The Prettiest Rose on Prometheus (2/4)

[amberfocus]

                                                      Chapter Two: Wild Roses

“Hey,” Rose said as she appeared in the doorway to the console room. The Doctor spun around, eager to see how she looked in the dress he’d picked out for her. She was a picture of utter loveliness and it made his hearts thump painfully in his chest. If he hadn’t already thought he was in…that she was the most amazing companion he’d ever had, he’d be utterly convinced of it now. And not just because of how she looked in the dress. He wasn’t that shallow.

“You look,” he chose his word carefully, alighting on one that never failed him, “Fantastic.”

“I think the dress and the shoes have a lot to do with that.” The Doctor glanced down at her shoes and how beautifully they lengthened her legs, her beautiful, long legs that were interrupted by the swirl of the skirt of her sundress where it fell just below her knees. He wished momentarily that it was a bit shorter remembering how she’d looked in her denim cut offs with much more leg and quite a bit of thigh exposed. He shook his head abruptly to clear the image. “You have exquisite taste, Doctor.”

“The outfit does lovely things for you,” he admitted, “but I think you’d be just as appealing, if not more so, without the dress on.” He blushed suddenly at what his words were implying then glanced sideways at Rose, noting that she had gone nicely pink in her own right. Would he ever be able to give a real compliment without putting his foot in it?

The silence that followed was bordering on awkward when Rose said, “You clean up nice, Doctor.” She closed the distance between them and reached for his tie, straightening the knot and then smoothing it down the length of his chest. “I’d even go so far as to say impressive.”

“I’m always impressive,” he retorted without any vehemence.

“Yes,” she admitted shyly, “you are. And—and handsome, too.”

“What? This old mug?” he asked self-deprecatingly.

He felt Rose’s hand cradle his jaw and met her eyes briefly before skittering his away from the emotion there. “Yeah,” she said.

He ducked his head, pulling away from her touch reluctantly, and then started feeling around in his pockets. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

“The psychic paper. I had to fudge our identities to get us a reservation where we’re going. It’s very exclusive and I need to have our ‘papers’ to back us up. Now where’d I put it?”

“Probably still in your coat,” she told him. He gave her a sheepish look as he realized he hadn’t yet transferred the wallet that would provide their forged documentation. Rose moved over to the jump seat where his leather jacket sat in a heap. She reached into the inside pocket, handing him first the sonic screwdriver, “Just in case things go sideways,” she said and then began rooting around until she found the little wallet that contained the psychic paper. “Here you are.”

“What would I ever do without you?” he asked her a bit cheekily.

“Let’s not ever find out, ‘kay?” she tossed back at him as she moved towards the TARDIS doors in a swirl of fabric. His breath caught for a moment in his chest at her flippant words. It almost hurt as the realization hit him of how much he wanted her to mean them, but then she'd been the one whispering confessions of love in the ballroom when she thought she was alone.  She did mean them.

“Let’s not,” he said seriously. She turned to look at him at the serious tone in his voice and then she glanced quickly away from the way he was looking at her. She hurried out of the ship and he followed behind her. She reached for his hand but instead he looped her arm through his.

“Bit more formal here,” he explained.

It was a short walk from the area he had parked in and just as they approached the front door she said, “So who are we then?”

“I am Sir Doctor Edward Lethbridge, Grand Duke of Barcelona, the planet, not the city. And you…” He fell silent.

“And I’m who then?” she prompted.

“You’re Rose,” he said. She looked at him when he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Ye—ees?” She drew out the word.

“Rose Tyler-Lethbridge, Grand Duchess and also…my wife.” She gasped. “Here we are then,” he said ushering her promptly inside before she could say anything else. “Come along, darling,” he said in a louder voice suddenly devoid of his usual harsh northern accent. It was very smooth and upper crust and he hoped she didn’t try to sound that posh because he was sure she could never pull it off. Rose was hopelessly bad at accents. Hopefully she would just keep quiet until they were seated and then it would no longer be an issue.

The Doctor checked in with the maitre de and a surprisingly quiet and docile Rose followed the other man through the restaurant and outside to where a horse and carriage were waiting. The Doctor handed Rose up into the carriage and settled beside her and the driver, after seeking after their comfort, started the horse on his way.

“The carriage takes us into the private dining areas of the gardens,” he told her still using the fake accent. “Once seated, we’ll be in a privacy bubble.” Rose just nodded, her eyes taking in the simple, yet astounding beauty of the wild roses arching overhead surrounding the brick path they were travelling on.         

    

She smiled in delight at the sound of the little bells on the horse’s harness jingling out a harmonic chord of music as the creature pranced towards their destination. Rose’s hand, which was still tucked firmly into his elbow, slid down his arm until she found his hand. She twined her fingers with his, her warmth lovely against his cool palm. She snuggled into him and let out a happy sigh.

