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The Doctor grinned beamishly at me the next morning when I joined him in the kitchen. He was only wearing his pyjama bottoms; he had spent the night with me even though he wasn't even close to pushing his cycle. His hair was behaving even worse than expected. The pyjama bottoms were riding very low on his hips, revealing the widening path of his treasure trail from his navel downwards, and together with the scruff I could have taken him there and then, on the kitchen table.
"Hmm," he hummed, kissing me good morning and passing me a mug of maklak. "I really like that idea, kinamsati'sam," he whispered, trailing the tip of his nose along my cheek. He kissed me deeply, the taste of maklak coating his tongue.
I pulled back and put the mug down on the table behind him. "I don't think I'm supposed to have this any more," I said, crestfallen. I loved maklak and I didn't want to do without it, but since it contained stimulants that probably weren't good for the baby I decided to be on the safe side.
"It's perfectly safe," the Doctor reassured me, giving the mug back to me. I was so stunned by his words that I took it automatically. "You've had it for weeks and I can't say you taste any different. In fact, you taste better and better the... more pregnant you are."
I laughed at his turn of phrase. "I can't be any more pregnant than pregnant. Except —“ and my eyes grew round at the idea, “We're having twins?"
The Doctor sobered. "We're not having twins, Rose."
"So there's no double heartbeat at all?" I asked very softly.
The Doctor shook his head.
"Oh."
"Anyway, I've been experimenting with ersatz maklak for a while, and you haven't tasted the difference since I settled on the final version. Unless, of course, you'd like me to improve it. Your expression can be very hard to read sometimes," he mused. I wasn't sure if a return to his mercurial mood shifts, which had been few and far between since we began staying on Ruul for longer periods of time, was a good sign. Besides, it was hard to keep track of all the ideas and questions hidden in his words. I held up my hand. "Wait."
He clicked his mouth shut and stared at me, looking at me expectantly.
"How long have you been experimenting?"
He pouted as he thought. "Oh, I don't know."
"Liar." He always knew about time.
"Since before Fenia and I went to the conference in Sammu."
"I can't hide anything from you, can I?"
"Now, that, Rose Tyler, is not true, and you know it," he said, sipping his own drink. "You just can't hide the obvious from me. You know I love the way you taste."
I blushed furiously, although I usually wasn't coy about it.
"You also can't mask your reaction to culinary delights very well, particularly when you're unguarded."
"Now that's sneaky!" I cried out. How could he take advantage of me so?
This time, it was he who took the mug from me to put it safely on the table. "No, Rose. I was glad that you didn't tell me you were expecting another child. I needed time to adjust to the idea of becoming a father again. You have no idea how terrified I am. Experimenting with maklak gave me something to focus on. Besides, you really are an open book when it comes to food."
He was right. I supposed. I still felt very exposed to him. "I feel naked."
He grinned wolfishly. "You're not, but I'd love to change that."
"Doctor!" I cried in frustration. "This isn't the right moment for games."
He leaned back against the table and held on to its edge. "No, I suppose it isn't."
"How am I ever going to be able to feel like my own person again? Now I have to fear that you read and taste and analyse every breath I take and every muscle I move in my face!" I cried.
He looked at me hard. "I promise, I don’t take advantage of our link. I don’t read you all the time. Some things are just more obvious than others."
I scoffed.
"Besides, you're doing a pretty good job of reading me, I'll have you know. You're better at it than most," he said softly, adjusting his grip on the table.
He had the decency not to say that sometimes I read him to manipulate him. I relaxed a little, showing he'd made his point.
He let go of the table and reached for my hand. "Rose."
"I like it. It's really good. But it is a little off. I thought it's because of the hormones," I offered.
"Most definitely," he said, smiling slowly. He returned the mug to me one last time. By now it was the perfect temperature. "It's why I came up with the latest version. I... did get quite a good idea of your... hormonal balance last night, and that's what I based it on. Go on, try it."
Of course, he'd never admit that he was on tenterhooks. But I knew him pretty well. I really could tell what was going on inside that funny old Time Lord brain when he was unguarded. Being unguarded was something he'd learned in the past years. In other words, he trusted me completely.
I sipped the maklak, and for the first time in weeks it tasted just right. I closed my eyes in appreciation and sighed a little.
"Perfect," he grinned. "Now, about your idea..."
I danced away from him, holding my mug away from me where he couldn't reach it. "No way, yamu'sati. I'll not let this delicacy go to waste, not when for the first time in ages things taste right again."
