Chapter Text
Jenny knew she was staring slack-jawed at the vastness before her, but there was just too much to take in at once.
“Alright, Jenny?” Shaun asked. There was a slight note of concern in his voice, and she felt a supportive hand land on her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot—a bit of a sensory overload.”
‘A bit’ was ‘a bit’ of an understatement—but Shaun sounded a little more amused than concerned now.
“How...? Why...?” Every question she formulated seemed inadequate.
Shaun shrugged broadly. “It’s IKEA. It defies explanation. C’mon, let’s get in there and have a look around—you need to make your new room your own!”
Jenny obediently trailed behind him.
Rows upon rows of shelves full of items, jumbled furniture arrangements, and bins of wares surrounded her on every side, accompanied by the steady hum of humans picking their way through it all. Shaun led her to examine some glass objects.
Shaun was happy to explain what ‘knick-knacks’ and ‘trinkets’ were, but Jenny’s questions about their purpose and true value were tougher to answer to her satisfaction.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand—this jar costs money? And it just sits there? With no utility or purpose?”
Shaun sighed. “Pretty much, yes.” He paused. “Do you like it?”
Jenny considered the plain glass jar gravely. “...Yes.”
He held out his bag. “Put it in here.”
She eyed him dubiously, but she did.
“Now—if useless trinkets aren’t your speed, how about comfy pillows?” Shaun couldn’t hold in a hearty laugh at Jenny’s expression, but Jenny suddenly didn’t care at all what anyone around them thought as she yelped with excitement and ran for the closest bin of colourful square cushions.
Shaun imposed a limit of six throw pillows. Putting down a gorgeous sequined number with a regretful sigh, she counted her hoard and declared herself satisfied.
Shaun coached Jenny through selecting the basic furniture she needed for her bedroom. She was curious about how they would get it all home—surely a bed wouldn’t fit into the boot of the car?—but Shaun refused to spoil it, claiming that she would have to see it to believe it.
“About halfway there,” he said bracingly in the lighting section, and Jenny’s shoulders slumped further.
“But I’m tired,” she moaned.
“That’s the most you’ve sounded like a teenager yet,” Shaun laughed.
Jenny made a face at him and was about to rebut that assertion when a familiar sound made her prick up her ears. “Wait—is that—?”
“I—yes, I think it is—” Shaun broke off speaking and they turned as one toward a nearby set of shelves.
The sound of the sonic screwdriver stopped, and a familiar head popped up from behind them.
“It still isn’t quite—” Jenny’s dad broke off when he made eye contact with first Shaun, and then his eldest daughter. “Oh, hello! Fancy meeting you here!”
“Hi, Dad!” Jenny grinned at him, but she couldn’t wave hello or give him a hug without dropping her bags.
“Doctor?” Shaun asked. “Is—do we need to be running?”
The Doctor blinked. “What?” He sounded completely befuddled by that question as he pulled out his spectacles.
“I mean—okay, yes, you’re retired, but you’re here. At IKEA. Unexpectedly. And alone. And you seem to be investigating,” Shaun said.
Jenny noticed his grip on the handle of his large bag of items tighten.
“Is there an invasion? Should Jenny and I be running for our lives right about now?” She involuntarily tensed up—she’d drop her things and run if she had to, but Jenny had to admit that she was worried her new ‘knick-knack’ would break.
“Oh!” Dad glanced around owlishly. “Shouldn’t think so. Almost definitely not. Well, probably not.”
He smacked his sonic roughly against his palm and it sputtered back to life.
Jenny relaxed slightly, but Shaun didn’t relax his grip at all.
“What are you looking for, Dad?” she asked.
Dad was already reabsorbed in squinting at the readings from his screwdriver.
“Hmm? Right, yes—well, I was at home trying to fix the settings on the surround sound—and I thought ‘what’s more ‘sound’-y than a sonic screwdriver? That’s got to help fix it’—but my sonic kept malfunctioning, and after I took it apart and put it back together again I realised it couldn’t have been a mechanical failure—some sort of signal was interfering with it!”
Jenny was wholly enthralled, and even Shaun seemed more interested in working out the problem than in running. “And? What’s it telling you now?” Jenny asked.
“See, that’s the thing—it’s still not telling me anything! There’s very few technologies that my sonic can’t interface with, and the sonic would at least tell me that the incompatible technology is there!” Her dad seemed mostly intrigued, with only the slightest hint of frustration.
Jenny furrowed her brow. “Huh. A non-technological sonic signal...”
