amberfocus | Hope (3/3)

A/N: Just a brief warning. You may not entirely like how this ends. I don't think you'll cry but you will likely be ticked off at the Doctor. But there is kissing. Aggressive kissing.

Chapter Three: Certain

The Doctor is finding it ridiculously hard to focus in a situation that has rapidly become life and death. He can just see himself being partially devoured by the werewolf with not enough pieces of himself left to regenerate and he’ll end up buried in the ground in 1879 Scotland with a grave marker that reads Here Lies Doctor James McCrimmon, Dead due to his Overactive Libido. Okay, maybe not, but the point is still valid. He should be able to concentrate but his—dare he call her lover again?—is throwing out lustful pheromones right and left and looking at him in a way she hasn’t done since the last time he bedded her. And that was too long before the regeneration for him to be able to control his own reaction to her because he wants her. Oh, yes. He wants her right now.

It is all that he can do to keep his touches to the minimum and try to hide them from the queen and Sir Robert. Despite the mortal peril everyone is in he is far more excited than he should be. Rose has him in such a state he’s willing to throw caution to the wind far more than he should be, just to get this mystery solved, this adventure over with so he can rush her back to the TARDIS and see if she’s as willing as the signals her body is sending out to him suggest.

He ends up showing off in a rather ridiculous fashion. He knows he’s doing it, that he’s acting just like a peacock ruffling his tail feathers at the woman he’s trying so hard to impress. But he can’t help it. Hope is surging through his body in a fashion he knows is utterly ridiculous and bearing with it the instinct to stake a claim upon his mate right now. Wait a minute. His mate? Where the hell did that thought come from? he wonders. Rose isn’t, she’s not, they aren’t even close to being bonded mates. Not that he hasn’t considered it, but…damn it! He can’t be distracted by this right now.

He floods his brain with hormone dampening chemicals and the final pieces fall into place. He rushes with Rose, Sir Robert, and the queen down to the room that houses the light chamber, the wolf following in their wake. When Sir Robert offers to sacrifice himself to hold off the creature and grant them time he has to make a decision as to whether or not to let him. His mind runs through a thousand possibilities, a hundred different time lines whip through his thoughts at breakneck speed.

He acquiesces. It cannot be him. He’s the only one who knows what to do and there is no time to explain it to anyone else. He knows it has to be Sir Robert or Rose, because the queen cannot be taken from history. And he will not, absolutely will not, allow Rose to be taken from his side. He will not sacrifice her for anyone or anything. He’s lost too much and he will not lose her just when she’s coming back to him. He’s pretty sure he’d let the universe burn if it meant he and Rose would be together forever…or the little bit of forever her short life allows. He pushes that thought hard to the back of his mind.

They all cringe as they hear Sir Robert being torn to shreds, his death cry rattling in their ears in a way he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget for a long, long time. Sacrifice, doing what needs to be done, can only go so far with him anymore. He is glad that someone else was willing to make that trade for once so that he doesn’t have to.

He brings his focus sharply back to the task at hand. Together he and Rose manhandle the light chamber into place, turning it until the moon strikes it properly. He’s oh, so tempted to tell the queen to give them a hand, but he doubts that A. she will and 2. that she would be of much use anyway. It’s over within seconds when the werewolf bursts through the doors. Then there’s nothing left but the cleanup.

The first thing Rose does is find a loo. She is bursting and she can no longer wait one more minute. It doesn’t matter that the queen gives her yet another disapproving look as she charges out of the room without begging leave, being careful to skirt the remains of the brave man who died for them. Not an easy task as he’s spattered all over the floor and walls.

She forces herself not to think about it, letting her urgency carry her on. She is heartily grateful to find an actual primitive toilet and not have to use a chamber pot. Thank heavens for upper class excess and that they are towards the end of the nineteenth century and not the beginning or she’d be very much out of luck.

So far this is really the only outward sign of her pregnancy that has made itself known to her. She hasn’t been sick and she’s not gained any weight. She wonders if that’s the Doctor’s DNA having its way. She really needs to talk to him when they get back to the ship, tell him about the baby and ask him all of the questions that have been building up in her head since she first found out she is carrying his child.

She cleans her hands and slowly makes her way back to the Doctor. It hasn’t been that long since she found out, but she hopes he isn’t angry with her when he discovers that she didn’t tell him right away. She’s had so much to adjust to, his changes and her own, and she’s really needed to do it in her own time. But now she’s come to terms with him and his new body and face and she thinks she can finally do it, finally tell him he’s going to be a father. She hopes he’s as happy about the news as she is.

He greets her with a warm smile and holds out his hand to her. She takes it without hesitation. “The queen wants to see us before we go,” he tells her.

“What for?” Rose asks.

“I’m not sure,” he replies. “Not much time left to make her say it. You’re going to owe me ten quid,” he adds in a singsong voice.

“Good thing, I suppose, since you never have any money,” she says with a grin. They walk to see the queen, hands firmly clasped together and swinging between them.