"I have a better idea," he said. He drank deeply from his own mug and stood to draw me into his arms for a passionate kiss. I hadn't noticed he hadn't swallowed all of the liquid, so when I opened up beneath him he treated me to a mouthful not only of his tongue but also of maklak. Naturally, most of it dribbled down my chin, and he was eager to lap it all up, even the bits that had spilt down my front. I buried my left hand in the unruly mass of his hair as he swept his tongue in broad strokes over every bit of my skin he could reach. He cupped my breast with his hand, rubbing the material of my cami roughly over my sensitive nipple. I cried out, and the mug slipped from between my fingers and shattered on the tiles.
"Shame," he murmured against my skin, pulling the fabric aside so he could lave my nipple with his tongue.
"Liar."
"Yep," he said, smacking his lips as he let go of my flesh with another popping sound. Then he pushed my shorts down my legs, and I had just pulled my right leg free when he lifted me up to sit on the very edge of the table.
"Doctor!"
With a few deft strokes of his fingers he made sure that he wouldn't hurt me when he slid into me. I cried out loud, but he let out an animalistic groan.
"Do Time Lords go into Pon Farr?" I grunted, flexing my muscles to adjust to him. I still felt sore from the previous night.
"What?"
"Never mind," I said.
He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Now I was confused. At this point, I couldn't care less. I kissed him roughly, guiding his head to the perfect angle with my fingers in his hair. "Shut up and fuck me."
He groaned and did just that. It was a good thing the kitchen table was so old and solid. The Doctor established an almost punishing rhythm, and any other table would have started to wander across the floor, but this one only squeaked once pathetically and then bore with us with as much dignity as possible.
I reached one hand behind me for purchase, and moved the other hand from his hair to his shoulder, where I dug my fingers into his flesh. His skin soon became slippery, however, and I lay back, the Doctor holding on to me by my hips. There wasn't much I could do in this position but enjoy. Which I did.
The exquisite feelings he was creating in me soon became unbearably intense until I almost couldn't take it any more. That was when he quickly lifted both my legs to rest on his shoulder. He moaned as I squeezed him tightly, and he brushed against my innermost spots.
I screamed out as I came, tears streaming down my face. Then there was darkness, warm and welcome and... pleasantly devoid of anything but the last ripples of the onslaught on my senses.
I jumped a little when I felt something wet and cold against my folds.
"Rose?" He sounded worried.
I groaned.
"Are you all right?"
"What happened?"
"That's what I'm asking you," he quipped. "Blimey, Rose, that was... something else." I held out my hands for him to pull me up into a sitting position. I stretched a bit as my poor back protested.
"What a shag for a cup of coffee," I muttered. When I saw the delight and the possibilities flit over his adorably post-orgasmic face I hurried to say, “Now, don't get any ideas now."
He pouted and slouched in mock-disappointment.
"Seriously, though, what is wrong with us?" I said.
His playful expression turned into one of disbelief and fear. "Wrong? Do you think something is wrong?"
"Give me a towel, please," I said, for practical reasons as well as to buy some time. He obliged by giving me the tea towel he'd gotten from beneath the sink to clean me up. I'd only put it there the night before, so I had no qualms about cleaning away the evidence of our sudden passion with it. "I don't think anything's wrong," I said eventually. "I just think it's overwhelming. We haven't made love like that in a long time. It's so primal."
"And that's wrong?"
"No," I said, keeping my voice level although he was being obtuse. I knew that sometimes he did it to make me think and express myself more clearly, but at this moment I felt silly. "It's just a surprise."
He looked at me and eventually he nodded. "You don't think that we've become boring?"
My heart skipped a beat and I felt the colour drain from my face. "Is this too domestic for you?"
The expression of genuine shock spoke volumes. He hadn't thought in those terms at all. "Do you think that because we don't have sex every night I don't love you any more?"
He blinked.
"Because if you do, Doctor, I'll have you know that not having sex every night any more is... nice. I like cuddling. It can be more intimate," I said. "And it certainly doesn't mean that I love you any less. On the contrary. I love you even more. If that's any possible." Besides, there'll come a time, and soon, when we won't have any sex.
"I know all of that, but it's good to hear you say it. It's reassuring," he said eventually. "It's just... where do those ideas come from? The intensity?"
"Inspiration?" I asked, so relieved that I gave him a mischievous grin.
"What inspired you?"
I laughed. "I don't know. You? The situation? Things I've always wanted to do?"
"Like watching me masturbate and come and help? Like having sex on the kitchen table?"
"We've had sex on the kitchen table before."
