Domestic but Never Domesticated 3/4
This is for the DW Secret Santa written for gallifreys-song (now Roseflakes) Beta’d by the fabulous Kelkat9. Summary: “I create myself.” Rose’s words, spoken with the brilliant gold of the Time Vortex streaming from her fingertips, meant more than either she or the Doctor first imagined.
This is a Nine x Rose story because there can never be too many Nine x Rose stories and contains domestic fluff and smut as requested! Set after The Parting of the Ways.
Chapter 3: He might want her forever (and he does more than anything) and he might be willing to take care of her and to see to her every need, and, all right, if absolutely necessary, even visit her mother. He might be domestic at times, but the Doctor is never, ever domesticated. Part 1 Part 2 and on Teaspoon
And they’d been invited to all of them.
Living on this planet, albeit in the TARDIS, for the last month wasn’t so bad, either.
And Rose…well, nothing was bad with Rose.
Rose had a way with charming the locals, befriending them. And they invited her everywhere. Despite not needing to work in trade for the seeds the Doctor wanted, Rose pitched in. Whenever they weren’t working on her burgeoning telepathy or she wasn’t practicing the deep meditation he’d shown her to better focus on her changing physiology, Rose talked with people.
And visited him. Tempted him.
The Doctor had been tempted by a great many things over the centuries. Rose surpassed them all. Before, her openness tempted him. Her compassion and understanding had curled around him, a beautiful song he wrapped around himself. He’d give up anything to keep her safe. And had.
He’d been ready to sacrifice his own life and the TARDIS, his only constant friend, just to keep Rose safe.
Now he was unable to resist her body. He’d spent every moment of every day they spent together since she’d run into his ship trying to resist her. The Doctor wondered if he’d still be able to resist her if she hadn’t changed.
No. No he wouldn’t have been able to.
His resistance had already been razor thin, held together by sheer stubborn willpower. If he’d regenerated as he’d thought he’d been about to, the Doctor knew his restraint would’ve snapped.
He couldn’t bring himself to worry over it.
Still, something itched in the back of his brain. At first, the Doctor thought it was the changes in Rose.
Her merger with the TARDIS had altered her in ways even he didn’t fully understand. He’d run every test he could think of, including several he doubted would yield any useful information but he’d needed to do something. Needed to find the extent of the changes she’d made to herself.
Most of all needed to make sure Rose was safe.
And if the TARDIS knew more than what his tests had yielded (or hadn’t yielded), she wasn’t telling. Cheeky ship.
No, it was more than that. The mindless movement of shoveling, or using an old fashioned hammer on old-fashioned nails had lent him hours to think. (He couldn’t use his sonic screwdriver here; despite the high-tech medical equipment on the planet, high-tech tools weren’t allowed. Though he kept the screwdriver close. Just in case.)
It wasn’t even the constant presence of Rose—a wonderful new buzzing in the back of his brain, empty for so long.
But no matter how he thought about it or questioned himself or worried the niggling thoughts, the Doctor couldn’t place what was wrong.
If Rose’s transformation had truly harmed her, he knew the TARDIS would tell him.
He did wonder how long her longevity was. Was it tied to his life? The TARDIS’s? Did she have regenerative capabilities? He hoped to any deity available to listen to the last of the Time Lord’s broken, frantic prayers that Rose wasn’t truly immortal.
Like Jack.
Jack. Was it Jack? Or the thought of Jack, that caused this unscratchable itch?
The Doctor hadn’t thought overmuch on the man since he’d managed to slip into the TARDIS seconds before dematerialization. They’d returned to Earth, let Jackie and Mickey know everyone was alive and well, dropped Jack off with strict instructions not to do anything Rose would have to hurt him for, and departed again.
But Jack…what Rose had done to him.
“The final act of the Time War,” he muttered to the horses watching him work. “Her final act was life. I guess that counts for something.”
Could he learn to travel with Jack again? The TARDIS seemed torn on that subject, too. The trip from the Game Station back to Earth had not been the smoothest.
At least he hadn’t been regenerating at the time.
