#okay I actually forgot that this was the same rabbit they ate that’s rough

[strawbunniiee]

A Girl and a Ghost Ch. 3: The King’s Revenge

SOOOOO this is the part where the plot thickens :)

if anybody else wants me to tag them in these chapters so you know when they come out i will gladly do so andksnkfs

hope you enjoy! ive had tons of fun with writing these :D

dont mind me, just lettin my frendos know that this is a thing skfnkdjf

@salamifuposey @monsterbride99 aaAAA when i initially posted this i COMPLETELY forgot to do this a a a a a sorry

King Boo was furious.

How could that peasant, that foul impure abomination of a Boo do this to his beloved crown? It contained his power, it was so incredibly important to him...

And that filthy little purple haired brat! How could she so carelessly throw a rock at him like that?

He plopped his body down in a chair and marinated in his own rage for a few minutes.

After a few moments of enraged silence, he spoke.

"...I have got to get my revenge on those two. But... how will I do it?"

King Boo began to brainstorm a way to get the ghost Rabbid and his little idiot friend in hot water.

"Torture? No, no... one of them is a ghost. It wouldn't hurt him... Torture could be done with the little nuisance however. Perhaps a bit of childhood trauma will teach her not to mess with the wrong people." he thought aloud.

He spent almost fifteen whole minutes thinking of gruesome ways to get back at them, until it finally struck him.

"...Oooh, I know. I know exactly what to do now. It'll mostly affect that bloated rabbit, but I can still do some damage to his moronic pipsqueak pal."

He grinned maliciously and floated towards the doors of his manor.

"I'm about to open up some old wounds of yours, Tommy." he said to himself.

———

Meanwhile, Phantom was racing through the sky with Jawaii in his arms, panicking. He would never let King Boo lay his foul hands on her.

They were both absolutely dead silent the whole time until Jawaii opened her mouth.

"...Do you know that guy?"

Phantom halted for a moment and looked down at the young alien he held. "...Yes, I do, but I don't think I would like to go into detail at the moment. We have a very... rough history, I will say."

"Oh... I get it. It's okay, I won't pry. I understand." Jawaii said.

"Just remember that if King Boo ever tries to hurt us, I'll make sure he will regret it for the rest of his days." promised the Rabbid ghost. "I swear on it."

Phantom resumed his flight and soared down to the ground safely. He gently set her down in the grass.

"That was actually really fun! We should do that again sometime! ...without being scared off by an evil ghost, obviously. That would just make it less fun." said Jawaii.

"I'm glad you were entertained, I suppose... King Boo is quite intimidating. And rude." said Phantom.

Jawaii put her hands on her hips. "Well, yeah! I mean, he made fun of your weight! No friend of mine is getting made fun of like that!"

Phantom laughed a bit. "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't that harmed by that statement. I er, get that all the time."

She frowned. "Why do people tease you about that, that's dumb! Besides, I think you're perfect just the way you are!" She gave him a hug.

He hugged back and smiled. "Awww... thank you. I was born like this, I can't help it you see."

"You're a giant fluffy singing ghost bunny with a mustache, I have no idea how anybody could hate THAT! Cuz I don't."

"Oh, don't make me blush from all of these compliments!" said Phantom, smiling.

Jawaii jokingly grinned evilly. "Never. I'm gonna shower you in compliments 'til you DROWN!"

She cackled maniacally as she began relentlessly saying nice things about him with Phantom begging her to stop. Soon, it became a full-on flattery war to see who could out-compliment the other. They had a grand old time.

Eventually, the sun began to set.

"Oh yikes, I better get home. I had no idea we stayed out here for so long! Mom is probably having a heart attack as we speak!" said Jawaii.

Phantom was quite alarmed, his ears sprung up in worry and concern. "She's having a what?! Oh, poor child, I hope your mother is all right..."

She burst out laughing hysterically.

"Wh-what's so funny? I thought your mother was dying!"

"No, dummy! That was an exaggeration, I meant that she's probably WORRIED about me!" Jawaii continued giggling like a maniac.

"Ah. I see now... Thank you for correcting me!" Phantom joined in on the laughter.

They got themselves together after a moment.

"Oh yeah, mind if you could fly me over to my house..? We're kinda far away from home." said Jawaii.

"Of course!" Phantom replied happily.

Jawaii climbed on his back and the two flew home.

———

After flying back to town, Phantom gently set Jawaii down in front of her home.

"See you soon, my friend. I enjoyed showing you around Spooky Trails today!" said Phantom.