He arched an eyebrow.
"Do you mind that I surprised you instead of walking away?"
"I was a bit embarrassed at first," he admitted.
"So asking me to let you watch me was payback?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not really. It gave me an excuse to taste you. But you wanted to tell me about the baby anyway, didn't you?"
I nodded and wadded up the soiled towel. I couldn't believe we were having this conversation naked, in the kitchen, instead of in bed. I picked up my shorts and cami as the Doctor cleaned himself up and tugged his pyjama bottoms back over his hips.
"Have you talked to Giorgia yet?" he asked, removing the shards of my mug and mopping up the mess.
"Talked yes, but she hasn't examined me yet," I said.
"Would it be okay if she did it in the TARDIS?" he asked after a short pause. "It's not that I don't trust her skills."
I shook my head. After losing Jonah I wanted to be absolutely sure that his brother or sister was all right. And, of course, we'd know for sure that he or she wasn't a Time Tot either. We could be certain that the baby was healthy, and that I would be able to carry him to term. "I know."
"I do want to have a child with you, Rose," he said.
"I know." It was true, I knew, even when the ugly thought that he might not had sneaked into my conscious. I felt so ashamed for it.
-:-
At kitallun he asked me, almost shyly, to take off my clothes so he could look at me. I noticed the small black notebook and his pencil wrap lying on the love seat in the loggia.
"Do you want to keep a diary again?"
He stared at me. His eyes were deep dark pools of apprehension. "Would that be okay? I know it might bring up memories from when I sketched you with Jonah, but I need it to understand. I want to be part of it, and you're doing all the work. Iyo."
It was the first time since we knew about the baby that he had called me that. My breath hitched as I told him not to move. I hurried to the corner room above the TARDIS, which had become mine, to fetch the sketchbook. I had meant to wrap or box it, but now there was no time and I didn't care. All I wanted was for the Doctor to have the book and use it. I was so happy that he wanted to keep another diary, but I feared that he wouldn't quite believe me. He would want to believe me, but he could still be insecure in our relationship, particularly in situations such as this.
His eyes widened when he saw me return to the loggia with the book in my arms. "I made it for you," I said, giving it to him.
He took it from me almost reverently, pulling me down with him as he sat on the edge of my day-bed with the book on his knees. He ran his fingers over the soft blue leather. "It's TARDIS blue," he said, his voice breaking with glee.
I smiled. "I thought you might like it. Cori made the dye specially." Cori was the tanner from whom I got the finest leather for my books.
"I knew he was good but I had no idea he was that good," the Doctor said. It was difficult to come by that very special hue of blue, because only his ship knew how to make it.
"For the TARDIS child," I said. Normally, children were named after the house they were born in, but Sho child didn't sound quite right.
"Yeah," he breathed. He opened the book to examine the paper, which I had chosen based on his comments. I had sneaked him sheets of different types of paper to find out which kind he liked best for his sketches. It was the very last kind he had really liked, and I had ordered a lot of it. Part of it went into the making of the book, part of it I kept in a box in the misappropriated airing cupboard. "It's brilliant, thank you."
He kissed me deeply, the strokes of his tongue against mine and the roof of my mouth betraying just how much he wanted me. I wasn't sure, however, if I was ready yet for another round of lovemaking. I felt pleasantly sore from the night and this morning. I didn't want to become uncomfortable. "Doctor," I whispered when he let go of me so I could breathe.
"Yes, ngudia'sam?"
"Please, I can't," I said. "Not so soon."
He pulled away, looking shocked and hurt. I flattened my hand against his chest. "I'm sore. Take it as a compliment."
He grinned goofily, but only one of his hearts was in it.
“How would you like me?” I asked, and when his grin widened, I hastily added, “To pose?” I rolled my eyes. He told me to stretch out into the cushions and make myself comfortable. “I might fall asleep,” I warned him.
“I won’t mind,” he said.
“Because then at least I’ll keep still,” I pointed out, giving him a cheeky smile.
“Yeah,” he simply said, kissing my forehead and sitting back in his love seat. He spread the pencil roll on his knees and found the perfect pencil. I made myself comfortable, my eyes never leaving him. I loved watching him when he worked. He never looked more himself than when he did, and I thought much time we had wasted. Thankfully, I wasn’t showing quite yet, so he could sketch the baby from the beginning.