“Sonic—sound...not technological.” Shaun snapped his fingers suddenly. “Could it be biological?”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Someone humming or whistling? I thought of that, but Mrs. Meadowes down the street is out of town this weekend, it can’t be her dreadful droning—”
Shaun looked like he wanted to pursue that line of inquiry, but he persevered with his idea. “No—what if it’s something different? Like echolocation?”
Dad’s eyes shot wide open and he looked intensely excited. “Shaun Temple! You are magnificent!” He skipped around the shelf he’d been standing behind and planted a smacking kiss on Shaun’s forehead. Shaun flushed scarlet.
“Ahem! Right. Yes,” Shaun blustered. Jenny giggled and he glared at her half-heartedly.
Her dad adjusted something on the sonic and it seemed to communicate something encouraging to him. “This way!” He dashed further into the forest of lamps and they followed a few steps behind him.
The sound blipped interestingly—Jenny had to convince him to teach her how to use it someday—and he zeroed in on a particular table lamp. Dad circled it, scanning the lamp with his screwdriver from every angle.
Jenny eyed it suspiciously. To her it just looked like any other lamp—a white base with a large, oddly-textured lampshade.
“...That’s the ugliest lamp I’ve ever seen,” Shaun said finally. He put down his bag, making sure to shove it to the side of the aisle. Jenny placed hers beside it with great care.
“Oi, don’t be rude,” chided Dad. “Jenny—c’mere, get a closer look at this beastie—”
Shaun’s hand shot out and grabbed Jenny’s shoulder before she could step forward. “Is it safe?”
“What?” Her dad glanced up with an offended look. “Of course it is! It’s just a lost Chirogium, nothing dangerous about them unless you’re an insect.”
Jenny glanced up at Shaun. He looked a little embarrassed. “Well, then. Alright, go ahead, Jenster.”
She flushed a bit at the childish pet name—though she liked having a nickname too much to protest it—and quietly stepped up beside her dad.
Jenny was sorely tempted to stroke the Chirogium’s velvety hide, but instead she virtuously shoved her hands into her pockets.
“Where’s it from?”
“Oh, she’s from a very dark planet—they’re very far from their sun, you see, so most of the life forms there evolved to have incredible hearing instead of eyesight.”
“It’s an alien bat,” Shaun said softly.
“Yep.” Dad stopped scanning the bat-lamp. He silently directed Jenny’s eyes to the underside of the lampshade, where she could just about spot its tiny eyes. “She’s very far from home, poor thing. Did her best to blend into her surroundings—somehow ended up in IKEA—and presto, new lamp design. Still, I’ve seen worse. The summer collection of 2164 was a massive dud...”
“And the sonic signal?” Jenny prompted. She could tell that her dad would’ve kept rambling about future IKEA for ages if she let him—she didn’t want to have the store’s entire future spoiled for her!
“Right—she was lost, alone, terrified, couldn’t hear any of the echolocating sounds of her family. And then I’m faffing about, trying to fix the sound system—this species of bat must coincidentally communicate on the exact same frequency! She was answering the sonic’s ‘cries’ and cancelling it out by mistake.”
“That’s so cool!” Jenny exclaimed quietly. The three of them had all lowered their voices instinctively, though she’d only noticed now.
“So.” Shaun also shoved his hands in his pockets. “What do we do now?”
“Do?” Dad blinked rapidly for a moment before folding up his spectacles and stowing them away. “Use the self-checkout, I should think.”
The three of them made their way through the rest of the labyrinthine maze as quickly as they could—Shaun and Jenny hauling their bags, and Dad gently cradling the ‘lamp’. Shaun did his best to make the process of collecting all the flatpack boxes as quick and simple as possible, but Jenny couldn't hold in all her questions.
At last Jenny shut the door of the TARDIS behind them—she supposed she'd have to witness how much could fit inside the boot at a later date. The familiar warmth of the TARDIS touched her mind and Jenny had to smile. Shaun hovered anxiously behind the massive stack of boxes and bags with his mobile in hand.
“Jenny?” her dad called, beckoning her over with one hand as he still held the Chirogium’s lamp.
Jenny approached him where he stood. A new seat seemed to have been almost grown from the floor of the TARDIS.
“Alright, have a seat—we want to be very gentle with her, don’t want her startled and getting lost inside the TARDIS.”
She secured herself on the seat and gingerly accepted the lamp. The Chirogium twitched suddenly and Jenny slowed her breathing as much as she could—but then it fluttered again—the TARDIS’ usual hum rose in pitch and the creature suddenly opened its wings wide.
