#the takeaway from Rose and Mickey’s relationship wasn’t that Rose was bad for Mickey/a bad girlfriend

[thirdeyeblue]

(Your tags deserved to live on!)

it's insane to me that people can't get past the nuances of rose and mickey's relationship and how they're both good people who don't do right by each other. like this is a show where the main character (allegedly) kills his entire species and you can't get past why two people who started dating in their teens might fuck each other up a bit

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: none for this chaper

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep myself on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Twenty-Three—London, 28 July, 2007

As John finished getting dressed for the evening, he spotted the latest piece of filth that had shown up in his cat flap that morning still sitting next to his computer. With a disgusted sigh, he crumpled it and tossed it in the bin in his kitchen.

Over the past two weeks, John had received almost a dozen nasty notes, usually shoved through the cat flap in the middle of the night. Like the first one, they were in an almost illegible scrawl. And like the first, he'd thoroughly examined them for clues that would point to the author.

But the notes had defied deep analysis. Oh, he'd been able to determine that the note writer was local—most had been written on the backs of adverts for local pubs or takeaways—favored black ball point pens, and was probably drunk when the notes were written, but beyond that, nothing. Not even why the note writer was upset with him.

What John had been able to make out were mostly misspelled profanities and comments calling into question his sexual preference, his virility, his intelligence, his looks, even his parentage. He rolled his eyes at the messages, although he didn't necessarily disagree with the description of his appearance. He also had no idea if his parents had been married when he was born, although why that would matter he had no idea.

It was only through other means that he'd been able to narrow the note sender down to two people: Rita's ex-boyfriend Chuck and Rose's ex, Jimmy. He'd been able to exclude everyone else on the planet because no one else he knew, neither in his block of flats nor at the garage, seemed upset with him for a change. That was a true rarity, since he knew that with his abrasive personality he seemed to piss people off wherever he went.

After narrowing down the note taker to Jimmy or Chuck, he'd questioned almost everyone he knew to see if any of them had seen either man recently. Although everyone seemed to know who they were, no one had seen Chuck since his last fight with Rita, and most were surprised to find out Jimmy was out of prison.

There were only three people he knew on the Estate that he didn't ask: Rose, Jackie, and Rita. He told himself he didn't want to ask Rose because he didn't want to worry her, but really it was because he didn't want her involved in whatever this was. Both Chuck and Jimmy had a history of violence, and he wanted her as far out of it as she could be if this happened to take a bad turn. And Jackie he didn't ask because she had a big mouth. He was sure the moment Jackie found out about the notes Rose would know, not because Jackie would want to tell her, but simply because she wouldn't be able to help herself from letting something slip.

Rita he didn't ask for the most obvious reason; he didn't know where she was. After she had left the flat with her brother the morning after the fight, she seemed to fall off the face of the Earth. If anyone knew where she was, they weren't saying, which was probably a good thing, John thought. If no one on the estate knew where she was, Chuck probably didn't know either. He hated to think what that piece of slime would do to her if he found her.

But beyond analyzing the notes when they arrived and asking around about Chuck and Jimmy, for the most part he didn't give the passive/aggressive note sender a lot of thought. Since whoever it was left notes in the middle of the night instead of confronting him in the light of day, it was obvious that he was a coward, and an illiterate one at that. John had better things to do than worry about the stupid ape.

Like spend time with Rose.

Which he did every chance he got.

In addition to walking back and forth to work, which they did every day, on the weekend she went with him when he was repairing things around the Estate, handing him tools and just generally keeping him company.

When they weren't at the garage and he wasn't doing repairs, they usually went out, tramping all over London. Rose took him to all her favorite places in and around the city, some well-known tourist spots, others far off the beaten path. He could tell she enjoyed playing tour guide with him. Her eyes would sparkle and her grin widen while she told him the history or significance of one place or another. At some point while wandering the Tower of London—a place that seemed entirely too familiar, particularly since he didn't recall ever being there before—it occurred to him that while she'd traveled with the Doctor, the man had probably always been the one showing her around. It was obviously fun for her to be the one showing someone around instead.

But they didn't spend all their spare time wandering London. This July was particularly chilly and wet, and when it was raining hard they stayed in, eating takeaway from one of the nearby restaurants and watching films on telly, everything from implausible thrillers to bad sci fi to Disney.

