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milieva_ficsTitle: The Difficulties of Readjusting
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jackie
Rating: G
Genre: Missing Scene (After The Christmas Invasion)
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sciathan_file, Mistress of the Comma Sutra, who will pop into the pub for some pints after reading this! :D
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Summary: The Doctor takes a little while to settle into his new body after the Christmas Invasion.
Author’s Note: I started this fic over a year ago, as my muse chose to hide in S2 close to the end of S4. I am one who thinks there was a bit of time between The Christmas Invasion and New Earth. I also think the Doctor may have been a bit Narcoleptic for a week or more as a complication with his regeneration sickness, but that’s just me.
I’ve left the original author’s note intact, because I don’t have the heart to erase it. Which is also part of the reason why I keep my beta’s notes in her beta credit.
Original Author’s Note (pre-JE): Evil, thy name is Davies. Actually, I am completely on edge as I am sure most of you are as well about the possible outcome of Journey’s End. My muses/plot bunnies decided it was safer to hide out in S2, pre-Doomsday. And thus we get this.
He awoke fuzzy headed and disoriented, and that never seemed to bode well in his experience. Blinking a few times, he sat up to get a better look at his surroundings, only to have his retinas assaulted with an overwhelming cacophony of reds, pinks, and fuchsias. Groaning with the effort of clearing his muddled head, he collapsed back into the unfamiliar pillows.
Where was he? At least that was the first question he asked himself. That was quickly followed by desire to know how he’d gotten there.
Heaving a pained sigh, he pushed himself back up and attempted a second look at his surroundings. The entire room was like someone had drunk a few gallons of strawberry milkshake and then proceeded to be sick all over the walls and bed linens. It really wasn’t the most comforting of places. Definitely not something he would have chosen for his own room.
Running a hand through his hair, he stopped. Pulling it back through and combing the strands again he realized there was one big difference. When did he get hair? Not just any hair. This was big hair. Ruffling his new hair, he brought his hands down to feel his smaller ears, and side burns. Oh, he liked the sideburns. It’d been a while since he’d had proper sideburns.
Slowly the memories of the past day trickled back into his consciousness.
They’d been aboard Satellite five. There had been Daleks. There had been so many Daleks. It was going to be the end of everything. All the history that he had known was to come for the planet Earth was going to be erased in one final moment, with the push of one lever.
Then she’d come back.
Rose had brought the TARDIS back. He’d sent her safely home to her mother, but only moments later his ship returned. When she stepped out, the power that had flowed from her sent a cold chill of dread through his blood.
She was going to burn. She was burning. Inside, outside, her very soul was alight with the amazing power of the vortex…and yet, she survived.
She’d survived because he’d taken the power from her.
He’d taken it and put it back where it belonged, in the heart of the TARDIS. That explained the hair, the sideburns too, actually--oh he did like the sideburns. But no one was meant to do what he had done, and it had killed him. Well, sort of. Every cell in his body died and replaced itself with a new one.
But it went wrong.
The whole regeneration went terribly wrong. He’d terrified her. But he couldn’t have explained it any better unless he had told her before. His brain had already begun the process when he started rambling about Barcelona.
Oh, he did still want to take her to Barcelona.
It was more a matter of whether or not she would still want to go with him. She’d taken the new him in stride last night. The smile she’d given him when he’d returned from the TARDIS, Rose had actually been happy to see him again. But how would she be now? Now that the excitement of an alien invasion had worn off and it was back to the everyday drudge of normal life.
Stretching out his tight and sore muscles, the Doctor threw the coverings back and swung his legs over the side and looked down at his new toes. They were longer than his old toes and thinner too. They wiggled a bit differently as well.
Taking a look around the room again, he caught sight of his shoes tucked away in a corner. Sitting up, he found his cuffs were unbuttoned as well as his shirt collar. His tie was nowhere to be found, and it seemed his jacket had met the same fate. The whole thing had a bit of a déjà vu feel. At least he wasn’t dressed in some stranger’s pyjamas this time.
Setting his feet on the floor, he fastened his cuffs and walked toward the partially opened door.