Jenny and her dad couldn’t help a surprised yelp, and he plucked the lamp from her hands at once.
The Chirogium folded herself back up like an umbrella immediately, and the TARDIS’ hum relaxed.
“Well.” Dad regarded the calming creature with some fondness. “I suppose she has a favourite.”
Jenny was tempted to lean into her mild disappointment with a show of pouting, but she was a little too relieved. She didn’t want the Chirogium to get lost again because of her—however accidental it would be.
“Can you fly this thing with one hand?” Shaun asked practically, and her dad suddenly frowned.
“Well, no, that wouldn’t be wise, the TARDIS can be temperamental at the best of times—” An offended whirr arose, and he petted the console. “You and I both know that’s true—now hush.” It reluctantly subsided.
“I’m taking myself out of the running right now—I may know how to drive manual, but I’m not on the insurance for this thing. No offence,” Shaun added, and the TARDIS’ indignant beeping lowered in volume.
“Can I try?!” Jenny blurted, and her dad grinned.
“Of course! That was my next plan—no offence, Shaun, but you were plan C. No, E. Possibly G.” Only then did Dad notice the face Shaun was making. “I said no offence! Sorry, Shaun.”
“S’alright,” Shaun grunted, and he turned back to his mobile.
Dad walked Jenny around the console and carefully explained the basics of flying the TARDIS. He stressed over and over again that it is ‘much too complicated to fully explain at once’ and she should ‘never try to fly it without him present—not for her first century, anyway’.
Jenny didn't find it too difficult to understand, but she supposed he might feel like a more responsible parent if he impressed dire warnings whether or not they were warranted. Bubbles of laughter popped in her head, and Jenny smiled.
“Alright—do you feel ready?” he asked, and Jenny gave him her most confident nod. “Good. Let me just get situated over here, and we can take off!”
Dad carefully seated himself, and Jenny secured the seatbelt around his middle.
She returned to the console and reviewed each step of taking off in her mind. Jenny winced—it had seemed so simple just a moment ago...
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Shaun—you ready?”
“Yeah—one sec—” Shaun bobbled his mobile between his hands and shoved it in his pocket. He grabbed the railing with both hands. “Ready!”
She took a deep breath. Jenny shot a grin at her dad. “Allons-y!” She pulled the lever he’d pointed out to her, and the usual groaning wheeze echoed through the control room.
The TARDIS tilted unsteadily from side to side—Shaun almost fell over—her dad was babbling too quickly to be understood, but Jenny managed to remember where the green stabilisers were on her own—she slammed her hand down on the correct button, and the TARDIS’ flight smoothed into steady vibration.
It took a full minute for Shaun to trust it enough to release his white-knuckled grip on the railing. “Well, that got better,” he admitted. “Jenny—you okay?”
“Of course! I had it all in hand,” she said. A warm gust of air ruffled her hair and an affectionate warmth filled her mind, smoothing away the nerves that she’d been trying to hide.
“Of course,” Dad said faintly.
She glanced up and flushed at how proudly her dad was looking at her.
Jenny cleared her throat. “Coming in for landing now,” she said, and as the TARDIS slowed she pulled the brake slowly. This part went smoothly, at least.
Shaun headed to the doors and peeked out. “Well...it’s definitely dark. Probably the right planet?”
Jenny rushed over to unbuckle her dad, and he stood carefully.
“I set the coordinates—it’s definitely the right one. Probably.” Dad reached the doors and took a deep sniff. “Yes—definitely!” He stepped outside, and Jenny followed right behind him.
Shaun stayed inside, though he took a few photos from the doorway with his mobile.
Dad crouched slowly and placed the lamp on the ground. “I’m sure she’ll realise where she is quickly enough,” he murmured. Jenny had to lean closer to hear him. “Just got to wait for others of her kind to call out—”
The Chirogium must have heard something familiar, because she unfolded and became much wider and flatter. Her wingspan was enormous, Jenny thought admiringly, maybe as wide as her outstretched arms—and she’d fluttered out of sight in less than a minute. The twilight darkness felt somehow heavier without her presence.
Her dad stood slowly and put an arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “Home again,” he murmured, and Jenny slid her arm around his middle.
“I’m sure she’s happy to be back where she belongs—and grateful to you,” Jenny said.
“And to you—you’re the one who flew her home!” He suddenly pulled her into a hug.
“I suppose so,” Jenny laughed, and he let go.