-:-
The air in the TARDIS wasn’t exactly stale, but it didn’t smell lived-in either. I wasn’t sure what it was that was missing, or that smelled a little off. Maybe it was just the change in my perception. Giorgia seemed to reacquaint herself with the ship as we walked the short distance from the console room to the infirmary, trailing her fingers along the coral walls. I remembered the time when that beautiful golden coral, acca, had started to burn, and I pressed my palm against one of the struts to say hello. The TARDIS thrummed happily in reply. She didn’t seem to mind the rest she was getting, and when the Doctor took her out for an occasional spin, it was as if she was being extra careful, restraining herself from launching us into a new adventure.
“She knows,” the Doctor said, turning around as he walked.
“Of course she does,” I said.
He grinned madly at me. His reaction completely threw me. I’d had no idea how happy he was about becoming a father again. This small gesture, this heartfelt grin, spoke volumes more than he’d let me peek at in his mind. He held out his hand and waggled his fingers at me. I quickened my step and took his hand. It was malialion and gentle, and when he gave me a squeeze I returned the gesture. I was terrified, but I’d shut that door firmly, for both our benefit.
In the infirmary, Giorgia moved with more familiarity than I cared to see, and I wondered how she had gotten to know the room so well. The Doctor offered her assistance, but all she did was tell him to sit, take my hand and shut his mouth. I brushed my thumb over his when he finally sat on the very edge of his stool, ready to jump to his feet if need be.
“Doctor,” I said.
“Yeah?” He focused his intense brown eyes fully on me.
“Relax.” I told him with more bravado than I really felt, but I also knew that of the two of us, I’d always be the stronger one. It was a realisation that shook me to the core, and I tightened my grip around his fingers.
He flashed me a grin.
There was only one heartbeat. Its sound filled the room, and I once again had to remind myself that this was our baby, and I was carrying it inside me.
The Doctor smiled bravely at me. The idea that I might be carrying a Gallifreyan child terrified me, but I was also gutted. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what a Time Tot meant to the Doctor. After all, he was the last of his kind. No matter how much I — we — loved him, he’d always be the loneliest man in the universe. The idea drove tears to my eyes.
He lifted our joined hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over my knuckles. This time it was I who smiled bravely, and I closed myself off to him. He was in enough pain. There was no need to burden him with my own heartache.
“Is… the baby all right?” I asked. I knew he was; the Doctor told me every time I let him taste me. He was holding our hands against his chest now, so I could feel his racing heartsbeat.
Giorgia smiled at me. “Yes, he is.” She moved turned the screen so we could look at the snowy image of the baby inside me. It was just a fluttering, shapeless mass.
“Here,” the Doctor said, whipping out his sonic, “let me help.” He pointed his treasured instrument at my flat stomach, and the snow globe storm was replaced by a clear image of the tiny shape of our baby. I touched the screen in wonder, and Giorgia came to the Doctor’s side the better to see.
“I’ve never,” she began, her awe so overpowering that she could not find the words. She just stared in wonder at the screen. The Doctor jumped up unexpectedly, and gave her the sonic.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, shocked at the sudden loss of his warmth.
“I just remembered something. Well, the TARDIS reminded me of something. Good old girl. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a mo,” he said, taking off and leaving the infirmary.
“I could look at the baby all day,” Giorgia said, shrugging.
“Yeah.”
I reached out to touch the screen in a silly attempt to be closer to the baby. I couldn’t wait to hold him in my arms, but for now, the idea that this tiny being was growing inside me and one day I’d hold him in my arms and he’d grow and be a stropping lad or a beautiful girl boggled the mind. Who was this tiny person going to be?
-:-
“Whose is this?” I asked again, running my fingers over the battered cot, while my left hand covered my bump. The first few times I’d asked the Doctor he had been able to change topics or distract me, but not this time. The blue paint was flaking, and the Doctor stepped forwards to seal it with the sonic, but he didn’t renew the paint. Even the engraved Gallifreyan script, an ancient lullaby, was hardly legible, and he didn’t change that either. An elaborate mobile of stars and planets was suspended from the wooden canopy, which at the front looked like the sun and the back like the moon. It was still moving after I’d given it a gentle nudge. Now that Fenia had given us the bedding that had been missing from the cot, it looked like the perfect bed for our baby. Fenia was still smiling at our reaction when she’d presented us with the small mattress and the sheets.
“It’s mine. It’s my cot. I slept in it,” he mumbled.
“But…” I began. The cot was nearly a thousand years old then. “And you’ve kept it all the time?”
“Rescued it,” he said.
“From what?” Fenia asked, staring equally wide-eyed at the ancient piece of furniture.
“From… Well, it doesn’t matter.”
