Who Fic - The Art of Being Human – Chapter Three

[sapphire_child]

The Art of Being Human – Chapter 3/11 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...
Author’s Note: A special thank you to my mum for her help with this chapter. After all these years she’s so used to me asking random questions for stuff I’m writing that she didn’t even bat an eyelid when I started drilling her on early 20th century wound care :P also my apologies at the long wait for this chapter. I literally agonised over it and the following chapter so I hope it's worth the wait :)

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Epilogue




They stayed up late that first night reading and ended up falling asleep on the couch together, John still limply clutching the open journal to his chest, Rose’s head pillowed on his bony shoulder. After that first night it became an unspoken part of their routine, Rose demanding a new story from him every night before they went to bed. John was delighted by her interest and did his best to document his dreams for her as they came – sometimes dictating snippets of them to her as he wrote them down first thing in the morning over breakfast.

He didn’t even seem to suspect that Rose was trying to wear him out enough that by the time they crawled into bed he was content to merely sleep. It was a lucky coincidence really that Rose had also managed to find a connection with the Doctor that meant she didn’t need to visit the TARDIS every day – much harder now that autumn was progressing and the weather was worsening as the days went by.

The best part of it all though was the stories themselves. Rose was rapt in the adventures that came pouring out of John’s subconscious, especially the ones that she hadn’t been present for. Amongst the drawings in his journal she recognised a handful of people and creatures, but there were so many others that at times it was a little overwhelming to take it all in. Slowly she began to learn their names and stories and, along with it, the story of her Doctor and everything he never spoke about with her.

“He must have seen a hundred thousand different skies,” John said one day in a hushed voice, pausing in the middle of the field they’d been walking across to raise his eyes to the heavens. “Can you even imagine it Rose? All the wonders of the universe spread out like a feast before your waking eyes. So many colours! So much life and history!”

As she listened Rose huddled into his side, shivering with pleasure or laughing with delight or clutching his arm during the scary parts. When John began to falter her input always seemed to prompt him into saying more, or remembering some other small detail he had seemingly forgotten in the haze between dreams and wakening. And that was another thing – details. The Doctor usually become uncomfortable when she started asking him about his past but John was quite happy to answer all of her questions about the mysterious character who haunted his dreams.

Rose encouraged him as much as she dared, knowing that she was walking a thin and dangerous line. If the watch opened now then the Family would be able to find them in a blink. At the same time however, she would never again have an opportunity like this to learn about her Doctor. She worried occasionally about what he might think when he came back but reassured herself that it was either keep John busy with telling stories or let him do...well, other things which she didn’t think the Doctor would really approve of.

There came a time however, when John ran out of hours to sleep, to dream. Although the dreams about the Doctor came consistently and almost every night, nine-hundred years of memories was an awful lot to work through. Once he had exhausted his stories about the Doctor, John began to tentatively offer Rose stories about his childhood instead. Then it was anecdotes about his students and colleagues here at the school. Finally were his observations about the residents from the village and the surrounding farms.

“My stories might not be as interesting as the Doctor’s,” he’d say with an apologetic smile. “But they’re mine at least.”

Rose latched onto these stories too, prompting him in much the same way that she had done with those in his dream journal. As much as she had loved hearing stories about the Doctor, she found herself listening to John’s with an increased amount of attention, surprising herself by simply enjoying his company and the ordinariness of his life here with her.

She chatted easily with him about their mutual acquaintances and listened politely when he spoke of people she didn’t know well, but what Rose liked the most was listening to John talk about his own life. She was honestly impressed at the amount of effort the TARDIS had put into creating a credible back story for him – family, friends, schooling...even their own courtship.

“It was quite odd really,” he said thoughtfully as they walked arm in arm through the village one drizzly afternoon. “I just kept on bumping into you in the strangest of places. Oh but look!”

There was a brief pause here while John peered into a shop window at the wares. It had been rearranged since they had last been in the village together and although Rose had observed it vaguely a few days before on an errand John obviously had not. He liked cataloguing little differences in things, liked to observe leaves and imagine the path that they had taken as they fell, liked to guess the direction that her hair might curl after it had been washed, that sort of thing.

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” he had admitted apologetically when she’d had to snap him out of daydream after daydream one afternoon on a walk. “I dream far too much.”