“You did fantastic,” her dad murmured and traced a hand down her cheek to her chin. “I’m so proud of you.”
Jenny felt herself turn red, and she couldn’t find anything to say.
“But don’t get too excited—you’ll need a lot more lessons before you try flying the TARDIS solo again!” The return to his usual tone was a relief to Jenny, but she missed the softness of his more affectionate inflection already.
Jenny picked up the lamp—she was sad to discover it looked rather boring without its tenant.
“Well, at least that lamp was on clearance,” Shaun remarked from the TARDIS doorway.
Shaun
[14:47]
Just letting you know we’re taking a quick trip off-planet xx
Not a sentence I’ve ever said before x
Donna
[14:49]
How quick are we talking xx
What’s going on?
Nothing at UNIT, is there a problem????
Shaun
[14:50]
No problem, just a lost alien at the IKEA x
Donna
[14:51]
How do these things find him x
Be careful xxx
Shaun
[14:54]
Can you google ‘what to do when the third parent allows your child to drive a time machine without a licence’ for me x
Gran regarded its glassy stare dubiously.
“What do you think?” Rose asked again. She wasn’t optimistic.
“I...hmm.” Rose watched Gran’s jaw work silently for a moment. “How big is the original creature?”
Rose couldn’t hold in a grin. “The Doctor said it was seven feet tall—maybe five feet wide!”
“...All I can say is I’m glad I wasn’t involved in that escapade.” Gran gingerly replaced the plush alien on the shelf.
Rose spun around in her desk chair for the fun of it. “Honestly? Me too. There was too much slime involved in that story for me to ever want to go there.”
Gran sniffed. She was a world-class sniffer.
“At least your version isn’t slimy—and it’s not dangerous either.” Gran reached out and smoothed out its mane. “I daresay it’s better-constructed than the original creature, too.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Rose watched her grandmother potter around her shed, lifting and inspecting many of her creations. Mum and the Doctor had offered to find space for her to work inside the house when they were reconstructing it, but she honestly preferred her tiny little shed. The quiet helped her think, and there was always ample time to think deeply about anything she wished when she was sewing. Dad understood that—Rose was quite certain the Doctor never would.
"This one’s quite good, Rose—almost pretty!” Rose looked over.
Her gran was brandishing one of Rose’s favourite plush aliens—a sparkly Star Whale.
“Remind me to show that one to the Doctor later,” Rose laughed, “He’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Right, well.” Gran put it down again.
“Do you think you’ll ever like him?”
Silence filled the shed like a dense fog. Rose cursed her own tongue—she’d very distinctly decided not to address the elephant in the room.
Between the elephant and the fog, the shed was rather crowded.
“I—I’m sorry,” Rose stammered. “I didn’t—didn’t mean—”
“No, dear, you’re not wrong—I—” Her grandmother seemed uncharacteristically hesitant. Her hands wrung together unconsciously as Rose stared at her. “You’re well within your rights to ask,” Gran sighed at last.
“Especially since he’s my dad?”
Gran’s face cycled through several expressions before settling on a tiny, oddly proud smile. “Yes. That.”
Rose fidgeted a bit in her seat. “I mean—I know there was the whole metacrisis thing—”
“That didn’t help, and before that all I knew about him was that he brought disaster in his wake. That was a lot of it—and the rest...” Gran sighed. “I had a lot of—expectations for your mum. Not entirely fair ones, I can see that now—and I resented him for interfering with them. I presumed that he was...distracting her from the important things in life.” She paused. “What I wanted for her life, anyway.”
“You thought he was keeping her from starting a family. Right?” Rose’s question was clearly rhetorical. Gran straightened under the blow.
“It’s—I—” She foundered for a moment. “Yes,” Gran admitted.
“And now?” Rose asked. “He came back, obviously—after all these years—” She struggled to find the words. “She has a family, she did what you wanted—and he fixed it, she’s fine now—we’re happy—so why hold on?”
Gran folded her lips obstinately. “He still endangered her—he erased her—”
“I know that—”
“But do you really?” Gran sounded properly upset now, Rose distantly realised. “You—you’re a mature girl, but all this happened so long ago. You didn’t see her—not right after, when she was picking up the pieces of herself that didn’t fit together any more—this was all before you were born, Rose!”
“But I—”
“No! You lot—you all want to forget it, the pain he caused—but I would never disrespect my daughter’s pain by pretending it never happened.”
Gran’s eyes were overflowing. Rose shot to her feet automatically—she simply had to pull her into a hug.