"Cya tomorrow Phantom! I had a good day today too!" She ran up to him and gave him one last hug.

She walked up to her door and waved goodbye to Phantom. He waved back.

"Moooom! I'm hoooome!"

Jawaii's stepmother Stella ran in.

"Oh, Jawaii! Thank goodness you're all right! I was so worried, where were you?"

"Sorry I came home late! But I spent today with a friend of mine."

Stella had a look of pleasant surprise on her face. "You made a friend? That's so wonderful! I know you haven't really ever had any friends, honey, I'm so happy to hear that you finally made one!" She smiled.

Jawaii grinned. "Yeah! I'll tell you allllll about him! He's the best."

They sat down at the dinner table with the food Stella made.

Jawaii dug into her mashed potatoes and ate it like a wild animal that had nothing to eat for the past 3 weeks.

"Honey, chew slowly. I don't want you choking!" said Stella.

"Sorry, Mom..." Jawaii said, frowning.

"It's okay. I don't want you in the hospital or anything, especially after you just made a new friend!"

"Oh, I've known him for a while, actually. We've been hanging out together a lot!" she smiled, her mouth still full of food.

"...Jawaii, sweetie, don't talk with food in your mouth.“

"Oh yeah! Sorry again Mom.."

"Anyways, that's why you've been out so much lately? I'm so happy for you, Jawaii!" Stella smiled.

Jawaii gulped down some water. "Yep! I'm glad I'm his friend too!"

They spent dinner talking about all of the fun adventures she and Phantom had gone on.

Jawaii however, conveniently left out any mention of them being in danger, she wouldn't want to worry her stepmother of course!

"Oh yeah! I meant to ask you this, but I got totally sidetracked but where's Dad? And where's Hakai?" asked Jawaii.

"Your father is out destroying planets again, and your sister is having a sleepover with some friends of hers." said Stella.

"Ohhhh. Wonder why Dad's out so late. Hope he's alright."

"I'm sure he's fine, hon."

Jawaii had another sister though, and her name was Roe. She went to a boarding school and wasn't home most of the time.

She stretched and yawned. "Hey Mom, I think I'm gonna hit the hay today."

Stella gave her a small look of surprise. "Oh! You are? Usually you're quite a night owl. Maybe you're just tired from all your little adventures with Phantom."

Jawaii smiled. "Yeah. Maybe. Anyways, g'night Mom! Love ya, don't let the bed bugs bite."

Stella gave Jawaii a hug. "Aww, good night sweetie. Love you too.”

Jawaii ran upstairs, changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth and jumped into bed, quickly falling asleep after her long, tiring but fun day.

———

That same night, the Mushroom Kingdom was as quiet as ever when it was nighttime. The once colorful, cheerful inviting land was deathly silent, almost hauntingly so.

Princess Peach was safely tucked in her bed, sleeping peacefully.

But little did the sleeping princess know, this would not remain for long.

King Boo had finally made it to the castle after venturing there to exact his revenge. He knew how dearly Phantom loved Peach. Breaking them apart forever would be the ultimate punishment for stepping on his turf. He knew that either way, the plan would work. If Phantom didn't come to the manor, him and Peach would be separated forever. If he did, however, it would give the vengeful king the chance to trap him and Jawaii in his manor, to torture them and possibly even kill them somehow.

He knew he could kill Jawaii, that was no problem, but Phantom...? Could he possibly do it again? ...No, he's a ghost now. He can't be killed again. But the king knew that even if he couldn't die, he could still make him suffer for as long as he wanted. Possibly even for eternity.

He phased through the castle walls, not having any of the guards notice him. Then, he finally found her room. There Peach slept, defenseless, ready for the taking.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched her from her bed.

Peach immediately woke up and let out a shrill scream of horror, alerting the Toads guarding her door.

But it was too late. He had already burst out her window with her and was headed straight towards his mansion.

———

Tap, tap, tap.

Jawaii woke up very late that night to a tapping sound she heard at her window. She went over to it to find one of the Peek-A-Boos she had met in Spooky Trails, tapping away at her window.

"Hey... aren't you that kid who Phantom is friends with?"

Jawaii rubbed her eye and yawned. "Yeah. Why do you ask? And how are you at my house anyway?"

The Peek-A-Boo had a somber expression on his face. "Well... I have to tell you some... bad news."

Jawaii was horrified of what was about to come out of his mouth next. Did something terrible happen to Phantom?