And Rose had been sluggish, but alive. Oh so alive.
The Doctor dipped the towel in a bucket of water and quickly washed off. His Superior Time Lord Physiology prevented him from something as mundane as smelling, but he liked to clean up a bit before meeting Rose.
Oh. Ohhh. That was it.
He grimaced and let the wealth of meaning in his realization roll round his brain.
Hearth and home.
That’s what this was. Working day after day. Eating with Rose, making love to Rose. Sleeping even, with Rose. His life had become a routine. It’d become…
Was this really domestic? They’d built a home on the TARDIS long before now. Before even Jack’s appearance. The barren corridors and the silent rooms had turned into much more than the empty spaces they’d been since the Time War.
Family—he wanted a family with Rose. Rose was his family. But children? He’d never thought about it, not seriously. Not after his family had been…since he’d pressed the button and...but now. Were he and Rose compatible? He hadn’t checked that, but suddenly the Doctor wondered if that oversight in the grand scheme of all the tests he’d done, had been on purpose.
A family with Rose.
Even allowing Jackie in the mix—and all right, Mickey, too—the Doctor didn’t find that thought overly repugnant, or repugnant at all. Except maybe more frequent visits to London. He could probably deal with that.
Tempting? Yes. Irresistible? Oh, yes.
They already argued, from different moralities to what to eat and where, to who finished the last of the milk. Or when she refused to use the sonic washing machine because it damaged her favorite wool sweater from Pilotage Minor and he’d had to wash it by hand to make it up to her.
Domestic.
The Doctor rolled the word around his mouth, testing it out. Was there a meaning his brain hadn’t yet thought of?
More importantly, did he care? No. He didn’t care. Yes. He could do anything. With Rose.
The ground shook. The Doctor fell against the stable as a loud rumbling rocked the land. The horses skittered, wild-eyed and frantic. He caught himself on the door and held on. Then deathly silence, a strangely eerie aftermath. He didn’t wait around to see if it happened again.
That had been no land quake.
Already running for the door, hearts pounding entirely too fast, the Doctor reached out through their burgeoning mental link for Rose. Safe. She was unharmed—panicked and scared for him, but safe.
He looked to the sky and his hearts stopped. He didn’t recognize the ships, but they were unmistakably shelling the village. What could they possibly want with the village? As a planet, Doga‘gr held no strategic importance, no great quantities of minerals or gems. Was this happening planet-wide or was it simply over the village of Dais‘gr?
First he needed to find Rose. Then he’d sort out what happened.
The Doctor raced across the stables to the main village. He scanned the area, but it appeared deserted. He reached out for Rose; she’d been in one of the houses, he didn’t remember which one.
“Rose!” he called, searching again for her blonde hair.
“Rose!” he screamed louder over the telltale whine of the ship’s guns as they prepared for another round. Mentally reached out with frantic tendrils to find her.
“Doctor!” she called.
He spun and ran for the wood behind the main houses. A large group of men, women, and children followed Rose from the shadows. She turned, said something even he couldn’t hear over the next round of bombardment, and turned back for him, already running.
“Do you know who they are?” She wrapped her arms around him, face pressed into his shoulder. Her heart beat wildly, and her breath came in short gasps, but she held tight.
“No.” The Doctor quickly ran his hands over her for any sign of injury. Breathing a sigh of relief when he found none. “Don’t know what they want, either.”
Fear churned icily in his stomach and he took precious moments they might not have to breathe her in, feel her body against his. He pulled her tight, arms wrapped around her. She was safe.
“But I’m going to find out.”
He leaned back, tangled his hands in her hair, and kissed her. It was hard and deep, and he poured everything he was and everything he felt and everything he now wanted for his future into that kiss.
As abruptly as he kissed her, the Doctor pulled back. Rose breathed heavily and when she opened her eyes, the golden-brown swirled with need and power. Most importantly, with love.
His hearts skipped again, but he stepped back.
“Stay here. Keep everyone away from the fields.” He looked behind her to where the villagers kept to the wood.
“I’m not leaving you.”
So stubborn. So beautiful. So brave. Rose terrified him.