This all made a lot more sense to Rose now. All the work her little family had been putting into moving on, healing, exorcising the natural resentment of all that was lost—all of it fuelled her grandmother’s determination to remember. The harder they tried to move forward, the firmer her resolve became—she would be the ‘memento mori’ to their triumphal progress.
“Oh, Gran,” Rose sighed. “I understand better now—you remember.” Gran’s arms tightened around Rose’s back. “I suppose you’re sort of right—I don’t completely understand, I wasn’t there—but I don’t want to forget about it either. The metacrisis—it’s a part of who I am. I couldn’t forget about it if I tried.”
Gran sniffed again, but it didn’t carry the same contempt as it usually did.
“We—I mean, I can only speak for me, but we’re not trying to forget. Really,” Rose added, when she heard her grandmother scoff quietly. “Mum—she’s always talking to the Doctor about it. Well—not always, but she’s not burying it. Promise.”
“That’s good to hear.” Gran squeezed her tight and then released her. She swiped at her eyes discreetly.
Rose passed over a tissue. “Promise,” Rose repeated. “You know Mum—she’s all about open communication these days. Especially with Jenny—Mum’s worried about making sure she has a good framework for conflict resolution or whatever because she’s technically only a year old—”
Gran blew her nose and chuckled damply. “That sounds like her.”
“—Not that Jenny knows that, maybe don’t mention it to her? I don’t think she’d like it if she knew Mum was worried about that, for her development, she thinks she’s practically grown up—” Rose’s flood of words was halted by Gran’s warm hand over her mouth.
“Sometimes you sound just like your father.” She paused. “The Doctor.”
Rose could read the compliment in her eyes.
By the time they reentered the house, a delicious aroma was spreading from the kitchen.
“Supper must be in the oven!” Rose exclaimed happily.
Gran followed in her wake. “But who cooked? Donna’s at work, and the Doctor ran out the door ages ago—no one else is home!”
Rose waved away her concern. “Don’t worry about it.” A flicker of movement through the window caught her eye as she entered the kitchen, and she waved at the Doctor as he hurriedly ducked into the TARDIS. The future TARDIS, anyway.
She cleared her throat loudly to obscure the groan of the TARDIS’ departure and opened the oven with a clatter. “Looks like...ooh, pot pies of some sort.”
Gran looked suspiciously over her shoulder. “Hmm. Smells like...chicken?”
“Hope mine isn’t,” Rose laughed, and she shut the oven.
“Right, of course,” Gran smiled.
Just then, they heard the front door open and a tangle of voices entered the house.
“Kitchen!” Rose called, and a pair of footsteps rushed toward them.
“Rose! You missed so much—IKEA was brilliant, I’ve got to show you all my new furniture—oh, hi Gran—they have so many things, I could barely believe it—” Her sister was bubbling over with happy excitement. Rose had been hoping the trip to IKEA would give Dad and Jenny a chance to bond more—Dad had been incredibly welcoming of Jenny, but Rose could tell he was putting a lot of effort into trying not to step on the Doctor’s toes as a father.
“You’ll have to tell me all about it! Does Dad need a hand with the boxes?” Rose asked.
“Oh, Dad’s helping Shaun with those—he found a cart or something on the TARDIS.” Jenny threw herself into her usual chair at the kitchen table.
“I’d better go make sure they don’t lose the boxes on Mars,” Gran muttered ominously, and she bustled off to supervise. Poor Dad—and poor Doctor.
“That’s a coincidence—I didn’t realise the Doctor was home already.” Rose went to the fridge and found a large bowl of green salad, as expected. She pulled off the sticky note that read ‘Love from the Doctor’ and shoved it in her pocket hastily before emerging from the refrigerator with the salad. The magnet from the Rediscovered Moon of Poosh slipped down slightly as she let the door fall shut behind her.
“Actually, he met us at IKEA,” Jenny said, and Rose felt her eyebrows fly up.
“What? I didn’t know he was tagging along.” Distant banging and muffled cursing (Rose thought so anyway, though it was definitely in an alien language) reverberated from the corridor.
“There was a thing—a signal was interfering with his screwdriver, and it ended up originating at IKEA—Dad’ll want to tell the whole story at dinner, but we found an alien and took it home!” Jenny’s excitement made more sense to Rose now—she’d had an adventure in more ways than one.
“That’s so cool! I wish I was there, that sounds so exciting!” Rose said wistfully. She sat in her usual seat, opposite her sister.
