preserved_ginger

Title: That Old Simpatico
Rating: PG-13
Setting: post-Doctor/Rose reunion
Character(s): Ten. Rose. Brief cameos by Mickey and Pete.
Pairing(s): Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not Mine (Dammit!)
A/N: Another missing scene from Never Say “Never Ever”, set between Chapter Two and Chapter Three.
Summary: “Oh, my Rose. Won’t you dance with me?”

That first dance of theirs set the pattern for the rest of the evening; there was the occasional time when he released her to dance with Pete, or Mickey, but the majority of the time it was the two of them together. It just felt so right to finally have her in his arms, claimed as his for everyone to see.

Within a very short space of time, the old simpatico between them had re-asserted itself. They were so attuned to each other that it was easy for her to see panic flicker across his face when she moved more than a few steps away from him. Wherever she went, for the most part, so did he; just like the old days. This time, though, he did it to make sure that nothing untoward happened to steal her from him again. He’d gone through that once before when he lost her, and it had almost killed him.

He was terrified that if he took his eyes off her for a second – even though, after having been starved of the sight of her for so long, he had no intention of doing anything of the sort – she would disappear again. Completely illogical, of course – but ever since he’d finally admitted to himself just how much he loved her, very little of anything he’d had to do with her had had anything to do with logic.

From the very beginning, and for the longest time after (certainly until he’d regenerated, in any case) he knew that she’d only seen the alien, Time Lord, side of him. He’d had an inkling, when he kissed the Vortex out of her – a sacrifice he’d made willingly, for love of her – that she was starting to see him as a man, too, which pleased him immensely. There were hints, on and off, in the time that followed that made him wonder if he ought to press the point – but in the absence of a clear and unambiguous signal he hadn’t dared. It wasn’t until they’d been separated, seemingly for ever – and he was burning up a sun to say good-bye – that she’d said those three little words. Talk about catastrophically bad timing.

But it was different now.

She saw him as a man first, and the rest of it a distant second, which was how he wanted it to be. They’d hardly – well, she’d hardly – danced with anyone else all night, and when she had he’d stood waiting for her at the side of the room utterly transfixed by her. Still unwilling to take his eyes off her for longer than necessary.

The last dance of the night was traditionally, like most other ‘last dances’ in this universe or any other, for couples. Newly-weds, young lovers, people who’d been married for forty years or more. Not presuming anything, Rose had made to sit this one out.

But she hadn’t reckoned on the Doctor.

Looking at Rose in a way that lead Mickey and Pete to turn away to give the two of them a little privacy, he’d held his hand out – the same one he’d held out to her whilst standing in a carpet of ash just after his regeneration, so long ago – and asked her, in a tone that revealed just how he felt for her:

“Oh, my Rose. Won’t you dance with me?”

“How could I refuse an offer like that?”

She’d smiled up at him and taken his hand, and he’d led her out on to the dance floor yet again.

By the time the dance was underway, the two of them were so close together they were almost one person. Her head was nestled between his neck and shoulder, his face was resting against her hair; for them, the whole universe had shrunk until the one other person in existence for each of them was each other.

Over on the other side of the room, Mickey looked at the Doctor and Rose and sighed. Looking at Pete, he said:

“When she was first stuck here I thought we could make a go of it again, she and I. But she wouldn’t have it, and now I’ve seen those two together again,” he gestured towards where the Doctor and Rose swayed together, lost in their own private world, before he continued, “I can see why. Those two are meant to be together.”

He managed a wry smile. He was happy for his friend, he just wished things had worked out differently for the two of them.

“The problem now, of course,” Pete said dryly, “is what the hell we’re going to tell Jackie.”