Enchanted, embraced, captivated him, too.
“Rose.” It hurt to say her name, the one word in the whole universe that still held any meaning for him. “I need you safe.” He crushed his lips to hers. “Please.”
“Doctor, I need you safe, too,” she argued.
“I will be,” he promised. “I won’t do anything stupid.” He paused at the disbelieving look she gave him. “I promise I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you.”
With one last kiss and a mental caress that made them both shudder at its intensity, the Doctor turned and raced for the TARDIS.
Sprinting up the ramp, he started the scans before he set the dematerialization sequence. He felt Rose’s displeasure—which was the politest way to put it—full on. In a burst of metal strength he hadn’t thought her capable of, he very clearly heard If your idea of keeping me safe is leaving me behind while you do stupid things, you best think again.
The Doctor stumbled at the mental onslaught. It was one thing to communicate while touching; he was a touch telepath after all. It was something entirely else for Rose, who’d been at best a low-level empath until her startling transformation not even a month ago, to suddenly have the capability of mentally communicating with him over distances.
It should’ve been unsurprising when the TARDIS door crashed open. Yet when a righteously furious Rose Tyler stormed up the ramp, the Doctor was stunned.
He never really did figure out why he was so stunned.
Really, he should’ve known better.
“If you think I’ll stay put like some good little woman,” she seethed, “think again. We’re in this together.” She paused and his hearts skipped a beat. “Or not at all.”
“Rose,” he tried, but cut himself off. “All right.” He held out his hand. “Together.”
And that was how they found themselves a thousand meters over Doga‘gr. As soon as they materialized on the alien ship, the Doctor looked at the view screen, but saw nothing.
“I need you safe,” he whispered and hoped she heard him telepathically as well.
She had. Rose squeezed his hand and the light mental caress did much to stop his stomach churning from fear.
“I can’t lose you, either,” she whispered.
He crushed her to him, felt her body mold against his, her head find its place against his shoulder, her arms wrap around his shoulders. Together.
“I’ve extended the shields,” the Doctor said and pulled back, triple checking that he had.
“The ones from the extrapolator?” she asked, fingers curling over his again, her thumb a constant soothing press over his knuckles. “I thought that was damaged from the...” she paused and swallowed. Hard.
“She’ll need to rest after this,” he said with a soft touch to the console, neatly sidestepping the unasked question. “But she’ll be fine.”
Rose nodded and without another word they exited the TARDIS. The corridor was empty. Hand in hand, the Doctor held his sonic in the other hand as they crept down the hallway.
“The bridge or command center should be up ahead,” he whispered. Then cursed his lapse.
He needn’t have made a sound, especially now that they were touching. He could’ve told her that telepathically.
Something they both needed to get used to, it seemed.
He pressed the sonic against the door panel and with a buzz, it opened. Inside a group of four male humanoids stood around the ship’s controls.
“Prisoner 35782135 you will surrender.” The order came clear across the intercom, echoing in the ship as well as onto the planet.
“Nice sound system,” the Doctor said, releasing Rose’s hand to fold his arms across his chest. He leaned casually against the door, keeping it open in case they needed to make a run for it.
Maybe that should’ve been when they needed to make a run for it.
The four humanoids, mid-size, skin like brushed silver, with excessively long hair, turned and drew their guns simultaneously. The Doctor didn’t move, but send a nudge to Rose to get ready.
“Who are you looking for?” he demanded.
“How did you get onboard?” one of the men demanded.
Rolling his eyes, the Doctor raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Magic box,” he snapped. “Now who are you looking for?”
“Prisoner 35782135.”
“And this person is…?” the Doctor waited. When no answer came, and they didn’t shoot, he asked instead, “Who are you?”
The one seated in the center chair stood. Captain probably—he did have the center seat and the longest hair, bound neatly in one long braid down his back. “We are the Interplanetary Constabulary force of Caat’ul.”
“Ah.” The Doctor nodded.
“Cops?” Rose snorted. “Look more like interplanetary thugs, bombing an innocent village before even demanding their surrender.”