The only time they didn't spend together was over the lunch hour. The day after their first official date, he'd gone into the office to ask her to lunch only to be told that Rose had already left. Later he spotted her getting off the bus right before she returned to work. The next day was the same, as was every other day when it wasn't raining. She never volunteered any information about where she was going or what she was doing.

Despite his curiosity, after days of deliberation he decided not to ask her about it. After all, it wasn't his business, he told himself firmly, and he didn't want to ruin the fragile relationship he had with her by prying into her personal life.

After one quiet evening spent eating a curry and watching the first Harry Potter film, he tried kissing her again but at the last second she turned her cheek to him, neatly deflecting it. He gave up after that, figuring that she didn't want any more out of the relationship than they currently had. He didn't blame her; he wasn't exactly a prize. He had a disturbing tendency to be rude, not to mention he was broke, not particularly attractive, and much too old for her. After being initially disappointed by her reaction, it had taken him exactly three and a half seconds for him to decide that he'd rather have her in his life as a friend than not in his life at all because he had pushed things too far with her.

But in that three and a half seconds he'd wondered if it was even possible for him to just be her friend. Because he wanted her. Wanted her so much he ached, both in his heart and in his groin. Wanted her from the moment he saw her run down the stairs of her building every morning. Wanted her when he heard her voice while his head was buried under the bonnet of every vehicle he worked on in the garage. Wanted her while they walked home hand in hand after work. Wanted her while they explored London together. Wanted her while she snuggled against him while they watched telly.

Wanted her every time she smiled at him, whether in delight or teasingly, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

He wanted to be surrounded by her intoxicating scent with the taste of her on his tongue and the feel of her skin on his lips while her mouth was on him or with him buried deep inside her.

But his desire for her was far more than sexual. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms. He wanted her face to be the first thing he saw in the morning. And he wanted to hold her in the middle of the night after dreams filled with screaming and fire.

But if it wasn't to be, it wasn't. He would take, and gladly, anything she was willing to give, even though every second of every day he wanted more. He was a big boy. He could cope with it.

But tonight would definitely test his resolve, he thought, as he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out the door.

~oOo~

In the tiny bathroom of her mother's flat, Rose carefully traced her eyes with eyeliner.

"Aren't you done yet?" Jackie called impatiently.

"Almost." She switched to mascara, thickly coating her lashes with the stuff.

"You know, you could do that in your room."

"The light's better in here," she answered.

"Well, hurry up, because I need a shower before Stuart gets here."

Rose ignored her. Although she always tried to look her best with hair and makeup, since they were headed to Susie and Rob's wedding, tonight was special and she wanted everything perfect. Hair up and sprayed in place, makeup a little more dramatic than normal but still not as heavy as she had worn as a teenager, a sleeveless pink chiffon dress, matching heels. She had decided to forego the hat, partially because most of her friends wouldn't be wearing one, and partially because she couldn't afford the extra expense. She'd been lucky to find the dress, and on sale. She hadn't brought one from the TARDIS—it hadn't occurred to her that she'd need one—and for the first time she realized how spoiled she'd become having access to the TARDIS's huge wardrobe room.

"Hurry up, Rose!"

She rolled her eyes. Her mother usually spent twice as much time in the bathroom than she ever did. After putting on lipstick, she checked her teeth. Perfect.

She opened the door.

"It's about time," her mother said.

As her mother entered the bathroom, Rose returned to her bedroom to finish getting ready. First, a tiny bit of perfume on her throat and wrists. Then on went the hoop earrings she always wore and a gold colored bracelet around her wrist. Finally, the one luxury she'd packed in her rucksack before leaving the TARDIS, a pendant with a pink tinged stone that the Doctor had bought for her on a planet whose name she couldn't pronounce. The necklace looked far too expensive to be owned by a girl from the Estate, but it went perfectly with the dress and she couldn't resist wearing it.

At the knock on the door, she grabbed her TARDIS key off the dresser. Normally she only took it off to shower, but she hadn't put it back on because she couldn't wear it in this dress without it being noticed. But there was no way she'd ever leave it behind. After briefly considering putting it in her handbag, she finally tucked it into her bra.

When she opened the door, her jaw dropped. She figured he'd dress up a bit for the wedding, but she hadn't expected this. Blue Oxford shirt, black trousers, his leather jacket… and a tie. She'd never seen this Doctor in a tie.

