Body Paint

[amberfocus]

Title:  Body Paint
Author:  amberfocus
Pairing:  Nine/Rose
Genre:  Hurt/comfort
Rating:  Adult (borderline PG-13/R)
Spoilers:  None
Beta:  amyo67
Author's Notes:  This was my entry for the Hearts in Time ficathon More than Friends.  My prompt was:  The Doctor takes off Rose's makeup and tells her in detail how much he likes her face when it's bare.  Surprisingly this is not a smut fic.  The bunnies went a different way.

 

The Doctor hates that she’s so helpless, so utterly and completely helpless; hates even more what almost happened to her. Maybe he hasn’t earned the right yet to call her his Rose, but in his hearts and in his mind, he is already certain that she does belong to him even if he’s never allowed to claim her.

He has made short work of the villains of this piece, the only thing stopping him from annihilating an entire city the fact that he found her, the fact that Jack held him back, physically stopped him from an act of destruction as violent as any he had committed during the Time War. The fact that there is no physical evidence that any man has actually laid his hands upon her yet, his precious girl, in ways that are unforgiveable is the only reason he’s shown mercy and that scares him to death.

“Rose.” His voice is broken when he says her name. Her eyes are the only thing that move, the only thing besides the steady rise and fall of her chest that assures him she still lives, her lungs and heart the only organs not paralyzed. They had wanted her awake after all and fully conscious for their ritual. She finds his face, focuses on his eyes, and the anguish within hers drives him to his knees. He lifts her hand, the hand he so desperately holds most days, and finds it limp within his own. “Oh, Rose, what have they done to you?”

But he already knows. She has been prepared for sacrifice, the garish orange and red paint covering her naked body visible through the translucent white gown adorning her, the sheer fabric doing nothing to hide her nudity. They’ve made her face up far more heavily than Rose ever has done to herself before, the powders so heavy upon her that he can see it caked against her skin.

She cringes as he looks at her, the movement barely visible. Tears slide from her eyes in heavy blue mascara trails. He takes off his leather jacket and sits her up moving her mostly paralyzed limbs as if she is a doll, and manages to slip it over her, restoring her modesty. It makes his stomach hurt to realize it was likely the male priests that had stripped her naked and painted her body, the females being relegated to a very subservient role of administering to the priests themselves.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what they intended. I came as soon as I found out.” He feels a tear at the edge of his eye, blinks hard and allows it to fall. Rose startles slightly as the moisture drops onto her skin, her eyes focusing on his for a moment and giving him such a look of tenderness it makes one of his hearts stutter.

He holds her in a sitting position and digs into the pocket of the jacket she’s now wearing and pulls out a container. He pops the lid off and sets it down, his first two fingers digging into the paste within. “Can you open your mouth at all?” he asks her.

Rose tries hard, her jaw shaking with the effort and manages to get her mouth to move just a little. “This is an antidote to the paralysis drug they fed you.” He pushes the bright yellow paste past her stained lips and into her mouth, pushing it back on her tongue as far as he can without gagging her. “You have to try to swallow, Rose.”

Her eyes show her frustration as she tries to follow his instructions. He brings his hand to her throat and strokes gently, encouraging the reflex no longer under her control. He sighs in relief as he hears an audible swallow. “It’ll take some time to work. Let’s get you back to the ship.”

He rises to his feet and lifts her into his arms. He strides from the room and passes Jack who is holding a gun on the remaining priests. He doesn’t even care about the morality of it. They were going to kill Rose. They lost any right to non-violent methods when they tried to murder his...whatever Rose is to him. They are more than friends, but less than lovers and he can’t quite pin it down. It shouldn’t even matter, but it does here on this planet. If he’d claimed her as his own from the start in front of these people none of this would have happened. He’ll never make that mistake again.

Once out of the temple Jack melts the locks on the doors, sealing the priests away for hours, if not days. “She okay?” Jack asks gruffly as they make their way back to the ship under cover of darkness.

“I don’t know,” the Doctor says and his voice betrays his fears. “She wasn’t…we got there before they could…kill her, but I don’t know if they…if they…” He can’t continue. His knowledge of the ritual that comes before the sacrifice, of what they could have done to his precious girl making him shudder violently. Please, Rassilon, please don’t let them have hurt her that way.

