lostwolf | Enraptured

Part One, Part Two,Part Three

Part Four: Je t'adore, ich liebe dich

The Doctor sat on the toilet seat, in his pants, and dabbed at the vomit flecks on his silk tie. He really liked this tie and was less than happy to discover that the amazing vomiting Rose somehow seemed able to target it despite it being relatively well covered by a coat and a jacket. He worked hard on not grumbling about it, though. Partly because it wasn’t very fair being all giddy about the minuscule life she was brewing and then being grumpy about the side effects but mainly because she’d hit him if he so much as mentioned it. She was, even now, glaring at him suspiciously from the bath, where she was stretched out, floating in soothing warm water, trying to ease the ache in her back and the queasy feeling from her stomach and mind.

He seemed to be spending a lot of time in just his underwear these days, and not in a good way. Maybe that was the secret no one told you about natural fatherhood – virtual nudity, all the time. Which didn’t sound at all bad, on reflection. Rose virtually nude was lovely. Gorgeous to look at and … other things. Still, virtual nudity with fluids of the icky nature was less appealing. Maybe it was that, and not convenience, that had led Rassilion to create the looms? After all, nothing very dignified about a Time Lord in his knickers. They would have been the laughing stock of the Universe, controlling Time and Space while dabbing sick from their robes and sitting around comparing briefs.

He didn’t remember his offspring ever vomiting, but then Time Lord children didn’t really get sick, and if they did, the Chapter staff dealt with it, not the head of the House, even if he was the biological donor. He’d spent more time with Susan, but as far as he recalled, she’d never vomited either. Maybe it was just a human thing. Or a Rose thing. He hoped it wasn’t a Rose thing. He was very very fond of her, but even Rose became somewhat less desirable when she smelt of sick and kept ruining his ties.

He sighed and Rose looked at him sharply, ‘It’s not my fault,’ she said belligerently. He flinched, startled to have been caught out.

‘I know. It’s just… yucky.’

Rose snorted, ‘Better get used to it. As I understand it, babies are pretty much all leaking orifices and screaming, with occasional periods of unconsciousness.’ She paused, ‘Oh God! It’s half yours, and you never sleep! It’s just gonna be endless leaking!’

‘It will not!’ He protested, hoping to Rassilion that he was right. All babies slept, didn’t they? At least a bit. And he was quite sure that a Time Lord’s baby would not dream of doing anything so undignified as soiling itself or puking. He didn’t know how it would work but he was perfectly sure that it would not be messy or in any way uncontrolled. His children had always been very nest in their little Chapter coloured outfits whenever he’d seen them. Very neat and nicely behaved, at least until he exerted a bit of influence.

Speaking of leaking, though, he realised with alarm that Rose appeared to be. Again. Tears were trickling down her face and plopping into the bath water as she sat, looking thoroughly distraught, staring at him.

‘You don’t fancy me anymore,’ she wailed.

Bugger. ‘I do,’ he protested, ‘You’re very very fancible. Better than sugar!’

Rose sobbed miserably, ‘I’m not. I used to be your plus one, now you call me a wee timorous beastie, like I’m an embarrassing pet or something. And I’m dizzy and sick all the time and you keep looking at me like I might puke on you again at any moment, like I’m disgusting or something. And I’m gonna be like this for months and I’m gonna get all fat as well as sick and this is all your bloody fault anyway. You and that sodding, interfering penis of yours!’

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably as the Doctor gawked at her in shocked alarm. He wondered, for exactly three point five two seconds, whether she had been on some way infected or possessed again, his mind sifting through all the various possibilities from late nineteenth century Earth. Then he considered the possible mind-altering impact of meeting a werewolf and the likelihood of residual affects from Cassandra, before dismissing them all. After four seconds he concluded, with considerable reluctance, that the snivelling, irrational wreck before him was just Rose under the influence of nothing more pernicious than hormones. Really, the species was very endearing but they really needed to get those pesky chemicals under control!

He frowned, shifting so that he could absently pat a still sobbing Rose. Time, he decided, for another trip to see Jackie. Jackie liked him now. It was somewhat unaccountable, but they appeared to have bonded over alcohol consumption and that time honoured human pursuit of shopping. He could hand over this irrational, needy Rose and, after a couple of hours of girly chat and other mysterious human female things, Jackie could hand back the nice, sane, normal Rose again, all fixed and back to being perfect. Now he just had to find a perfectly reasonable explanation for his sudden out of character desire to see her mum, again, for the second time in as many days. This would take great subtlety and cunning. Which was not terribly encouraging given his recent success with cunning plans. He swallowed.

The ring of Rose’s mobile phone was so fortuitous that it smacked of divine intervention. Or it would have done if he believed in the divine. He did, though, acknowledge that it might have Guardian intervention written all over it. Unfortunately he was so giddy with relief and the perfect ‘get out of jail free card’ that Mickey handed him that it didn’t occur to him, until much later, to wonder which Guardian it might have been that chose that moment to send them back to Earth.

Part Five

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Date: 2008-06-11 04:46 pm (UTC)

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