Work Text:
Jackie Tyler had never quite decided what she thought of the Doctor. Insufferable, yes. Insane, yes. Horrible, oh, yes. He’d stolen away her only daughter, had put her in danger and broken her heart, changed her until the girl Jackie knew was a far cry from the woman she only caught glimpses of. She’d hated that man so much for all of the time stolen and all of the pain he left in his wake that sometimes she couldn't see straight. How dare he, she used to think, sitting all alone in her empty flat, How dare he swoop in and take away my entire life?
And yet… and yet. The woman Rose had grown into was a hero tenfold, in the truest sense of the word. She was confident, she was compassionate, she was frustratingly headstrong, and she was good. Jackie thought she held the claim to a fair bit of all that, but she also knew that it hadn’t all been her. Even if she had planted the seeds long before that man had stepped into their lives, she supposed he had been the catalyst for their growth. A second chance and a new life is what he’d been, and though Jackie would never admit it, she thought that maybe she finally understood the decision Rose had made. Walking through a whole new universe, living in the house that belonged to her dead-not-dead husband, Jackie thought that maybe she would have done the same. And maybe he wasn’t so bad- he’d kept his promise of bringing Rose home, after all.
And now there was him, and she still wasn’t sure what to think.
It’d become something of a habit to take walks around the house at night, wearing off the restless energy that came from knowing her sleep would be broken anyway the next time the baby cried. It wasn’t long after the Doctor- or his clone, or whatever he was- joined them that she realized he, too, was prone to late night walks. It took only a week or three before she was regularly finding him on the front porch, settled into a deck chair with his legs drawn to his chest, his eyes on the stars. Tonight, the air was a little chilly and she knew that he had probably foregone remembering to wear a jacket, so she stopped by the kitchen and made two cups of tea to warm them up before she headed outside.
The man didn’t even notice her at first. It was funny, sort of, how observant he could be in all things strange and how easily he missed the things that anyone else would take to in a second. She wasn’t quite sure if that was the alien or the human part of him. She eased into the chair next to him and passed the mug over, watching as he started when her hand was suddenly in front of his face. “Tea?”
The Doctor blinked, then looked at her, accepting the mug with a grin. “Oh, always. Thank you, Jackie.” He leaned further back into his chair, letting his feet fall to the ground as he looked back out at the night. “Could save the universe with your tea.”
“I have saved the universe with my tea,” she replied, earning a quiet, bright laugh from him.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I’ve always wondered if that’s why this incarnation ended up with such a fondness for it.”
“Don’t be daft. Everyone likes my tea.”
“I’ll believe that,” he said, and then they fell quiet. Most of the nights with him were like this; a cup of tea, a bit of banter, and then silence. Another funny thing, that. She was used to friends who were endlessly chatty, she was endlessly chatty, and she’d never known the Doctor to shut up to save his own life. But here they sat, quiet and comfortable. She’d thought at first that maybe this was something else that came with his humanity, but now she wasn’t so sure. She thought that maybe this contemplative part of him had always been there, but she hadn’t been around enough to see it. Rose had, probably. She could imagine the two of them, in that impossible TARDIS, on some empty moon a billion miles away, enjoying a moment of absolute silence.
Just for a moment, though, she thought, with a small smile. Trouble would’ve found them by the next. And just when had that become a thought to smile at?
She turned to look at him and found that he was still staring out at that night sky. They were lucky that Pete’s home was just far enough away from the city that the stars weren’t wholly blocked out by the light. Rose and him both had a fondness for those stars and whatever it was that lay beyond them, and Jackie thought that it just wouldn’t do if her little girl couldn't see the stars that she loved so much. She watched the Doctor for another long moment, studied the tight set of his jaw and the tired, old look in his eyes, and decided to break their silence.
“Do you miss it?” She asked. It was the question she’d had lodged in the back of her mind since he came here, this man who’d never stayed for long once the action was through. If she were lucky, he and Rose would stay for dinner, but they’d be gone long before the plates were even off the table. He started again and looked at her, taking a breath like he’d forgotten to breathe while he’d been so lost in thought. She watched him swallow, then look out again.