Once inside the ship he tells Jack to trigger the emergency override button. It sends them hurtling into the Vortex. “I need to get this…this stuff off of her.”

“You need any help?” Jack asks.

“No. I’m going to have to bathe her, Jack. It’s going to be a big enough invasion of her privacy with me doing it, especially after what she’s been through. But I have to. The paralysis drug isn’t just in what they fed her. It’s in the body paint and the makeup on her face. I have to get it off her. At least the antidote I gave her will restore her partially, her internal organs will begin to function better, but it’ll wear off too quickly with this stuff still covering her.”

“I envy you, Doc. Any other circumstances and I’d be vying for--.”

“If I were you I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” the Doctor growls.

Jack holds up his hands. “Whoa, Doctor, I didn’t mean…I was just trying to lighten things a bit.”

“This is Rose! You will respect her! And we still don’t know if she--.” He bites off his words and strides angrily away from Jack and towards the room with the largest tub on the TARDIS. Sensing his need the TARDIS has already started filling the bath with warm water. He knows Jack didn’t mean anything by what he said but until he knows Rose is safe no stupid innuendo from Jack is to be tolerated.

He sets Rose down on the floor and manages to remove his jacket from her body. Then he lifts her, gown and all, into the tub. Making sure she’s carefully propped he turns away long enough to find towels and bubble bath and he adds the soap to the water. Rose watches him in confusion.

He waits until the tub has filled part way with bubbles before removing the soaking gown from her body. “Wanted to protect your privacy as much as I could, Rose,” he tells her. Even though he’s seen little his hands have skimmed across places he feels he has no business touching. Not like this. Not when she can’t say yes or no to him.

The water turns orange as the body paint begins to dissolve. He runs a flannel under the tap and turns to Rose’s face. “I’m going to start with your eyes,” he tells her. “Can you close them?”

It’s a struggle, but Rose complies. Very gently he strokes across her left eyelid, the bronze powder and blue mascara staining the white cloth in ugly streaks. “Your eyes are so beautiful, Rose. Why they felt the need to do this, I’ll never know. Honestly, why you even feel the need to do this, I’m not sure. These long lashes are just amazing and the eyes themselves; they’re just the most incredible shade of brown I’ve ever seen. Like amber, a moment trapped forever in time. That’s what it feels like when I look into them, you know. Like I’m trapped in time with you and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He swallows hard. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. He’s talking too much because she can’t, suddenly overcome with a need to fill the silence between them and that’s not like him. But if he can keep talking he can keep from thinking about how he almost lost her today. And it can keep him from thinking about how it feels to be touching Rose more intimately than he has ever done before. Oh, he’s wanted to. He even thinks she’s wanted him to. Just not like this.

He moves the cloth down to the apple of her cheeks and wipes away the brilliant pink rouge that has been rubbed heavily onto her face. When her skin is free of the residue he rests his first two fingers against her cheekbone. “Why they couldn’t see the beauty inherent in your natural coloring I don’t know. Your skin is so warm, so glowing, so inviting.”

He slides his thumb downwards towards the hollow of her cheek. “I love the contour of your cheekbones, how smooth they are, how pale, and then how pink the skin gets there when you’re flushed from running or you laugh too hard, how red it gets when you blush from embarrassment. Did you know Jack likes to say improper things to you that embarrass you just to make you blush? And I…I let him get away with it, because I love the way you look when you do.”

Her eyes are startled and he looks down, flustered at his own admission. He realizes the bubbles are starting to dissipate and his eye falls upon the breast closest to him. He can see just the tip of her nipple visible and he gulps. It takes him longer to look away than it should. “Time to change the water. It’s all orange,” he says hastily. He turns his back to her and reaches down beneath her feet to pull the plug. He doesn’t look at her the entire time the liquid drains from the tub, nor as he refills it with fresh, untainted water and new bubbles.

When Rose is sufficiently covered again he turns back to her. Her eyes are on him. He wonders if she watched him the entire time he refused to look at her. His eyes can’t hold her gaze and he picks up a fresh cloth, dipping it into the water and moving to the brilliant magenta stain covered by a waxy balm that is smeared upon her mouth. Ever so gently he cleanses it from her lips, until the natural soft pink color peeks through again. “That’s better,” he says stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. It is full and plump and the urge to lean forward and kiss her has never been this strong.

