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So instead of leaving her, he’d ushered her to the buffet tables and laughed at her as she’d rested her plate on the rack and dished up everything with her left hand rather than let go of his hand. One of the other revelers had come up to them then and tied their hands together with a turquoise silken cord, recognizing their desire to never let go of the other.
The talkative stranger had even coaxed them into talking of their newly formed commitment to each other, their love of their unborn child, and their desire to always stay together and encouraged them in a kiss. As they’d been stealing kisses all night neither one of them thought anything of granting the man’s request and had only remembered he was still there when he’d coughed politely a minute later.
The sharply dressed man had convinced them to keep it tied about them until the signal bell rang at the end of the celebration signifying the everlasting nature of their future love. Caught up in the moment, and giddy from the sheer romance of the entire evening they’d agreed with him. He’d granted them a blessing then, whispered beautiful, lyrical words in a language neither understood as the TARDIS didn’t or couldn’t translate it. They’d eaten with it on, had continued to dance afterwards with the strand still binding them together, their hands held fast within the others’ grasp.
They had laughed at other couples with their own silken cords, marveling at the joyousness on many of their faces and grinned when they saw it reflected on their own faces. When the moon finally set the celebration wound down, the signal bell rang and the happy couples began to make their way out of the dance grounds and through the pillars that led back to the marketplace. As they left they were handed an elaborately decorated scroll with gilt edging as a remembrance of ‘this most important evening,’ the man handing them out had informed them, hastily scratching their names down as they gave them, before rolling the heavy paper back up, tying it with a turquoise silk bow and presenting it to them with a jaunty flourish.
With a lot of laughter and much love between them they made their way back to the TARDIS, only to find a concerned Jack waiting on the jump seat, long since changed out of his party clothes. His look of concern turned to one of consternation and then a bit of hurt as he took in their appearance, the moon dust on their clothing, the silken turquoise cord still around their hands, and the scroll sticking out of the Doctor’s pocket.
“You know, I would have thought that if the two of you were going to get married, you would have wanted me to be there,” he complained with a pout. “At least as a witness if not as your best friend.”
“What?” The happy expression fell right off of Rose’s face.
“What are you talking about?” the Doctor asked.
Jack looked at them in shock. “You mean you don’t know what that is?” he asked pointing to the cord. Rose shook her head no and the Doctor just looked baffled. “It’s a Torvian hand-fasting tie,” he said. He reached forward and plucked the scroll from the Doctor’s pocket and unrolled it. “Did you even look at this? It’s a marriage certificate.”
“But we didn’t sign it,” said Rose.
“Don’t have to,” said Jack his eyes scanning the thick piece of parchment. “This is Torvian. Giving your names to put on the marriage scroll is consent. It’s something they ask you on the way out of the festival of love in case you get caught up in the celebration and the hand-fasting just sort of happens. Like I’m assuming it did to you as shocked as you both are. If you don’t give your names it makes the hand-fast null and void, but if you do, and you obviously did, it’s legally binding in this entire star cluster and several other parts of the universe.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Rose.
“Afraid not. That’s why so many people come to the festival. It’s the easiest place in the universe to get married. Whether you were aware of it or not, and I’m guessing not, the two of you are now married in the eyes of the law,” Jack announced.
Rose looked like she was going to faint or vomit or maybe both. “Is it such an awful fate?” the Doctor asked in a wistful voice as he looked at her expression.
“It’s not that,” said Rose. “I was just thinking about my mum. It’s bad enough I got pregnant at nineteen, but now I’ve gone and accidently married you on top of it. Without her. She’s so going to kill me!” She paused and then looked at him with great sympathy. “Although it’s nothing compared to whatever I’m sure she’ll do to you.”
The Doctor blanched. “You can always get it annulled,” said Jack. “If you go before the magistrate within 24 hours of the ceremony’s end and claim you didn’t know what you were doing…”
“We didn’t!” insisted Rose. “You know that funny man, half of what he said last night I didn’t even understand. Which is odd, isn’t it? I mean, normally the TARDIS translates everything but the Doctor swearing in his own language. I wonder why she didn’t?”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he sent a silent query to his ship. “Did you know what was going on? Is that why you didn’t translate?”
The TARDIS gave out an unapologetic buzz and flooded his mind with images of a happy life with Rose. “You had no right!” the Doctor said out loud. “She didn’t want it!” At Rose’s puzzled look he explained, “She knew what that festival was all about. She deliberately chose not to translate so we’d end up married.”
“She was playing matchmaker?” Rose asked in stunned disbelief. “How could she?”
“She thinks we needed a push in the right direction. Bloody time ship!” Jack snickered. Rose shot him a violent look and he held up both hands and took a step back.
“The TARDIS thinks we’ve already wasted too much time,” the Doctor said in disgust at his ship’s antics. He sighed. “Still, what’s done is done. Rose, you need to get some sleep. You’re dead on your feet. When you wake up, we can go before the magistrate and get this taken care of,” he told her. “See you in a few hours, Jack. I’m taking Rose to bed.”
Jack opened his mouth to make a dirty remark but the look the Doctor shot him quelled it. He steered Rose to her bedroom and then made to leave. “Doctor,” she said as he finally untied the cord from around their hands and placed it on top of her bureau, “stay with me.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I am,” she said. “I’m too tired for lovemaking,” she admitted, “but I’d still like you here, if you don’t mind.” He didn’t and rapidly stripped down to his boxer briefs while Rose took off her outfit and slipped a thin blue nightgown over her head. She made a quick run to the loo before reappearing and hugging him tightly. They slid into the bed then and snuggled up together in the center.
“I’m sorry, Rose, about what happened. I know you don’t want to be married to me. We’ll fix it,” he told her.
Rose was silent for so long that the Doctor wondered if she’d fallen asleep that quickly. When she did speak it startled him. “It’s not…that. I just…have issues with marriage.” Slowly and haltingly she began to tell him of her experiences with the institution and how what she’d seen in her short life had jaded her. She ended with, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a good marriage.”
When he answered her he chose his words very carefully. “That’s where bonding would make a difference,” he said slowly. “The emotional and telepathic link would not allow for the kind of misunderstandings between men and women that are so common on your home world. If we’d been bonded before you got pregnant, you would have known my true feelings underneath all of the turmoil and fear. You would have been able to cut straight through them and know that I was scared and trying to protect myself from losing the only good thing I had left in my life besides my ship.” He added darkly, “My opinionated, disobedient ship.”
“Oh, don’t be too hard on her,” Rose said. “She meant well.” She patted the wall.
“But we ended up married because of what she did. You don’t want that.”
“We can take care of that tomorrow, like you said,” she told him. “I know you don’t want this.”
He seemed lost in thought and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. He ran his hand down her arm and she turned her body into him. “Things will work out,” he said after a while. “We’ll sort it all out. Tomorrow.” He kissed the side of her head and she sighed and settled fully against him. “Good-night, Rose.”
“Good-night, Doctor.” She closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her.
Ch. 22: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/100088.html ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
amy067 to beta and I'm 577 words into chapter 22. I'm hoping to pull off a bit of a twist. This shoe, she drops in an interesting fashion. I hope.
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branchandroot
