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There were many things about his hometown that John Noble had missed, but the cold rain was not one of them. The weatherman had forecast a white Christmas for London this year - the first in nearly a decade - and John had been a little excited about the prospect. But the evidence so far suggested that the prediction had been unreliable and his hopes would be dashed. Typical. It was foolish for him to have gotten his hopes up, anyway. That had never really worked out to his advantage.
He’d not missed the cold, damp holidays over the last seven Christmases. He had, in fact, done his best to forget that there was such a thing as Christmas. He’d been in a different location every year, doing what he could as a physician to make the world a better place. His mum, sister, and grandfather had tried to convince him to come home every year, but he’d resisted.
But it was different now: he could no longer avoid his home. Grandad had fallen in November and hit his head, resulting in a sizeable subdural hematoma. It was an injury that would have been serious in a younger man, but in a man of Wilf’s considerable age it was potentially fatal. It had been a miracle that he’d survived. He’d lingered in ICU for a week, then in a stepdown unit for another week, then gone to a rehabilitation facility for nearly a month of intensive physical therapy before the doctors had determined he was as improved as he was going to get and released him. John had come home as soon as he’d heard and stayed until the day before his grandad was to be transferred to the rehab facility, then he'd gone back to his life as a travelling doctor.
The fall had been a wakeup call for him, though, and he’d decided that the need of his family outweighed his reticence about being in London. After several long talks with his sister, Donna, and a couple conversations with his mother, he’d decided to come home - this time for good.
He’d also agreed to visit for Christmas this year. John had been completely unable to deny his grandfather when Wilf had asked him to come home, especially not after such a close call with death, so he’d hopped a plane two days ago and was staying with his family until New Year’s. The extra time was useful; he had several promising job interviews and had spent the day after his arrival hunting for a flat. The flat was priority for a couple of reasons, not the least of which the fact that he’d come to the crystal-clear realization that living with Sylvia and Donna was absolutely not going to be feasible if he wanted to maintain his sanity. It would be tenuous at best as it was, coming back to London and the memories it held after so long.
But the holiday hadn’t been completely terrible so far, he supposed. Donna’s new bloke, Lee, was a nice enough guy, and his sister really seemed to like him. She seemed...softer, somehow, with him around, and it made John’s life more pleasant for his sister to ease up on her typical sisterly harassment. His mum was also on her best behavior and he appreciated the reprieve from her usual shrewish ways. Most of John’s time, though, had been spent with his grandad.
Wilfred Mott had been an active, virile man before the fall and though he’d recovered and regained all of his mental faculties, he was weaker than before. He was sharp as he had ever been, but his body was more frail now. John had warned his mother and sister that Wilf probably wouldn’t ever be as vigorous as he’d been before the accident, something his doctors had echoed.
But his grandfather still loved panettone bread and his mother had forgotten butter for the rolls for dinner, so John found himself in Tesco’s an hour before dinner on Christmas Eve. He hadn’t really hesitated when his mother started dropping hints about how the dinner wouldn’t be complete without the rolls, he’d just grabbed his coat and the list she held out to him and left. It would probably be the last time he’d be able to escape the confines of his mother’s house until Boxing Day, at least.
He stood now on the dairy aisle, looking at the selection in front of him. When had buying butter become so difficult?
“John?”
He froze. That voice...he knew that voice. It had woven its way through his dreams - both sleeping and waking - for the last ten years since he first lay eyes on her, well before he left London. His heart did a funny little rhythm in his chest and he turned around.
It was her. Rose Tyler. And oh, God, she was more achingly beautiful than he remembered. His memories hadn’t done her justice, not by a long shot. She wore a stylishly baggy cable-knit sweater over a pair of snug-fitting jeans that tucked into black boots. Her hair was longer now, falling over her shoulders, but still blonde. The way he’d always liked it. Little drops of water from the rain were sprinkled through her hair, darkening it to its natural color where they lay.
She was effortlessly gorgeous, and he did his best to regulate his breathing, which seemed to have stopped.
“I knew it was you,” she beamed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’d recognize that jacket anywhere. Your lucky jacket.”
His throat felt tight, but he managed to choke out, “Rose…”
She nodded. “It’s me.”
John just gaped at her, unsure whether she was a figment of his overactive and hopeful imagination and unsure what to do or say of she was, in fact, real.
He decided he didn’t care. She was here right now, and that was enough.
After what seemed like an eternity, he recovered enough to speak. “How - how are you?”
“I’m good,” she said with a little nod, without meeting his eyes, still smiling a little.