Since then Rose had grown so used to him going off into his own head for no apparent reason that she didn’t even sigh now that he had stopped to ponder the window display. Instead she merely waited patiently for him to finish his scrutiny so they could continue on.

As she gazed at the window however, her eyes slipped out of focus and instead of seeing past the glass and into the shop she saw their reflection instead. It was a quiet moment, still as a photograph or a picture postcard; and to have something quiet and still was something so rare in her life with the Doctor that Rose took a moment to just stop, to observe, to look.

The reflection was at once both familiar and completely alien. In herself she recognised the face she was used to only seeing first thing in the morning; bare and pale and altogether very young. But in John she looked past his changed demeanour and suddenly noticed a familiar intensity in his dark eyes, the slightly parted lips belying his concentration and all she could think was Doctor.

The thought was barely formed when John stood up again and she startled slightly.

“Shall we?” he said, holding his arm out for hers.

“Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason you kept on bumping into me?” Rose blurted and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. As always, she was never entirely sure of how much of the Doctor was leaking through here but John’s story about how they’d met, although vague, was suspiciously familiar. “Like, we were always gonna end up being...together somehow?”

John seemed startled by the question at first but his eyes grew soft as he brushed the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers and said, “Oh yes. Most definitely.”

Rose cleared her throat pointedly at him and John hastily drew his hand back when he realised that there was a woman walking past with a perambulator who was trying to pretend like she hadn’t been watching them. They greeted her, peered in on her baby dutifully and then continued on their way, arm in arm. When they got caught out in the rain on their way back to the school, John tugged her under the nearest tree for shelter and then gallantly held his overcoat above them both.

“You know I quite enjoy a spot of rain?” He admitted to her, dark eyes bright as he poked his nose out from under his coat and inhaled deeply. “Hmmn...the smell of it...”

Rose poked her head out too and after she too inhaled the damp, earthy smell she leaned out and caught a drop of water on her tongue before laughing gaily, turning John’s attention back to her without really meaning to. He leant forward suddenly to taste the raindrop in her mouth and she let him kiss her a while but didn’t let him carry on too long.

“We’d better get a move on while the rains lighter,” she said, trying to sound apologetic. And although John agreed with her he still couldn’t quite hide the pout that threatened his lower lip – a very Doctorish expression she thought with amusement, though Rose had never seen it on the Doctor in quite this context before.

She felt a touch guilty at his obvious disappointment but at the same time Rose was pleased that she had managed to mould their relationship into something that didn’t leave her terrified and John upset. It was a comfortable companionship they now shared, a compromise between what he wanted (and probably felt he was entitled to) and what she would allow herself to give. And she intended to keep it that way.

Her hope was that by keeping him distracted she might be able to avoid him calling her out again on her distinctly non-wifey behaviour. What she hadn’t taken into account however was that John might give her something to get upset about instead.

She had never expected a man who wasn’t meant to be real to have secrets.

~*~
The weather was befitting for a day of revelations, the sky dark and heavy from the rain which had stopped only briefly mid morning before it began pouring down once again. As the day wore on the weather worsened, thunder and lightning coming to join the party along with a smattering of hail that rattled the windows like gunfire.

Despondently shelving and re-shelving books after her third long and aimless wander through the halls of the school, Rose waited in the library with one of the (slightly) more readable books until John finished his teaching duties. She was eagerly looking forward to having afternoon tea with him today, especially since she knew that he had a few new stories for her in his dream journal as well as his own anecdotes from the day.

To her surprise however, he appeared in the library well before his usual finishing time, talking a mile a minute and reminding her more of the Doctor than ever.

“Wonderful news!” he said without preamble, taking the book out of her startled hands and dumping it on a nearby table with little ceremony. “Firing practice has been cancelled because of the weather so I’ve got the whole afternoon off – isn’t that marvellous? Now I know that the weather is simply abysmal but I was rather hoping that we could find an umbrella so that I can show you the rabbit warren that one of the boys found yesterday. Of course if you’d rather not we can just retire and take tea instead. I’ve been writing down notes all day between classes and...”

He had taken her arm and managed to tug her out of her chair but at that point Rose had planted her feet very firmly on the floor. She was still back at the beginning of his conversation, sure she had misheard him but needing a bit more clarification before she decided to start getting upset.

