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sapphire_child
The Art of Being Human – Chapter 2/11 PG-13, Ten/Rose, John Smith/Rose
AU. It is the autumn of 1913 and Rose has found herself the wife of a man who doesn’t really exist. Between the fear that she may truly learn to love John and the ever present knowledge of his true identity, Rose is forced to re-evaluate both her life and loves. And all the while the Family of Blood draws nearer to their prey...
The more Rose got to know John Smith, the more unlike the Doctor he seemed. Not only was he a lot more reserved than the Doctor, John also had a romantic side that came as somewhat of a surprise. After the first fortnight passed in a flurry of beginning-of-term-bother, the students and staff alike settled down into something of a rhythm and now that he had more free time on his hands, John began to seek Rose’s company more and more.
The drizzling, depressing weather continued into late September but, being a resourceful man, John was not swayed by a spot of rain. Instead he invited her up to his rooms where he would read to her from loquacious tomes full of run on sentences. Rose tried her utmost best to concentrate on the stories but John had a penchant for Charles Dickens that was painfully reminiscent of her first Doctor. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she had long ago been forced to read Dickens at school and after slogging her way through two and a half odious chapters of David Copperfield, she had chucked it in the bin.
Rose found that listening to his novels was almost as dull as reading them. She felt bad for nodding off mid chapter when John was reading (especially having met Dickens in real life some forty odd years ago in Cardiff) but she just couldn’t help herself. After she fell asleep during the dramatic conclusion of the second book in Hard Times however, John finally gave up on Dickens and instead extracted what must have been the only book written by a woman in the whole school.
At first he seemed rather embarrassed that he had in his possession a novel by one of the Brontë sisters, but Rose had never read Wuthering Heights before and John was nothing short of delighted when she resituated herself on the couch so that she could lean up against him and read along with him.
“‘My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods’.” his careful voice brushed across the shell of her ear as he spoke and Rose curled herself a little closer against him and shut her eyes. The Doctor had read aloud to her before, the two of them curled up in the TARDIS library like cats – but he tended to favour alien philosophers and classic science fiction novels, not Victorian romances. “‘Time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath – a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind – not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’”
Here he paused and presently Rose felt his hand against her hair.
“John?” she opened her eyes and struggled to sit up properly, corset creaking slightly. “Are you going to finish...?”
“Later perhaps.” he said softly and she froze as he cupped her cheek and then leant forward to kiss her, soft.
At first she allowed it, her arms awkwardly stiff by her sides, but as soon as she felt his hands move from her face to take her softly but firmly by the waist, Rose broke away and shifted back on the couch.
“Um...” she said, not quite daring to meet his eyes. “I have to um...um...library! I’ll be back later!”
And she bolted.
John was bewildered by her sudden flight and told her as such at supper that evening. Having had a whole afternoon to review her behaviour and realise that he probably thought that she’d been quite rude, Rose felt obliged to sit close to him when he read a little more to her after they’d eaten. When one of the maids came to collect their tea tray however, she took the distraction as an opportunity to escape back to her own room before John could so much as give her a kiss goodnight.
Rose prayed and prayed that night for the bad weather to break but the next day it was just as rainy and it didn’t let up for a whole week, restricting Rose’s visits to the TARDIS unless she wanted to get completely soaked. As she grew more and more bored with her own company, Rose became torn between wanting to spend time with John and having to then think up new excuses to leave when he grew too amorous for comfort.
It was almost a laughable situation. If it had been the Doctor she would have most likely been thrilled to bits. But it wasn’t the Doctor and as far as Rose was concerned, a bit of kissing was one thing but as soon as John’s hands began to wander she tended to go into somewhat of a panic. He wasn’t exactly forceful but she still remembered with great clarity what his hands had felt like, gripping her wrists like shackles as he demanded she take him to the school so many weeks ago.
The memory frightened her.
Whilst with the Doctor she felt safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t hurt her just because he’d gotten carried away with something so base and primal as a human sex drive (she wasn’t even sure if he had those sorts of instincts as a Time Lord). But John was very much human and definitely male. It was in his body language, in his actions towards her – he wanted her.
