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aibhinn_ficsTitle: Home is Where the Heart Is
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Pairing/Characters: Ten/Jack/Rose
Beta:wendymr, dark_aegis, joely_jo, and larielromeniel.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The previous fics in this series: You Can Go Home Again (Ten/Jack), Homecoming (Ten/Rose, Rose/OMC), and Spiralling Towards Home (Ten/Jack, Ten/Jack/Rose, implied Ten/Rose).
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, though if Jack had a free evening….
Summary: Now, with Rose here as well, the last of the missing pieces is in place.
Author's Note: This is a gift forwendymr, who asked for "five minutes after the end of Spiralling Towards Home" in a meme I did in my personal journal some time ago. Sorry it took so long, Wendy!
All quotations are from the Tao Te Ching. The translation I used can be found here. This is the fourth of a four-story series. The others are You Can Go Home Again, Homecoming, and Spiralling Towards Home.
…mystery and reality
emerge from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness born from darkness.
The beginning of all understanding.
The Doctor
She stands on the edge of the beach, surrounded by Douglas fir trees and fiddle ferns, waiting for him. It takes him a moment, after opening the TARDIS doors, to convince himself it's finally real. Rose. His Rose.
No—no, better than that. Their Rose.
Three steps later, she's in his arms, and he feels as though his hearts will burst from his chest, so filled are they with happiness. Years, it's been. Fourteen years of his personal time-line since that night when Jack said, "I might know how we can get her back," and two between the day he'd said goodbye to her on the beach, and the day he'd found Jack.
Sixteen years. More than twice that for her. He finds himself marvelling at her strength. She picked herself up after his goodbye and created a life for herself, that much is clear. She's strong, confident, comfortable in herself. It's in the way she stands, the way she moves, the way she smiles. The relief almost causes his knees to buckle, and the gnawing guilt finally evaporates from his bones. She may have had her heart broken by their separation, but she didn't let it destroy her.
When she enters the TARDIS, she goes straight to Jack and holds him just as closely as she had himself. And before he can begin to feel jealous, they hold out their hands to him together. He's drawn into their embrace, and at last he feels complete. He hadn't realised how much his separation from them had hurt until now, as the pain disappears in the warmth of their arms.
Finally she loosens her hold on them just a bit, and they all pull back enough to look at each other, faces glowing with sheer delight and mouths twisting into silly smiles.
"We should talk," Rose says.
"Yeah," he replies, and meets Jack's gaze. Jack's blue eyes are damp, misty with emotion, and he knows his own must look the same. Turning back to Rose—to her familiar, beautiful face—he smiles and says, "Somewhere more comfortable, though."
Hand in hand, they leave the console room.
***
We mold clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that makes the vessel useful.
We fashion wood for a house,
but it is the emptiness inside
that makes it livable.
We work with the substantial,
but the emptiness is what we use.
Rose
To be with them again…it's incredible. Like a dream come true. She can't stop grinning as she walks, holding hands with both of them, through the TARDIS corridors to the lounge. The Doctor and Jack and her. Together again.
Without needing to consult each other, they curl up on the big sofa just as they used to do in the evenings: her cheek on Jack's chest, the Doctor's arms around her waist from behind. Jack's heartbeat thuds beneath her ear, and the Doctor's breath lightly tickles the short, delicate hairs at the nape of her neck. Family, her brain tells her, along with memories of cuddling against Alan's chest just like this. But then her heart jolts, as if she’s been run through with a dagger.
Alan's gone.
He's gone.
Sudden, paralysing grief rolls over her like a tidal wave, burying her, drowning her, as the enormity of his death hits her for the first time. He won't be strolling in through the door complaining about the neighbours' dog; he won't be phoning her to ask where the light bulbs are (in the cupboard where they've been for the past ten years, she can almost hear herself answering); he won't be curled up against her tonight, snoring gently and comfortingly in her ear.
Gone. Her husband, and her children too—for all she made the choice to leave Emily and Jack behind to live their own lives, their absence is a gaping wound in her soul. This must have been what her own mum had felt when she'd left with the Doctor every time. How had Jackie borne it?
Two sets of arms wrap around her, and she abandons herself to her sobs. It's the first time she's cried since the night he died, when she went down to the morgue to identify his body. Then she'd cried for their children, for their life together, and for him, cut down in the prime of his life. Now, with the true depth of her loss finally penetrating, she cries for herself: for the loss of her best friend of nearly forty years, the partner with whom she made such a fantastic life. The prospect of unending years without him stretches before her, and she gasps with the pain of it.
"It's all right, Rose," the Doctor's soft voice says in her ear, his cheek to her hair. "We're here."
"We'll always be here," Jack promises, stroking her cheek with a finger.
Somewhere in the back of her mind is a memory of Alan's familiar rumbling voice, a conversation they'd had years ago, when it had become painfully clear that she would outlive him. When I'm gone, you follow your heart, not your head, he'd said to her. Promise me. Promise me you won't be alone.
"I know," she says through her tears, and their arms tighten around her.
***
If you can empty your mind of all thoughts
your heart will embrace the tranquility of peace.