“Firing practice?” she echoed blankly.

“Sorry?” John abruptly stopped tugging at her arm.

“You said firing practice was cancelled.” Rose reminded him, her tone slightly accusatory.

John laughed a little nervously.

“Well. We can’t have the boys out there with all that hail and lightning now can we?” he said. “I’m rather glad to be completely honest with you. The guns never fare as well in the rain and the visibility is so poor...”

His words were like a slap to the face. Rose actually rocked back on her heels she was so stunned.

“Guns?” she echoed. “What d’you mean – guns?”

John faltered and stared at her.

“Are there guns here?” Rose demanded and John blinked at her and then frowned.

“I thought you...it’s not that I haven’t...I mean obviously you wouldn’t have any reason to go out there when the boys are practicing but...well surely you’ve seen the targets set up on the range at...some...?” at Rose’s dumbfounded expression he tried once more, blustering a little now. “You must have at least heard someone talking about...”

“I didn’t actually.” Rose snapped and John actually recoiled a little. “Thanks so much for telling me.”

John frowned. “Rose...”

“So what, do all the boys use them?” Rose demanded and now John began to look a little flustered.

“I-I well I don’t really think it’s any of your concern...”

“Half of them are still kids!” Rose found herself yelling, really yelling. John, once again, looked rather taken aback. “And you’re helping teach them how to use guns? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

John spluttered.

“I...it teaches them discipline! Team work-and-and-erm-” he looked set to rattle off another few points but Rose was having none of it. None. Of. It. She pushed past him, out of the library and then stormed up the stairs, right past a group of goggle eyed boys who made a great show of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping through the open library door.

“Where are you going?” she heard John call after her.

“Matron needs help rolling bandages.” Rose snapped, not even turning to look back at him as she stomped her way up the stairs with as much noise as possible.

John did not follow her.

~*~
She was still fuming by the time she hit the landing and began storming up the next flight of stairs, near tripping over her skirts in her anger. He had no idea – no idea the damage he was doing, helping teach these kids how to use guns! Rose was no history buff (well, apart from where she’d been with the Doctor) but she knew what was coming next year and she had seen enough photographs from the war to know that it hadn’t been much of a picnic.

Row upon row of white crosses, muddy ditches filled with bodies, long dead soldiers smiling grim smiles... These were the photos in her history textbooks that had led to a private, barely realised thankfulness that there had been no wars during her own lifetime. Even in fuzzy black and white she’d gotten the shivers from them, and long after she’d slammed the book shut and turned away to skive off with Shareen and Keisha the images had lingered with her unpleasantly.

Before the Doctor, Rose had never had to live through a war. Had never had cause to wonder what it might feel like to watch a loved one head off to battle. Now though, she had seen wars. And not only seen them, she had participated in them as well. All the way across the universe and even a few back on good old Earth and whether they had been fought with swords or bullets of lasers, all of them had been somewhat stupid and most had been remarkably similar; ranks of soldiers hurtling headfirst towards their own death, so many of them young and oh so willing to die.

It would have been hypocritical for her to say that she opposed the use of weapons altogether – she’d wielded more than her fair share during her travels in order to protect herself after all. But she knew that many of the students here would soon become the generation of boys who would lie about their age so they could become soldiers – so they could fight and kill and die in the name of King and Country.

A lot of them would do it for a lark. Because everyone else was signing up. Because to go to war meant valour and honour and all of those other ridiculous things that young men so often dreamed of. For many of them it would be a rite of passage, a way for them to prove to themselves and others that they were men.

But Rose had grown to know a good many of the boys here over the brief time she had spent at the school and that’s all many of them were really, just boys who still needed help to find books in the library, who sought a comforting ear when they were feeling homesick but didn’t dare admit it to their peers. Boys who still needed a soft hand to tend to their scrapes and bruises and a gentle voice to tell them to be brave, it was just a scratch and they’d be okay.

Her heart broke to imagine them in battle.

When she found herself abruptly at the door to the infirmary she stopped to take several deep, calming breaths before pushing her way inside, shutting the door behind her rather a lot harder than necessary. Privately she hoped that John had heard it from downstairs and knew that she was still angry at him. At the sound of the door slamming Matron Redfern looked up in some irritation but when she saw Rose there her expression brightened.