She'd always thought he was attractive, handsome even in an unconventional way, but she realized she'd been wrong.

He was gorgeous.

She stared at him, thinking about how the color of his shirt brought out the color of his eyes, making them a brilliant blue.

He was staring at her as well, eyes wide, mouth slightly slack.

"You look… beautiful," he breathed.

And he hadn't even qualified it with a "considering".

Suddenly shy, her heart pounded with nervousness, and the desire she had always felt for him and that she'd been trying to ignore over the past weeks rose to the surface with a vengeance.

"Thanks," she replied automatically, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

She blinked, forcing herself to the present. He was still John. He was her best friend. There was no reason to be nervous, not really, no matter how gorgeous he was. And she could ignore how attracted she was to him, no matter how hard it was. After all, she had to.

She grinned at him mischievously. "Once you change out of that work shirt of yours, you clean up pretty good too."

It was evidently the right thing to say, because he laughed.

"Thanks."

~oOo~

The ceremony was brief and to the point. Rob and Susie stood at the altar, the vicar said a few words, they said their vows, and they were married. They were in and out in fifteen minutes. John got the impression that all in attendance, including the bride and groom, considered it a warm up act for the main event.

The main event, of course, was the reception. Held in a large room over the pub where the groom's mother worked, the long head table stood along one wall with smaller tables crowded around it. Near the stairs was a rectangular table filled with gifts, and at the other end of the room there was a small dance floor.

With his hand on the center of her back, John attempted to escort Rose across the room to their table, but on the way Rose kept stopping to talk to people. Slightly frustrated, he reminded himself that mingling was considered an important part of these sorts of things.

To his surprise, he found that there were a lot of people he recognized, and a number he actually knew, both from his block of flats and from the garage, despite never having met either the bride or the groom. Between conversations, he mentioned it to her quietly.

"Everyone knows everyone on the Estate," Rose whispered back. "If you're there long enough you will too. Plus Rob used to work at the garage for a while."

Eventually they arrived at their seats. He was relieved to find that they'd been given a narrow table for two shoved against one wall; he really wasn't one for small talk and he'd already had his fill.

Later, John frowned thoughtfully as he sat back and watched the newly married couple have their first dance. Through the mingling, through the nibbles and the mediocre dinner and the best man's speech, John had had a sense of… oddness. Everything—the wedding and the reception, the speech and the presents, the room with the masses of flowers and the dance floor—all seemed unfamiliar, even alien, to him, like he had never attended anything like it before. The feeling was almost the exact reverse of déjà vu; instead of feeling like something was familiar that he didn't remember, he felt like something was unfamiliar that should be. It was weird. He had assumed that due to his age he'd been married at some point. Even if he hadn't, he figured that at least somewhere, at some point, he must have at least attended a wedding, but maybe he hadn't.

It was definitely a puzzle that needed solving.

Rose must have sensed his thoughts because she reached over and took his hand. "You all right?"

He plastered a wide grin on his face. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Just figured this whole thing might be a little too domestic for you."

His brow furrowed. She'd said it again, called something domestic and suggested it was too much for him. She had done it several times in the past weeks, and each time he'd wondered why. Not that she was wrong, mind, she was right actually, but how would she even know that? He had meant to ask her but had never got around to it. Now was as good a time as any, he decided.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her about it, the song changed. She stood up.

"Dance with me."

He snorted. It hadn't been a request. More of an order, actually.

"Rose, I don't dance," he told her.

"Yes, you do," she insisted. She dragged him to his feet.

He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. No one was. He leaned towards her.

"Rose," he said quietly, "I don't think I know how."

She stared at him, surprise written all over her face. She opened her mouth and then shut it, as if she was going to say something and then thought better of it.

"Well then, I think it's high time you learn," she said finally.

"Rose," he protested, but he allowed her to pull him to the crowded dance floor.

To his relief, although the music was loud, it had a slow beat. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with a fast song straight off, if at all. As it was, he still wasn't quite sure what to do, so he just stood there, staring at her. She looked up, and as their eyes met, time stopped. The music, the laughter, the other people on the dance floor all faded into the distance. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and all he could see was her: blonde hair threatening to escape from its upsweep, dark brown eyes looking into his soul, soft pink lips begging to be kissed…

She was so extraordinarily beautiful.