Making his way through the narrow hallway he could distinctly hear Jackie Tyler’s voice complaining about his presence in the house.
“The two of them come swanning in on Christmas Eve and expect a full dinner.”
“Mum!” Rose exclaimed. She sounded on the verge of some longer winded rebuttal when a completely different voice began to speak instead.
“Still can’t wait to meet this mystery man of yours. Jackie’s been telling me all about him. Who would have thought little Rose Tyler would grow up and get herself a doctor?”
He paused outside the doorway, trying to recognize the new voice. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Slowly he came round the corner, expecting to find them sipping tea, or chatting over some half-eaten breakfast.
What he found instead sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Rose was seated in a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor. A cape was draped around her as her mother circled her with a comb and a pair of scissors. Strands of golden hair littered the linoleum floor around them.
She strained her eyes looking up at him all the while attempting not to move as her mother cut away the final strands of her once long hair. The shining tresses glimmered and twirled as the fell with a seemingly deafening crash against the flooring.
“Here comes trouble.”
She smiled warmly at him.
He grinned at her in return, her brilliant smile completely erasing, for a moment, the uncomfortable feeling of watching her change herself so drastically.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Oi! Make your self useful. Put the kettle back on
Jackie pointed her shears at him, the points gleaming dangerously in the morning sunlight.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jackie’s friend whispered something to the older blonde about Rose’s catch definitely being easy on the eyes. At least he assumed she was Jackie’s friend. She didn’t seem like she could be one of Rose’s mates.
The Doctor grinned slightly at the compliment, but didn’t let on otherwise that he had heard a thing. He filled the aforementioned kettle with water before placing it on the cooker as instructed. Though, his face fell as soon as he’d turned back round and again caught sight of all the yellow inches that lay scattered like wounded soldiers on a battlefield.
Did she even realize what she’d done?
He tried to force a smile, tried to push the thoughts from his mind, but he couldn’t.
Heart aching for what he could not change, he excused himself and walked out of the flat. She was mourning him. The old him. The him from before. He could see it in her smile. There was that ghost of loss and sadness. Yes, she was accepting him, but he wasn’t quite the right sort of replacement.
A few short, agonizing minutes later, the door opened and he heard familiar footsteps approach him from behind. Rose was silent as she came to stand beside him; the only contact she made was to slip a warm mug into his hand.
Taking a sip, the Doctor grimaced. Milk, no sugar, it was just how he’d always had his tea. New taste buds meant it was time to start putting a spoonful of sugar in again. Quite a few spoonfuls wouldn’t hurt, actually.
They stood in completely silence for a time. Both standing with arms resting on the railing and their mugs cupped between their hands. The tea was doing more as a finger warming device, than any sort of beverage.
“You cut your hair,” he whispered quietly.
There were no words to describe what he was feeling, nor was there a way to let her understand how much upset such a simple action had caused him.
“You should talk.”
Nodding in agreement, he turned to face her, “Yeah, new face.”
Rose was quiet, and moved only to take a sip of her tea. Her eyes shimmered with yet unshed tears. The man she had known for the past few months was gone forever, and he’d left her with this skinny big haired replacement who just didn’t know how to handle the job quite yet.
And it was killing him.
There were reasons why so many cultures had proper rituals for mourning. The cutting or tearing of the hair or clothes was one of the big elements of many. Then there were the Keeners. Some had bonfires in which to incinerate the bodies of loved ones who passed. Others used boats sent out to sea, or boxes buried underground.
But there wasn’t a ritual to mourn someone who was still alive.
…alive… but different.
“Takes some getting used to, you know. Having a new jaw-line to shave.”
She looked up at him questioningly.
“Hadn’t thought of that.”
“No one ever thinks about those things. I’ll likely cut myself at least…oh fifteen… maybe twenty times before I learn the new shape.”
He rubbed his scruffy chin as if he were deep in thought, but it was more of a way to emphasis his point.