“Lips like these should be illegal,” he muses as his finger strokes the top lip. “You know there are some places I don’t take you because they actually are? Your lips can be quite the distraction. Especially when you do that thing with your tongue where it pokes out to the left side when you smile. That’s actually the reason we got arrested on Morelia. Improper exposure of a tongue in public. Never told you that, I don’t think. I had to do some fast talking to get us out of that one. Didn’t mind though. I love it when you do that.”

Carefully he washes the paint from her neck, careful not to press too hard against the little hollow. Hopefully she’ll regain use of her vocal cords soon. There have been so many times in the past when he’d wished she would just shut up and now he’d give anything to hear her voice again. Hear her beautiful voice saying his name as she looks up at him with those big brown eyes. The same eyes that are focused on him now.

He sighs and reaches for her arm. He tries to wipe it away but the layer is thicker here and not coming clean. “You really do look like you got on the wrong side of a sunless tanning machine. This isn’t coming off as well as I hoped. Rose, I’m going to have to actually wash you. I’m going to have to look. I’m so sorry.”

“Izz ‘kay, Do’er.”

“You can speak!”

Rose rolls her eyes at him, a non-verbal way of saying duh. “’kay. Wa.”

“You’re saying it’s okay to wash you? Just blink. Twice for yes.” Rose slowly blinks twice at him. “You sure? I mean, you’re…naked.”

“Trus’ you,” she mumbles. A sort of quiet pride fills him that she trusts him that deeply.

He works the soapy cloth over her arm scrubbing much harder and succeeds in making an ugly orange lather. “Don’t think this is working very well either,” he says.

“Show…er,” Rose says concentrating hard to get the word out.

It’s very promising that she’s getting control back over her vocal cords. Then he realizes what she just said. “Yeah, a shower would probably work better, but you can’t even move your limbs on your own. You can hardly take a shower.”

Her eyes roll at him again. “You…show…er…me.”

“Oh. Oh! I guess so.” He pulls the plug and the water drains out of the tub again, then he turns on the overhead shower.

Rose lets out a sound that normally would have been a squeal of surprise. “Hol’ me uh,” she says as the spray hits her in the face.

“Course, sorry,” apologizes the Doctor frantically, adjusting Rose so her face is clear of the water. Then he climbs into the tub with her fully clothed and boosts her into a standing position. He holds her body to him so that her face is turned to one side, her backside aimed at the water. He stretches for the soap and manages to grab hold of the bottle. He flips the top open, upends it, and pours some out onto her body. Holding her firm with an arm about her waist he begins rubbing the soap into her painted back. Once he’s got a nice lather going he walks her backwards into the water and the garish orange begins to rinse itself away.

“I’m gonna lean you against the wall here and do the rest of your backside,” he tells her. Rose doesn’t say anything but he does hear a rather audible gulp from her throat. That’s good. It means her swallowing reflex has returned to normal. Of course it also means she’s nervous about what he’s about to do. That makes two of them. If he can just get through this without disgracing himself he’ll survive.

He does as he told her he would and kneels behind her. He pours more soap out into his hands and runs them over her legs, slowly working his way up her thighs. When his hands move over the soft globes of her buttocks he is the one swallowing loudly. Don’t think about what you’re doing, he tells himself. Think about the poison. You have to get off the poison. But it’s easier said than done. Rose is trembling by the time he’s properly rinsed her off. She isn’t the only one with shaking legs he realizes as he stands back up.

He’s glad she can’t move her head much. If she could look down and see what this is doing to him, how attracted to her he is despite her helpless state, he’s sure it would destroy their relationship forever. She’d never trust him again. “Rose, I’m going to…turn you around now. Wash your front.”

Rose’s trembling increases and when he moves her body about she’s got tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wouldn’t look but I have to see where the paint is to get it all off. I promise you, Rose, I’ll do my best to respect your privacy.”

“Nooo,” she manages and he’s not sure if it’s a wail or if she’s still not speaking properly. Frustration comes into her eyes. If she could stamp her foot she would, he’s sure. “Na…naoo you.”

Instantly the Doctor stills and averts his eyes from her body. “If you don’t want me to do it, I’ll go get Jack. But the poison has got to come off, Rose.”

He props her back against the wall and moves away. “Nooo,” she says again. “Do’er. Na Ja…na fer.”

“You don’t want Jack?”

