the fourteenth doctor; doctor who (doctorfun) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-01-23 22:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | rose tyler, tenth doctor |
Who: John [ten] & Rose
What: Dream discoveries
When: After a previous flight of Rose’s. Like two weeks ago. It's possible I forgot to post it.
Where: Their flat
Rating: PG
Status: Complete upon posting!
It was well past midnight when Rose tried to quietly enter her flat. She had gotten home early from a flight and had wanted to surprise John, but she hadn’t counted for how late it actually was. She debated whether she should wake up her flatmate and decided it would be more fun to sneak in and surprise him. She wasn’t sure if he was planning on going in to work early the next day, so she didn’t want to necessarily wake him. But she had missed him for the short time they were apart and wanted desperately to see him. Quietly taking off her shoes, she tiptoed to his door and quietly opened it, sneaking a glance in. There was a small light still on and she squinted to try and see if he was still awake.
“John?” It was a whisper and she heard no response, so she walked in, shutting the door after her quietly. She walked over to the bed, smiling when she saw him asleep, papers surrounding him. She shook her head and began to gather them, making a neat pile to place on the nearby desk. She frowned as she went through the drawings, seeing pictures of...well, she couldn’t quite say! One looked like a salt or pepper shaker with round balls around the base. Another looked like some sort of pen, she really couldn’t tell. They were all sketched, none a clear picture of what he might have been trying to get.
She had almost gotten them all when something caught her eye. She frowned, pulling the piece of paper closer for inspection. When she realized what she was looking at, her eyes grew a little wider. What? No, it couldn’t...It was only a faded sketch, but she could have sworn it looked just like her. It was like part of her face was hidden behind scribbles, but the hair, the eyes…
She sat down on the bed, almost forgetting that John was in it as well. She started to rummage through all the other paper, wondering if there was something else there, maybe another sketch that was clearer. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it as she wasn’t 100% sure it was her; she didn’t want to jump to conclusions and end up looking the fool for it.
Although John couldn’t actively remember the majority of his dreams, remnants of them lingered like shadows burnt on his mind. He was being influenced them subconsciously, some distant part of him hoping to connect them together and dredge up a whole new person. He couldn’t think of those faces for too long, not without searing pain like a hot knife sliding through skin unbidden, unwanted, and unwarranted.
He’d seen fearsome things, shapes and beings that had him waking in a cold sweat and a fading burn in his head. So, he’d taken to drawing, a hobby he never thought himself particularly good at doing, but it eased some of the strain even if he couldn’t coherently get out what he wanted.
Like that vague face of a girl who always walked away. In the end, he was chasing after that fading image, and several attempts and rattled ramblings helped John drift back into a more peaceful sleep. No salt and pepper shakers or men of steel threatened his slumber this time, only the sudden shift of weight on his bed woke him.
Cracking an eye open, he focused on Rose and smiled before the rest of his senses could even manage to catch up. Sitting up slowly, he reached out to touch her arm gently. It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d found his drawings. “Welcome back,” he greeted, voice scratchy. “You all right?”
Rose jumped slightly as John reached out and touched her arm. She wasn’t necessarily scared by his action, but scared that she was caught looking at something that he might have meant to keep hidden.
“Hey,” she said, putting the papers to the side and leaning down towards him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. But you fell asleep with all this paper around you, so I started to clean it and...well…” she picked up the stack again and handed it to him, straightening up once more. “Is this what you dream about?” She didn’t mean to bombard him with questions while waking him up in the middle of the night, but her curiosity got the better of her. The real question she wanted to ask was if she was the girl in his drawings; if so, what did that mean? When someone could go psychologically into it, here with the Valarnet, it could also mean something completely different.
Arching a brow at her, John did his best to clear his head to focus on the question she posed. What drawings? He shook his head once more, slowly catching up to the present. Right, those drawings. The act of sketching had been almost mechanical despite the therapeutic way it had purged his mind of pain. John hadn’t wanted to dwell on any of those memories. Those strange faces he saw in dreams--he didn’t want to know more about them.
“It’s all right,” he managed to say first, shifting closer to her as she passed him the stack of drawings. Looking upon the sketches, he looked as though he didn’t recognize any of them. Leafing through them, head continuing to shake in lack of recognition, he stopped at the one of the faceless girl. “I suppose so,” he offered helplessly.
Why did it seem like there was more to her question? Making no connection between the sketch and Rose, John’s hand slid up to rest on her shoulder in concern. “Is everything all right, Rose? Bad flight? You seem…” He squinted at Rose, mulling over what word to use, “...troubled.”
Rose couldn’t help but smile at his concern for her, not picking up on what was really bothering her. She stood up, not feeling very comfortable in her work clothes, and stretched. She walked around the room, wondering if maybe John didn’t see it; or worse, maybe she was just trying to see things that weren’t really there. What if it was another girl? That thought created a knot in her stomach and she turned away, looking around the room for something to change into.