“Mrs Smith,” she said by way of greeting, not even mentioning Rose’s red eyes and pinched features. “What luck – I could use an extra pair of hands. Do you mind at all?”

Rose blinked back her tears, only just realising that she’d walked in on what was looking to be quite a job. One of the younger boys was sitting dejectedly in a chair whilst the Matron attended to a variety of injuries that he had somehow managed to procure including cuts, scrapes and a badly bruised wrist.

“Blimey, you’ve been in the wars haven’t you?” Rose managed, trying to stop her voice from sounding quite so thick. It figured really that one of the smallest of the boys would be in here right after she’d been thinking about them all getting blown up and bayoneted and...whatever else they’d done to kill people in the war. Rose quickly washed her hands before coming over to see what she could help with, surreptitiously nudging away the lingering remnants of her tears with the backs of her hands as she did so.

“Master Willows here was tricked into climbing a tree in the grounds this morning,” Matron reported, clearly unimpressed as she finished checking over his wrist and then reached for a bandage. The boy looked suitably embarrassed as she began to wrap his arm with well practiced ease. “Unfortunately he got stuck up there and the only way down was to fall. Do hold your arm still Willows.”

“Is it broken?” Rose questioned as she soaked a clean wash cloth in the basin of hot boiled water Matron had left to cool and then wrung it out so that she could start to clean him up. Gently, she began to dab at a bloody scrape on the miserable boys’ cheek and when he winced at her touch she shushed him gently. Matron shook her head distractedly as she focused on wrapping his wrist so it was properly supported.

“Just a sprain. A few days with this to support it and it’ll be right as rain.”

The two of them worked in relative silence from then on, Rose occasionally goading the boy into a smile or two as she cleaned up his cuts and scrapes. “Bet you aren’t going to go climbing any trees for a while after this eh? ’Specially not in the middle of a thunderstorm. You’re lucky you didn’t get electrocuted. Your hair would’ve ended up standing straight up on end! Imagine trying to comb it all down flat then...”

By the time he left the infirmary she was actually feeling a lot better herself and the boy offered her a particularly wide smile as he thanked them both quietly, waving his bandaged hand in farewell as he scuttled out of the door. Rose watched him go with her own small smile. Her first aid knowledge didn’t extend much past antiseptic cream and bandaids but she had comforted enough injured creatures in her travels to know that making them smile often made them feel better than anything else ever could.

“Anything else you need from me?” she asked Matron hopefully, loitering on purpose on the off chance that she could prolong the moment when she had to go and confront John again. “Any bandages need rollin’?” she added jokingly.

Matron didn’t reply but sat down at her desk instead. “You’re very good with the boys,” she said in her quiet voice. Rose shrugged off the compliment.

“Just doin’ my job. Right, well if you don’t need me I might just head back to the...” she had turned to the door and was halfway through the word ‘library’ when Matron interrupted her.

“Before you go...” she began and Rose swung back around hastily. “Might I have a word with you?”

She gestured at the chair opposite hers and Rose hesitated only briefly before making her way over and sinking down into it, arranging her skirts more comfortably around her.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“Well I’m not sure,” Matron admitted with a wry smile. “You haven’t told me what the matter is yet.”

Rose licked lips dry with nerves but then she smiled and laughed a little as she began her lie. “Sorry Matron but I really dunno what-”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the state you were in before,” Matron said and her usually soft voice was surprisingly stern. It seemed that Rose was nowhere near as good at acting as she had hoped. Or she really had looked a mess when she’d come in. “Something has quite obviously upset you.”

“It’s nothing. Really.” Rose denied but she had trouble meeting the Matron’s eyes squarely as she said it.

Matron said nothing, merely waited and Rose fidgeted for a long time, unwilling to speak.

Eventually, the older woman relented with a soft sigh. “You do know that if you ever need someone to talk to...”

“Yep,” Rose nodded fervently as she took her leave. “Absolutely. Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Once she’d escaped from the Matron she went and hid in the library for the rest of the afternoon, returning to her book but barely reading a word of it. When she smelt the maids carrying the supper trays past the library and up the stairs however she quickly followed, not about to miss dinner, no matter how upset she might be with John. The evening was anything but enjoyable though. John tried several times to initiate conversation with her but Rose stubbornly refused to acknowledge him and he soon gave up.