The problem was that she didn’t want him.
Whether he was supposed to be her husband or not the very thought of engaging in any sort of physical intimacy with this strange man terrified her in a way that sex never had before. Not that she didn’t have desires, certainly she did. And having somebody kissing and touching and adoring her all the time certainly fuelled those feelings. But being a person who set great store by her emotions Rose just couldn’t give herself away to another man while she still felt the way she did about the Doctor. Especially not when she knew he would be coming back – and soon.
For John’s sake she tried to gloss over her real motives but every time she refused to kiss him or let him hold her he became hurt and confused. In the end, Rose felt so guilty that she interrupted John’s recitation of a rather ridiculous 18th century love poem with her own lengthy and somewhat tearful monologue about being too nervous and distracted by the thought of somebody walking in on them.
This was not altogether too far from the truth. John often had unexpected visitors drop in – teachers who wanted to chat, students who were looking to borrow books or get help with their work, the maids who brought his meals or came in to dust and tidy... Reluctantly, he accepted that her words held a lot of truth in them and after he had lamented their lack of a shared bed he decided that until such time as they could share his rooms properly, they would just have to struggle on and make do.
As luck would have it, after a week of rain the weather segued into a cool but relatively dry stretch which meant that outings were a lot easier to co-ordinate. Although John taught every weekday and Sundays were mainly taken up with the pomp and circumstance of church, the change in weather was enough to have him all but banging at her door whenever he had a spare five minutes, asking her to accompany him on walks to the village or, alternatively, to a nearby field which was ideal for picnics.
Kissing incidents aside, Rose had enjoyed the quiet companionship of their earlier engagements but she definitely found herself more at ease when they were in the village together. Although her (frankly rather extravagant) wardrobe garnered envious looks from the villagers, it at least meant that John was more reserved in his affection for her.
The picnics were a slightly different arrangement. Out in the fields, sometimes with a bottle of wine, they would often nap the afternoon away, John bestowing the occasional soft kiss upon her and Rose teasing him about drinking irresponsibly. After her obvious anxiety over his physical advances he became gentler in his persistence. Rose was equally gentle in her coyness around him and before she was truly aware of it, she realised that he had actually begun to court her in earnest.
Despite herself, Rose liked the attention and was generally quite delighted by the small and surprising gifts he bestowed upon her. He showered her with trinkets he bought in the village and regularly offered her smaller handmade tokens as well – a dainty posy of flowers or a sketch he had drawn. Nobody had ever truly romanced her before and she had to admit, it was very flattering and often quite surprising. She was particularly taken aback when one day he presented her with a beautiful writing set and a rather exquisite fountain pen.
“I thought perhaps you could write home to your mother.” John explained with his strange, closed mouth smile. “No doubt she will be missing you.”
“I’m sure she isn’t.” Rose lied, laughing hollowly. John laughed quietly with her, not grasping the irony in her words.
“Her only daughter? Of course she will be missing you. I know that if I were ever so far away from you then I would be missing you terribly.”
He was so impossibly earnest that Rose blushed right down to the roots of her hair which, in the absence of a friendly hairdryer, had begun to soften into waves. Thankfully peroxide wasn’t too hard to get hold of so she had been able to keep her regrowth somewhat in check but Rose wasn’t sure whether cosmetics in 1913 still had lead in them or not and she didn’t much fancy finding out.
Also the TARDIS had hidden her own make up. Including her favourite mascara which had made her hopping mad when she’d first realised. Apparently twenty first century cosmetics had no place in this time period and no matter how hard she hunted for them, the TARDIS refused to yield where she had stashed them. What with that, her curly hair and her old fashioned clothes, Rose was finding it difficult to recognise herself in the mirror anymore.
John at least didn’t seem to care about her lack of make-up. On more than one instance she had caught him looking at her with a glazed expression on his face and when she had demanded to know why he was staring, he had simply stated that she was too beautiful. (Then again, he also had a habit of going off into little trances when he was looking at clocks for some weird reason so really she shouldn’t have been as flattered by his staring as she was.)