“Then there is the matter of my tongue. I’ll have to taste everything all over again to find out what I like and don’t like. It is really annoying when you liked something before and then you hate it after. Like pears. I really did like pears before. They were nice. Simple in flavour. Sweet, but not too sweet. Juicy, but not too juicy… though they rather melt in your mouth when you bite into them, and you can bake with them and do all sorts of other fun things. Really, it is an all around great fruit. The question is now, ‘do I or do I not like pears.’ I have no idea.”
Absently, he took another sip of his tea and then proceeded to scrape his tongue against his teeth in an attempt to remove the taste. Setting the offending cup aside, he reached over and plucked Rose’s mug from her hand and took a sip of her tea.
Sweeter, but not right.
Replacing her mug in her hands and snatching his own dejected one from the rail, he turned back to the flat.
Bursting into the kitchen, he startled a sweeping Jackie and her friend as he sped across the linoleum toward the sink. Pouring a bit of his tea down the drain, he set the partially emptied mug on the counter. He reached into the cupboard for the sugar. Two spoonfuls later, he opened the fridge for the nearly empty jug of milk and filled his mug to the brim.
Taking a trial sip, he decided to add two more spoonfuls of sugar. That tasted much better. It was a little cold, but much better. Smiling in satisfaction, he turned back to the room, happily drinking his concoction.
“Could have waited a moment,” Jackie snapped, sweeping at the trail of hair he’d dragged across the floor.
Rose watched him in bemused fascination from the doorway, taking a long drink of her own tea. One second he was stupidly proud of himself for finding how he now drank his tea, the next, he was wrinkling his face in disgust as he realized there were clippings of hair stuck to the bottoms of his bare feet.
With an appalled squeal, he stood on one foot as he brushed the other off on his trousers.
“Oh! Oh! It’s not coming off!” He bounced back against the counter top, still scrubbing the sole against his leg. “Ow! That tickles.”
Snorting slightly as she tried to stifle her laughter, Rose carefully crossed the room and took his hand. After guiding him around the oh so treacherous hair clippings, she led him down the little hallway to the bathroom, and sat him on the toilet.
Running a towel under the running faucet, she wrung out the excess water and crouched down before him, gently wiping the few little clippings that had stayed attached to the sole of his feet.
“You’re an idiot, you are.”
“I most certainly am not,” he contested, trying to tear his feet from her torturous grasp. Rose merely tightened her grip on his ankle as she scrubbed the hair from his skin.
“And I am guessing you aren’t ticklish either?”
He was going to say something incredibly witty as a retort. The word were sitting right there on the tip of his tongue. If only he had had a chance to utter them and defend himself from such an accusation. Of course he wasn’t ticklish. His skin was just more sensitive to the touch. He had been this close to exclaiming his point when his first stomach decided to do a very human type thing.
It growled.
Rose laughed and tossed the towel at him.
“Come on. Let’s get you some breakfast.”
She stood up and reached a hand down for him.
A grin spread across his face as he took he proffered hand and hoisted himself to his feet.
“Oh! That is fantastic idea,” he exclaimed and then stopped, face falling.
“No, that still doesn’t sound right. New teeth. New word. What was the new word. New Word… Classic? No. Extraordinary… Wonderful… No… Bodacious? No. Definitely not! Brilliant! Yes! Brilliant! That is a brilliant idea, Rose! Very brilliant. How brilliant of you. You are brilliant. Yes, I like that. I’ll use that for now.”
Rose rolled her eyes, and pulled him out of the bathroom and back toward the kitchen.
“What are we going to eat then? Christmas leftovers? Oh, I am pleased I still like turkey. And gravy…Oh, gravy… It tastes even better with this tongue. Love the salt. Oh, yes, turkey and gravy… and potatoes. I know! We could have bubble ‘n’ squeak. Oh, I think I would like bubble ‘n’ squeak with this tongue. Bubble ‘n’ squeak made with Christmas leftovers. That sounds… oh…ow!” he squealed as Rose pinched him.
Rubbing his arm, looking quite insulted, he asked, “What was that for?”
“Stop babbling about new everything. Bev doesn’t know about Time Lords, and I am sure Mum would like to keep it that way.”
He sniffed in offence and remained quiet for an entire ten seconds before asking, “So, what are we going to eat?”
“Is this how you are then? One track mind for food?”