The few days after they made up from their argument, they had become closer than ever. Rose felt comfortable around him and she felt like he began to feel the same way, relaxing in a way towards some situations that might have been sticky before. It’s why she now found herself sliding off her skirt and undoing her top, picking up a button up shirt that was hanging from his chair, and sliding it on. She buttoned it a few ways up, before crawling back into bed with John, facing him, and pulling her knees up under her chin.
“I dunno, nothing wrong. I was just looking through your sketches, taking them all in. I just thought that...well..” How could she say it? It would sound selfish of her; she had already inserted herself into his life, how could she do so in his dreams as well? “This girl looked familiar.” She pointed to the drawing with her toe, looking at him to see his reaction. Could he really not see it? Or was she really trying to see things that weren’t there?
Once she stood up, John’s attention turned back to the sketches. Trying to connect them to anything in particular made him flinch in regret at the flames licking at his brain like some giant, burning sign to keep out all intruders. Didn’t have to tell him twice. Rubbing his temples, he glanced her way as she began changing--when had that become normal for them? Recently? Always? He would have smiled if not for the look of lingering worry on Rose’s face.
Sitting cross-legged in front of her, the pile of sketches in his lap, John watched her cautiously. “Thought what?” He pressed, hands itching to be holding hers instead of the drawings. He didn’t like to see her burdened.
When prompted, he looked from the drawing, then back to Rose. “What?” He questioned, initially failing to see any resemblance. Holding up the picture with the dull light of the lamp behind him, he leaned to the side to observe her next to it. Still puzzled, John let out another, “What?” of disbelief. Setting it back down, a dazed look falling over him, he passed his hand absently over the sketch. “All this time I was drawing you?” He questioned quietly.
But, how could that be?
Rose felt herself give a sigh of relief, surprised she had been keeping that in this whole time. “I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause I was afraid i was just seeing things. But the small similarities are...well, they’re there.” She moved to sit next to him, intertwining their arms and laying her head on his shoulder. “Maybe you just fancy me,” she teased, looking over at him. That was a thought that was too cute to really believe and she turned to look at the picture again. “Do you think...do you think it’s from your dreams?” She knew what happened when John thought about the dreams and realized that he might be experiencing that pain now. “I mean...I don’t want you to think about it if it causes you pain.” She reached out and took the paper from his hand, looking at it herself. “It’s a beautiful sketch,” she said, really studying it. “I think I’m prettier in your dreams.” She glanced at him and stuck her tongue out.
“Maybe we meet somehow. Maybe you come and travel with the Doctor and I!” That was certainly a possibility. “Yeah, if we knew each other in our dreams, maybe that explains why we have such a strong connection!” She smiled, liking the idea of having an other worldly connection with John. “I dunno, whaddya think?”
Looking at her rather than the drawing, any concern he might have had over whether he’d frightened her away vanished. Instead a grin formed at her teasing, and John flustered only slightly. “Maybe I do,” he huffed, just groggy enough to say so, and also lucid enough to mean it.
Glancing over the drawing once more as her attention went back to it, John nodded. “Suppose she is,” he said, pointing at some of the words he’d scribbled. “Though, I can’t say why I’d be dreaming about you and have trouble getting your features down. Not the first time I’ve tried sketching that girl,” he paused upon saying it, surprise lighting his features. Had he simply been drawing her this whole time without realizing it?
“Perhaps so,” he agreed, though something about it felt wrong and right inexplicably at the same time. More importantly, John retreated back to one element of their conversation. “You’re mental if you think this girl’s prettier,” he said, prodding the incomplete visage. “Be hard-pressed to properly capture you in pencil, Rose Tyler. And I bet that Doctor bloke would say the same.”
Rose couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in her stomach when John suggested what she had always hoped for. She felt like a teenager back at school, waiting to get a note from the boy she fancied. Still, it was enough to make her smile and wrap her arm around his a little tighter in appreciation.
She looked from the sketch to John, wondering if it meant anything. “Maybe...maybe you haven’t dreamed it completely? Or like you said, it hurts when you think of dreams, so maybe this is just part of it? Something you don’t want to remember?” She hated to think that something bad did happen in the dreams, especially if it concerned the two of them. He surprised her with the next bit of information and she pulled back to look at him. “How long have you been dreaming and sketching...me?” It sounded so strange to actually say out loud and believe that John had been sketching her, that they were in one of John’s dream’s together.
“You’re full of compliments tonight,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “What did I do to deserve such attention?” Not that she minded, in the least.
Something he didn’t want to remember? Fixated on the sketch, tips of his fingers still lingering on the surface, he unconsciously swallowed hard. “Why wouldn’t I want to remember you?” He questioned, baffled at the notion at first. But then…”Though, it’s... “ Cutting himself off, uncomfortable at venturing down the sinking feeling that knotted up his stomach, John’s hand retracted from the drawing in favor of settling atop her knee.