The point was that never before had a Tyler woman so studiously resisted the urge to flirt when she was so clearly being wooed. It certainly made for some flustered moments on her behalf but John had become quick to apologise if he felt he had overstepped her boundaries. She found herself blushing at his attentions and soon began to get a little worried that she might actually be getting too attached to him.
Although John was endlessly sweet and attentive (and not a half bad kisser either) she knew that his existence would be a short one. It just wouldn’t be fair on herself to become too fond of him – especially when her feelings for him were so new and small in comparison to the constant ache she felt for her missing Doctor.
She still rode Professor Ratcliff’s bicycle down to the barn every opportunity that she could, replaying the Doctor’s recording until she knew it word for word. At night when she couldn’t sleep she took to reciting it from memory, whispering to her pillow. And on rainy days when she was ensconced in the school and John was teaching, her mind was so full of daydreams of the Doctor that she soon garnered a reputation amongst staff and students alike for being just as dreamy as her husband.
Then came the closing days of September. A month into autumn it was chillier than ever but it didn’t start raining until Rose was a fair distance between the school and the TARDIS both. Discarding the bike, she ducked into a field and took shelter beneath an oak tree. To her surprise however, she wasn’t the only one who had gotten caught out in the rain.
“Hello?” Rose said, bewildered as she heard the crunch of leaves beneath a leather sole and a moment later she caught sight of a rather bedraggled looking girl, cowering in the roots of the ancient tree and twisting a skipping rope between her hands. “Hi. Um...what’s your name?”
“L-Lucy,” the girl chattered, tears dribbling down her already wet cheeks. “Lucy Cartwright.”
Rose crouched down beside Lucy and touched her dark hair gently. She was shivering violently, her clothes soaked. “I’m Rose Ty-I mean Smith. I live up at the school. Do you know where the school is?”
Lucy nodded, her lips trembling and blue.
“What’re you doing out here all alone?” Rose asked gently and Lucy began to sob quietly. Instantly, she put an arm around the girls’ shoulders and tried to comfort her. “Hey – s’alright yeah? I can help you get home.”
“Mother said I could go outside to play,” Lucy burst out suddenly. “But not far because it was going to rain but I forgot and I kept skipping and then it started raining and now I can’t get home!”
She began to sob again and Rose did her best to soothe her.
“Do you know where you live?” Rose asked gently after a while and Lucy nodded, still chattering away. “Come on then,” Rose took the girls hand firmly in hers and then glanced out into the pelting rain. “This rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop so I’ll give you a ride on my bike yeah? It’ll get you home quicker than skipping.”
They stood stiffly, Lucy clutching her skipping rope with her free hand and then they pelted out into the rain and retrieved the bicycle. Lucy rode on the slippery handlebars, holding on for dear life while Rose tried desperately not to crash into anything.
Lucy’s mother had been frantic with worry and so was very grateful when Rose appeared on the doorstep of her modest cottage home with her daughter. An attractive looking woman who couldn’t have been much older than Rose herself, Margaret Cartwright shared her daughters’ dark hair and pert nose. After she had finished fussing over Lucy, she insisted that Rose take her time drying herself off and have a cup of tea and some freshly baked fruit scones as a thank you and to warm herself up.
Although Rose was itching to get to the TARDIS (she hadn’t been in several days now because of the weather) she didn’t much fancy going outside again until the rain let up a little so she gratefully accepted and sat down at the table in her skirt and blouse, her coat hung in front of the fire to dry it off.
While Lucy proceeded to stage an elaborate tea party with her dolls, Margaret made real tea for herself and Rose, the two of them gossiping all the while about various people in the village and down at the school. After weeks of leering from pre-pubescent boys and “yes ma’am, no ma’am” from the maids, Rose was delighted to find somebody that she could actually have a half decent conversation with. It was almost like being back at home with Shareen gossiping about people they’d gone to school with.
After they ran out of people from the village to talk about Margaret was eager to know all about Rose and her husband – the two of them having made quite an impression on the residents of the village. Rose quickly spun a fable about meeting John through a mutual friend and after a whirlwind romance followed a fairytale wedding. Soon after they married he had gotten the teaching position at Farringham and they had moved down immediately from London.