Just to drive the point home a little more, Rose took herself off to bed early with her book and John took her lead, working silently on his class notes for the following day and then scribbling a few final things down in his dream journal before slipping into bed and rolling to face away from her with only a mumbled, “good night.”

Rose didn’t respond but before long she too put her book away and turned in. Neither of them slept particularly well that night, bodies curled away from each other defensively and the next morning he was gone before she’d even woken up. The only signs that he’d been there were the few toast crumbs on his plate and the used tea cup on their breakfast tray.

It was very quiet, having breakfast by herself. Even when she was on the TARDIS the Doctor often joined her when she first woke up and pinched slices of toast from her plate – she’d certainly not had a morning here yet when she hadn’t seen John at breakfast time. She took advantage of the solitude though, touching up the roots of her hair with her little bottle of peroxide and then inspecting her handiwork in the mirror. Her mum would’ve been proud of her for mastering the tricky art of bleaching her hair all by herself she thought with a smile and then turned her face to the little window by the wash basin.

It was bright with light today – the weather a marked improvement from the day before and as Rose washed her face and began to prepare herself for the day she started to plan a visit to the TARDIS after her library duties had been fulfilled. She desperately wanted to get away for a few hours and just be Rose Tyler again. Maybe she could even talk the ship into giving her back her mascara?

After pampering herself with what little beauty products she had (which really only amounted to talc, hand cream and a spritz of perfume), Rose was joined by Jenny who had come up to help lace her into her corset. Jenny seemed surprised but pleased at how cheerful she seemed today, and once Rose was dressed the maid took her leave and Rose headed down to the library with a spring in her step.

The sight that met her eyes as she stepped into the library however made her want to just go back to bed again and pretend she’d never woken up at all.

A trio of boys were in there, clustered around a table and whispering and giggling to each other about whatever they were reading. All around them was the scattered detritus of their slapdash search for reading material. “Oi,” Rose called out loudly and they all jumped guiltily. “You need a hand?” she folded her arms pointedly and the boys all fled, squeaking apologies as they went.

Looking around at the mess they’d left of the library, Rose couldn’t help but deflate slightly.

“Well there goes the TARDIS for another day,” she muttered and then set about the task of righting the room again.

She’d barely touched the first book however when the headmaster appeared.

“Mrs Smith,” he said, ushering her out of the library. “Might I have a word?”

Thinking that it might be about the boys who had just ransacked the library Rose followed readily to his office and was just on the point of telling him the names of the culprits when the headmaster cut her off with a curt admission that he wanted to speak about the row she’d had with John the previous day.

“Mrs Smith,” he began, voice sharp. “You will not cause a scene like that again in my school. It’s unseemly and it’s unprofessional, especially in front of the students. These boys are taught to respect their professors but that respect is an earned privilege. Yesterday you embarrassed not only yourself but also your husband and by extension the entire teaching staff here. If you cannot learn to hold your tongue then you and your husband will very swiftly find yourselves without employment here. Is that completely understood?”

Rose shrank down a little further in her chair with every reprimand, curling her hands into fists so tight that she left little moon shaped dents in the skin of palms. She’d been called into the principal’s office back in her own school days when she’d been caught wagging or smoking behind the loos but this was infinitely worse. She felt both humiliated and a little angry at being spoken to so condescendingly and even more so when she nodded and affirmed with a “yes sir” from between gritted teeth and Rocastle dismissed her without even looking at her.

“That will be all Mrs Smith. Good day to you.”

Outside his office Rose took a deep breath to stop herself from going back in there and saying something she would regret and then she set her jaw, lifted her chin and headed back to the library where it took her the better part of the morning to re-shelve everything. Unfortunately it took her until then as well to realise that there were still several books missing that hadn’t been signed out on the registry. She had a high suspicion that the boys who had been in here earlier had stolen them and was just on the point of heading out to find them when John suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“As if the day couldn’t get any worse than it already was,” she mumbled scathingly under her breath before demanding, “What John?”

John looked quite taken aback at her sharp manner and he faltered briefly but still managed to meet her gaze steadily when he spoke to her.

