Immovable Object, Unstoppable Force (2/3)

[amberfocus]

Title:  Immovable Object, Unstoppable Force
Author:  amberfocus
Characters/Pairings:  Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Genre:  Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, smut
Rating:  Adult
Betas:  amyo67, jeprdyfrndly
Summary:  After giving in to temptation months ago, the Doctor told Rose that a romantic relationship between them was a mistake.  She's starting to believe him just as he's coming to realize that holding himself away from her is really the biggest mistake of all.
A/N:  This fic is a belated birthday gift for mitashade, who has been so incredibly generous with her time and artwork this past year

Ch. 1:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/317474.html

Chapter Two

Rose doesn’t wear the red one. Not out of spite, but as a way of protecting herself. The bikini makes her feel far too sexy and feeling sexy makes her think of sex. She can’t bear it if he looks at her with those bedroom eyes one more time when he has no intention of ever following through. She’s got to do whatever she can to protect her heart, because the one way that makes the most sense, leaving him, going home, is not an option.

The TARDIS provides her with a number of choices and if she didn’t know better, she’d think the ship was trying to break the Doctor now that she’s stopped trying to do it herself. One of the swimming outfits actually has less cloth than the red bikini, which she wouldn’t have thought possible short of a thong. Another might as well be a corset the way it sucks in her waist and pushes her breasts up high. A hint of areola peeks over the top. No way is she wearing that outside. A third, a one piece number, has a neck line that plunges as low as the bottoms rise up on the thigh. Well, technically the hip.

“Where do you get these things?” she asks. “I can’t wear stuff this revealing in front of him. You know that.” She shakes her head at these choices and the TARDIS responds by presenting her with a swimming dress from the early 1900’s that makes her giggle. She can just picture the expression on the Doctor’s face if she were to appear in attire that covers her from throat to wrist to ankle. “Just something normal, please. From my current century.”

If the ship could sigh, she thinks it would be doing so, but she is offered two more choices. A simple black one-piece with a scoop neckline and a cute little pink skirt, and a tankini that is turquoise and black, leaves only a two inch line of skin between the top and bottom, and reasonably covers the rest of her torso appear. She chooses the latter.

By the time she is done getting ready they’ve landed and she heads toward the console room, a bag with two towels and some sun block over one shoulder. She is stunned when she enters to find him in a Speedo and nothing else. He’s swum with her before on rare occasions, but always in loose fitting trunks that cover him from hips to knee. He’s leaning over the console, tapping something into the keyboard. Before she can order them not to her eyes are drinking in the long, lean expanse of his back, the tightly muscled arse encased in turquoise spandex, the heavily muscled runner’s thighs and strong calves. The TARDIS has made them a matched set. Too bad they never really will be.

Rose’s hands ache to squeeze his bum, to run up and down his torso. Her body wants to be trapped against his, to find herself held in place, a strong leg over hers, an arm wrapped about her waist. Or better still have him caught between her own legs, tight about his hips as they make love. Her breath catches and her heart constricts and she just barely stops herself from making a whimper.

She turns her eyes to the backpack on the jump seat, focusing on it instead of him. Two deep breaths later she composes herself. “Ready?” she asks.

Without answering the Doctor hits the lever for the doors, then turns to look at her. If he’s disappointed that she’s not in the red bikini his face doesn’t show it. His eyes trail up and down her body and he swallows hard. Rose refuses to let her eyes drop to the front of his Speedo. Aroused or not, staring there will remind her too much about what she’s trying to forget about him.

He gestures to the door and she precedes him down the ramp. She pauses while he locks the door, but when he offers her his hand she turns away quickly, pretending not to see. Her hand twitches, knowing where it wants to be, but she can’t. If she touches him now she’ll make an utter fool of herself. She’s barely holding her heart together as it is. One more rejection will kill her.

“Which way?” she asks.

“Straight ahead. The lake is a half mile away. Should take us ten minutes at a nice stroll,” he says.

Rose starts off. If she leads the way, she doesn’t have to worry about holding hands, or walking side by side where her hip will be in constant danger of brushing against his thigh. Touching is too much right now. He’s made it clear that he won’t change his mind. Yielding to temptation will only result in humiliation for her. She’s had enough of that. She curses the human hormones that flood her body and hastens her stride. The sooner she’s in a cold mountain lake, the better.



The Doctor can’t keep his eyes off of Rose’s arse as she takes quick, firm steps in front of him. He hates that she won’t take his hand, something happening more and more often of late. There is no mistaking that she’d seen him hold it out and turned away anyway. It’s just as well she’s in front of him. The Speedos are unforgiving, unable to hide his desire for the beautiful young woman. He is going to have a long talk with the ship when he gets back. The TARDIS had insisted that she couldn’t find any of the multiple pairs of trunks that filled her capacious wardrobe. The Doctor knows a set up when he sees one. He hates to admit that his ship is smarter than he is.

Rose doesn’t stop or wait for him until she gets to the water’s edge. “Is it safe?” she asks without turning to look at him. He takes out his sonic screwdriver from the backpack he carries. It is filled with provisions for the day and a blanket to picnic on. Quickly he scans the water. It’s free of contamination, doesn’t even contain fish.