“London!” Margaret said, awed. “Well that certainly explains a lot! You always wear such beautiful clothes...”
Rose didn’t answer; her attention having been diverted by Lucy. The girl was blissfully unaware of Rose’s scrutiny as she poured imaginary tea for her dolls in mimicry of the adults in the room, chattering away to them as though they were real people.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any children yet?” Margaret asked after a beat.
“What?” Rose laughed. “Seriously? I’m too young to be thinking about kids yet.”
“Doesn’t your husband want children?” Margaret asked, surprised. Rose blinked, more than a little perturbed by the question but Margaret obviously sensed her discomfort because she was quick to apologise. “I’m sorry,” she began quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry...”
“S’fine.” Rose said but then abruptly pushed herself to her feet. She had been enjoying herself but now she suddenly didn’t really want to be there any longer. “I’ve gotta go. It’s getting late.”
“But what about the rain?” Margaret called out desperately but Rose was already escaping to the front door, buttoning her still damp coat as she went.
“See ya Lucy,” she called over her shoulder. “Thanks for the tea Margaret.”
It was still raining outside and Rose weighed up her options for a moment before giving up hope of making a trip to the TARDIS today. She raced back to the school with haste, the bike slipping in the mud more than once and spilling her onto the ground like so many sacks of potatoes. By the time she arrived she was muddy, soaked, and in an absolutely rotten mood because of it. She nearly went out in tears trying to get the bike undercover and then again when her fingers proved too cold and clumsy to allow her entry to the school.
After several minutes of fumbling she finally managed to slip the catch and stepped inside. After drying herself off as best she could in the entrance hallway, she tramped up to her room and opened the door wide, hoping for a roaring fire to dry herself off and then maybe a cup of tea to warm her up once she had changed into something a little less muddy and waterlogged.
Instead she found an empty room, devoid of all her belongings and swept clean.
Rose stared in shock. “What?” she murmured, not even realising that she was tracking muddy footprints across the floor as she turned in a confused circle. She was certain that this was her room – she had grown quite familiar with its location after all – and yet all of her things seemed to have disappeared.
Fear rising in her throat like bile, Rose hurried out of her room and raced up the stairs to seek out John. Not even bothering to knock she barged right on in and discovered her loveable, ersatz husband grading papers at his desk and all of her belongings neatly set next to the leather lounge they had spent so many hours reading on together.
“John?” she called out to him, voice cracking alarmingly. He turned and smiled delightedly at her before rising and coming to meet her.
“Rose!” he took both of her hands in his, still looking nothing short of delighted. Rose didn’t really feel quite as optimistic. She managed a smile that was probably more akin to a grimace than anything and then looked pointedly at where her belongings were piled.
“What’s all this then?” she asked. In answer, John gestured happily at his bed and when her gaze found what he was showing her the bottom dropped out of Rose’s stomach so fast that she was surprised she hadn’t lost control of her bowels in the process.
It seemed that the headmaster had been true to his word – he had managed to procure them a double bed.
“It came just today,” John said, beaming. “And once the kitchen lads put it together I asked the maids to move your belongings up here as a surprise. Thank heavens we can finally get you out of those awful servant lodgings you were in...”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Rose said defensively, secretly remembering other, much more primitive lodgings that she’d made do with on her travels with the Doctor. And that wasn’t even mentioning the various jail cells and prisons that they’d been thrown into either. She certainly wasn’t about to forget the huge rat-like creatures in their cell on Jubilee Queen Lilith: Satellite XII in a hurry – they had been so large that the Doctor had to sweep her up onto his shoulders so she didn’t get knocked to the floor and buried underneath a swarm of them. By the time they were released the following morning, the creatures had shredded the Doctor’s trousers from knee to ankle with their claws – and their teeth hadn’t done a bad job on his shoes either. He’d been sore about that for weeks.