The Doctor shrugged. He hadn’t thought of that. Oh, that might be fun, eating his way across the universe. He always had liked trying new things. Would be more fun to get a chance to try them all over again. Give his tongue a proper test drive.
“Feet clean then?” Jackie asked as they made it back to the kitchen.
“Yep!” he replied, popping the ‘p’ and wiggling his toes at her. “All clean and shiny.”
Jackie rolled her eyes turned back to the cooker. She was turning something in the frying pan. The warm smells of a proper fry up drifted over to the Doctor, making him smile again.
“Breakfast!” he gushed, grinning broadly, watching the toast pop up out of the toaster.
Oh, yes, he would love going through the universe tasting everything he could. The biggest problem he had at the moment was figuring out where to start.
Breakfast wasn’t a bad place.
Rose slipped her hand into his and led him over to the table. Bev was sitting at the end of the table as if waiting patiently for them. The Doctor wished she would leave, letting him have a chance to speak freely with his friends again. Regeneration was a big change, and he was still trying to adjust to it.
That and he was fighting the urge to lick Rose’s hair. Her shampoo just smelled so good, he wanted to know what it tasted like.
But he thought that would likely fall under “Time Lord things Bev doesn’t need to know about”, and also, he wasn’t willing to be smacked over it, because tasting Rose’s hair wouldn’t exactly be the most socially appropriate thing to do right now.
So, instead, he settled for dropping into the nearest seat and watching Rose sit down beside him.
“I’m going over to Shareen’s in an hour,” she said suddenly.
His face must as visibly fallen as he was flooded with disappointment because she added, “I’ll come back.”
He’d hoped to spend the day with her, getting to know himself again. Perhaps going for various takeaways so he could try more foods again, but he didn’t voice any of these thoughts, he merely asked, “Where are you going?”
“Shopping,” she replied, smiling at him.
“With what money?” he teased. “You haven’t had a job in what, a year?”
“Two years, actually,” she corrected. “I was going to ask if I could—“
The Doctor didn’t let her finish, as he’d already reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the psychic credit card.
“Don’t go wild.”
Rose smiled and tucked it into her pocket as she offered, “You could come with us, if you’d like.”
“Nah. Don’t think shopping is quite my thing.”
That made Rose laugh. She could just see this version of the Doctor following her around the shops. He’d be jabbering incessantly, most likely about the materials in the clothes she’d just bought, but he would be willing to go with her.
The Doctor smiled back at her, wondering at how much he loved Rose’s laugh. The sound made him feel happy and sort of tingly at the same time. She fascinated him. Why did she have to go this afternoon? What was he supposed to do with himself?
He could work on the TARDIS. That would be useful. His precious Rose had done quite a number on her.
Wait….precious?
Where did that come from?
He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, nervously, as if she could read his thoughts. Her smile was still doing things to him. Why did she have this effect on him? He liked it, the way she made him feel.
Yeah, she was precious.
After the events of the past few days, he knew he’d do anything for her, and the idea sort of scared him.
But he wasn’t willing to change anything.
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jackie
Rating: G
Genre: Missing Scene (After The Christmas Invasion)
Beta:
sciathan_file, Mistress of the Comma Sutra, who will pop into the pub for some pints after reading this! :DDisclaimer: You know the drill.
Summary: The Doctor takes a little while to settle into his new body after the Christmas Invasion.
Author’s Note: I started this fic over a year ago, as my muse chose to hide in S2 close to the end of S4. I am one who thinks there was a bit of time between The Christmas Invasion and New Earth. I also think the Doctor may have been a bit Narcoleptic for a week or more as a complication with his regeneration sickness, but that’s just me.
I’ve left the original author’s note intact, because I don’t have the heart to erase it. Which is also part of the reason why I keep my beta’s notes in her beta credit.
Original Author’s Note (pre-JE): Evil, thy name is Davies. Actually, I am completely on edge as I am sure most of you are as well about the possible outcome of Journey’s End. My muses/plot bunnies decided it was safer to hide out in S2, pre-Doomsday. And thus we get this.