“Banished?” he says as they hop onto the back of a farmer’s cart. He’s been ranting for a while and Rose has just been grinning away, thrilled that she won the bet after all. She knows she’ll never see the money but she doesn’t care. Sometimes just winning something against the Doctor is reward enough. “We save her life and she has the nerve to banish us?”

Rose shrugs. “She knighted us. You have to admit that was pretty amazing.”

“I suppose. But banished?”

Rose laughs. “Like it matters? When are we going to see Queen Victoria ever again? Or this time and place? I don’t think it really matters.

“Well, no, I suppose not, but you’d think she’d have been more grateful.”

“She’s a monarch. She expects to be protected. You were, after all, her lord protector or whatever such nonsense your credentials said on them,” Rose says pulling her hair from her mouth. “This wind is fierce. I’m a bit cold.”

“Yes, seeing as you’re half naked,” he teases.

“Oi, who told me to dress for the late 70’s?” she replies indignantly.

“Well, it is the late 70’s.”

“Not the 1970’s,” she hisses so the farmer doesn’t hear.

“Well, there is that. Do you want some of my coat?” he asks. Without waiting for an answer he opens the side of it and wraps it and his arm around her. She snuggles into his body. “Better?”

“In so many ways. A girl could get used to this,” she tells him.

“Do you think a girl could get used to me?” he asks.

“I think she has done,” Rose responds bravely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His free hand comes around to hold one of hers and they rest on her thigh. They sit in silence for a long time, content to just be in each other’s presence as the old cart trundles along the bumpy path.

Their reverie is interrupted sometime later by the farmer, his rich Scottish brogue asking them if the blue box up ahead is the one they be searching for. The Doctor assures him that it is and they thank him profusely for the ride. He brushes away their thanks gruffly and leaves them off.

Something changes between them as the farmer pulls away and the Doctor shoves his hands deep into his pockets instead of reaching for one of hers. Rose’s arms dangle at her sides, no real pockets to hide them in. The one nearest him twitches. He starts talking about the queen again, speculating that the royal line might indeed be werewolves. They enter the TARDIS giggling like school children, but somehow it feels false.

Rose goes along with it, wondering what happened to make him pull back. Is he afraid she’s not meant what she said, that she won’t carry through? He’s quick to send the TARDIS into the Vortex and she’s unsure what she should do next. She sighs as her bladder tells her it’s past time to pee again and she excuses herself from the room. She doesn’t see the Doctor watch her go with sad eyes.

It isn’t until her stomach drives her out of her room several hours later that she sees him again. She’s changed into her usual jeans and hoody, wearing them like the protective armor they are. She heads to the kitchen and makes herself a sandwich, contemplates searching him out and asking him if he’s hungry, too, but decides he’ll find her when he’s ready. He does.

“Rose?” He comes up behind her on silent cat feet and she jumps, spilling her milk across the table. “Sorry,” he says moving quickly to grab a towel and wipe up the mess. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He replaces the milk he spilt and goes about making his own sandwich. When he sits down across from her and starts to eat it takes him a while to realize she isn’t eating. She’s just watching him. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks her.

She pushes her food away. “Lost my appetite,” she says looking down at the table dejectedly.

“Rose?” She pushes to her feet and walks away from the table. “Rose?” he says again. She stops in the doorway but doesn’t turn around.

“So it’s you who’s changed his mind then?” she asks, a hitch in her voice.

“What?” He’s completely confused. “Changed my mind about what?”

“I thought we…I thought…Never mind. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll be in later,” he tells her deciding it’s best to let go of whatever is bothering her for now. Rose will tell him when she’s ready.

“You will?” she asks. She turns back to look at him and he realizes there are tears in her eyes. He’s on his feet in an instant and over by her side a breath later.

“What’s wrong?” he asks folding her into his arms. She shakes her head against him.

“I can’t find the words,” she says finally on a sob.

He pulls back enough to wipe the tears from her eyes and then ever so gently he kisses her forehead, still unsure of what he can and cannot do with her. She grips his lapels then and pulls him back to her and she raises her face to his. His hearts leap in his chest as he plays back her earlier words on the farmer’s cart, realizes what she might have meant and then all thought is knocked from his mind because Rose is kissing him. Not just pressing her lips to his but pushing her tongue into his mouth and staking a claim on him.

He kisses her back almost violently, passion held long at bay exploding through his body. He traps her against the doorframe, his lean torso dipping deeply into her luscious curves, his erection growing hard and painful with its need against her stomach. His hands move down the sides of her body and hers let go of his suit jacket, reaching up behind his neck to pull his head closer to hers.

She breaks the kiss and takes a deep, raking breath into her lungs before turning her bruised lips back to him. Her eyes meet his for just a second before his head dips down to take her mouth again. She whimpers and her hands move down under his arms and inside his jacket. She slides them around to his back and caresses the flesh there.

He pulls away a little and she sighs as his lips tumble down her face to her neck. He sucks hard as her hands move to pull his dress shirt out of his trousers and then she is beneath the shirt touching bare skin. The sensation causes him to buck against her, pushing forward with his pelvis.