"His love, Princess Peach was kidnapped by King Boo. And... Phantom is gone. He went off to go save her. Knowing King Boo, Phantom may not come back in one piece. ...The other Rabbids told me it was best to go tell you. That way, you would know where he is. You deserve to know..."

Jawaii was devastated. How could this happen?

She knew she had to save him. And if she couldn't save him... then she wouldn't let him suffer alone.

"...No. I'm not going to let this happen to him."

The Peek-A-Boo was taken aback in surprise by Jawaii's response. "...I dunno if you should go. You're only a kid. You could get seriously hu-"

"I don't care." said Jawaii.

She jumped into her closet and changed into her usual clothes, grabbed a lantern and ran out of the house and into the black, haunted forest that she met Phantom in.

[megabadbunny]

if we let go (4/?)

He pulls her down for another kiss and he doesn’t mean it to be such a needy thing, so desperate and harsh and hungry, but the way her lips part almost immediately makes him suspect she’s every bit as starved as he is.

I.e., Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. In this chapter, she and the metacrisis Doctor choose just how vulnerable they’re willing to be with each other.

***

rose x ten, rose x tentoo; a journey’s end fixit (of sorts), dedicated to @travelingrose , whose very good questions reignited my love/hate relationship with this episode/storyline, and to @goingtothetardis, who kept me encouraged while writing (thank you dahling!!! <3). (i believe this also fills some rose x tentoo / tentoo day / tenth doctor month prompts from @timepetalsprompts and @doctorroseprompts​ .) heavy angst, but also lots of flirting, fluff, romance, some adventure, and some smut; sfw versions on tumblr & ff.net, nsfw versions on ao3 and teaspoon. this chapter is where the nsfw stuff officially kicks in.

***

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

chapter four: what it is and where it stops, nobody knows

He isn’t surprised by the shrieks that pierce the night air. If anything, he’s surprised it took so long. He is, however, shocked at the sight of Rose, stumbling bleary-eyed into the galley, jacketless and bare-footed.

(Was she sleeping? Where? Just how tired is she?)

It’s not like he forgot she was here—how could he?—but the fact that she’s back onboard the TARDIS still gives him a jolt somehow, like plucking bacon straight out of the sizzling-hot frying-pan and managing to be astonished when it burns your hand.

“Can I help you?” the Doctor asks.

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Can’t say I’ve tried.”

Rose blinks at him, confused, eyes narrowed against the bright galley light. “Oh,” she says, realizing. “You’re—the other you.”

The Doctor bites back the sarcastic response hiding behind his teeth. “That’s right,” he says instead, downing a gulp of his coffee. It’s black, bitter, and it might as well be jet fuel. He grimaces. “The other me.”

Another cry rings out, and Rose shivers, hugging herself against an invisible chill. “Actually, I wanted to ask—that isn’t Donna, is it? Making that noise? She’s…she’s not in pain?”

The Doctor softens a bit at that despite himself. For all her claims of change, beneath that tough new battle-hardened exterior, Rose is still Rose—tender-hearted and compassionate, sometimes to a fault. Gods, he’s missed that. She and Donna would have got on splendidly.

“No,” he replies. “She’s still in stasis. Can’t feel a thing.” He holds up his medscreen for Rose to see, the stats and figures from Donna’s wrist transceiver blinking across the tablet surface. “I’ll know the instant that changes, if it changes.”

Rose pales in horror at the sound of the next gut-wrenching shout. “Oh my god,” she says, instantly alert, all traces of sleepiness evaporated in a millisecond. “The other Doctor—what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s all to be expected.” He swallows another mouthful of the tar in his mug and frowns in distaste. Dreadful stuff, coffee, but tea seems just a little too indulgent at the moment. “Time Lord memories in a human brain, remember? Or human enough, anyway.”

“Is he gonna have the same trouble as Donna?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Got enough of my original genetic material to keep all his grey matter from leaking out.” He drinks in a deep breath. “Now, the nightmares, on the other hand…”

He trails off, because Rose has got that look on her face, and maybe it’s been a few years (or a few centuries, feels about the same), but he still knows that look, still knows it exactly, the someone-is-hurting-and-I’ve-gotta-do-something-about-it look. Which is a problem, because if he knows himself like he thinks he does—and unfortunately, a millennia is more than enough time to get to know yourself, your few good qualities and many, many flaws alike—this will not end well, not for anyone.

“Rose,” the Doctor says warningly, but already she’s padding out of the gallery, her footfalls echoing softly in the corridor.