He awoke fuzzy headed and disoriented, and that never seemed to bode well in his experience. Blinking a few times, he sat up to get a better look at his surroundings, only to have his retinas assaulted with an overwhelming cacophony of reds, pinks, and fuchsias. Groaning with the effort of clearing his muddled head, he collapsed back into the unfamiliar pillows.
Where was he? At least that was the first question he asked himself. That was quickly followed by desire to know how he’d gotten there.
Heaving a pained sigh, he pushed himself back up and attempted a second look at his surroundings. The entire room was like someone had drunk a few gallons of strawberry milkshake and then proceeded to be sick all over the walls and bed linens. It really wasn’t the most comforting of places. Definitely not something he would have chosen for his own room.
Running a hand through his hair, he stopped. Pulling it back through and combing the strands again he realized there was one big difference. When did he get hair? Not just any hair. This was big hair. Ruffling his new hair, he brought his hands down to feel his smaller ears, and side burns. Oh, he liked the sideburns. It’d been a while since he’d had proper sideburns.
Slowly the memories of the past day trickled back into his consciousness.
They’d been aboard Satellite five. There had been Daleks. There had been so many Daleks. It was going to be the end of everything. All the history that he had known was to come for the planet Earth was going to be erased in one final moment, with the push of one lever.
Then she’d come back.
Rose had brought the TARDIS back. He’d sent her safely home to her mother, but only moments later his ship returned. When she stepped out, the power that had flowed from her sent a cold chill of dread through his blood.
She was going to burn. She was burning. Inside, outside, her very soul was alight with the amazing power of the vortex…and yet, she survived.
She’d survived because he’d taken the power from her.
He’d taken it and put it back where it belonged, in the heart of the TARDIS. That explained the hair, the sideburns too, actually--oh he did like the sideburns. But no one was meant to do what he had done, and it had killed him. Well, sort of. Every cell in his body died and replaced itself with a new one.
But it went wrong.
The whole regeneration went terribly wrong. He’d terrified her. But he couldn’t have explained it any better unless he had told her before. His brain had already begun the process when he started rambling about Barcelona.
Oh, he did still want to take her to Barcelona.
It was more a matter of whether or not she would still want to go with him. She’d taken the new him in stride last night. The smile she’d given him when he’d returned from the TARDIS, Rose had actually been happy to see him again. But how would she be now? Now that the excitement of an alien invasion had worn off and it was back to the everyday drudge of normal life.
Stretching out his tight and sore muscles, the Doctor threw the coverings back and swung his legs over the side and looked down at his new toes. They were longer than his old toes and thinner too. They wiggled a bit differently as well.
Taking a look around the room again, he caught sight of his shoes tucked away in a corner. Sitting up, he found his cuffs were unbuttoned as well as his shirt collar. His tie was nowhere to be found, and it seemed his jacket had met the same fate. The whole thing had a bit of a déjà vu feel. At least he wasn’t dressed in some stranger’s pyjamas this time.
Setting his feet on the floor, he fastened his cuffs and walked toward the partially opened door.
Making his way through the narrow hallway he could distinctly hear Jackie Tyler’s voice complaining about his presence in the house.
“The two of them come swanning in on Christmas Eve and expect a full dinner.”
“Mum!” Rose exclaimed. She sounded on the verge of some longer winded rebuttal when a completely different voice began to speak instead.
“Still can’t wait to meet this mystery man of yours. Jackie’s been telling me all about him. Who would have thought little Rose Tyler would grow up and get herself a doctor?”
He paused outside the doorway, trying to recognize the new voice. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Slowly he came round the corner, expecting to find them sipping tea, or chatting over some half-eaten breakfast.
What he found instead sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Rose was seated in a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor. A cape was draped around her as her mother circled her with a comb and a pair of scissors. Strands of golden hair littered the linoleum floor around them.
She strained her eyes looking up at him all the while attempting not to move as her mother cut away the final strands of her once long hair. The shining tresses glimmered and twirled as the fell with a seemingly deafening crash against the flooring.
“Here comes trouble.”
She smiled warmly at him.