“I just thought I should let you know that yesterday’s shooting has been rescheduled for this afternoon. It will take place after the conclusion of usual classes so I’ll be late to supper this evening.”

Rose stared, unsure as to why he had sought her out just to tell her that. “Yeah, and?” she said roughly and John flushed.

“I-well I just that I should let you know,” he stumbled over his own words nervously. “Seeing as you’re already angry with me I didn’t much fancy coming up for supper and causing another row for being late.”

Despite herself Rose couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture. Even though she was angry with him he had still plucked up the courage to effectively apologise for something he hadn’t even done yet.

“Right,” she said awkwardly. “Erm...thank you.”

John caught her eye and for a moment it looked like he was about to say more. But then he abruptly closed his mouth, smiled weakly in farewell and walked off, hands behind his back and head bowed, leaving Rose behind along with a by now familiar sense of guilt.

John, she thought, was getting very good at making her feel like a right proper cow.

~*~
The rest of Rose’s day was no better than the first half. She turned the school upside down and failed to find either the stolen books or the culprits. Her lunch arrived exceptionally late along with a stickybeak of a maid who was eager for gossip about Rose’s argument with John yesterday. Feeling decidedly snarky, Rose told her quite bluntly to mind her own business and the maid offered her a sulky apology before beetling off as fast as her skinny legs could carry her.

That was the point at which Rose discovered that her lunch was stone cold as well as late. She picked at it for a while but once she had given up on finding anything digestible on her plate she decided to try for a TARDIS visit. On her way upstairs for scarf and gloves however, she rolled her ankle quite painfully when the heel on her right shoe broke completely off. By the time she’d managed to find a more suitable pair of shoes and then limped her way back downstairs to seek out Professor Ratcliff’s bicycle he had already taken it out, effectively stranding her. There was no way that she would be able to walk to the TARDIS and back with her ankle so sore.

Despairing and honestly just wishing the whole stinking day would just end, Rose returned to the library at a slow limp and sat down again with the book she had discarded the day before. She hadn’t been there long though when she heard the sound of boys heading past the library door, their chatter interspersed with the rattle of metal on metal.

Her stomach tightened at the sounds and Rose barely had time to wonder how exactly she had managed to miss all these boys wandering around with guns for all these weeks before she’d put her book away. She barely even thought about what she was doing before she joined onto the tail end of their procession, following them out to the back of the school where the firing range had been set up.

The range was abuzz with activity, the kitchen boys putting the final touches on crude wooden targets whilst John supervised the set up of the guns and all of their assorted paraphernalia. Rose stood and watched from the shadow of the school, not quite trusting herself not to make another scene.

Even from where she stood Rose could see that John was having to be particularly sharp with the boys today. They seemed to be deliberately causing trouble, quite a few of them larking about and answering him back. Under normal circumstances it mightn’t have been such an issue but with loaded guns around Rose felt quite anxious. John became tenser and sharper as the boys continued their games, only relaxing when the headmaster appeared and exchanged a few sharp words with the misbehaving students himself.

Pouting and grumbling the boys finished setting themselves up and Rose gnawed on her lower lip as she watched them. These boys were mostly older but her stomach still lurched when they began their drills, one boy feeding the bullets and the other aiming the gun for several rounds before they swapped over. The shots seemed to come very fast – did they have machine guns this early on? Rose found herself peering at the guns in concern and found herself being stared at instead.

She jumped nervously when she found John’s eyes on her. He looked surprised at first and then his face creased and he looked away as though he’d been caught out doing something wrong. Despite herself, Rose continued to watch him closely as he coached the boys. His words were unintelligible from this distance but his voice was clear and steady. His face however was another story altogether. Every time he had to touch one of the guns there came a strangely familiar tightness to his expression and Rose wondered whether it was just because she was watching or if he always looked so unhappy when he handled the guns.

“Mrs Smith!”

Rose turned back to the school, startled to hear her name coming from that direction and was even more surprised to see the Matron approaching at a quick trot. Rose groaned under her breath and was just steeling herself to go and do whatever boring job the Matron had for her when she realised what the other woman was holding.

“I went looking for you in the library but you weren’t there,” she said somewhat breathlessly, as she transferred the pile of books in her arms to Rose’s waiting hands. “I just found these. It appears that one of the boys thought it would be amusing to deface them.”