Looking at her after a moment, he visibly flustered. “Ah, right. Well. I don’t know precisely, I didn’t know I was drawing you, and… it’s complicated. Is it odd? No, of course it is. Got to be. Sorry.”
Tilting his head to the side to rest against hers, he exhaled somewhat uneasily. None of this made any sense to him, but if he was dreaming about Rose--John wanted to know what happened. There was nothing he could do until he slept though, he supposed, and so settled on restoring a smile to his face at her gentle prodding.
“Evidently, you’ve been occupying my dreams,” he teased. “Have I not ever said these things before?”
Rose looked at him, anticipation on her face when she thought he might know the answer. The let out a small sigh as well, not wanting to think about why he might not be able to remember everything clearly. From what she could pick up of his own dreams, the things he didn’t quite want to remember were the things that hurt him. She hated the thought of herself being the cause of that pain, whether it was in a dream or not.
She smiled at his question, shaking her head. “Never heard it before! As long as they’re good dreams that you can think about and remember.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I wish my dreams would speed up then! I would rather dream about all of it then cause you any more pain. Hopefully it’s nothing bad…” like I’m thinking they are. She left the last part of the sentence off, thinking it in her head instead. Her curiosity was getting the better of her and she found she just wanted to know if she and John were somehow connected in the dream world.
“I’d rather be a good dream than a bad one,” she said, snuggling closer to him. Her eyes were starting to shut and she felt her body relax; she was in her most comfortable spot, next to John. It wouldn’t last for long however, as she heard Wolf screech in the next room. She hadn’t known a cat could make such a noise, but it made her jump, clutching John even tighter than before. “Holy crap, what was that??” She was wide awake now, her heart thumping. She had never heard Wolf make that noise, but it definitely sounded like something of a threat; was something in the house? She looked at John, her eye’s wide as saucers.
“Well, honestly I’d rather not think of dreams at all. Reality’s far preferable,” he said, patting her leg absently. As long as he didn’t dwell on what he dreamed, John knew he would be fine. Well, Clara might skin him alive if he avoided having his head checked, but other than that he had nothing to worry about.
Just as he was about to respond, he heard the unusual sound from Wolf. Instinctively wrapping his arms about Rose in return, his brow set in irked confusion as he looked at the door accusingly. Was there an intruder? No other sound had been made to suggest such a thing, and yet the little kitten had been frightened.
“I’ll see what it is,” he said, not about to tell her to stay put, he wasn’t the boss of Rose Tyler.
Parting from her, John padded the distance to the door quietly and eased the door open. It was too dark to see anything in the living room, but Wolf came darting into the room straightaway. Fumbling for a light switch, John managed to less than gracefully get the living room lights on and blinked in surprise at finding no sign of a person. Yet.
Edging over the threshold, he half-turned intending on examining the kitchen when he took notice of something out of place. Spinning slowly on his bare heel, his jaw slowly fell slack at the sight of a metal dog, paint chipped and eyes glowing a dull red situated in the middle of his living room. Blinking in surprise, John shook his head for a double take.
“What? What?” He stared, dumbfounded. “Where did you come from?”
“Greetings, master,” the voiced the robotic dog.
“Whaaaaat?” John’s voice rose to an almost shrill level. What on Earth was going on?
Rose just nodded her head, watching as he stood up and walked towards the door before jumping out of bed as well, following closely behind. With the recent crime rise, she wondered if it had finally caught up to the two of them and come directly to their flat. She had thought herself lucky for having nothing happen to her or John, especially after her threat of telling Clara. She prayed she hadn’t jinxed them as she peered out of the room, into the now lighted living room.
She heard John’s exclamation and it sounded more confused and surprised than scared so she ventured out, glancing over John’s shoulder to see what he was looking at. Her eyes grew a little wider as she tried to take in the thing that was there before them. And it talked?
“What...what is that?” Not that John seemed to know either. She looked at John and almost laughed at the expression on his face. “Something you dreamed?”
Staring at K9, the metal dog with a story he could not recall, John almost didn’t hear Rose’s questions. When they registered, he cast her a still-flummoxed look. “No idea, I’ve never seen it before in my life.”
Where did the little thing even come from? And how? He couldn’t make sense of anything. Between the burning dreams and the arrival of strange objects in the flat, the suit he wore included, John had a feeling life was only going to continue on a strange path just as his friends suggested. He wasn’t certain of how he felt about it, but some deeper, untapped part of him couldn’t wait to learn more.
He’d be up half the night questioning the tin dog, no doubt. Well, he’d intended on curling up with Rose and sleeping, but there would be time for that after he’d satisfied his curiosity.