The Doctor swears under his breath. “Wait,” he says, louder, pushing up from the table so hard his chair slams to the tiles with a thwack. He sprints after her, but by the time he reaches the hall, Rose is already meters and meters off—she’s faster than he remembers somehow, or is that just one more way that she’s different from before?—and he shouts, “Just leave it alone, Rose. Trust me!”

Not the most brilliant choice of words at the end there, he thinks when she doesn’t stop.

 ***

 Fire, fire everywhere and—

burning

(red-hot white-hot iron and copper and pennies, steel, metallic and cold-boiling in his mouth)

Skin, bonding in nano-increments, cells knitting together over bones grown solid and if he could, he would double over with the pain of it, the unbearable hurt of becoming real

“What are you whinging about?” Harriet Jones asks, arms crossed over a gaping black hole in her chest. “At least you got a new heart out of all this.”

(real isn’t how you are made, said the skin horse, it’s a thing that happens to you)

I’m sorry, he says, or tries to say, but he hasn’t got a tongue yet, just rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth tearing the insides of newborn cheeks

Laughter, and when he looks up again, past the blood-red haze clouding his fetal eyes, the Harriet-thing is grinning, skin stretched too-tight over a Halloween-store-parody of a skull. “Absolutely the same man,” she says, words dripping with disgust

and the faintest hint of something ruby-red—

“I never asked for it,” he spits out as soon as words can take form in his mouth. “I can’t count you amongst my many sins.”

Curling in on himself, a ribbon that twists and cramps and contracts, muscles rippling under the skin; raw fingers scratch themselves bloody and reach stretch break into the

(does it hurt? asked the rabbit)

(she opens her maw and entire galaxies float inside, suspended in midnight-black ink, rainbow-swirling like an oil slick)

“No, no,” he begs (wheezes; throat is parched and cracked and dry; xtonic radiation is a cruel and cowardly bitch)

(Please Susan please please please help)

“What do you expect her to do?” asks Rose, circling a protective arm around his granddaughter (what’s left of her, anyway, blurred and wet and staining Rose’s shirt). “She’s just as dead as the rest of them.”

Tear ducts form just in time for salt to well up in his eyes, burning his cheeks, holy water scorching clean in blistering trenches

(galaxies dissolve one-by-one and he can hear feel smell taste every one of them dying, rotting-sweet dead flowers dirty crumpled five-pound notes ash in his mouth)

Hand new and complete and he reaches out but Donna is there instead, and he watches, helpless, as she falls in agonizing slow-motion; it would almost be funny except wait it is funny he is laughing he is laughing he is laughing so hard he cries why can’t he stop

crawls over to her prone body, crumpled on the grating, dying over scattered galaxy crumbs and sputtering embers and he turns her onto her back, and something black is where her eyes should be, overflowing and staining fire-red hair

“I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, but she can’t hear, the black stuff swells up in her nose and her mouth and her ears and it burns everywhere it touches, eating away at her skin and her hair and her cut-up leather jacket (and oh, the fit she would throw if she knew)

(it doesn’t happen all at once, said the skin horse, you become. it takes a long time)

(Doctor, she says, and her voice sounds funny and far-away)

“No, no, not that,” he pleads. “Anything else—”

She turns what’s left of her skeleton-face toward him and she screams

 **

 “Doctor!”

Air sharp in his lungs like a knife and the Doctor can’t get enough of it, gulping and choking until he thinks it might gash his throat.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, it’s just a nightmare, it isn’t real—”

Hands on his chest, smaller than his but familiar, but they’re gone, she’s gone, all of her, and she’s never—

Frantic knocking against his ribs and he wonders if he’s ever been in a place so dark before, ever witnessed anything that ate the light like this. One of his hands slides beneath those on his chest, checking, and—yes, there it is. One heart, just the one. Damn.

“Doctor?” says the voice again, quieter this time. “Are you awake? Are you all right?”

Oh, god.

Impressions of the nightmare slowly fade, blinked away like the remnants of too-bright lights splashed across the backs of his eyelids, and the darkness in his room dissolves bit by aching bit. He can just make out the shape of someone else in his bed, silhouetted by the dim light leaking beneath his bedroom door. Too murky to make out any details, but she’s haunted his subconscious long enough that he would know her anywhere, unmistakable in any form.

“Rose?” rasps the Doctor, his voice rough from shouting (crying?).