He firmly reined in his thoughts at the soft touch of her breast pressed firmly into his upper arm. Today wasn’t about that. It was about celebrating her birthday, the fact that she was no longer in any way a child, and perhaps asking her if she’d, maybe, like to try, well, to expand their relationship beyond…their best friendship and occasional flirting.

They’d joked about their “dates” from time to time, and Rose’s earlier declarations to the broom she’d been pretending was him had made it pretty clear to him that she wanted more from their relationship, but he knew she had no idea what a romance with him would entail. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what a romance with him would entail. He was so old, and so set in his ways, and she was incredibly inexperienced despite all her 21st century bravado and her broken and recently ended relationship with the Idiot.

He’d been wanting to broach the subject from the day she and Mickey had broken up, ask her to consider him, but he’d been far too unsure of her then and had wanted to give her a little more time. It had been two months though and he had been suspecting for a while that if he didn’t make some sort of attempt soon she’d fall into Jack’s arms as a consolation prize. Not that he’d ever caught her looking after that first week, but his own insecurities were too strong to keep him from thinking she wouldn’t if he didn’t make his move soon.

In fact, the way Jack had been sniffing around her lately despite his very clear and concise “hands off the blonde” glower, he’d perhaps been a bit firmer than he ought to have been with his “suggestion” that Jack make himself scarce for the week. He grimaced as he recalled that he’d practically shoved the young man out of the ship and onto that pleasure planet. At least he’d made sure the man had had plenty of credit.

He sighed. “What are you thinking about?” Rose asked softly.

“Jack,” he said without thinking how it would sound. Rose stiffened against him and dropped his hand, moving herself away from him in the carriage. There wasn’t much room but she managed, just, to not touch him. The few inches between them now seemed like a gaping chasm. He felt bereft, aching to gather her back into his side, but one glance at her stiffly held body told him his touch was no longer welcome. They rode in silence the rest of the way to their destination.




Rose bitterly berated herself for getting her hopes up. So the Doctor had had them pose as husband and wife to get into a fancy…she wasn’t sure what it was. Garden, restaurant, something or other, but he hadn’t been particularly clear. That was just like him though, never being clear about anything. Well, that wasn’t true, was it? He’d just made his feelings pretty damn clear, hadn’t he?

She was stupid to think he’d meant anything by it. They’d been to a lot of places, posed as a lot of people, but surprisingly enough a married couple had never been part of their false identities before. Sometimes she just let herself get carried away. It was completely nonsensical of her to think it meant anything the slightest bit romantic. Just because she was in love with him didn’t mean his feelings were even remotely the same.

Just because he’d given her a present, did something nice for her, didn’t mean he was interested. They were best friends and…well, the Doctor had never entirely made his sexuality clear to her. And if he was thinking about Jack on a romantic carriage ride with her, than it was obvious to her now which way the wind blew him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Her nails dug into her palms as she fought back her tears. Why had she even let herself hope?

A feeling of horror settled deep inside her belly. What if…what if the gift and the special day out were…a good-bye? What if he wanted to be alone with Jack in the TARDIS now, was worried that Rose was a threat to some newly burgeoning romance between the two men. What if he’d brought her here to break it to her gently that he was going to be taking her home? He didn’t want her, he wanted Jack and her life with him, with both men, was about to be cut painfully short. How could she ever go back to being just a shop girl again? He had told her she was the best, but now he had Jack he must not think so anymore.

She’d had such high hopes for this day. Rose swallowed her sob down determinedly. She was not Jackie Tyler’s daughter for nothing and she could fake it with the best of them. She would force herself to rise above her desperate emotions. And maybe, maybe it would be better if she beat him to the punch. It would save her some small bit of pride if she asked to go home instead of being told she was being sent back because she was a worthless third wheel.

The carriage stopped and the Doctor scrambled down holding his hand out to her to help her down. She turned away from him and instead exited from her side of the carriage with the driver’s help, telling herself that the look of disappointment on his face as she turned away from him was her imagination. She was only seeing what she wanted to see.

As she came around the front of the horse she asked the driver, “Is he friendly?”      

     

“Yes, Duchess,” he said. “You can pet him if you like.”

Rose put her hand against the smooth gray fur at the side of his neck, stroking the strong, sleek muscles of the great beast. “Aren’t you a beauty?” she said fighting the urge to bury her face in the animal’s mane and seek comfort from her distress in its bulk. Usually when she was upset she buried her face in the Doctor’s jumper, finding his solidity reassuring.