“Oh Rose,” John said, and he suddenly couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “I know I’m a man of relatively...well, modest means.” He looked up here, tentatively, and he looked embarrassed and hopeful and a little heartbroken all at once. “But you have to know that it would simply break my heart if you felt you could not have anything that yours might desire.”
His eyes were tender as he gazed at her and Rose felt a rather horrible, sickening wave of guilt. What would he think of her if she told him that the one thing her heart desired right now more than anything else was for him to go away and for the Doctor to come back? He loved her – clearly – but right now she certainly didn’t feel like she deserved it and she didn’t much want it either.
“I’m so very pleased,” John was saying, chattering away happily to cover the awkward admission he had just made. “That now we can spend more time together. I have been missing your company these past few weeks,” here he paused to touch her cheek, eyes soft. “I simply cannot wait to wake up beside you once again.”
He smiled at her then, his eyes all but glowing and Rose honestly couldn’t think of what to say.
“Great,” she said faintly but now that John had calmed down a little and begun to pay attention to something other than his own excitement he finally noticed the state she was in and his eyes widened.
“Oh but you’re soaked through!” he exclaimed, steering her over to the fireplace and hurrying to retrieve a blanket to lay across her shoulders. “Stay beside the fire a while and I’ll fetch a maid to help you dry off. And after that you’ll need tea...”
“John...” Rose said, trying to stall him for she didn’t know what, but he was already out the door.
Alone with the disconsolate crackling of the fire, Rose turned once more to look at the bed – their bed she corrected herself and grimaced. She didn’t know much about marriages at this end of the twentieth century but they couldn’t have all been complete prudes or the human race would have died out well before her time. As proper as John was, she had no doubt at all about the way he felt about her, the things he wanted to do to her.
His wife.
“Oh god.” Rose whispered and covered her face with her hands.
Hot tears welled in her eyes and she closed her eyes to squeeze them away only to feel them dribble bitterly down her cheeks and onto her chin. Why the hell had the TARDIS chosen her to be John’s wife? She almost would have preferred to have been a maid if it meant she wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this!
Worse still than John’s expectations of her was that she was only just beginning to realise that judging by Margaret’s reaction, everyone else around here had their own views on married women and what their roles were. Roles that she would no doubt be expected to fill at some point in the not too distant future. The thought made her feel a little ill. She’d never really had to deal with the problems of being in a pre-feminism time period in a big way, but now they’d all come up to smack her in the face and she was feeling more than a little bit overwhelmed by it all.
A knock at the door startled her out of her miseries and she wiped her cheeks clear of tears before calling out permission for whoever it was to come inside.
John, true to his word, had sent up one of the maids along with his apologies – he had to take his final class of the day but he would come up straight away afterwards. The maid, Jenny, had actually been assigned to clean Rose’s room for the past few weeks as well as to help her in and out of the more ridiculous parts of her wardrobe.
Although Jenny was simple and not very well educated (then again, Rose’s formal education hadn’t been fabulous either) she had a cheery nature and a bright laugh. After her initial wariness of Rose she had also been revealed to thoroughly enjoy a good chat and they had become quite familiar. In her current mood however, Rose wasn’t much disposed to idle chatter and after Jenny had unlaced her corset she dismissed her tiredly.
“I’ll get you a nice tea tray shall I Mrs Smith?” Jenny said sympathetically. “Warm you up eh? We don’t want you to catch cold.”
By the time John returned from his afternoon classes Rose had retired to the couch, wrapped up snugly in her dressing gown and warming herself with a good cup of tea – but nothing could truly warm the cold spot of fear that throbbed just beneath her heart. John was kept busy with his books and his marking until supper and Rose began to organise her belongings, finding places to store them amongst John’s clutter.
Supper was a quiet affair, Rose too exhausted from the day to even bother with trying to make conversation. John seemed to sense too that she was tired. Or maybe he was just too wrapped up in his own thoughts as well – Rose couldn’t really tell. Either way he didn’t press her to talk and she was grateful.
Soon after Jenny came to retrieve their tea trays and put up the fireguard, John announced that he was going to turn in and Rose made a supreme effort not to watch him as he changed into his pyjamas. Not that she hadn’t seen him in the altogether before – she’d put him into pyjamas after he regenerated and more recently she’d had to change him from his brown pinstripes into the ugly tweed he now sported.