Jenny laughed and was about to say something else when they heard the front door open again and Mum’s voice echoed through the house.
“So what’s this I heard about—Spaceman, really? All of time and space at your disposal and you can’t get a flatpack box up the stairs?”
The sisters snickered as they eavesdropped on their parents’ bickering.
“It’s—it’s harder than it looks, Donna—IKEA really doesn’t consider the width of the average staircase—”
“Why don’t you just land the TARDIS in Jenny’s room?”
Thunderous silence echoed through the house—other than their muffled giggling.
“She’s got a point.” Her dad’s voice was strangled—he must be dying of laughter too, Rose thought.
“Obviously,” Mum said smugly.
‘“I—” The Doctor was speechless. “Well. Clearly I’m useless without you to boss me about.”
“Oh, we knew that.” The sound of a quick kiss reached their ears and both girls wrinkled their noses.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Anyway! Shaun, let’s—let’s get this back to the TARDIS, and I’ll get her in Jenny’s room—”
“Right.” Dad’s voice still sounded strangled with laughter. The front door opened, and the distant sound of Gran’s scolding briefly sounded down the corridor until the door was shut again.
Jenny and Rose managed to haul themselves upright in time for Mum to enter the kitchen.
“Girls! Seems like today was productive.” Mum shed her professional blazer and put it over the back of her chair. “How was your day, Rosie?” The distant wheeze of the TARDIS de- and re-materialising sounded.
“Great! Gran and I went to the shopping centre after school, then I showed her my new plushes—oh, and the Doctor dropped off supper, pot pies and salad.” Rose proffered the crumpled sticky note from her pocket and Mum accepted it with a fond smile.
“Lovely! And how was yours, Jenny? It’s not every day you get to fly the TARDIS.”
“What?!” Rose exclaimed.
Jenny blushed. “Oh, it wasn’t that big a deal,” she mumbled, but Mum wouldn’t let her brush it off.
“No, it is a big deal! Your first time, and Shaun said it was very smooth—for the TARDIS, anyway.” Mum bent down to hug Jenny and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Your dad is very proud of you—and so am I,” she said fervently, and Rose couldn’t help a frown.
“Sorry—the Doctor let you fly the TARDIS?” Rose knew immediately that she had let more than a hint of the betrayal she was feeling slip into her voice. Flying the TARDIS had been a long-standing wish of hers, but neither her mum nor the Doctor had ever allowed her anywhere near the controls.
“Oh, no—Rose, I just hadn’t got to telling you yet—” Rose barely heard Jenny trying to placate her before she rounded on Mum.
“I thought we ‘weren't to fly the TARDIS under any circumstances’? What happened to that?” That restriction had particularly rankled her. Rose wasn’t certain whether the annoyance came from herself or the metacrisis—she could still feel the Doctor’s attachment to his beloved ship.
“I’m sorry, Rose,” her mum winced apologetically. “I don’t know exactly what happened yet—and I will be asking the Doctor, believe you me—but from what your Dad said there weren’t many options.”
“Okay,” She looked at Mum sideways before continuing. “Well, can I have a go then?” Her tone was quite mature and measured, Rose thought.
“Absolutely not!”
“But—that’s not fair!” The childish exclamation slipped out before Rose had a chance to think about it—there went her ‘measured tone’. She knew it was a mistake when Mum’s eyes narrowed. Jenny’s sympathetic grimace caught Rose’s eye.
“Not fair?” Each word was given its own sentence. Mum was really building up a head of steam. “If you think I care about ‘not fair’ when we’re talking about something as risky—no, as dangerous—as flying the TARDIS—anything could happen to you—” Mum stopped speaking, searching for words. “Need I remind you that I was missing for days after that mess with the ferret?!”
“Well, yes, actually, you do!” A flare of anger was now behind the wheel. “You’ve never explained what happened properly!”
“And I don’t have to! I am your mother, it’s my job to protect you from things that are dangerous!”
Rose rolled her eyes. “It isn’t dangerous to know things!” She already knew so much anyway—more information could only help!
Mum looked at her uncomprehendingly. Good, Rose thought nastily, she’s never speechless.
Still, her mum found her words after closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to let you take me off track, Rose. You may not fly the TARDIS. That’s final.”
Despite her mother’s calm demeanour, heat still flooded Rose’s veins. She knew, just like she knew so many things she didn’t understand, that she was capable of so much— “Just because you can’t fly the TARDIS doesn’t mean I can’t—” The words burst out of her without the conscious choice to say them.