The Doctor waited for her, his arms crossing over his chest and his foot starting to twitch impatiently. At last she abandoned the horse and the driver gave her a hot, wet towel with which to wash before dinner and then indicated the table to them. It was tucked back in an alcove, a bower of flowering vines overhead, and surrounded on three sides by red, white, and pink wild roses that towered above her head. 
   
          

“Duke, Duchess, Menus are on the table. You may request a living waiter or you may place your order by the small computer recessed into the far end of the table. If you wish to not be disturbed by a living waiter, all food and drink can be teleported in. It will materialize on the stone pedestal a few feet from your table. Try to stay clear of it if you choose this option. Do you have any questions before I leave you?” the driver asked them.

“No, we’re fine,” the Doctor said hastily.

“Very well. Enjoy your meal. The privacy bubble will automatically activate with a password upon your entrance. No one can see in or out, or hear your conversations without a countermanding order from you. Your activation password is ‘The Prettiest rose on Prometheus.’ Your deactivation password is ‘diadora,’ which is, of course, the rarest and most beautiful breed of rose on the planet.” With that he gave them a bow and returned to his horse. A slight clucking sound was followed by the jangle of bells as the carriage pulled away.

“Shall we?” said the Doctor gesturing for her to go ahead of him. She walked up the little steps quickly before him and into the little garden room and he activated the password a moment later. “I think we’ll choose the teleport option for our meal,” he told her.

“Why?” Rose said a little sharply, slumping down into one of the chairs. “Don’t want anyone overhearing what you’re about to tell me?”

“No, I don’t,” he said quietly. “It’s between us.”

“And Jack,” she groused.

“What’s Jack got to do with anything?” he asked looking offended.

“Oh, I don’t know. You bring me here to this beautiful place and all you’re doing is thinking about him. You tell me what he’s got to do with anything,” she snapped at him.

He stared at her dumbfounded. “What?”

“Look, can we just get this over with? I’ve figured it out, Doctor. I know what you’re going to tell me and honestly, I can’t stomach the idea of you dragging it out, trying to spare my feelings. No pretty presents or expensive meal or gorgeous planet is going to make any difference to me if you’re sending me home.”

“What?” The honest look of consternation he turned on her was completely lost in her tears.

“Just…why all this? I thought…I mean, I know I was wrong, it’s obvious now, but why would you…why would you let me think… and then…when really all you want…”

“Rose, you’re not making any sense.”

“I don’t want this!” she burst out, tears flowing down her face. “It doesn’t, doesn’t mean anything to you. Just t-t-take me home. I can’t do it. I c-can’t watch you be in love with Jack. I just c-can’t d-do--.”

“Rose, I’m not in love with Jack!” the Doctor said loudly.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said rubbing angrily at her tears.

“I’m not. I’m not in love with Jack.”

“Then why were you thinking about him when, when we were,” she gasped, “when we were…I thought you brought me here for…for…I’m sorry.” She folded her arms on the table and hid her face from him within them.

“When you asked me what I was thinking about and I said Jack, I was wondering if he was going to forgive me for throwing him out of the ship for a week so I could be alone with you,” he told her gently. “Why would you ever think I was interested in Jack that way?”

She raised her head and wiped her eyes again. “You don’t dance with me,” she said in a tiny little voice. “You said you had the moves, but…” She sighed. “So you don’t want him and you don’t want me.”

“Who said I don’t want you?” he asked her.

“But you don’t,” she said. “Not…not the way that I…why did you bring me here?”

“Because it’s your birthday, Rose.”

“What?”

“It’s your birthday. I know it’s easy to lose count of the days but I’ve been keeping track for you. I know how important things like this are to humans. You’re twenty today.”

“I am?” she asked momentarily distracted from her previous train of thought.

“Yeah. You’re, well, you’re a woman now.”

“Been a woman for a while, Doctor,” she told him dryly.

“Not…not…you were still a teenager, Rose, and I…”

“What’d you do? Draw some magical line in the sand that said do not cross until Rose is older? Told yourself hands off?” she asked him, suddenly suspicious that he’d done just that.

“Maybe,” he admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I’ve been your teacher and your best mate and despite what you may think, a father figure--.”

“Never that,” protested Rose. “Don’t care how old you are. Never thought of you as that!”

“I’ve been in a position of authority over you--.”

“Oh, really?” Rose asked with a snort.

“As much as any man can be over a Tyler woman,” he amended, “and I didn’t want to take advantage or make you feel obligated to me, but Rose, I can’t keep it in anymore. I know you have feelings for me and I have feelings for you. I want you. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to start a romantic relationship with you and if you agree to…to date me, I’d like it if you didn’t see other men.”

Rose felt a bubble of amusement well up inside her that washed away every bit of abject misery she’d been feeling just a few moments before. Was it possible that this nine hundred year old alien was asking her to…go steady? 

Ch. 3:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/156553.html