That was different though. It was the Doctor. Not some strange man she barely knew.
“Are you going to come to bed?” John’s voice came, light and casual. One hand lingered on his dressing gown as he waited for her answer but Rose merely shook her head and stood abruptly, slippered feet soft against the floor as she crossed to the window.
“I might read a short while. Before turning in I mean,” John continued, uncertainty beginning to touch the edges of his voice. “Would you care to join me?”
Again Rose shook her head, not looking at him, and she heard him select a book and settle in to read. Outside, the clouds that had brought the rain earlier in the day had broken and she could see a smattering of stars across the night sky. It reminded her of the beaded bodice on the dress she had worn the first time she had travelled back in time and met Charles Dickens with...
She sat and stared numbly, chin resting on one hand, hoping vainly that John would grow tired of reading soon and go to sleep before she had to get into bed with him. She wanted him well and truly incapable of initiating any sort of physical intimacy by the time she got under the covers because she was more than certain that he would take offence if she opted to sleep on the couch by herself instead of in the bed with him.
Time passed and when the soft thud of paper on paper signalled that John had finally shut his book, Rose tensed slightly and then shifted her weight nonchalantly to her other hand. She heard him return the book to its place and then made his slow way back to the bed. She could hear his slippers scuffing the floor slightly as he walked but she didn’t dare turn around.
And then he spoke.
“Will you come to bed?”
His request was soft and undemanding but Rose still found herself frozen in a somewhat terrified stupor. She didn’t answer and after a moment she heard him sigh heavily and then sit down on the edge of the bed.
Their bed.
“Why must you stare out that infernal window like you would rather be out amongst the stars than in here with me?”
There was more than a touch of irritability in his voice and Rose turned to him in surprise. She’d never heard John use such a tone of voice before – certainly not towards her. “You thought I hadn’t noticed?” he said, clearly upset. “How could I not?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, cheeks flaming. He looked tired and small sitting there on the bed by himself and once again she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She’d never seen him look like that – as a Time Lord or as a human – and it was both unsettling and a little painful. “S’just...” she struggled for something to say, glanced out the window and seized desperately on the first thing she saw. “They’re beautiful.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The stars,” Rose explained, turning back to him earnestly. “Can you imagine what it’d be like to go up there, see ‘em up close?”
She suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer, having the Doctor here with her but hidden away. She wanted him back, wanted the familiarity and the safety of their friendship and at the moment she didn’t really care if she unlocked the seal on the watch or not. John however was silent and Rose pushed on with something close to desperation.
“I’d love to travel the stars,” she said, searching his face fervently for some small flicker of recognition. “Don’t you reckon? Fly through the stars and learn all their names?”
John stood abruptly, a huge smile on his face and Rose jumped.
“You really mean that?” he asked, hope rising on his face. Rose gave a small nod, bewildered by the sudden change in his demeanour as he began to search for something, cluttering up his various work spaces until he finally touched a leather bound journal. “I never dared dream...” he admitted softly, turning to her with the book grasped in both hands like a precious artefact. “That you would be interested in the stars.”
“I think they’re amazing,” Rose enthused. “Really, really amazing.”
John teetered for a moment, tongue caught behind his teeth and then his eyes went down to the book clutched in his hands.
“I’ve been having these...most fabulous dreams since we arrived here,” he admitted quietly. “I dream that I’m...this man. A man from another world who has two hearts...” Rose gasped quietly but luckily John was so focused on keeping his eyes averted from hers that he missed it. “...and I – he travels through the stars in this funny little box and has adventures. Not ordinary adventures mind, but these rather fantastic, unbelievable ones with monsters and all manner of ghouls in them.”
“Am I ever there?” Rose asked, breath coming short and fast in her sudden excitement.
“Oh yes! Almost all the time.” John blurted and then flushed, his hold tightening on the journal in his hands. “Wearing the most ridiculous and extraordinary outfits I might add. Quite often,” he looked scandalised at the very thought, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You’re wearing trousers.”