He grinned at her in return, her brilliant smile completely erasing, for a moment, the uncomfortable feeling of watching her change herself so drastically.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Oi! Make your self useful. Put the kettle back on
Jackie pointed her shears at him, the points gleaming dangerously in the morning sunlight.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jackie’s friend whispered something to the older blonde about Rose’s catch definitely being easy on the eyes. At least he assumed she was Jackie’s friend. She didn’t seem like she could be one of Rose’s mates.
The Doctor grinned slightly at the compliment, but didn’t let on otherwise that he had heard a thing. He filled the aforementioned kettle with water before placing it on the cooker as instructed. Though, his face fell as soon as he’d turned back round and again caught sight of all the yellow inches that lay scattered like wounded soldiers on a battlefield.
Did she even realize what she’d done?
He tried to force a smile, tried to push the thoughts from his mind, but he couldn’t.
Heart aching for what he could not change, he excused himself and walked out of the flat. She was mourning him. The old him. The him from before. He could see it in her smile. There was that ghost of loss and sadness. Yes, she was accepting him, but he wasn’t quite the right sort of replacement.
A few short, agonizing minutes later, the door opened and he heard familiar footsteps approach him from behind. Rose was silent as she came to stand beside him; the only contact she made was to slip a warm mug into his hand.
Taking a sip, the Doctor grimaced. Milk, no sugar, it was just how he’d always had his tea. New taste buds meant it was time to start putting a spoonful of sugar in again. Quite a few spoonfuls wouldn’t hurt, actually.
They stood in completely silence for a time. Both standing with arms resting on the railing and their mugs cupped between their hands. The tea was doing more as a finger warming device, than any sort of beverage.
“You cut your hair,” he whispered quietly.
There were no words to describe what he was feeling, nor was there a way to let her understand how much upset such a simple action had caused him.
“You should talk.”
Nodding in agreement, he turned to face her, “Yeah, new face.”
Rose was quiet, and moved only to take a sip of her tea. Her eyes shimmered with yet unshed tears. The man she had known for the past few months was gone forever, and he’d left her with this skinny big haired replacement who just didn’t know how to handle the job quite yet.
And it was killing him.
There were reasons why so many cultures had proper rituals for mourning. The cutting or tearing of the hair or clothes was one of the big elements of many. Then there were the Keeners. Some had bonfires in which to incinerate the bodies of loved ones who passed. Others used boats sent out to sea, or boxes buried underground.
But there wasn’t a ritual to mourn someone who was still alive.
…alive… but different.
“Takes some getting used to, you know. Having a new jaw-line to shave.”
She looked up at him questioningly.
“Hadn’t thought of that.”
“No one ever thinks about those things. I’ll likely cut myself at least…oh fifteen… maybe twenty times before I learn the new shape.”
He rubbed his scruffy chin as if he were deep in thought, but it was more of a way to emphasis his point.
“Then there is the matter of my tongue. I’ll have to taste everything all over again to find out what I like and don’t like. It is really annoying when you liked something before and then you hate it after. Like pears. I really did like pears before. They were nice. Simple in flavour. Sweet, but not too sweet. Juicy, but not too juicy… though they rather melt in your mouth when you bite into them, and you can bake with them and do all sorts of other fun things. Really, it is an all around great fruit. The question is now, ‘do I or do I not like pears.’ I have no idea.”
Absently, he took another sip of his tea and then proceeded to scrape his tongue against his teeth in an attempt to remove the taste. Setting the offending cup aside, he reached over and plucked Rose’s mug from her hand and took a sip of her tea.
Sweeter, but not right.
Replacing her mug in her hands and snatching his own dejected one from the rail, he turned back to the flat.
Bursting into the kitchen, he startled a sweeping Jackie and her friend as he sped across the linoleum toward the sink. Pouring a bit of his tea down the drain, he set the partially emptied mug on the counter. He reached into the cupboard for the sugar. Two spoonfuls later, he opened the fridge for the nearly empty jug of milk and filled his mug to the brim.
Taking a trial sip, he decided to add two more spoonfuls of sugar. That tasted much better. It was a little cold, but much better. Smiling in satisfaction, he turned back to the room, happily drinking his concoction.