The Matron looked unimpressed but Rose couldn’t help but laugh as she opened one and realised that it was on human biology and it had been artfully ‘improved’ with various scribbles and comments. Some things about boys never change she thought with a somewhat fond grin as she surveyed the crude drawings.

“Thanks,” she said, tucking them under her arm. “I’m pretty sure I know who it was so I’ll have to tell the headmaster...” A particularly loud volley of shots made them both jump and Rose was surprised to see the usually composed Matron go pale. “You alright?” she asked with concern, reaching out to her. The Matron smiled weakly.

“I’m afraid I don’t much like guns.” She admitted.

“Yeah me either,” Rose said, turning back to the firing range and shifting the books so that she could hug them to her chest. “Seems John doesn’t mind ‘em though,” she added as a somewhat bitter afterthought and when the Matron looked at her questioningly, Rose hugged her books a little closer. “John didn’t tell me that the boys here are learning how to use guns. And he’s helping.”

“Oh,” the Matron said with sudden comprehension as she glanced from Rose out to where John was still observing the firing drills. “I see. Is that what you were upset about yesterday?”

Rose gave in. Everyone in the school knew about their row by now it seemed and really, who else did she have to talk to about this? “Yeah. I mean it’s not like he’s not a good bloke...” she stopped and corrected herself with a frustrated sigh. “Man. Cos he is. These boys though, they’re just kids really, and he’s teaching them how to fight! I mean, how’s that healthy? How’s it good for them?”

She jerked her head at the evidence before them but the Matron did little more than smile in grim concurrence. “I quite agree with you. Unfortunately it isn’t our place to...”

“Who says it’s not our place?” Rose broke in, temper flaring. She was getting sick of all the bloody sexism around here. Wives and mothers indeed! She was living proof that it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from – you could still do remarkable things given half a chance. She steamed on with her argument, getting even more riled up as she went. “We should get just as much say on these boys education as all those...men. We should get more say than them. I’ve got a good mind to go over there and give John a bit more of a yelling at about it. And the headmaster. It’s disgusting what they’re doing to these boys!”

She huffed irritably and Matron actually laughed, albeit a little nervously. “Goodness. You certainly can be forceful when you want to be can’t you?”

“Dunno bout forceful,” Rose muttered, scowling. “Mum says I’m just plain stubborn.”

“Well,” Matron said consolingly. “They say it takes all sorts to make up the world.” Rose actually laughed at that and the Matron looked relieved and apologetic as she began to speak again. “Mrs Smith....”

“It’s Rose,” she interrupted and at the other woman’s startled look she said. “Mrs Smith sounds a bit formal don’t you think? Considering that we’re talkin’ about my...” she disengaged a hand from the books and waved it around vaguely before she finally managed to choke out the last word. “Marriage. An’ all that.”

The Matron merely nodded. “Well I suppose if I’m to be calling you Rose then you’d best start calling me Joan.”

“Joan?” Rose repeated.

“That’s my name. Joan Redfern.”

The two women shared a brief smile and then Joan leapt back into what turned out to be an apology. “I am sorry Rose – I honestly didn’t mean to pry into your affairs. It’s just you looked so upset when you came to the infirmary yesterday...”

“Yeah well,” Rose raised a hand to swipe at a stray bit of hair that had been caught in the wind and was now fluttering annoyingly against her temple. “I never thought he’d be the type to give guns to kids you know?”

She gave a mirthless laugh and Joan smiled back sympathetically. “I don’t know your husband very well,” she admitted frankly, chancing a brief glance at John. “But perhaps you can tell me...did he fight in the war at all?”

How that related to their conversation Rose had no idea. Nor did she know which war Joan was talking about. (What the hell war came before the First World War anyway? She couldn’t ever remember learning that in school – not that she’d ever paid much attention but still). What she did know was that the Doctor had fought in the Time War.

Maybe some of that had leaked through to John’s psyche along with all of the other little Doctorisms that she was beginning to uncover in him? She considered him for a moment as he paced behind the row of boys with guns and honestly had to wonder. Could the TARDIS have possibly fabricated memories of fighting in a war? She’d never thought to ask and of course he’d never said.

The Doctor never talked much about the Time War either.