“Fantastic,” he murmured, then a movement caught his eye.
She wasn’t alone. In the buggy in front of her where her hand lay sat a little girl. About two, he figured. She had blonde curls and was playing with a plush reindeer toy, paying no attention to the adults.
Rose had a family now. She was a mother, her child undoubtedly had a father, and all of his dreams dissolved in that moment with the swift silence of sugar in hot water.
Rose had moved on.
She was also speaking.
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘How have you been?’”
“Good! Good,” he recovered, telling the half-truth. Nothing had ever been as good once they broke up. “Fantastic, even.”
Rose’s smile was pleased, but wistful. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“What are - what are you doing here?” he stammered, still more than a little flustered.
“Out of milk.” She gestured a little ways down the aisle, and he followed her finger to see the gallons of milk neatly stacked in their cases a few steps away. “I saw you and wanted to say hello.”
“I’m so glad you did,” he told her earnestly.
“I heard you kept traveling, the way you always wanted.”
He shifted uncomfortably, the memory of their last fight assailing him for a moment. She seemed to notice his distress and opened her mouth to change the subject, but John cut her off.
“I did. You know me. Always keep moving,” he said with a tiny shrug and a glance away from her. Not having his eyes on her when he’d longed to see her for so long almost pained him, and he looked back to her quickly. “But I’m back in town for good now... Well, I will be soon.”
Rose’s eyes widened and she looked down at her daughter, still entertained with the toy. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m moving back, first of February.”
“Just before your birthday.” She looked at her feet, flushing a little, and his heart tripped over itself with the knowledge that she remembered.
“Yeah. My last day in Barcelona is the 31st of January, then I’ll be coming back.”
“Oh, you’ve been in Barcelona?”
He gave a rueful little laugh. “Finally got there after all.” But it wasn’t the same without you. “I’ve been there for the past year. My contract is up next month, and my family needs me.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Grandad fell early last month and hit his head. He’s mostly recovered now, though.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Not that he’s recovered,” she held up a hand as if the gesture would clarify what she was saying. John smiled: he remembered this so well. “That’s brilliant, obviously. I’m glad to hear that, but I’m sorry to hear he fell in the first place.”
“Well, you know Grandad. He was climbing the stepladder and he lost his balance. Overestimated his abilities.”
Rose laughed a little. “Same old Wilf.”
“Same old Wilf,” John agreed with a smile.
“How about the rest of your family? Sylvia? Donna?”
“Mum hasn’t changed a bit. She’s still a harridan.” Rose laughed a little. “Donna is doing well for herself. She’s got a good job and has taken up with a bloke named Lee. They seem to be good for each other.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “I’m still at Henrik’s, but I’m management now.”
“Congratulations,” he smiled. She’d always had a love-hate relationship with that job and he suspected that now was no different. But working as management there had to be better for her, at least financially.
He gestured towards the little girl. “Looks like you keep plenty busy outside work, too.”
She laughed, and the sound was like music. Oh, how he’d ached for her laughter, to see her smile.
“Yeah, I stay pretty busy.” Rose reached up and stroked the little girl’s hair. “This is my daughter, Bethany. Bethany, this is mummy’s friend, John. Can you say hello?”
The little girl looked up at him, one finger in her mouth. She pulled it out and handed her toy to him. “Reindeer.”
John crouched a little to get down to her level. “It’s nice to meet you, Bethany. And your reindeer is very nice. Does he have a name?”
“Bubbles.”
“Bubbles the reindeer. That’s fantastic.” He handed her the toy back, smiling, and didn’t miss the way Rose watched their interaction carefully, her eyes glowing a bit. Bethany went back to playing with Bubbles and Rose stroked her hair again, absently.
“So you’re married now?” he asked, wishing desperately that he hadn’t, not wanting to know the answer.
She shook her head. “No. Never got that far. I dated a musician, Jimmy, for about a year, but he hit the bricks when he found out I was pregnant. Left me with a pile of debt, too. That was three years ago. Three years this month, actually.”
His heart skipped again, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from the elation at the knowledge that she wasn’t married or desperate sadness at the tone of her voice. He’d never been okay when Rose was sad and even now, seven years after they’d ended their relationship, the sound still cut him.
“I’m sorry,” he told her honestly. He never wished anything but happiness for her. He just wanted to be the one to give her that happiness.
Rose shrugged. “It’s okay. Bethany and I are both much better off without him. He wasn’t always the nicest guy.”