Jack
He props himself up and looks at his sleeping bedmates with a small, proprietary smile. He's dreamt of this moment for well over a hundred years, though it's not exactly what he'd envisioned. For one thing, they're all dressed. In sleepwear, it's true, but all three of them are dressed. For another, there's been no sex at all. None. Not even snogging, for that matter. Just talking, so much talking. Remembering, sometimes with laughter, and sometimes with tears. So much changed, and yet still, amazingly unchanged. The three of them, fitting together once more, like pieces carved from the same block of wood.
Once Rose's tears subsided earlier, she was able to tell them why she was crying. She told them about Alan, and her children Emily and Jack (his stomach had done a sudden pinwheel of shock at her son's name), and the life she'd made with them. She told them how she'd not aged, and the ways she and Alan had worked out to keep her from being discovered and hauled in for 'evaluation' by the Torchwood in their universe. She made them laugh with stories of her family's escapades, and brought tears to their eyes when she described the past twenty-four hours: Alan's funeral; her sudden, deep-seated knowledge that she needed to find the TARDIS, and where to go; her letter to her daughter, and the enduring power of attorney she'd had drawn up long ago, just in case; her single-minded journey to the beach where they'd found her. He held her there on the sofa, marvelling at her strength—but then, Rose had always been the strongest woman he'd ever known.
It was the Doctor who suggested bed when her yawns had begun interrupting the same sentence more than once. Somehow, they all ended up here. Rose modestly disappeared into the bathroom to change, but settled herself between them in the bed with only the smallest hesitation. Once they lay down to either side of her, she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, and the Doctor followed soon after.
Strange how things work out, Jack muses, running a finger over first Rose's cheek, then the Doctor's, as he watches them sleep, their limbs entwined. The three of them spent only a few months together, more than a lifetime ago, and yet it's not until now, here, with both of them that his life finally feels balanced, centred, complete. In all those years alone, he almost got used to being uncomfortable in his skin, as though there were pieces missing. When he found the Doctor—or, rather, the Doctor found him—it got better. Things fit more comfortably. But now, with Rose here as well, the last of the missing pieces is in place. They're a unit again, and it's all he's ever wanted.
"Thank you," he says quietly, though he's not sure to whom. To them, to the Universe, to Someone who might just be watching. Feeling truly contented for the first time since the game station, Jack lies down beside his loves, drapes an arm over them, and falls into a deep, healing sleep.
All creatures in the universe
return to the point where they began.
Author:
aibhinnPairing/Characters: Ten/Jack/Rose
Beta:
wendymr, dark_aegis, joely_jo, and larielromeniel.Rating: PG
Spoilers: The previous fics in this series: You Can Go Home Again (Ten/Jack), Homecoming (Ten/Rose, Rose/OMC), and Spiralling Towards Home (Ten/Jack, Ten/Jack/Rose, implied Ten/Rose).
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, though if Jack had a free evening….
Summary: Now, with Rose here as well, the last of the missing pieces is in place.
Author's Note: This is a gift for
wendymr, who asked for "five minutes after the end of Spiralling Towards Home" in a meme I did in my personal journal some time ago. Sorry it took so long, Wendy!All quotations are from the Tao Te Ching. The translation I used can be found here. This is the fourth of a four-story series. The others are You Can Go Home Again, Homecoming, and Spiralling Towards Home.
…mystery and reality
emerge from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness born from darkness.
The beginning of all understanding.
The Doctor
She stands on the edge of the beach, surrounded by Douglas fir trees and fiddle ferns, waiting for him. It takes him a moment, after opening the TARDIS doors, to convince himself it's finally real. Rose. His Rose.
No—no, better than that. Their Rose.
Three steps later, she's in his arms, and he feels as though his hearts will burst from his chest, so filled are they with happiness. Years, it's been. Fourteen years of his personal time-line since that night when Jack said, "I might know how we can get her back," and two between the day he'd said goodbye to her on the beach, and the day he'd found Jack.
Sixteen years. More than twice that for her. He finds himself marvelling at her strength. She picked herself up after his goodbye and created a life for herself, that much is clear. She's strong, confident, comfortable in herself. It's in the way she stands, the way she moves, the way she smiles. The relief almost causes his knees to buckle, and the gnawing guilt finally evaporates from his bones. She may have had her heart broken by their separation, but she didn't let it destroy her.
When she enters the TARDIS, she goes straight to Jack and holds him just as closely as she had himself. And before he can begin to feel jealous, they hold out their hands to him together. He's drawn into their embrace, and at last he feels complete. He hadn't realised how much his separation from them had hurt until now, as the pain disappears in the warmth of their arms.
Finally she loosens her hold on them just a bit, and they all pull back enough to look at each other, faces glowing with sheer delight and mouths twisting into silly smiles.
"We should talk," Rose says.
"Yeah," he replies, and meets Jack's gaze. Jack's blue eyes are damp, misty with emotion, and he knows his own must look the same. Turning back to Rose—to her familiar, beautiful face—he smiles and says, "Somewhere more comfortable, though."
Hand in hand, they leave the console room.
***
We mold clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that makes the vessel useful.
We fashion wood for a house,
but it is the emptiness inside
that makes it livable.