The Doctor didn’t manage to suppress a grin, even with the guns still aimed at them. “I’ll ask one more time. Who are you looking for?”
“Prison—”
The Doctor glared at the man who’d spoken, not the captain, and returned that glare to the captain who watched impassively.
The captain nodded, almost imperceptivity and said, “Her name is Mar’tina di Kash of the Flavicomous River Valley.”
“How do you know she’s here?” Rose demanded.
The Doctor wondered if Rose knew this woman, but received the mental equivalent of a headshake.
“Our intel has indicated that a woman matching her description resided here,” the captain said.
Furious, the Doctor straightened. His fist tightened around his sonic, but he didn’t step forward. He’d lose any way out if he did that, and he had a feeling they were going to need it.
In a voice that was icily calm and made the youngest of them flinch, the Doctor asked, “You bombed an entire village for one woman who may or may not be there?”
“Our intelligence—” the man not the captain (and clearly too stupid to be afraid) stepped forward, but didn’t get the chance to say much. Rose was furious. The Doctor felt it vibrating through her.
It was incredibly arousing.
“What’s this woman done?” Rose interrupted.
“She’s responsible for kidnapping a royal child.” This from the captain.
The Doctor was starting to wonder if the captain really was a captain or if he needed to sit for some odd reason. Or if he just had sloppy control over his people.
“So you thought,” the Doctor said in that same deathly cold voice, “the best way to go about ensuring the return of a child is to destroy a village, kill people and their livelihood, and possibly this child as well?”
“Our orders—”
“You have one minute,” the Doctor seethed. “You have one Doga‘gr minute—nearly two Galactic Standard Minutes because I’m being generous—to power down your weapons.”
“And if we don’t?” the captain asked.
The Doctor flicked his thumb over his sonic and said with a cheery grin that did nothing to hide the anger in his voice, “I don’t like the looks of your hydroconometer. Bad thing, that. Energy feedbacks that go all the way through the retrostabilisers are bound to overheat.”
Suddenly the faint whining buzz exploded in a burst of alarms.
The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand and rocked back, ready to run. His glaze flicked over the crew, still poised to shoot but still refraining from actually doing so. He briefly wondered why then dismissed that. It didn’t matter so long as they didn’t shoot.
“If there was one thing you shouldn’t have done,” he told the captain, “it was put innocent people in danger. I don’t like that. If you’re interested in speaking with the villagers you bombed, try to work this out, I’ll see you down there.”
He released some of the control he had on himself, some of the chains holding his anger at bay. For the first time since the conversation began, the Doctor saw a hint of fear in each of the crew’s gaze.
Good.
“If you try to bomb them again, I’ll report you myself —you, your entire planet, anyone involved with bombing innocents.” he added in case they didn’t understand his full meaning. “I won’t bother with your laws; I’ll go straight for true intergalactic law—to the Judoon and the Shadow Proclamation. Understood?”
The captain slowly nodded, his dark gaze on the Doctor’s. “Understood.”
As one, he and Rose stepped back and the door snicked closed in front of them. Her fingers were tense around his, and he didn’t need to be a telepath to know she was poised to run. But the door didn’t reopen and they weren’t faced with furious, gun wielding Caat’ul.
All in all, he considered that a success.
“Do you think they’ll land?” Rose asked as they retraced their steps back to the TARDIS. “Actually search for Mar’tina?”
“Depends.” He shrugged. “On how desperate they are to find this woman.” He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. No sense in loitering. Just in case.
“No one’s said anything about any newcomers, except us,” Rose said as he started the dematerialization process.
“Could be they have the wrong village. Or the wrong planet,” he said as he moved around the console.
“No one has a baby,” she added, pushing the buttons he told her to. She stopped and tilted her head to the side. “How long ago was this baby taken?”
Pride bloomed in him and he grinned at her. “Good question.” He pulled the dematerialization lever. “We’ll have to ask.”
Opening the door again, the Doctor held out his hand to Rose, perfectly comfortable with the changes in his life. With Rose by his side.
Domestic, perhaps, and he could accept that. But never domesticated.