“It’s safe,” he confirms. She tosses her bag in the sand behind her and slips out of her flip flops. She wades right into the lake, not stopping until it’s up to her waist and then she slides beneath the surface, strong arms working in a crawl stroke to take her further from the shore. He takes quick note of their surroundings; a heavily wooded glade off to the east, the lake in front of him, the path behind him, a mountain slope to the west and what looks like the opening to a small cave. No wild animals in sight, not that he’d expected anything dangerous. The largest animal on this planet is the size of a cocker spaniel and about as threatening.

Reassured that nothing will threaten their idyll, he follows her in, relieved to hide himself from view. The water helps ease some of the tension that’s been building within him. Now all he has to do is figure out a way to broach the subject to Rose of how he’s reconsidered his stance on their relationship.

Rose surfaces and treads water and the expression on her face shows that she, too, has lost some of the tension that has been coiling inside her. “Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says with a rueful smile. “Guess I was going a bit stir crazy, stuck in the ship with all that…heat.” Her voice trails off and he barely hears the last word.

“I’m sorry things have been so difficult lately,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says again. She tips backwards into the water, floating on her back. He’s unsure if she’s doing it to end the conversation or just to drink in the majesty of the brilliant blue sky above them. If this were a normal sort of situation, he’d be diving under the water and coming up beneath her, picking her up and tossing her a few feet or engaging in a splash war. But it’s not normal, nothing has been normal since he’d decided making love to her was taking advantage of her. He misses the old playfulness, but he’s afraid to even try. Whatever had made him decide that kicking her out of his bed was a good idea?

“Rose,” he says loudly so she can hear him under water.

She slips up out of the water again, swims a little closer but not within touching distance. “What?”

“I’m sorry about a lot of things. I’ve been a prat.”

Rose shrugs. “I know.” She dives underwater and swims away from him for several meters before resurfacing.

“Rose,” he calls again.

“What?”

“You’re making it awfully hard to hold a conversation.”

“Thought we were swimming,” she says and under she goes again. It’s obvious to him that she doesn’t want to talk. Been a while since they have talked, truth be told. Oh, they say the words of polite society. How are you? Pass the salt. Can you keep pressure on this head wound while I cauterize his leg so he doesn’t bleed to death? The normal sort of thing. But they don’t really talk. Not since he’d told her all of his reasons why they can’t be together. Reasons that for the life of him he can’t remember why had seemed so all-fired important.

It occurs to him, now he’s changed his mind, that he might have hurt her so much, so deeply, that she won’t be willing to take a risk on him again. That wall she’s been building around her heart seems to get more and more solid as each day passes. How is he ever going to bring the issue up again if he can’t get her to hold still and keep her head above water for more than thirty seconds?

He sighs, flips onto his back, and looks up at the sky. Clouds are beginning to form in the west. They look a couple hours off and he hopes they don’t bring rain. He doesn’t want to bring this outing to an end early, awkward as it is at the moment. Going back to the insufferable heat of the ship won’t make anything better. A moment later he turns over and looks for Rose. She’s not too far away.

“Rose?” he calls again. She turns towards him. “I’m going to swim,” he said.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asks.

“I mean, really swim. I’m gonna head for the opposite shore.”

“All right.”

“You could come with me, if you want.”

“Suppose I could do with the exercise,” she says. “Been too many days since we’ve had to run for our lives.” She takes a deep breath and streaks past him through the water. She’s a strong swimmer, and her fast, even strokes are taking her further and further away from him. He dives under and follows her, his longer arms and legs narrowing the distance until he’s by her side. He shortens his strokes to match hers and together they swim to the far shore. It’s only fifteen minutes to get there and after a brief rest in the shallows, they start the trip back.

“Hungry yet?” he asks once they are back where they started. Exercise outdoors always makes her ravenous.

“I guess,” she says.

“Let’s eat, then,” he says. They scramble out of the water, Rose ringing out her hair and shaking out the bun as they pad across the sand. She retrieves their towels from her bag and hands him one and they hastily dry off. Out of long-standing habit, they both put on their shoes. Even if there’s no one else on the planet, there’s been too many times when they’ve still had to run. The Doctor spreads out the blanket and unpacks their lunch as Rose makes herself comfortable.

“Storm’s coming,” she says eyeing the horizon.

“I think we’ve got a bit of the afternoon left. And they might not be rain clouds.”

“Awfully dark, if they’re not,” she says. A warm breeze rushes around them, lifting Rose’s hair. “Air smells different,” she says. “Heavier.”

“Air can’t smell heavy, Rose,” he says.

She shrugs, pulling her knees up under her chin and pulling in on herself a bit. “It does to me.” She bites into her sandwich and avoids meeting his gaze. He’s hurt her feelings by contradicting her, he realizes with sinking hearts. How is it these days every single thing he says to her is wrong?

