,” she says and she doesn’t know if she means it’s too soon to take the pregnancy test or if she means it’s too soon to be pregnant.

He shakes his head and murmurs, “It’s been six weeks since we got back from Barcelona, Rose, and you haven’t had a period. It’s not too soon to take a test.” Sometimes she wishes there was a little less Time Lord in him and a little more human and that he’d act like a normal man and not keep track of things like her cycle, but then he wouldn’t be him, this wonderful, amazing man whom she adores if he didn’t, and it is for him just another way of keeping track of time.

She wants to wait until morning but he says it’s not necessary and she thinks about waiting anyway because if she takes the test right now then she’ll know and she wants to teeter on the edge of this uncertainty for a little while longer. Because right now she’s not pregnant but the minute she sees two little pink lines she will be and there will be no going back. Rose knows it’s ridiculous to think like that. If she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant, and not knowing the truth isn’t going to make her any less pregnant, just a bit more ignorant. But if she is then everything changes and she’s not sure she’s ready to be the thing that changes the most.

“I’m hungry,” she says and suddenly it’s true. She’s ravenous and she dumps the test unceremoniously down on the bed and scrambles out from under the fluffy duvet wearing her warmest, flannel, kitten pajamas, the ones where the ginger cats are chasing after little green mice; the ones that always make him shake his head but wisely withhold comment because they are her favorite. She shoves her feet into her fuzzy purple slippers that clash rather furiously with the rest of the ensemble and she doesn’t even care.

Rose wobbles a bit unsteadily and the Doctor’s arm is there, immediately going about her waist and helping her balance and he walks her to the kitchen and sees her safely down into a chair before rummaging through the cupboards in search of two soup bowls. Two and a half years together living in this flat and he still can’t seem to remember where everything goes. She supposes it comes from years of living on a telepathic ship and opening cupboards to find whatever he wanted closest to hand. It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime, especially when that lifetime spans the better part of a millennia.

He finds the bowls eventually and puts them down on the table, pours out some of the contents of the soup container and manages to find the spoons only on his second try. “Would it be so awful?” he asks her and her spoon stops halfway to her lips. “Having a baby now?”

She takes a sip and then drops the spoon back into the bowl, savoring the gentle flavors of the broth and the soothing way it feels as it slides down her throat and hits her ravaged stomach. “We didn’t plan it,” she says slowly. “We haven’t even talked about it. Not really.”

His hand comes out to cover hers and she adjusts her grip automatically, lacing her fingers through his. “I thought you wanted my child. You said--.”

“I do,” she interrupts. “But are we ready? Are we ready to be parents?”

“No one’s ever ready to be parents the first time,” he tells her. She remembers then that he was a dad once and she opens her mouth to say it, but he knows what she’s thinking and shakes his head no. “Not in this body, not this me. The past belongs to him.” He reaches over and puts a hand on her stomach for one brief moment. “This belongs to us.”

They normally don’t talk about him either, the Doctor even more reluctant to bring up the man that abandoned them both here than Rose is. Rose takes another bite of her soup.
“I’m scared,” she says.

“I know. But I’ll be right by your side the way I always am. I’m never gonna leave you.”

Rose smiles and squeezes his hand. “That’s my line.”

“That’s our line,” he corrects and Rose can’t help but rise up and slide into his lap. He cuddles her close, his arms slipping around her waist. “I want a baby with you, Rose,” he says softly and presses a kiss against her temple. “Whether it’s now or later, planned or on accident, prepared for it or not. None of it matters, because he or she will be ours and we will love that baby like no baby has ever been loved before.”

She feels tears leaking from her eyes and she thinks that she’s probably hormonal one way or the other. She’s not even sad but she’s not sure she’s happy. “Shh,” he says and reaches up to wipe her tears away as she sniffles. He rocks her gently and strokes her back and she pulls herself together.

Rose’s stomach growls and she slips back off his lap and onto her own chair but she slides it right up close to him and she clutches his right hand with her left one, glad that despite the way he still rails about being left-handed now, that he is so they can eat holding hands. They finish their soup and some rice and the Doctor eats sesame chicken and chow mien which Rose is afraid to touch lest all the good of eating be undone by something heavy in her stomach.

He kisses her forehead before he rises to take care of the dishes and put away the leftovers, then holds out his hand and helps her back to her feet. He guides her back to the bedroom and she stops and stares at the little box sitting there on the duvet. She glances at him and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, Rose.”

She wonders if it’s better to know or not know; how much of a difference it will make to put it off until the next day or the day after that. His arms come around her again and he pulls her back into his chest and nuzzles into the crook of her neck and shoulder. She sighs and leans into him, takes his support, always so loving and solid, borrows his strength until she can find her own and makes her decision. She is still Rose Tyler-Noble and she doesn’t run away from hard choices. She nods her head, decision made, and picks up the box. In less than five minutes they’ll both know what the future brings.

 

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[amberfocus.livejournal.com]

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