John’s hands clenched by his sides. “Did he -”
“It was a bad point in my life, but I survived,” she told him succinctly.
His jaw was tight, and he could have ground his teeth to dust in that moment. The idea of his precious girl hurt in any way caused his blood to boil. Inexplicably, Rose laughed.
“Still overprotective as ever, I see,” she said with her tongue between her teeth.
He calmed at the sight of her smile, just as he always had. Amazing how easy it was to fall back into old patterns. “A bit,” he admitted sheepishly. “Just don’t like the thought of you being abused, me.”
“I’m alright,” she assured him, putting her hand on his raindrop-speckled arm for a second before she seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled it away hastily. He fought the urge to tell her to put it back.
“Besides,” she rallied, smiling a little now. “I came out of the whole thing with Bethany. I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”
John wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d offered her the world but she’d chosen to stay in the life she had. It sounded like she still would, given the chance again.
But now he was here. And he’d give anything to be part of that world.
No. Don’t even think it. Don’t do that to yourself.
“How about you?” she asked. “Are you bringing home a wife and children from Spain?”
He shook his head. “No, I never married. No children. That life wasn’t conducive to that type of thing. Domestics.” Liar, he accused himself. You’d have done domestics for Rose in a heartbeat, no matter where you were.
“Ah.” She looked down at her hands clasped in front of her, her fingers writhing between each other. “I’m glad you’ll be back with your family, though. I always loved them.”
“They loved you, too. Grandad was talking about you just yesterday, said I should ring you up.”
“You should,” she said immediately, darting her wide, cinnamon-colored eyes up to his. “I’ve missed you, John.”
He stared at her for a moment in stunned silence before he said quietly, “I’ve missed you, too, Rose. So much.”
The two stood awkwardly for a moment, then Rose spoke up again. “I - I saw a documentary on BBC4 just last week, on Naples. Made me think of you. Reminded me of the time you -”
“Bought the wrong tickets and we ended up spending our romantic holiday in Cardiff?” They laughed together. “I remember.”
“We made the best of it, though,” she giggled.
“We did, when we managed to leave the room.”
He could have kicked himself when she ducked her head and flushed bright red. He hadn’t meant to say it, it had just fallen out of his mouth. What are you thinking, you moron?
But he couldn’t help it. When he looked back on that trip, what he remembered most vividly were the hours spent tangled in each other’s arms, the explosive passion followed by the tender quiet, the way he’d held her as she slept and he’d known - he’d known - beyond any shadow of any doubt that he was the luckiest man that had ever lived; he'd been absolutely certain that no man in all of space and time had ever been as head-over-heels in love as him.
Still was.
That’s what he remembered about Cardiff. That’s what he remembered about all of their trips, actually. But he’d embarrassed her. He cursed under his breath, even while he scrambled for something to say.
“Remember Cardiff Castle?”
She tittered, still staring at her shoe. “I remember you getting into an argument with the tour guide and getting us thrown off the tour. I don’t even remember what you were upset about, just that you were completely indignant over it and called the poor man out.”
He pretended affront. “I had to, Rose! He was misleading the public!”
She laughed outright now, finally looking up at him. “That’s right! He said that the castle was built by William the Conqueror and you disagreed. Said it was built by someone else…”
“Robert Fitzhamon.”
“That’s it!”
“Tour guides should be held to a higher educational standard, especially about what they’re supposed to be educating the public on.”
She laughed some more, and John couldn’t help it - he laughed too. He wasn’t even sure what was so funny, but he couldn’t stop the rumbling laughter when it bubbled up. After a moment, they were each wiping their eyes and Bethany looked at both of them as if they were daft. Perhaps they were.
“I really have missed you, Rose.”
She sobered. “I’m so sorry, John. Just so sorry. I should have come with you.” Tears welled in her eyes again, but these weren’t tears of mirth. They were tears of regret, and he felt his own eyes pricking. “I wanted to, I did, but -”
He shushed her. “It certainly wasn’t all your fault. I never should have given you an ultimatum, and I certainly shouldn’t have followed through with it. I should have stayed.”
Rose shook her head. “I couldn’t tie you down. I could never have done that to you. I wanted you to live your dream, and I just threw away our forever. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You were my dream, Rose.”
You still are.
She looked up at him, then dashed the tears from her cheeks and nodded. “It’s all water under the bridge, right?”
“Right, no, yeah. Of course. And if you’d have come with me then, you wouldn’t have Bethany.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, and smiled gently down at her daughter.