“Doctor,” she moans and now she pushes him back against the opposite side of the door frame and her hands are busy at the buttons on his shirt. His hands creep down to her bum and suddenly it’s vibrating beneath his fingers.

“Rose? You’re vibrating,” he tells her.

“What?”

“You’re bum? It’s vibrating.”

She laughs against his chest, her lips kissing him there. “It’s my phone,” she says. “Just ignore it.”

She raises her face to him again and kisses him. And then her stomach growls. He laughs and says, “I think you may have got your appetite back, Rose.”

“Is that a double entendre?” she asks him.

“Maybe.” Her stomach growls again and they both giggle like children. “Maybe not. Come on, let’s eat. We have time…for this.” He herds her gently back to the table. As she sits down the phone in her back pocket vibrates again. He knows because his hand is still there. He fishes it out and hands it to her. “Should probably see if it’s important.”

“It’s probably just Mum checking in,” she says dismissively but glances down at the phone anyway. “It’s already gone over to voicemail.” She dials in to her service and listens to the message. “It’s Mickey,” she tells him a moment later and he tenses. He pretty sure the boy is long out of her life as a romantic rival but that doesn’t mean he can’t still be jealous that Mickey was once very close to Rose. And there had been…something at Christmas.

He watches her for telltale signs that something might still be there for her, but Rose is sitting there looking bored. At least she is at first, then her eyebrows rise and she looks intrigued. She hangs up the phone and looks at him. “Mickey says there’s something going on at a nearby school, strange lights in the sky above it, teachers and students disappearing, the students suddenly getting top marks when they were once dragging near the bottom of the school system. He reckons it’s aliens.”

“Mickey always reckons it’s aliens. How often is it ever aliens?” the Doctor asks.

“I dunno,” says Rose, “but maybe we should check it out. We’re low on milk anyway. We could do with a Tesco’s run.”

“That the only reason you want to go?” he asks.

“Well, wouldn’t mind seeing my mum,” she says. “If you don’t mind. We don’t have to go, just…” She trails off and shrugs her shoulders. “Sometimes I feel like I owe him for…”

“I’ll just go and program in the coordinates,” he tells her feeling very unsettled.

He pauses outside the door when he hears Rose tapping out a number. “Hello, Mick? Yeah, we’re coming soon.” There is a brief silence. “No, I haven’t. Look, I’ll tell him.” Another pause. "Mickey, I said I’ll tell him. I know he deserves to know. I don’t know why it’s so important to you. It doesn’t change anything for you and me. You know that.” She waits a moment and then continues. “I get it, okay? Yes, I will. Really. I’ll tell him the truth as soon as I hang up. Okay, gotta go now. Yes, Mick. Me, too. Bye.”

He goes to the console room and sets the TARDIS on a heading for Earth, trying not to think about why Rose wants to go running back there at a call from her ex-boyfriend. Is Mickey as ex as the Doctor thinks he is? Did something happen over Christmas that maybe he doesn’t know about? It certainly sounds that way. Did Mickey and Rose…?

No, that can’t be it. Especially not after the way Rose just kissed him. That wasn’t the kiss of a girl with a guilty conscience. But…what else can it be that she has to tell him? A confused fling when she wasn’t sure of him after he regenerated? If she made a mistake like that he doesn’t want to know. Obviously it wasn’t enough for her to stay behind with Mickey. He doesn’t want that to be it but he just can’t conceive of anything else that it could possibly be.

He heads back to the kitchen and finds Rose sitting there with a half eaten sandwich. She smiles at him but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They finish their meal with her keeping up a stilted conversation. Her hand keeps going to her stomach and she’s starting to look sick at heart. He wonders if she even notices that he’s barely talking. A dreadful fear clutches at him and he feels like he’s about to lose everything he thought he’d just got back.

“Doctor,” she says when they’ve put their dishes into the washer and he’s reached for her out of reflex, “there’s something I have to tell you. Something I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for a few days.” Her voice is unaccountably nervous and he’s got a sudden sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach.

“Can it wait, Rose? We’re just…getting us back. I’d like to…I want to…”

She pushes away from him. “It can’t wait,” she says. “You need to know before we go any further.”

His hearts sink at her words as he realizes his worst fears. She really did sleep with Mickey, didn’t she? He stares at her for a long time and then looks away. He doesn’t want to know, would rather stop everything in its tracks before he has to get hurt any worse than the sudden knot of fear is already causing him to be hurt. It’s better, he thinks, to stop everything now before it goes too far. He voices his thoughts before he can think about it any more. “Then maybe,” he says, “this shouldn’t go any further.” And without another word to her he turns and walks away.

Rose watches him leave in astonishment, confusion crashing down upon her. Her hopeful optimism leaves her as cold fingers grip her heart. The first tendrils of doubt creep across her mind. Her hands fall to her stomach. “What just happened?” she asks. Her only answer is a confused hum from the TARDIS. Well, whatever it is, she's not letting him get away with it. With grim determination she stalks off after him.

~To Be Continued in Doubt~ http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/169789.html