“Excuse me? That is not why I said you can’t—”
The door swung open and over Mum's shoulder Rose saw her gran poke her head into the kitchen. She was glad when Gran withdrew immediately with wide eyes—this was between her and her mother.
“You’re so selfish—you never let me go anywhere—you just want to keep all the space and time stuff for yourself!” All of Rose’s negative feelings were fizzing and mixing, uncontrollably exploding out of her all at once—she suddenly and powerfully resented being treated like an ordinary kid.
“What—?” Mum spluttered.
Jenny was looking back and forth between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match. Rose felt like her pale, grave expression was a little much.
“I could do it, you know—I could do it better than you!” The impotent energy she occasionally felt—her thwarted urges to explore, to discover, to find new worlds—surged within her. Now Mum was actually speechless.
“If you’d just let me out there—I could save entire planets—galaxies—universes—and I bet I wouldn’t have to lose my memories to do it!” Jenny’s quiet gasp was barely muffled by her hand over her mouth.
It broke Rose out of her fury. The bright, sharp feeling of triumph faded. She noticed that Mum looked somehow smaller than usual. Her mother didn’t speak a word.
Rose felt almost relieved when the Doctor entered the kitchen and broke the congealing silence. “What’s all this? Everything okay? We heard shouting...” His gaze searched Mum’s white face first, before turning to her and Jenny.
Jenny’s face shone with relief as she tried to explain. “Well, Mum came home and asked how flying the TARDIS went—I hadn’t told Rose yet—and then Rose wanted a turn, which I think is probably fair, but—but then Mum said no and Rose said that Mum’s selfish and she could fly the TARDIS better than her and she—”
A roiling anger pulsed in her gut as she heard Jenny muddle the details. That wasn’t what she’d meant! “No, I didn’t,” Rose shot back hotly. “I said—”
“Rose is feeling upset that Jenny got to try something that she wanted to do,” Mum finally said, drowning out Rose’s acid retort. “But I’ve said that this was a special circumstance—we won’t be repeating it. Right, Doctor?” Her last two words were spoken with an emphasis that Rose knew meant there would be a long parental discussion later.
“Er, right—course.” The Doctor rocked back on his heels a moment longer, still seeming taken aback, before stepping forward into a more assertive pose. His expression was firm. “Your mother is right. Neither of you are going to be flying the TARDIS for a very very long time.”
The finality of the Doctor’s pronouncement left Rose speechless—but it spurred Jenny into speech.
“What? How long is ‘a very very long time’? Wasn’t I good enough?” Jenny wailed.
Rose’s blood had mostly cooled, but it was still warm enough to appreciate having an ally in this situation.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I in trouble?”
Rose almost enjoyed the look of utter incomprehension on the Doctor’s face as his other daughter protested.
The Doctor looked at Mum with a perplexed expression, and all she could do was shrug at him. Their usual silent communication seemed unhelpful this time.
The kitchen door opened for the third time, this time to Dad and Gran. Dad’s expression was carefully neutral, while Gran looked uncharacteristically hesitant.
Unlike Gran, Dad was brave enough to risk asking what was going on, and after several tries Jenny eventually managed to relay a version of events that Rose did not object to.
“Well,” he began, but then Dad paused for some time before continuing. “Nobody says another word until I’ve made us all some tea.”
The Doctor and Dad busied themselves with the kettle at the counter while Gran joined them at the kitchen table. Rose stared determinedly at her hands—she couldn’t meet Mum’s eyes right now, she couldn’t. Her intense emotions had finally faded, leaving embarrassment behind.
At last she risked glancing up—only to find Mum’s eyes already locked on hers. They were softer than she’d expected.
Dad pushed a cup of tea prepared just the way she liked before her. He and the Doctor joined them at the table and as one everyone turned to her dad.
He looked only slightly uncomfortable. “Alright, here’s what I think,” he began. “Rose, do you know why we don’t want you to fly the TARDIS?”
“It’s dangerous,” Rose muttered into her tea. She took a loud sip and only slightly enjoyed her mother’s cringe.
“Well, yes—sort of. You haven’t had any driving lessons yet, and we wouldn’t let you take the car out on the road. Do you think that flying a ship through time and space is going to be easier than driving a car?”
Rose mumbled that she supposed not.
Dad turned to Jenny. “Jenny, I think you did an excellent job piloting today, but I had the impression...do you think that deep down you were a little nervous?”