Rose couldn’t help herself, she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from breaking out into peals of laughter.
“You think it’s ridiculous.” John said, embarrassed, and moved as if to hide the book away.
“No I don’t – I think it’s brilliant!” Rose countered, bounding up next to him and putting a hand on his arm to still him. “Have you been writing these dreams of yours down then?”
“Well I-I might’ve...perhaps...one or two of them yes. In the form of fiction of course.” John admitted in a mumble. He turned the book over and over in his hands nervously, eyeing her hopefully.
Rose eagerly took the bait.
“Can I see?”
John beamed, teeth and all. As he opened the book with fingers clumsy with excitement Rose drew in close to his side to look through it with him. The writing seemed quite fragmented but he had also drawn pictures in order to illustrate what he couldn’t put into words. The detail in his work was quite astounding – she identified more than a few alien creatures she had encountered with the Doctor shaded to perfection on the cluttered pages.
“These are gorgeous!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t know you could draw like this!”
“I’ve given you drawings,” John said, nose wrinkling in bemusement. “Sketches and the like.”
Rose pulled herself up, remembering once again who she was talking to. “Well yeah,” she said hastily. “But nothing like this. These are really, really good.”
“Oh.” John looked chuffed and then blushed all over again. “Well. Thank you.”
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at an alien that she didn’t recognise. At first glance it looked somewhat like a platypus that walked on its hind legs, but closer scrutiny revealed a vicious looking set of needle sharp teeth and glittering eyes.
“I’m not entirely sure.” John admitted shyly. “It looks rather like a duck-billed platypus but I’m certain that it isn’t. Can you see the teeth? Rather...rather vicious things I’d wager.”
“Tell me about it all.” Rose demanded and John, looking rather flustered and more than a little pleased, gestured her over to the lounge.
“Shall I start at the beginning?” he wondered aloud after Rose had settled down beside him and curled her legs up underneath herself.
“That’s usually a pretty good place to start.” Rose grinned and leant her chin on his shoulder as he began to flip through the pages.
“Shall I tell you about the box first?” he said absently. “Yes I suppose that would be a good place to start. It’s a most remarkable thing, as I’ve already said. The box itself isn’t all that large to look at but it seems a lot bigger on the inside almost like...like...”
“Like magic?” Rose offered lazily.
“Yes exactly!” John enthused, pointing at his drawings of the TARDIS. “As you can see here there’s a sort of central column or pillar that seems to hold it all up. It’s rather like an egg shape inside, round but tapering up towards the ceiling...”
“Tell me about the adventures.” Rose interrupted. “Tell me about the stars and the people that live out there.”
“Oh. Of course. Yes. Very well then...” John flipped back and forth until he came upon a picture of what was undoubtedly a Slitheen. “Oh yes,” he said with satisfaction. “I think you’ll like this one.”
Rose smiled against his shoulder. “Me too.”
Chapter Three ->
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 12:21 pm (UTC)John is so sweet, romantic, and befudled, while poor Rose simply doesn't know what to do. I can't help wanting to squish John for his cuteness XD
I wonder how Rose's perception of John will change (or not) with the revelation that parts of the Doctor are coming out through the Journal.
On the aside, the "she'd rather become the maid" part is quite a nice touch and reference to the original episode,and the mascara-hiding TARDIS made me giggle.
Definitely looking forward for more :D
no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 12:30 pm (UTC)Ahhh now that is the question is it not? Especially since she's discovered so early on in the piece that he's dreaming about the Doctor. Something else that will be explored is not only the difference between John and the Doctor but also their similarities/where they overlap.
I love the TARDIS when she's got a bit of her own character and the idea of her stealing Rose's cosmetics really tickled me. We can't be introducing 21st century cosmetics to the early 20th century now can we? Could cause paradoxes and all sorts!
More soon! I'm struggling a bit on where I'm at right now but hopefully I'll be able to pull through in the next week so I can keep the posting consistent. Thank you so much for commenting!
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Date: 2010-01-25 02:01 pm (UTC)I've really enjoyed reading this fic! Please update soon!