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, Rose not offering any more small talk. The Doctor’s mood is turning as dark as the rain clouds. They are definitely rain clouds. He can see it as the drops hit the far end of the lake. “We best get back to the ship,” he says nodding across the water.

Rose gathers up their towels and shoves them back in her bag and the Doctor takes everything else, pushing it all into his pack. The clouds open up, drenching them in the sudden downpour. Lightning flares across the sky, tearing it in half and striking the lake. Water flares upwards and the surface lights up. The reek of ozone fills the air.

Rose makes for the path, but as lightning strikes again, he catches her. “No! It’s too dangerous now. If lightning hits one of those trees, we’re done for. There’s a cave that way.” He points. “We can take shelter until it passes.” This time when it hits it’s too close for comfort.

The Doctor grabs her hand and the two of them run for it, the smell of scorched earth clinging to their nostrils as it strikes yet again behind them. They make it just as a strange screaming sound rends the air. “What the hell is that?” Rose asks. She turns in the cave mouth to look behind them and lets out a little scream of her own. In the wake of the lightning storm a tornado rushes across the lake, a pillar of dust and wind that reaches from the ground well into the sky.

The tremendous vacuum force of it makes Rose take one or two steps forward. “Doctor!” she screams. He can barely hear her, his hand grasping her wrist and hauling her back towards him. She crashes into his arms, but he can still feel the pull of the tornado. They have to get further in or risk being sucked up into the massive funnel. He forcibly turns them so he’s the one with his back to the storm and he’s a windbreak for Rose.

They make their way further back, stumbling in the darkness. The cave turns and the relief of being out of the suction is tremendous. The Doctor fumbles in his backpack until he feels the sonic screwdriver. He pulls it out and turns it on. Sweeping it around, they can see that it opens up into an area that is just big enough to sleep in if they’re stuck here for very long. He pulls the blanket out of the bag and shakes it out, covering the ground.

“I take it we’re going to be here for a while,” Rose says.

“Don’t know how long the storm is going to last. The TARDIS should have warned us the weather would turn foul. I hope the broken thermic regulator isn’t messing with the rest of her systems.”

“Is that possible?” Rose asks.

“Well, she’s had to divert as much energy as possible into keeping the environmental controls from melting down. That’s always her priority. Then translation, then navigation. Weather report is down pretty far on the list,” he says with a shrug.

Rose settles herself on the blanket. “So we could be here all day,” she says flatly.

“Yep.” He sits down beside her, close, but not touching. Not quite. He turns off the sonic screwdriver and they sit in darkness.

“With nothing to do.”

“Yep,” he repeats.

“Great,” she says, sarcasm heavy in her tone.

“We can talk,” he offers after a moment.

“Because that always ends so well. You should have just taken me home.”

“No!” he says and it comes out more fiercely than he’d intended. He finds her hand in the dark and holds on tightly. “I know we’ve had our problems but I don’t want you to leave,” he says.

Rose is quiet when she answers. “I—I didn’t mean leave. I meant visit. Winter visit, you know, to my mum, like we talked about.” She tries to tug her hand away, but he’s not letting go. “Then we wouldn’t be sitting in the dark in a cave in a lightning storm during a tornado.” Rose laughs a bit hollowly. “My life since I met you, basically.”

“Are you sorry you came with me?” he asks hesitantly. Rose doesn’t answer for a minute. “Rose?”

“I can’t ever regret anything I’ve done with you,” she says softly. He can hear the emotion in her voice, hears her cough to cover a tiny sobbing noise. He reaches for her face, finds it, feels the tears with his thumb as he runs it along her cheekbone, moves it back and forth with extreme tenderness.

“Please,” she says and her voice is broken. “You can’t touch me like that. I’ve tried to respect your wishes. I’ve honored your choice. But you can’t touch me like that. It hurts too much. I can do this, I can. I can stay with you and not—and not—.” She chokes on her words, stops, starts again. “I can stay with you and not be with you, but not if you touch me like I mean something more to you than just, than just someone you can turn away from because I’ll never be good enough for you to love.”

He drops his hand away from her in shock. “You think you’re not enough for me?” he asks.

“I know I’m not. Just a shop girl, aren’t I? Just a stu-stupid ape.”

“Rose,” he begins. “I never meant that. I never—.”

“No, Doctor. No. I can’t do this. I can’t talk about it anymore. If I could run out into that storm, I would, but we’re trapped here and I just…I can’t get away from you and it’s not fair. It’s not fair when I, when I…” She’s sobbing openly now and he feels tears in his own eyes. “When I lo-love you like this and you don’t love me.”

“Rose,” he breathes. Her words have hit him in the stomach with the force of a fist driven hard. She loves him?

“Don’t make me talk about, about it,” she hiccoughs. “I can’t stand it. Just, just let me be.” He feels her withdrawing in the dark as far as she can in the confined space. He’s not sure what he could say right now anyway. He’s got to get his thoughts together before he screws this up any further than he already has. He remains silent in the dark and eventually Rose’s breathing evens out and she goes still. He hopes her dreams are kinder to her than he’s been lately. He has no doubt that they will be.

Ch. 3:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/318646.html