They were back to an awkward silence, and he wasn’t sure how to fill it. Hundreds of thoughts jockeyed for position in his mind, but none of them felt quite appropriate. He was at a loss.
Thankfully, Rose came to his rescue again. “But you’re moving back to town, right?”
He nodded. “Just a few weeks from now.”
She put her hand on the buggy and pushed it back and forth a little, rocking Bethany, but he knew her too well. She was displaying nerves...she’d always felt the need to move when she was anxious. “Are you - will that be a permanent move?”
If you want it to be.
“Yes. I’m putting down roots, as it were.”
Rose pursed her lips and nodded, looking as if she were debating between two things. “If you...if you want, when you get back to town, you could ring me. I’ll be happy to be tour guide and show you all of the things you may have missed. Or we could just get coffee or something. If you - if you want to.”
Wild hope sprang to life within his breast and galloped out to every extremity. “I’d love that,” he answered, barely above a whisper.
Her eyes rose to meet his. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“Give me your mobile.” She held her hand out for it and he handed it over willingly. She tapped the screen, doing something - he wasn’t sure what, the contraption confused him more often than not - then handed it back to him. “There. I put my number in your contacts. When you get back to town, ring me and we’ll - “
“Yeah,” he interjected, looking down at the mobile in his hand that contained the key to his happiness. “We will.”
She smiled at him then and her tongue made an appearance in the corner of her mouth. It had always driven him wild and she knew it. She looked shy, uncertain, but trying to cover for it.. “Promise you’ll call?”
“Rose Tyler, I will absolutely call. And there’s no way in hell I’m waiting til February to do it.”
She beamed. “Brilliant,” she said, practically glowing.
“Fantastic,” he agreed.
“So I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Very soon.”
She hesitated for just a moment, then took two quick steps forward and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. It was automatic for his arms to circle her, holding her close, and it felt like home.
After what could have been a few seconds or several years, she pulled back, leaving her hands on his biceps. She looked down at them and smiled again. “I always loved this jacket.”
“It’s me lucky jacket,” he grinned.
She smiled up at him just as Bethany called for her mummy. “I have to go.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Mum is waiting.”
“Talk soon?”
“I’ll call on Boxing Day.”
“Looking forward to it. ‘Bye, John.”
She turned to walk away, and he couldn’t help it: he watched her every move, every sway of her hips. When she got to the end of the aisle, she looked over her shoulder and give him a furtive little smile. He was sure his heart would explode.
“‘Bye, Rose Tyler,” he murmured into the chill air of the dairy aisle.
He grabbed some butter - it didn’t seem to matter what kind anymore - and made for the checkout, checking over his shoulder every few steps for another glimpse of Rose. He didn’t see her and thought that hunting her down just to bask in her glow was probably a bit much, so he paid and left the store. He was surprised when he stepped out into the cold, Christmas Eve air.
The rain had changed to snow.
~*~O~*~
One year later…
The tree was brightly lit, and John was having a hell of a time keeping Bethany out from under it. The excited three-year-old was determined to shake every present under the tree, not just hers. Santa Claus came tonight, she knew, and the little girl couldn’t wait to get started on the gift-giving...and the receiving. Especially the receiving.
“You’ll ruin your pretty dress, love.”
“Mummy said ‘don’t touch the presents’.”
“Maybe we should do what Mummy says.”
“M’just shakin’ em.”
He finally coaxed her over to the couch with him and the two talked for a few minutes, John reminding her of her very important job. Rose stepped around the corner, threading an earring through her earlobe, and looked at them suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing,” they chorused.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, is that so?”
“C’mere, Rose, and sit with me.”
“John, we have to go. Dinner at your mum’s is in an hour.”
“We can be late. This is important. C’mere.”
She came to the couch and sat beside him. John turned towards her, pulling one knee up onto the couch. “Rose, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve been in love with you for eleven years - since the moment I met you. It took me a year and a half to work up the nerve to ask you out, but it was the single greatest decision I ever made. You make my life sweeter, you make it happier, you make me better. Every bad moment in my life has been tempered by the joy you bring me every day.”
“Oh, John.” Her face screwed up and her eyes swelled with tears. She laughed and tried to wave them away. “I just put on my makeup, you plonker, and you’re going to ruin it.”
He ignored her. “I love you, Rose. We lost so much time together...seven long years. I’m not willing to lose another moment. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
The tears spilled onto her cheeks, and he reached up with a thumb to wipe one away. Then he turned his head and smiled at the little girl. “Bethany?”
She walked over, smiling brightly, and held up a small, black box.
“Mummy, will you marry John?”