“Could have waited a moment,” Jackie snapped, sweeping at the trail of hair he’d dragged across the floor.
Rose watched him in bemused fascination from the doorway, taking a long drink of her own tea. One second he was stupidly proud of himself for finding how he now drank his tea, the next, he was wrinkling his face in disgust as he realized there were clippings of hair stuck to the bottoms of his bare feet.
With an appalled squeal, he stood on one foot as he brushed the other off on his trousers.
“Oh! Oh! It’s not coming off!” He bounced back against the counter top, still scrubbing the sole against his leg. “Ow! That tickles.”
Snorting slightly as she tried to stifle her laughter, Rose carefully crossed the room and took his hand. After guiding him around the oh so treacherous hair clippings, she led him down the little hallway to the bathroom, and sat him on the toilet.
Running a towel under the running faucet, she wrung out the excess water and crouched down before him, gently wiping the few little clippings that had stayed attached to the sole of his feet.
“You’re an idiot, you are.”
“I most certainly am not,” he contested, trying to tear his feet from her torturous grasp. Rose merely tightened her grip on his ankle as she scrubbed the hair from his skin.
“And I am guessing you aren’t ticklish either?”
He was going to say something incredibly witty as a retort. The word were sitting right there on the tip of his tongue. If only he had had a chance to utter them and defend himself from such an accusation. Of course he wasn’t ticklish. His skin was just more sensitive to the touch. He had been this close to exclaiming his point when his first stomach decided to do a very human type thing.
It growled.
Rose laughed and tossed the towel at him.
“Come on. Let’s get you some breakfast.”
She stood up and reached a hand down for him.
A grin spread across his face as he took he proffered hand and hoisted himself to his feet.
“Oh! That is fantastic idea,” he exclaimed and then stopped, face falling.
“No, that still doesn’t sound right. New teeth. New word. What was the new word. New Word… Classic? No. Extraordinary… Wonderful… No… Bodacious? No. Definitely not! Brilliant! Yes! Brilliant! That is a brilliant idea, Rose! Very brilliant. How brilliant of you. You are brilliant. Yes, I like that. I’ll use that for now.”
Rose rolled her eyes, and pulled him out of the bathroom and back toward the kitchen.
“What are we going to eat then? Christmas leftovers? Oh, I am pleased I still like turkey. And gravy…Oh, gravy… It tastes even better with this tongue. Love the salt. Oh, yes, turkey and gravy… and potatoes. I know! We could have bubble ‘n’ squeak. Oh, I think I would like bubble ‘n’ squeak with this tongue. Bubble ‘n’ squeak made with Christmas leftovers. That sounds… oh…ow!” he squealed as Rose pinched him.
Rubbing his arm, looking quite insulted, he asked, “What was that for?”
“Stop babbling about new everything. Bev doesn’t know about Time Lords, and I am sure Mum would like to keep it that way.”
He sniffed in offence and remained quiet for an entire ten seconds before asking, “So, what are we going to eat?”
“Is this how you are then? One track mind for food?”
The Doctor shrugged. He hadn’t thought of that. Oh, that might be fun, eating his way across the universe. He always had liked trying new things. Would be more fun to get a chance to try them all over again. Give his tongue a proper test drive.
“Feet clean then?” Jackie asked as they made it back to the kitchen.
“Yep!” he replied, popping the ‘p’ and wiggling his toes at her. “All clean and shiny.”
Jackie rolled her eyes turned back to the cooker. She was turning something in the frying pan. The warm smells of a proper fry up drifted over to the Doctor, making him smile again.
“Breakfast!” he gushed, grinning broadly, watching the toast pop up out of the toaster.
Oh, yes, he would love going through the universe tasting everything he could. The biggest problem he had at the moment was figuring out where to start.
Breakfast wasn’t a bad place.
Rose slipped her hand into his and led him over to the table. Bev was sitting at the end of the table as if waiting patiently for them. The Doctor wished she would leave, letting him have a chance to speak freely with his friends again. Regeneration was a big change, and he was still trying to adjust to it.
That and he was fighting the urge to lick Rose’s hair. Her shampoo just smelled so good, he wanted to know what it tasted like.