She licked her lips and looked away, and the moment was lost.

"Well, we can't just stand here," she said.

She took his hands and placed them on her waist before putting her own behind his neck. She looked back up at him. She seemed to be waiting for something.

"What?"

"Uh, you need to move your feet."

"Oh. Oh, right."

Without conscious thought he pulled her close, and they began to sway to the music.

It was fantastic dancing with her, with her in his arms and her body pressed against his, her head on his shoulder and the scent of her perfume surrounding him. Why had he thought it was a bad idea? It was an absolutely fantastic idea.

They stayed that way for song after song, only stopping when a fast song began to play. When she began to pull away from him, he reluctantly let go of her.

"Sorry, I need the loo," she said.

"I'll go get us some drinks."

John went downstairs to the bar and placed his order. While he waited for their drinks, he grabbed some mixed nuts out of a bowl on the counter and turned around to lean with his back against the bar. He tossed them in his mouth and looked idly around the room. To his surprise, he saw Rita standing at the other end of the bar. She must have arrived late, he thought, because he was sure he would have noticed if she had been at the reception earlier. He scanned the room. No sign of Chuck, thank God, although he spotted her brother sitting with a girl at a table on the other side of the pub.

Rita was chatting with the bride and the maid of honor and didn't seem to have seen him. He began to cross over to her to say hello but stopped when he heard them talking.

Susie, he suddenly remembered. That was the bride's name. But he couldn't for the life of him remember the name of the other girl.

"So, who's that she's with?" Susie asked loudly. Although it was quieter down here than upstairs, it was still more than a bit noisy.

Not above a bit of eavesdropping, he moved back to where he had been. With his ears, he still could hear them clearly.

"Didn't you meet him?" Rita asked.

"Yeah, for just a second but I didn't catch his name," Susie answered. "You think it's that bloke she was traveling with? Didn't Keisha say she'd been traveling with an older bloke?"

"You mean the Doctor?" the maid of honor asked. "Could be."

"What's he look like?" Rita asked.

"I didn't really get a good look at him," Susie answered. She turned to the maid of honor. "How 'bout you, Shareen?"

"Tall, short dark hair, blue eyes. Older," Shareen answered. "Kinda big nose and ears, but good lookin' anyway, if you like that sort of thing."

"And you do," Susie said.

"Shareen likes 'em any way she can get 'em," Rita said. "She likes everyone in trousers, particularly when she's got a couple of drinks in her."

"Oi!" Shareen protested. When they turned to her, she grinned. "When I've had a couple of drinks, I like 'em without trousers."

They all laughed.

"Anyway, you think it was that Doctor bloke?" Susie asked.

"I thought it was," Shareen answered. "You saw the way they were dancing."

"That's why I wasn't sure," Susie answered. "Because Rose said she and the Doctor weren't like that, remember?"

Shareen snorted. "And you believed that?" She shook her head. "It's amazing you're in the condition you're in, being so innocent an' all." She nodded her head at the bride's belly. "What was it, an immaculate conception?"

They laughed again.

"But seriously, you think it's him?" Susie asked.

"Sounds like my neighbor John to me," Rita said. "All but the hair. After all, I know they've been hanging out together."

"Oh, but what if John is the Doctor?" Shareen said excitedly. She waved her hands around, almost spilling her drink in the process. "Ooo, ooo, they've come back, but he's in trouble for some reason, so he's hidin' out here on the Estate and Rose is lookin' after him."

"How many of those have you had, Shareen?" Rita asked. "Somebody needs to cut you off."

"Mark my words," Shareen said solemnly. "I'm right. I know I am."

"You're an idiot, Shareen," Susie said.

"I may be an idiot, but that doesn't make me wrong."

"Sir, your drinks are ready."

John started at the sound of the barman's voice. He was standing opposite him and in front of him there was a whiskey and a glass of wine. John pulled out his wallet and passed the barman a couple of bills.

As he walked back up the stairs with the drinks, he wondered about what he had overheard. Was Shareen right? Was it possible he was the mysterious Doctor Rose had run off with?

He rolled his eyes at even considering the idea. Shareen had been more than halfway to being completely pissed. She'd have to be, to come up with that crazy story. The whole idea was ridiculous. Him, Rose's Doctor?

"Nah," he said.