We work with the substantial,
but the emptiness is what we use.
Rose
To be with them again…it's incredible. Like a dream come true. She can't stop grinning as she walks, holding hands with both of them, through the TARDIS corridors to the lounge. The Doctor and Jack and her. Together again.
Without needing to consult each other, they curl up on the big sofa just as they used to do in the evenings: her cheek on Jack's chest, the Doctor's arms around her waist from behind. Jack's heartbeat thuds beneath her ear, and the Doctor's breath lightly tickles the short, delicate hairs at the nape of her neck. Family, her brain tells her, along with memories of cuddling against Alan's chest just like this. But then her heart jolts, as if she’s been run through with a dagger.
Alan's gone.
He's gone.
Sudden, paralysing grief rolls over her like a tidal wave, burying her, drowning her, as the enormity of his death hits her for the first time. He won't be strolling in through the door complaining about the neighbours' dog; he won't be phoning her to ask where the light bulbs are (in the cupboard where they've been for the past ten years, she can almost hear herself answering); he won't be curled up against her tonight, snoring gently and comfortingly in her ear.
Gone. Her husband, and her children too—for all she made the choice to leave Emily and Jack behind to live their own lives, their absence is a gaping wound in her soul. This must have been what her own mum had felt when she'd left with the Doctor every time. How had Jackie borne it?
Two sets of arms wrap around her, and she abandons herself to her sobs. It's the first time she's cried since the night he died, when she went down to the morgue to identify his body. Then she'd cried for their children, for their life together, and for him, cut down in the prime of his life. Now, with the true depth of her loss finally penetrating, she cries for herself: for the loss of her best friend of nearly forty years, the partner with whom she made such a fantastic life. The prospect of unending years without him stretches before her, and she gasps with the pain of it.
"It's all right, Rose," the Doctor's soft voice says in her ear, his cheek to her hair. "We're here."
"We'll always be here," Jack promises, stroking her cheek with a finger.
Somewhere in the back of her mind is a memory of Alan's familiar rumbling voice, a conversation they'd had years ago, when it had become painfully clear that she would outlive him. When I'm gone, you follow your heart, not your head, he'd said to her. Promise me. Promise me you won't be alone.
"I know," she says through her tears, and their arms tighten around her.
***
If you can empty your mind of all thoughts
your heart will embrace the tranquility of peace.
Jack
He props himself up and looks at his sleeping bedmates with a small, proprietary smile. He's dreamt of this moment for well over a hundred years, though it's not exactly what he'd envisioned. For one thing, they're all dressed. In sleepwear, it's true, but all three of them are dressed. For another, there's been no sex at all. None. Not even snogging, for that matter. Just talking, so much talking. Remembering, sometimes with laughter, and sometimes with tears. So much changed, and yet still, amazingly unchanged. The three of them, fitting together once more, like pieces carved from the same block of wood.
Once Rose's tears subsided earlier, she was able to tell them why she was crying. She told them about Alan, and her children Emily and Jack (his stomach had done a sudden pinwheel of shock at her son's name), and the life she'd made with them. She told them how she'd not aged, and the ways she and Alan had worked out to keep her from being discovered and hauled in for 'evaluation' by the Torchwood in their universe. She made them laugh with stories of her family's escapades, and brought tears to their eyes when she described the past twenty-four hours: Alan's funeral; her sudden, deep-seated knowledge that she needed to find the TARDIS, and where to go; her letter to her daughter, and the enduring power of attorney she'd had drawn up long ago, just in case; her single-minded journey to the beach where they'd found her. He held her there on the sofa, marvelling at her strength—but then, Rose had always been the strongest woman he'd ever known.
It was the Doctor who suggested bed when her yawns had begun interrupting the same sentence more than once. Somehow, they all ended up here. Rose modestly disappeared into the bathroom to change, but settled herself between them in the bed with only the smallest hesitation. Once they lay down to either side of her, she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, and the Doctor followed soon after.
Strange how things work out, Jack muses, running a finger over first Rose's cheek, then the Doctor's, as he watches them sleep, their limbs entwined. The three of them spent only a few months together, more than a lifetime ago, and yet it's not until now, here, with both of them that his life finally feels balanced, centred, complete. In all those years alone, he almost got used to being uncomfortable in his skin, as though there were pieces missing. When he found the Doctor—or, rather, the Doctor found him—it got better. Things fit more comfortably. But now, with Rose here as well, the last of the missing pieces is in place. They're a unit again, and it's all he's ever wanted.
"Thank you," he says quietly, though he's not sure to whom. To them, to the Universe, to Someone who might just be watching. Feeling truly contented for the first time since the game station, Jack lies down beside his loves, drapes an arm over them, and falls into a deep, healing sleep.
All creatures in the universe
return to the point where they began.
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 02:39 pm (UTC)Absolutely fantastic. *happysigh*
no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 03:49 pm (UTC)gorgeous, fantastic, brilliant. Having all three POV was wonderful. To me, this piece is a well-loved stuffed animal from childhood - full of warm & fuzzy & all is right with the world. Thank You.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-30 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-31 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-06 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-20 01:25 pm (UTC)