“..Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. He finally tore his gaze away from the sky enough to actually look at Jackie while he talked, and she saw reflected in that gaze the same longing that she sometimes felt, inexplicably, for that cramped little apartment on the Powell Estate, with little Rose Tyler always in the next room. “Sometimes. I mean, it’s a whole universe, Jackie. And this one, it’s- it’s new. There’s a billion, billion stars out there that even I’ve never seen. Who knows how many planets and… weird little species that never evolved in our universe. I used to know so many of those histories like the back of my hand- well, that changes sometimes, but… it’s all new, all strange. I don’t know what’s out there.” He grinned. “ I don’t know! Those were always my favorite bits.”
“Your favorite bits were being the smartest person in the room,” she said, and he laughed again. She wanted to smile with him, but there was a sort of sadness to those words, wasn’t there? Either way she looked at it; this man who clearly loved the stars would never get to see them again, and this man who her daughter loved would always be longing for something else. She bit her lip and followed his gaze out to the sky. What’s more, she knew that Rose would always be thinking about someone else, too. That other him, the one somewhere else, so far away that even she couldn't go after him anymore. Jackie sighed. That man had treated being split in two like such a gift, but it seemed like Rose was being torn apart as well. She’d cried as much to Jackie not long after the whole ordeal was over, when the two of them had finally caught a moment alone.
The Doctor’s mind, as always, must’ve been drifting towards her daughter as well. He hummed softly. “I was never the smartest when Rose was in the room,” he said, his voice soft again. “..There is still so much out there that I never got to show her.”
“She worries about you, you know.” Jackie gave him a look that she hadn’t intended to be accusing, but she couldn't help it. This was her daughter, and he kept on breaking her heart. “The both of you.”
“I know.” He gave her a sad, soft smile, not at all like the bright grins that were synonymous with him in her mind. “But we’ll be alright. It’ll take a little time, but, well, he’s got plenty of that, hasn’t he?” And then he grinned, but it still lacked all that life and fire that she was used to. “And so have I. Only difference is that I’m taking the scenic route.”
“And what about all that stuff you just said about the universe?” She asked, now seeking to dig up the reassurance she needed that he’d stay, that he’d finally just make Rose happy and not keep leaving her behind or tearing her in two despite the wonders of the galaxy. “You miss it, you said. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What? That I’m here and he’s out there?” The Doctor shrugged, shifting in his seat to properly face her. “That’s the thing, Jackie. That’s why this is all so brilliant! I can be perfectly happy here, because I know a part of me is still out there.” He nodded towards the edge of the porch, towards the world, towards the whole universe, even though they both knew that he was in a different one altogether. “I’ll miss it, sure. God, do I miss it. But I’m having the one adventure he never can.” And there was that grin, bright and stupid and begging her to knock it off him even in the best of times. Well, usually. Right now she actually found herself wanting to smile in return.
“And he’ll be fine,” the Doctor continued, again looking at the sky. “Rose worries, but.. It’s ‘cause of her that he’ll be alright. I keep trying to tell her that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know him, remember? He's me.” He sat back in his seat. His smile faded, just a bit, back to that sad and soft and heartbroken expression. “Oh, it’ll kill him, all of this. Losing her again, and everyone else going back to their lives. But that’s the thing, Jackie.” He looked over at her. “He didn’t have everyone else before Rose Tyler. He just went at it alone. But now… I think he knows. Loneliness doesn’t suit him.” He smiled again. “And somewhere out there, a piece of him is still with Rose Tyler. I think that’s enough.”
Jackie did smile back, then. And she wanted to laugh at the stupidity of it, of looking at this ridiculous, stupid, incredible, horrible man and thinking that she was glad to have him under her roof. He’d told her once that he would try not to rely on her hospitality for too long, that he’d find his own place, but she didn’t mind his staying. She had the feeling that the moment he left, Rose would follow, and if nothing else he was a surprisingly good help at handling the baby. She shook her head and looked away, some kind of weight dislodging from her chest. At least she knew that he did love Rose, that he was intent on staying for her. “So you think you’ll be comfortable here? Eventually?”
“Already am.” The Doctor- or whoever he was- crossed his legs in his seat, following her gaze right back out to the sky. “You’ve got a great view, Jackie. Good tea, a good view..” He trailed off. “I’ve already got some of the best parts of being human.”
She nodded, couldn't help but agree. Another ridiculous, funny thing, agreeing with him. She smiled to herself. Only in a whole other universe could that have happened. “And you’ve got Rose, I guess.”
She could hear the grin in his voice. “And I’ve got Rose.”