::Thief,:: the TARDIS thrummed in my mind. And why wouldn’t she? Of course, this ‘rescue’ had happened without the Doctor’s parents knowledge, but I wondered why he had stolen it instead of asked for it. Once I again I was reminded of how little I knew about the Doctor.
“Well, it’s a beautiful cot,” Fenia said.
-:-
“Rose!”
The Doctor’s frantic calling of my name drew me through the layers of sleep only slowly. I slept more soundly than ever, and it took me a while longer than usual to wake. “What is it?”
I looked from his frightened expression, which promptly rubbed off on me, to my bared stomach. The planet I’d swallowed was growing inside me. And, it appeared, new mountain ranges, or, shall we say, mounds were forming. I ran my hands over the additional bump the baby’s heel had created in the perfect orb of my stomach.
The Doctor stared at me. Then he looked pointedly at the smaller bump.
“This, iyo, is our baby’s heel. Or elbow. He’s saying hi,” I said, taking the Doctor’s hand and trailed his fingertips gently over the bump. I gasped slightly as the baby pushed against the touch.
“Oh,” he said.
The wonder on his face was adorable and priceless. I wish I could draw.
-:-
“Mia.”
“And if it’s a boy?” he asked. I was surprised by his quiet acceptance of the first name I suggested. I’d always liked the name.
“I don’t know,” I said, gasping as he picked up the speed of his thrusts. He was deeply buried inside me, spooning me as always these days. My eyes fluttered shut. What a discussion to have while making love.
“Ben!” I cried as he hit a particularly sensitive, but equally elusive spot inside me.
“Yes, Rose, yes, foyemsira’sam,” he panted, dipping his fingers to my swollen clit to send me over the edge.
-:-
I gasped, leaning heavily against the door as I closed it on the world beyond Sho. My hand flew to my swollen stomach in an attempt to catch the pain and pluck it off like a flake of lint. It wasn’t possible, of course, and just for good measure, another jolt of pain coursed through me, leaving me dizzy and short of breath. I dropped the bag containing our dinner, which I’d picked up at Solayia’s on my way home. I could hear the bottle of wine break, and wine spilled from the bag, creating a puddle around my shoes.
Another wave of pain made me cry out, and I felt the baby kick me in the side for good measure. He was very strong already. I felt dampness seep into my knickers, and I pulled up my skirt after a terrifying moment of wanting to ignore it. My fingers came away carrying the acrid smell of pee, and I sobbed in relief. Somehow, I managed to get myself to the bathroom.
That was where the Doctor found me. He had not mistaken the red wine for blood, his senses were too acute even in shock not to register that blood was thicker than wine. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t terrified and livid when he dropped to his knees beside me in the bathroom to check if we were all right. We were.
“That’s it, salaru’sam,” he growled. He didn’t often call me that, so when he did I knew he was genuinely upset.
“I’m not,” I protested, half-joking, as I usually was, “your stupid little ape.”
“Yes, you are,” he hissed. “You’re not going back to the workshop. Not even to get a pencil.”
“But…” I had to say the word, but I knew he was right. I had overdone it that day. “Just tell me we’re all right, Doctor.”
He grabbed my wrist roughly and ran the length of his tongue across the pale blue skin there. He frowned, then took another lick. “We’d better get Giorgia.”
“No,” I gasped.
“Don’t worry, ngudia’sam,” he said. “It’s probably nothing.” The worry in his face made him look older and horribly vulnerable. What had I done? I allowed him to bundle me into bed, and he took off my clothes while we waited for Giorgia to arrive.
She whipped out her wooden stethoscope, just like the Doctor had earlier, and she smiled as she listened. “He’s stressed out a little, nothing that some rest won’t rectify,” she said. “But you really should take it easy now, Rosa.”
I glanced at the cot in the corner of the room. The Doctor took my hand, his fury with me gone. “Please, iyo?” He knew how much my work, my independence, meant to me.
“Of course,” I said. It was a no-brainer that I’d close the shop for the time being. It didn’t mean, though, that I couldn’t sneak the odd piece of light work in, like replacing the end paper, or fixing torn pages. I’d go bonkers without anything to do, considering how badly my knitting had turned out.
“I don’t want to hide another sketchbook away,” he said after Giorgia had left. He took off his clothes and lay down beside me, drawing me into his arms and running his hands soothingly over my bump. The baby said hello, then calmed, and eventually, he fell asleep.
“It’s nearly full,” I said, stilling his hands with mine.
“Yeah,” he said, kissing the back of my neck.
“I can’t wait.”