“Yeah,” she says, fingers curling in his tee-shirt. “I’m here, with you. Remember? And everything’s gonna be…”

The Doctor doesn’t hear what she says next—blood rushes in his ears, pins-and-needles and a high-pitched whine and a thick thump-thump-thumping; cold sweat beads on his brow, and he fights the nausea threatening to wash over him. Forcing his breathing to slow, he pushes up in the bed. He can feel her staring at him, feel her concern. Relief and embarrassment rise up in equal measure, searing-hot fluid in a thin-skinned blister.

“Please get out,” he pants.

Her hands stall on his chest. “Doctor?”

“Please,” he says, brokenly, knuckles scraping the tears from his cheeks. He curses himself for ever letting anyone see him like this, for ever allowing himself to be so shamefully pathetic. “You never should have—I don’t need you here. Get out.”

The Doctor can practically hear Rose’s heart hardening at that.

Her next breath is tremulous, watery. “Fine.”

The bed jostles with the force of her movement, bedclothes twisting as she crawls over them and gropes semi-blindly for the edge of the mattress, and the Doctor realizes she actually listened to him this time. Really, properly listened—and she’s really, properly going. Now the panic rushes in, and the guilt, settling heavily at the pit of his stomach. Please no please don’t go please don’t leave please…

“Wait,” he calls hoarsely after her, but her feet have already reached the floor. “Rose—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Tell a girl Get out enough times, eventually it gets through her thick skull.”

He springs out of bed just in time to grab her hand before it can twist the doorknob. “Rose, stop. Please.”

“Why? Planning to call up any other regenerations to come spit in my face?” she snaps, her back turned to him. “How about my first Doctor, the one who died on the Gamestation? Want to bring him on over so he can have a go at me, too?”

Her shoulders are tense, hard as flint as the Doctor places his hands on them, gently nudging her until she turns around to face him. Her entire body quakes beneath his touch and he suspects that, just like him, her shivering has got nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

“I fought so hard,” she says plaintively, and the Doctor doesn’t need to see or touch her face to know she’s crying now. He can hear the tears thick in her voice, feel the sobs wracking her frame. “It’s been years, Doctor, and I tried—I thought about trying, settling into a life over there, and I could’ve, there were times I wanted to, I had friends and my family and a good job and there were blokes and a girl and I could’ve—but I couldn’t—not after all the things I did, and if you ever knew—and I just missed you so much, god, I missed you, and I thought—if I tried hard enough—”

Laughing through her tears, Rose shivers even more violently. “God, I’m stupid.”

“Not true,” says the Doctor firmly.

“I am, though,” she says with a sniffle. “I don’t know what else I expected. I mean, it’s not like I thought I’d come back and you’d scoop me up in your arms, or, I don’t know, profess your eternal love for me, or whatever. I just thought, I hoped we could pick up where we’d left off, just the two of us, and Donna too if she wanted, back out in the stars, and I thought, maybe, one day, if I was really, really lucky, maybe you would—”

He cuts her off with a kiss.

She stiffens against him, body going rigid under his hands, and he knows he’s being rude, or unfair, or possibly terribly unchivalrous; definitely something Donna would smack him for, and he wouldn’t blame her. And it’s messy, salty, wet, her tears viscous and sticky on Rose’s cheeks and her lips and now on his as well. But it’s warm, too, in a way that makes him dizzy, his chest expanding, his blood thrilling in his veins. And hopefully Rose can find it in herself to forgive him, because right now he just doesn’t have the words. He can only hope, desperately, that his actions will speak loudly enough in their stead.

(And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about this since these eyes first saw her.)

Eventually Rose relaxes in his grip, pulling back with a soft gasp. “You don’t have to do that,” she mumbles.

“Do what?”

She thumbs the tears off her face. “Give me anything out of guilt. Just because you think I want it.”

He nods. “All right.”

He kisses her again.

A strained little whimper rises in Rose’s throat and she snakes her arms around his neck and before he knows it, his arms are responding in kind, wrapping around her and pulling her body flush with his. She’s still shaking but it’s more of a buzz now, something he can sense in his skin, creeping into his skull like a rush of alcohol. His body floods with warmth as her tongue tentatively brushes his lower lip and a flash-vision pops into his mind, detailing how he could push her up against the door—

Suddenly he’s gone a bit jellylike in the knees and the Doctor breaks the kiss with a shudder. The room feels like it’s spinning around him.

(He’s relieved to hear he’s not the only one struggling to hide breaths gone ragged.)

“You…” Rose says, and swallows. “That’s cheating.”