“No Ja. You…na fer.”

“Na fer?” he asks puzzled.

“Na…” She concentrates hard. “Fair.”

“Not fair? No, it’s not fair. What they did to you was a horrible, awful thing and I--.”

“Shu uh,” she manages.

“You want me to shut up? Why?” He tries not to feel hurt as she struggles to speak.

“You…clo…thes…na fair.”

Comprehension dawns on him. “Are you saying it’s not fair because I still have my clothes on and you’re the only one naked?”

“Yes,” Rose says carefully.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Na if…bo…th be. Two.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if we’re both embarrassed as long as it’s together?” he asks.

“Both. Plea’, Do’er. Fair.” Her eyes are pleading with him.

“All right then,” he tells her not quite sure he follows her logic but if it makes her feel better he’ll do it. Making sure she won’t fall he steps out of the shower and strips off his dripping clothing before stepping back into the shower and retrieving the soap. He’s methodical then, doing his best to ignore the fact that oh, that’s Rose’s left breast in his hands, and that’s the indent of her waist, the curve of her hip, the length of her thigh.

By the time he’s made it down the right side of her body as well, she is trembling again. Movement has returned to one of her arms and she is able to finish washing the most intimate parts of her body while the Doctor holds her steady at the waist. “Just need to do your hair now, Rose,” he says.

Her hair has been slicked with something that fortunately isn’t the paralytic poison, but is just bright and far yellower than her hair normally is. He wonders if the priests' God is nearly blind, the colors are so painful to the eyes. He washes it gently, Rose leaning against him with her arms around his neck. Her soft breasts are pressing into his chest and he’s trying desperately to keep their lower bodies from touching, a feat that is nearly impossible.

Rose, on the other hand, seems to be determined to snuggle as closely to him as she can. If he didn’t know any better he might think she is taking advantage of the situation, but no matter what he feels for her he knows there is nothing he can do about it until she makes her feelings clear to him. Losing her is not a risk he's prepared to take by showing his emotions too soon.

Once her hair is cleaned properly he pushes her back from him. “I need to double check, make sure I got it all off you. The faster it’s all gone, the quicker your body will return to normal.” She is able to stand under her own power as he swiftly rakes his eyes up and down her frame then helps her turn around and repeats the scan on her back side.

“Looks good,” he says and then blushes at how badly she might misconstrue that statement. “Do you think you can walk?” he asks. Rose takes a tentative step forward and crumbles against him. He catches her quickly.

“Can’t walk,” she mumbles still not up to full sentences, her words labored and slow but clear now.

“But you’re getting your speech back to normal. That’s good. What about sensation? Can you feel this?” he asks trailing his fingers down her spine.

“Little,” she says.

He holds her steadily in his arms for a few minutes, the water still beating down on them. “Rose, I have to ask…in case I need to take you to the infirmary…did the priests, did anyone…did they force themselves on you?”

“No,” she says. “Not that.” Relief courses through him, one more fear evaporating from his mind. He props her against the wall and retrieves a towel, sliding it around his hips. Then he picks up another one, gently dries her off and then carefully wraps her body in it and lifts her into his arms.

He carries her down the corridor and into the nearest room, his bedroom as it happens. He deposits her on the bed and manages to wiggle her under the covers then he reaches for the wet towel and pulls it out. “Your room?” Her voice is curious as to why he’s taking her here. She’s been here a few times but never crossed the threshold.

“Yeah. Need to monitor you until you’re better. Your bed’s too small for me to stay with you in it. You want me to get you some clothes?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “Covered. Fine.”

“Okay, then I’ll just go and get dressed in something dry.”

Rose panics. “Don’t leave me,” she says.

“Just popping to the wardrobe room,” he explains. “Back in a jiffy.”

“No!” Her voice is anguished. “Please. Need you. Stay.”

“Rose…” But one look at her face and he can’t deny her this.

“Hold me,” she says. “Safe.”

He sighs. “But I’m naked.”

“Fair,” she says and there is a slight twinkle in her eye. “Trust you,” she says again.

He isn’t sure he trusts himself but he slides under the covers and rids himself of his towel and then reaches for her, pulling her into the needed safety of his arms. The tension leaves her body and she relaxes bonelessly into him. Before long she is sound asleep and the last of his fear begins to ebb away as he listens to the steady beat of her little human heart.