Jenny hesitated, and then nodded. “Well, maybe. A bit. I suppose I would’ve liked to try flying the TARDIS with a little less pressure…”
“Oh, Jenny, I’m sorry,” the Doctor said, and he reached out to pat the hand Jenny didn’t have wrapped around her mug. “We should have found another way—I could have, really.”
“S’alright, Dad,” Jenny murmured with a small smile, and the Doctor settled back into his chair.
“That’s why I think you’re not ready to fly on your own,” Dad said—not unsympathetically. “So, as a compromise, I propose that both Rose and Jenny learn—”
Mum squawked an objection that Dad ignored.
“—That both Rose and Jenny start to have some lessons on how the TARDIS works,” he finished. The three parents looked at each other consideringly before Mum and the Doctor slowly began to nod.
“Not actually flying it, though,” Mum cautioned, and the Doctor hastily agreed.
Rose looked at Jenny, who now looked terribly excited. She supposed she did as well.
“Now, I think you have something to say to your Mum, Rose.” Her dad looked at her meaningfully. She was already well-aware that she owed Mum an apology.
Dad stood. “Doctor, I think we—we should…”
After a mildly awkward pause, the Doctor finished his sentence. “Ah—right—we’ve got to go—er—put the TARDIS back outside. Coming, Sylvia?” he offered as he rose.
“Not on your life.” Gran gave the Doctor the disapproving expression she reserved especially for him. “I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.” She settled into her chair as much as her stiff frame allowed.
“Suit yourself,” the Doctor said. He and Dad exited the kitchen, leaving the four of them behind.
The Noble women sat and sipped their tea for a while in silence. Nobody seemed to know how to begin, least of all Rose.
Gran seemed to be trying to silently communicate something to Mum, but Mum didn’t seem to know what that was. Neither did Rose, to be quite honest. Jenny wore a pensive, anxious expression—like she was working hard to stop herself from jumping in front of a bullet.
“I’m sorry, Mum.” Rose broke the silence when she could bear it no longer, shooting a nervous glance at her mum.
“Thank you for saying that,” Mum said. She took Rose’s hand and squeezed. Jenny looked relieved.
“I really am, I didn’t mean it,” Rose said worriedly. It was important that Mum knew—she had to understand—Rose really had regretted her words almost before they left her mouth. “Any of it.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Rosie,” Mum said, breaking into a wry smile. “What you said was nothing to what I said to your Gran when I was a teenager.”
Gran raised her eyebrows. “That’s why I decided to stay out of it,” she remarked. “There isn’t an argument with a teenager I’ve not had already, and I can’t bear repeats.”
Rose laughed. It was reassuring to hear that her mum had been just like her as a teenager—though she couldn’t imagine how Gran would have reacted to her performance earlier.
She looked back to her mother. Rose was suddenly overcome with the desire to confess the roots of her earlier frustration. “I just—now even Dad has seen another planet, and that doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”
“You did go to Mars!”
“Yeah, but you were upset about that!” Rose cried.
“Well,” Mum leaned back in her seat. “Yes. Of course I was.”
“Why is it so important to you that I not do anything exciting?” she asked. Jenny leaned in, almost unconsciously.
“It’s not that.” Mum sighed and thought for a moment. “It’s—Rose, darling, you’re my baby.” Rose raised her eyebrows questioningly and Mum returned an insistent look. “The thought of you in danger—and this goes for you as well, Jenny—it’s like ice in my stomach, I can’t stand it!”
Rose let out a breath. This—she couldn’t exactly feel what her mum meant, but she could at least tell that her mum wasn’t likely to change her mind. Not about her daughters’ safety.
Gran was giving Mum a meaningful look. “I did tell you that one day you’d have a daughter just like yourself.”
Mum grimaced. “I suppose you did.” She thought for a moment and added, “I’m sorry too, Mum.”
“Well then, I wasn’t expecting that when I woke up this morning,” Gran said crisply. She stood, resting a hand briefly on Mum’s shoulder, and then left the table. “I’ll just get a move on with supper, shall I?”
Mum sighed. “Thanks, Mum,” she said again, and Gran waved it aside.
Rose and Jenny were roped in to set the table, and by the time supper was dished up the Doctor and Dad had tentatively peeked in the kitchen door.
“Get in here, you ridiculous men,” sniffed Gran, and they gladly rejoined their family.
It wasn’t until dessert that Dad suddenly started. “Wait—oh.”
“What?” the Doctor asked with concern and custard.
“...We’ve got to go back to IKEA for the car.”
Rose listened to the Doctor’s educational alien cursing with delight.