“Never said I’d play fair,” the Doctor replies, step-stumbling back until his legs hit the bed. He sits down, grateful for the support.

Rose doesn’t budge from the door, so the Doctor holds out a hand—can she see it in the almost-black, can she tell he’s reaching out for her?—and after a few horrible moments of nothing, her warm little palm slides along his. She lets him draw her in, and he has every intention of wrapping his arms around her again, comforting them both with a solid, lung-squeezing hug, so he’s surprised when her hands reach out and cup his jaw, tilting his face upward. He wonders if, perhaps, her night-vision is better than his now, if she can see the nervousness and hope written across his features, but soon it’s apparent she’s seeing with her hands; her thumbs stroke the apples of his cheeks, tracing the edges of his sideburns and working up to his temples. His eyes flutter shut at her touch and he fights not to lean into it, like a cat. Fingers tangle in his hair and nails scratch lightly against his scalp and he can’t stop the hum that escapes in response.

He pulls her down for another kiss and he doesn’t mean it to be such a needy thing, so desperate and harsh and hungry, but the way her lips part almost immediately makes him suspect she’s every bit as starved as he is. She deepens the kiss and his tongue chases after hers. Dizzy with want, he clutches at her hips, he’s just got to touch her somewhere, anywhere she’ll let him, he needs to feel her, soft and solid and safe, but she’s still so far away, still oceans and oceans between them—

The Doctor doesn’t even try to hold back a sigh of relief when Rose clambers into his lap, pressing herself against him. The weight of her is warm and reassuring, the frantic pit-pat-patter of her heart against his a welcome rhythm.

“I don’t play fair either,” says Rose, and she kisses him fiercely before he has a chance to reply.

 **

 Afterward, she slumps against him, panting. Eyes shuttering closed, he wraps his arms around her, losing himself in the gentle rise and fall of their chests as their breaths slowly calm. But eventually Rose stirs in his arms, sitting back on his lap; the Doctor imagines if he could see her face in better detail right now, her eyes would be glazed, blinking heavily. He suspects his are doing much the same.

He feels like he should say something, but his breathing is too thick to allow any words out of his mouth. At least, that’s what he tells himself; the truth is, he’s still too stunned by the idea of Rose sitting in his lap to really register anything that’s happening right now, or anything that’s happened in the last few minutes, for that matter. A not-unpleasant buzzing sound has filled his head, pairing nicely with the numb feeling suffusing him below the waist, and it’s just a bit difficult to think past it all.

Rose wriggles off his lap, both of them wincing, and she walks off toward his en suite, fumbling for the light-switch in the dark. Soon she finds it (impressive, considering she’s never been in here before) and searing yellow-white light lances the Doctor’s vision, blinding him with its brightness. Moments later, the Doctor is surprised by the sensation of something soft hitting him in the face. He blinks out the light, confused, pulling a flannel from where it fell in his lap.

“Figured you might want to clean up,” Rose says from the doorway to the en suite. She’s not wrong, and oddly considerate—but something about her sudden frankness and neutral tone sets panic thrumming in the Doctor’s system all over again.

She’s not just going to up and leave after all that, right? Surely she wouldn’t?

The door to the en suite closes, leaving the Doctor alone in the darkness once again, frozen. Slowly, amidst the sounds of flushing and washing-up, he tidies up. The fresh, clean flannel is a blessing on his skin, but it isn’t enough to soothe the anxiety roiling in his skull, especially when the light turns back off and Rose comes out and, quietly, heads straight for the bedroom door. The Doctor wants to ask her to stay, but the words seem wrong, somehow, almost childish, and at any rate, they’re stuck in his throat.

Hand on the doorknob, Rose hesitates. “Did I push you?” she asks, her voice small.

“No,” he answers quickly, thankful that his tongue finally works again. “No, not at all.”

She sighs in relief. “And you, erm. Would you rather I left you al—”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Good.”

The mattress dips beneath her weight as Rose crawls back into the bed, and, his weary brain just a bit slow on the uptake, the Doctor follows after, sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them, just in case Rose wants it. But he soon learns he needn’t have worried; the second his head hits the pillow, Rose snuggles up against him, tucking her head beneath his chin and insinuating one leg between his. Surprised, but nonetheless pleased, the Doctor pulls her into his embrace, wondering how in the universe he managed to be the lucky sod she’s curled up against tonight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Rose mutters sleepily into his chest.

The Doctor startles out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“What happened to Donna. It’s not your fault.”

