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The TARDIS dematerialized with the ‘whoosh-whoosh’ sound that Rose was starting to grow accustomed to. She clung to a coral strut, watching as the Doctor landed the ship. His hands and feet flew in an intricate dance that made no sense to her, but he appeared to have memorized.
The ship juddered just once under her feet, then was still, and she could only assume that they’d landed. The Doctor turned around with a smirk, leaning against the console casually with arms crossed as if he hadn’t just been pleading with it under his breath.
“Here we are, then. Naples, Italy, 1869. Christmas Eve.”
“Heard that before,” she grinned, her tongue between her teeth.
“Oi!” He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms in indignation. “I didn’t miss by all that much! And we had an adventure!” he added, wagging his finger once with a smug smile.
“Doctor, you missed by nine years and half a continent!”
“Still on Earth, weren’t we?” he retorted.
Rose laughed. “Oh, is that the qualifier of successful trips? You got it right as long as you don’t have to say ‘Oops, wrong planet’?”
He gave her a speculative look with narrowed eyes and a half-smile on his face. “You’re a cheeky one, you are, Rose Tyler.”
She tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly when her name rolled over his tongue. Shaking her head a little, she said, “Well, whether you’re in the right place or not, I can’t go out there like this.”
The Doctor looked confused. “Why not?”
“Because, Doctor, I just spent the evening in a morgue being chased by animated corpses!”
“Nah. No one could ever tell. The dress looks fine,” he said dismissively.
Rose rolled her eyes at his indifference. “No, I’ve got to shower and change before we go out there.” She paused. “Are you sure we’re in 1869 Naples?”
“As sure as I know my name.”
“Ah. Yes. ‘The Doctor’,” she replied, not entirely confident in his answer.
The Doctor seemed to pick up on her thoughts. “Yes, that’s right. ‘The Doctor’.”
“Alright, then,” she started towards the corridor. “I’m off to shower, then back to the wardrobe room. I should be ready to go in...an hour? Ninety minutes?”
“Take as much time as you need,” he offered. “There’s always something for me to do to the TARDIS.”
“Good to know,” she teased, then started down the corridor, trying to remember the directions he’d given her earlier.
~*~O~*~
Ninety-eight minutes. That’s how long it had been since she disappeared into the bowels of his ship to shower and change. The Doctor had known for centuries that women were slow to get ready, and Rassilon only knew how much time he’d spent waiting on one companion or another. Every time he took a companion on, he hoped she’d be different in that respect.
Every time, he was disappointed.
He grumbled to himself a little as he tinkered with the spatial/temporal equalizer. It wasn’t a necessary repair, just something that he’d been meaning to get to. While he was waiting for Rose seemed like an opportune time.
Rose.
He let his thoughts turn to his latest companion, and he felt himself smile. There was ...a special quality about her. He’d recognized it from the moment he’d taken her hand in that basement. He couldn’t define what it was, but there was something about her. Time seemed to rejoice in her, the TARDIS heartily approved of her, and if he were a more fanciful man, he’d swear that she...shimmered.
But he wasn’t a fanciful man, so that was quite enough of that particular thought.
Still, though, she was special, and there was no denying that. Very, very few people would swing out over a vat of sentient, molten plastic to save another person - much less a person they’d known for less than one day. Even fewer would choose to stay with him after very nearly being murdered by a flap of skin. And the vast majority of people certainly wouldn’t have the backbone to stand up to him and tell him to his face he was wrong. It was rare for him to be wrong - particularly about something like the Gelth. He was completely unaccustomed to hearing it.
But he had been wrong. And if he’d done what she said, Gwyneth would still be alive instead of another stain on his already blood-soaked hands.
He pushed that thought aside, resolving to dwell on it and self-flagellate at a later time. For right now, he owed Rose a special trip to somewhere calm, peaceful, and quiet. Somewhere nice. A pleasant evening of fun after three harrowing adventures. She’d more than earned it.
Rose was special, alright. Unique. Uncommon, despite her common beginnings. She had already, in the span of three days, proven herself to be one of the better companions he had ever had, on par with Sarah Jane and Romana. He’d like to keep her around as long as she’d stay...
But simply as a companion. An assistant. A friend. Someone to help stave off the loneliness in his mind.
He’d not had a romance in many, many years - centuries - and never with a companion. It would break every rule he had ever made for himself, rules he clung to like a lifeline.
It didn’t matter that warmth bloomed between his hearts every time she smiled. It didn’t matter that he felt more comforted with her around than he’d felt in decades. It didn’t matter that he felt a jolt of some kind of energy shooting up his arm every time they touched.
The Doctor shook his head and gave himself a derisive laugh. Why was he even thinking any of this? She was just a human, a simple shopgirl, and despite the fact she was exceptional for an ape, she was just that - a stupid ape. He could keep her arm’s length. No problem at all. In fact -
The sound of heeled slippers on grating reached his ears, breaking into his thoughts, and he muttered under his breath: “Finally.” He closed the panel in front of him and hoisted himself up onto the floor of the console room, replacing the grate he’d been under. The footsteps came to a halt nearby, and he pocketed his screwdriver, turning to face her.
Blimey.
She was stunning; a vision. Her gown was forest green and trimmed in ivory lace. Her hair was twisted into a complicated but elegant style he’d never seen before, but liked and decided he wouldn’t mind seeing again - especially on Rose. The TARDIS had provided her with jewelry: a dainty gold necklace looped around her slender neck, an emerald pendant lying on her chest above the swell of her breasts. And oh, her breasts...the corseted bodice of the gown thrust them up, and the soft swell of the tops were on prominent display. Her earbobs matched her necklace, and an ivory lace shawl wrapped around her creamy, bare shoulders.
“Bloody hell, Rose,” he said on a rush of breath, his eyes still devouring her.
She looked down at her dress, alarmed. “What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re beautiful.”
She relaxed a little. “Uh-huh. For a human, right?”
He shook his head and looked her straight in the eye, noting - for the first time - that the brown of her eyes seemed to change depending on her mood. She felt playful now, and they were whiskey-brown. Whiskey-brown, dancing with mirth and absolutely intoxicating.
The walls he’d constructed around himself were being chipped away, bit by bit, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he wanted this girl more than air. He wasn’t there yet, but the day would come - and it wouldn’t take long. He would be lost to her, completely at her mercy, and all he’d be capable of would be to play the role of devoted supplicant to this young slip of a human girl.
But that day hadn’t come yet. For now, the Doctor did the only thing he could do: He told the truth.
“You’re just beautiful.”