But he thought that would likely fall under “Time Lord things Bev doesn’t need to know about”, and also, he wasn’t willing to be smacked over it, because tasting Rose’s hair wouldn’t exactly be the most socially appropriate thing to do right now.
So, instead, he settled for dropping into the nearest seat and watching Rose sit down beside him.
“I’m going over to Shareen’s in an hour,” she said suddenly.
His face must as visibly fallen as he was flooded with disappointment because she added, “I’ll come back.”
He’d hoped to spend the day with her, getting to know himself again. Perhaps going for various takeaways so he could try more foods again, but he didn’t voice any of these thoughts, he merely asked, “Where are you going?”
“Shopping,” she replied, smiling at him.
“With what money?” he teased. “You haven’t had a job in what, a year?”
“Two years, actually,” she corrected. “I was going to ask if I could—“
The Doctor didn’t let her finish, as he’d already reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the psychic credit card.
“Don’t go wild.”
Rose smiled and tucked it into her pocket as she offered, “You could come with us, if you’d like.”
“Nah. Don’t think shopping is quite my thing.”
That made Rose laugh. She could just see this version of the Doctor following her around the shops. He’d be jabbering incessantly, most likely about the materials in the clothes she’d just bought, but he would be willing to go with her.
The Doctor smiled back at her, wondering at how much he loved Rose’s laugh. The sound made him feel happy and sort of tingly at the same time. She fascinated him. Why did she have to go this afternoon? What was he supposed to do with himself?
He could work on the TARDIS. That would be useful. His precious Rose had done quite a number on her.
Wait….precious?
Where did that come from?
He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, nervously, as if she could read his thoughts. Her smile was still doing things to him. Why did she have this effect on him? He liked it, the way she made him feel.
Yeah, she was precious.
After the events of the past few days, he knew he’d do anything for her, and the idea sort of scared him.
But he wasn’t willing to change anything.
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Date: 2009-12-16 03:51 am (UTC)Liked the end, even with all that is to come.
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Date: 2009-12-17 04:56 am (UTC)Yes, it is a bit bittersweet. But then again that is the entire regeneration process. Bittersweet. Say goodbye to the man you love and have him replaced by someone you must learn to love again.
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Date: 2009-12-16 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-16 03:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-16 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-16 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-16 05:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-16 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:46 am (UTC)Oh, yes, he might know that about Nine, but do remember, Ten is a different person, he may not have been sure in the beginning, and I think those feelings are born stronger in Ten. As Ten was more or less born out of love for Rose in the first place.
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Date: 2009-12-22 11:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 04:44 am (UTC)Thank you.
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Date: 2009-12-16 09:38 pm (UTC)He's also "the same but different" in just the right way, imo.
I also quite liked all the food comments, as it ties in to his words in the Lazarus Experiment about being hungry after regenerating.
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Date: 2009-12-17 04:40 am (UTC)I'll have to rewatch the Lazarus Experiment, as I don't recall that, but I didn't rewatch S3 much, as I am not much of a Martha fan.
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Date: 2009-12-16 11:15 pm (UTC)Me, too. It's about the only thing that makes their perfect comfort with each other and Rose's lack of sobbing about Jack make any sense.
The entire room was like someone had drunk a few gallons of strawberry milkshake and then proceeded to be sick all over the walls and bed linens.
::snort::
“I’m going over to Shareen’s in an hour,” she said suddenly.
His face must as visibly fallen as he was flooded with disappointment because she added, “I’ll come back.”
Hee. ^^ Very, very cute!
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Date: 2009-12-17 04:37 am (UTC)Yeah, I know what you mean about the comfort they have with one another. My beta is one who thinks they didn't stay long, and I can't see how that would be the case, given what we see at the begining of New Earth.
Glad you enjoyed it.
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Date: 2009-12-17 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-21 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 11:37 pm (UTC)Loved this, made me smile. :)
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Date: 2009-12-28 05:58 pm (UTC)*sigh* I am going to miss Ten so much! At least I got the episodes and there's always fanfiction! :)
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Date: 2011-01-21 09:19 pm (UTC)