It’s stupid, really, how quickly the tears spring up behind his eyes. He grits his teeth until the pressure fades, his fists clenching tightly in Rose’s tee-shirt. He has half a mind to untangle himself from her, to get up out of the bed and throw open the doors of the TARDIS and scream at the universe until his voice grows hoarse and his throat bloody, but the other half of his mind gently points out how Rose’s breathing has already evened out, how relaxed her entire body is next to his, how warm and soft she is in his arms. How she’s here, with him, now, despite everything.

With a tired exhale, he nuzzles into Rose’s hair. Fruity shampoo, expensive perfume, the faintest tinge of chemicals from her hair dye all greet him; marveling at how natural it all feels, the two of them close and quiet like this, he breathes it in, committing it to memory, just in case. He closes his eyes and, inch by inch, lets himself loosen.

She’s wrong about Donna, of course. But it was still nice of her to say.

***

Previous: Chapter Three | Next: Chapter Five

[monsters-and-men-make-monsters]

Lucky Day!

Cain wakes up before him... He strips down and hangs his clothes on tree branches to dry. Then he changes and lays out to dry his own belly.

He wakes up, looking around sleepily. He's actually still purring. Cain purrs back at him. He smiles tiredly at Cain. His tail flicks off a tiny bit of remaining water, he's mostly dry and so are his clothes. He's still a bit damp, and actually lets out a kittenish sneeze. Cain hops to his feet! Oh no! Don't be sick! He's fine, just a sneeze. Cain checks him for sick smell anyway. He's healthy, just a little cold now. cain tries to pull off his clothes. they aren't helping. He's blushing brightly now. "I don't have anything else to wear!" cain pulls his own clothes off the tree. "But what about you?" He doesn't want to take Cain's clothes. Cain fluffs up his now dry feathers. "I'd still feel bad taking your clothes." Cain pulls off his shirt and hangs it up to dry, it only has to be for a bit. A grey scar is visible on his torso, a sign of his vivisection in the void. cain pays it no mind and starts on the pants. He's bright red and has no idea what to do now. the clothes are next to him... He's just... using his tail to cover himself for now. He doesn't want to take Cain's clothes. What if he needs them for something? cain isn't having that. he pushes the clothes at him and tears up when he doesn't put them on. He dresses after that, feeling a bit bad. He is tiny compared to Cain though... cain doesn't even notice, his tail thumping on the ground happily. "I am way too short to wear these." Cain just shrugs. he only needs to wear them until his own dry. cain goes and gets him some berries and rabbit jerky. He nibbles away at the food, hoping his clothes dry soon. He did say he'd be there today to play his violin. it took a little over an hour for cain's and his were bigger. He's just kind of sitting there, if he stands he's pretty sure the pants are gonna trip him. Cain walks under him and picks him up so he can check the clothes. He squeaks and clings to Cain. Cain moves to the clothes so he can feel them. He does, they're pretty dry now. Cain looks up at him, are they dry? "They're dry now." He's relieved, he can put them on and get to town. cain puts him down and gets them for him, turning the other way so he can change. He changes quickly. He's already planning to get at least one more outfit for both of them. Cain waits for him to say it's okay to turn around. "I'm dressed now. I'm... gonna get us at least one more shirt and pair of pants each after I play today." Cain turns around and nods. He checks the sizes on Cain's clothes and then grabs his violin. "I'll be back later with clothes, butter, broccoli,  and bread rolls." Cain's tail thumps loudly on the ground. He smiles and heads out. cain goes looking for mary. He makes it to town and sets up where he was before... he has his hood up and tail hidden, but he forgot to hide his hand. no one seems to notice besides a few kids who think his weird glove is cool. He just plays Lost Girls by Lindsey Stirling first. that draws back the crowd, they're giving more then before. His tail wags a little in the bag. no one notices. it keeps up like that for a while. He finishes on Elements and bows like before, thanking everyone. the end of the stinger is sticking out of his bag. ???: what kind of toy is that!? a child points to his bag. He looks at his bag and goes a little pale, ears drooping under his hood. ???: can we play with it mister? ???: timmy! no! he is probably busy and you shouldn't talk to strangers! come on. his mother drags him off. the rest of the crowd seems to let it go.