“Yeah,” she blurted. Hell, the lie was as good as any other. It wasn’t like Joan was going to go blabbing to John later. At least, she hoped Joan wouldn’t go blabbing to John... “Yeah he’s fought.”

Joan’s mouth creased into a rueful smile. “It seems we have a lot more in common than I first thought. I remember when my Oliver came home on leave-” she broke off suddenly, frowning deeply as if to dispel the memory.

“Oliver?” Rose pressed gently and Joan blinked and she was focused again.

“My husband,” she said softly and then swallowed. “He was a soldier. Shot at the battle of Spion Kop, 1900. I fought very hard to get over to South Africa with the nursing corps so I could be nearer to him but...I was barely there a week when he was shot. I didn’t even get to see him.”

Rose reached out again reflexively, to comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Joan’s eyes were far away as she admitted, “It was a long time ago now. A lifetime really.” She looked up then and her eyes were sharper, less wistful. “What you must know, Rose, is that war changes a man. Oliver never spoke about his experiences in the army but there was always this...awful look in his eyes when he came home. I was so very angry at the army for doing that to him; for taking him away from me, for changing him...”

Rose shook her head. “I only knew him after the war,” she admitted. “An’ I remember...” she stopped suddenly, confused, when she realised she was meant to be talking about John, not the Doctor. She pressed on regardless. “He was so sad. I never met anyone so sad before him.”

Joan lifted her eyebrows slightly, as though urging her to say more. “And now?” she prompted.

Rose tried desperately to stop herself from flushing and failed dismally. “I dunno,” She mumbled. “He seems better than when I first met him...”

“He’s got someone who can make him forget,” Joan observed with a gentle smile. “A beautiful young wife who loves him. Of course he’s happier.”

Rose said nothing, licking her lips nervously before swallowing.

“I think that perhaps you should speak to him about this,” Joan told her gently. “And I also think that you should consider the fact that he is bound to honour the terms of his teaching contract. Whether he likes them or not.”

Rose felt her heart lift a little at what Joan was implying. “You think it wasn’t his choice?”

Joan gazed at Rose with a sad little smile. “Perhaps. Remember too that men do all manner of strange things to prove themselves to friends and colleagues. Your husband doesn’t seem to be the sort of man who would enjoy warfare and bloodshed but you’ll never know unless you ask him. It’s really as simple as that.”

Rose nodded and then, spontaneously, latched onto the Matron in a grateful hug. Startled by the intimate contact Joan jumped but after a moment she too returned the embrace, patting Rose awkwardly on the back.

“Thank you,” Rose said earnestly as she pulled away again. “For...you know.”

Joan was still looking a little unnerved by Rose’s assault on her but she still smiled. “Oh it’s quite alright. I still remember being young – all those silly thoughts and self doubts that cross one’s mind!” She laughed a little, nervously, and then offered, “Rose, I don’t suppose...would you care to join me for some afternoon tea?”

“Seriously?” Rose said in some amazement and when Joan nodded she gladly accepted. “Yeah! Yeah I’d like that. Why not? Yeah.” Rose smiled briefly as they began to make their way back inside the school but she soon began frowning again – and not just from the ache in her ankle. “You know I still owe John afternoon tea for yesterday? Course, I won’t be able to make it up to him today. Not now he’s got the headmaster on his case out there...”

Joan considered Rose’s words as they made their way to the library to replace the defaced books.

“You know,” she said, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially. “There is a way that I might be able to help you get him out of there.” At Rose’s gobsmacked look she quickly elaborated. “Just for this afternoon of course, in the long term he’ll still have to do it. But if you want to speak to him about all of this business then why shouldn’t you get to do it in peace and quiet over a cup of tea?”

Rose was momentarily flabbergasted by the idea that the Matron, a woman she’d thought uptight and unfriendly was now conspiring with her to help John skive off his teaching duties. But then she caught sight of the wedding band on Joan’s hand and she realised that Joan, probably more than anyone else Rose had met here, clearly knew first hand that life was much too short to spend being angry at someone you cared for.

Rose held much the same belief. It was half the reason she hadn’t given up on the Doctor despite all the times he had inadvertently upset her.

Suddenly grinning, she leant up against the bookshelves. “Yeah?” she said. “Go on then. I’m listening.”

Chapter Four -> (and a manip)