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Date: 2010-01-25 03:01 pm (UTC)Hopefully I'll be updating in about a weeks time, fingers crossed though because I'm busy doing revisions atm and I'm still not happy with it :P
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Date: 2010-01-25 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 01:02 am (UTC)Cheers m'dear :)
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Date: 2010-01-25 05:05 pm (UTC)Poor Rose trying to do right by both the Doctor and John.
Poor John for having no idea whats going on with his wife.
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Date: 2010-01-26 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-01-25 07:18 pm (UTC)I especially love your insights into Rose, her struggle with missing the Doctor and playing her part and trying not to get attached to John. I can't wait to see how she'll react to all the things in the journal. Maybe John Smith's soul isn't made of such different stuff than hers and the Doctor's after all. Maybe his is lightening and fire too...
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Date: 2010-01-26 01:18 am (UTC)How very interesting that you should say that ;)
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Date: 2010-01-25 08:09 pm (UTC)I've read a few versions of HN/FoB done with Rose and I have to say, this is definitely one of my favorites. Can't wait for more!
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Date: 2010-01-26 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 08:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 09:13 pm (UTC)From the prologue to Chapter 2 I have just loved every word and the relationship between John and Rose is wonderful if a little heartbreaking! I do feel very sorry for them both but my heart goes out to John, I hope he gets a little more friendliness with his wife in coming chapters!
The end was perfect and I can't wait to see how it all progresses! :D
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Date: 2010-01-26 01:21 am (UTC)I hope he gets a little more friendliness with his wife in coming chapters!
You'll just have to wait and see :D
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Date: 2010-01-25 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 01:23 am (UTC)I was starting to share Rose's uncomfortable feeling about the idea of her having sex with someone else who is technically in the Doctor's body.
I am SO glad somebody else was feeling squicked about that because Rose of course clearly is freaking about it so I'm glad that it's translating from the page on an emotional level.
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Date: 2010-01-25 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 12:03 am (UTC)My God... me wants a John Smith for myself *flails*
This was a great chapter <3
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Date: 2010-01-26 01:24 am (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2010-01-26 06:36 am (UTC)I love Rose's discomfort with this stranger who isn't the Doctor, even though he looks like him. And of course, he's not going to understand her sudden (to him) unwillingness to be intimate with him.
Lucy Cartwright -- that was the little girl with the red balloon, yes?
I love it when the TARDIS gets a little attitude. LOL.
Oh, yes, I do believe this was the highlight of my day!
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Date: 2010-01-26 07:39 am (UTC)Aww, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading and I look forward to hearing what you think about the rest of it too ^_^
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Date: 2010-01-26 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 07:40 am (UTC)More soon
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Date: 2010-01-26 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 07:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-26 10:48 pm (UTC)::thumbs up::
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Date: 2010-01-27 04:40 am (UTC)I was saying to
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Date: 2010-01-28 03:37 am (UTC)I do feel bad for John though. Rose is in rather an impossible position, but as far as he's concerned his adored wife has inexplicably started treating him like his touch is poison, which has got to be upsetting. Yikes. I'm curious to see how that particular stalemate ends.
It was nice to see some of the Doctor peek out there at the end, and remarkable how far it went it making Rose feel more comfortable around him- I wonder how long that will last...
Anyhow, enough babbling. Awesome story and very much enjoyed!
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Date: 2010-01-28 06:23 am (UTC)Rose has always really struck me as a jeans-and-tshirt kind of girl. She's just that little bit tomboyish and to be thrust into petticoats and bloomers and dresses with lace would doubtless be very uncomfortable for her. It really is, like someone else commented, like she's playing a character and isn't really herself. I can only imagine how exhausting that would be when you're so used to just being yourself (and Rose being a genuine sort of person would make it even harder).
There will be an interesting conclusion to John's seduction attempts but not for a little while yet. There's also going to be a lot more noticing on Rose's behalf just how much like the Doctor John really is, mostly in the next chapter which is when it all goes pear shaped all over again.
Thank you so much for reading and for the wonderful review!
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Date: 2010-02-07 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
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