the boy says nothing but looks at him amazed, the mom doesn't notice... it's the same mom as before... this must be that play date. He's nervous, still trying to get his tail back into the bag. ???: i am so sorry sir! i'll get him back to his father right away! she drags him away without looking back. He's relieved she didn't see his tail move. she would have screamed... He did not want that to happen. He gets his tail back in the bag and rushes out of town. a man watches him suspicious, but lets it go for now. He didn't notice thankfully and just makes it back to the cave. when he gets back cain is curled around a happy mary and two little bundles of fluff. His eyes go wide. "She had puppies?!" Cain nods happily. He moves closer to see the little bundles of fluff. "I'm glad more than one survived." Cain changes back to human Cain: all of them did! She only had two! Little boys. "I'm so glad they all survived!" He moves a bit closer to see them, eyes wide and happy. They look very little like their mother, more like wolves... "Are they wolf dogs?" He's a bit concerned now, he knows those don't do well with humans. Cain: I don't think so. They look like huskies or malamutes though. "Okay, that's a bit of a relief. If they were half-wolf they wouldn't be happy with just us. They'd want a full pack." Cain: they probably still want a pack, just a smaller one. We will have to do. "I hope they'll he happy with us." Cain: me too. We're gonna need to feed Mary more now, she needs more milk for them. "Yeah..." He wants to pet one of the puppies but doesn't want to upset Mary. Cain just does it, she watches but doesn't bark or growl. He carefully reaches out to gently pet one of the puppies. She doesn't even watch him past the first second. That makes him blink. "I'm surprised she watched you." Cain: well yeah. I play rough with her, you're always calm and nice. "I guess that makes sense." He keeps petting the puppy, reaching out to pet the other as well. The tip up at him and roll onto their backs, she seems pleased with this. He rubs their bellies carefully. they yip happily. her tail wags. "They are so cute." Cain: yeah... they need to go to the vet though... "They all do probably... We'll have to take them tomorrow." Cain nods. "Did you hunt today?" Cain: i caught and butchered a rabbit before i found mary... they need names. "They do... do you have any ideas?" Cain: ... no. i tried but no.... "I'm kind of stuck on names too." Cain: .... purple? "I don't think that works as a name..." Cain: i can't think of anything! that's literally the only word i could think of! "Maybe Harvey for one of them?" Cain: okay... tristen for the other? "That works." Cain smiles and rubs mary's side. He reaches out to pet Mary as well. her tail wags happily. He's pretty much forgotten his bad luck now. Cain: now... Fish or rabbit tonight? "Fish sounds good. Mary can have some of the rabbit." Cain nods and pulls out the strips of fish meat. He pulls out the butter to melt some in the pan before putting the fish in to cook it. Cain sniffs happily, it smells good already. He's happy with the smell too. At least fish doesn't take as long to cook. Cain pets the puppies while he waits. It doesn't take too much longer and the fish is put into two cans for them. Cain eats faster than usual, he looks a bit sick after. "Are you okay Cain?" Cain: yeah... Just ate too much too fast... "Oh..." He looks worried now. Cain seems to clear up after a couple minutes. Well that's a relief for him. Cain goes back to the puppies. He seems to adore them. Vapor adores those little balls of fluff too. They stick close to Mary, drinking a lot. "Did you get the meat from the rabbit ready? I'm sure Mary's gonna need some soon." Cain: yeah. He grabs it out of the cooler thing. He moves over to gently pet Mary's head. She yips happily as she eats. She loves her family. Vapor is going to protect her and her puppies. Cain: so how was today? "I... had some weird luck, hood fell off and my tail fell out of the bag, everyone thought it was a costume thankfully." Cain looks at him surprised. Cain: wow. "I'm just relieved no one realized it wasn't a costume." Cain: yeah. That could have been bad... He nods, shivering a bit. "Anyway, we need to figure out what time we're bringing these puppies to the vet tomorrow." Cain: ... It's probably best we aren't seen by too many people... "Yeah... Maybe early in the morning then? I could stay with them by myself." Cain: if you think that's best... "Well... I'd rather not be alone, but you didn't really seem comfortable in town the last time you came with me." Cain: ... Don't like people... "I understand. I can take all three of them by myself." Cain: ... No. We want to come... "Okay. You can carry Mary then? While I carry the puppies?" Cain nods. He smiles, moving to gently pet both puppies again. They yip and roll over, happy. He's happy as well. Cain watches Mary, see seems happy... But tired... "How about we all get some sleep?" Cain nods, changing and curling around Mary, vapor and the puppies. He cuddles with Mary and the puppies, falling asleep quickly. Cain doesn't get to sleep for a bit longer but sleeps well when he does.