aibhinn_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aibhinn_fics) wrote2008-04-21 03:46 pm
aibhinn_fics) wrote2008-04-21 03:46 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Teach Me More 1/2 [Ten/Rose | M]
Title: Teach Me More (1/2)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: M (for part 2)
Summary: The Doctor's been sharing a few words of Gallifreyan here and there. Rose wants more - and the Doctor's amazed by how much she knows.
Warnings: None
Author's Note: Part of the Language Lessons series, which began with Always and continued with Precious. Having read the others isn't necessary before reading this one, but it wouldn't hurt. Many thanks tojlrpuck and invisible_lift for quick and thorough beta-reading.
Part 2 here.
Rose entered the library tentatively, almost afraid the TARDIS would object to her being there—or more accurately, object to her ultimate goal. She closed the door and stepped into the ring of comfortable sofas and overstuffed chairs, looking around at the familiar room.
It looked very much like the library in the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast to her eyes, but without the windows. It stretched upwards into dimness, level upon level of books, scrolls, data crystals, and every other form of information storage that had been invented throughout time and space, most of which she didn't even know the name for. The TARDIS was the sole librarian here; the ship could find any piece of information anywhere within the stacks, and deliver it in a way that could be understood by the inquirer.
If she wanted to, that was. The TARDIS was definitely a sentient being, able to make her own choices, and Rose was terribly afraid that this choice, the TARDIS wouldn't approve of. There was really only one way to find out, wasn't there?
"Um, hello?" she said.
The lights brightened slightly and then dimmed back to their original level. The TARDIS was listening.
Rose took a deep breath. "I, erm… I wanted to know… I mean…." She stopped, took another breath, and tried again. "You know how pleased the Doctor was when I asked him about his language? I, er… wanted to know if you could help me. Learn a little more of it, I mean. Not fluently, I don't know if I could do that, but even a few words or phrases…?" She trailed off hopefully, but the TARDIS didn't respond. Rose felt her heart sinking, but went on.
"It's just…he's given me so much. I… I want to give him something back," she finished lamely. "I know I can't give him Gallifrey, but maybe I could give him something."
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Three books thudded to the floor in quick succession behind her. She whirled, startled. A bit unsure, she walked over, picked them up, and looked at their titles.
English-Gallifreyan / Gallifreyan-English Dictionary, one of them read. A Basic Grammar of Old High Gallifreyan, a second was called. And a third, Ancient Phrases of Old Gallifrey.
The tight knot of worry in her chest loosened, and she grinned in relief. "Thanks," she said, looking up. "Mind if I do a bit of studying in here?"
A lamp near the chair she usually favoured brightened in invitation, and Rose's grin broadened. She curled up in the overstuffed chair and opened the one of the books.
***
The Doctor looked up from his tinkering, glancing about for Rose—who was conspicuously absent. In fact, she'd been conspicuously absent during their "down" times for the past week or so. Not that she was hiding—whenever he'd actually gone looking for her, she'd been there, easily found. But she normally hung about in the console room while he tinkered, and he found he missed her company.
What was she doing, anyway?
The TARDIS's hum deepened slightly, sounding almost admonishing.
"What?" he asked, looking up towards the ceiling—which was really ridiculous, now he thought about it. What made him think he could communicate any better with his ship if he looked at the ceiling? He'd be better off looking at the floor. Or at least at the console.
The hum lightened again, skipping along almost like laughter, and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, thanks," he said. "I feel so much better when my ship laughs at me." He glanced about again and huffed out a breath. "Where is Rose?" he asked aloud, setting the sonic screwdriver down. "I'm a little worried about her disappearing like this lately. Maybe I should—"
Again the deepened hum, definitely a warning this time, and he stopped, hands on hips. "Right," he said firmly. "This has gone far enough. What are you cooking up with Rose?"
An impression of utter innocence made itself known in his mind—like Rose's favourite wide-eyed artless look.
"Don't try that with me," he warned. "I've been bonded to you for centuries, and I know better. Something's going on with you and Rose. What is it?"
"Talking to yourself, are you?"
He swung around, startled. Rose stood in the entrance to the corridor, grinning with her tongue between her teeth. He beamed, feeling a wash of relief, comfort, and love all at once. She made him feel these things, this fantastic human woman—and while he'd no idea how she'd gone about it, she'd somehow managed to wrap his hearts right around her little finger. Less than two months she'd been back with him, and every time he saw her, he thought his chest might burst with joy, pride, and love.
"Nah," he said, coming forward to take her hand. "Talking to the TARDIS. She likes to take the mickey every once in a while, and needs me to put her in her place a bit."
The ship's smooth ride turned abruptly rough, jostling them for just a second or two before returning to normal, and he hmphed. "All right! I was taking the mickey too. You needn't bounce us around."
Rose laughed. "Not quite who you want to be winding up, her."
"Oh, we've been doing this for years," he assured her. Tilting his head to the side, he took in her appearance: hair pulled back into two bunches, face free of makeup, a slight wrinkle between her brows as though she had a headache. He ran the thumb of his free hand over the wrinkle gently. "You all right?" he asked.
"'Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know." His hand moved to her hair, gently brushing over it in a caress. "You've been… disappearing. A lot. And I wasn't—I mean, I didn't know if—" He stopped, not really sure he was ready to say what he was trying to say.
"Oh, that?" She smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand. "I didn't mean to worry you."
"You didn't," he said quickly. Too quickly, and winced at her knowing look. "Okay, yes, you did. A bit. But it's all right, it's not like you have to be with me every second and—"
"I was working on a surprise for you," she interrupted. There was a gleam in her eye now—an almost predatory gleam, and he felt his heartsbeat speed up at the promise there. "Would you like me to show it to you?"
"Oh, yes," he breathed. "Yes, I would."
She grinned again, and tugged on his hand. "Come on, then. Come with me."
He started forward obligingly, but then his brain kicked in and he stopped, shocked to his core. Because she hadn't said "Come with me." She'd said Ima'sha ebrin ce'seilla.
She'd spoken in Gallifreyan.
She turned back to face him, still grinning. "What?" she asked.
"You—" he stammered, trying to force words out past his stunned disbelief. "Y-y-you said—"
"'Accompany me at this moment in this direction,'" she said. It was clear she was quoting. "Using the familiar tense, so it's clear I mean 'walk with me,' not 'follow me'."
Another shock: That was indeed the exact literal translation of ima'sha ebrin ce'seilla, insofar as it could be translated at all, of course. "But—" he tried again. "But—but that's—that was—where—when—how did you learn that?" he blurted finally. He felt as though he'd been dropped into a vat of ice water; he was certain at least one of his hearts had stopped beating for a moment.
Rose's grin began to falter. "I… asked the TARDIS for help," she said. The wrinkle was back between her brows, and there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
"But that's Gallifreyan!" he exclaimed, still overcome by the wonder of it. How had she done it? She'd learned his language—on her own, no tutoring from him, not even any practice in pronunciation, which was difficult enough by itself. Yet she'd made a good enough stab at it that it had taken him a moment even to realise she'd not spoken English.
He wanted to tutor her, he realised. He wanted to teach her anything she wanted to learn, in exchange for all that she had given him.
"I'm—sorry," she said in a low voice. Her cheeks were bright red. "I didn't mean to—I didn't know it was—I'll just go put the books away and—"
It hit him suddenly, through the fog of his marvelling, that she'd misunderstood entirely. She tried to draw her hand away from his, but he tightened his grip reassuringly. "No, no, no, no, no," he said, reaching for her other hand and turning her gently back to face him. "No, I'm not upset, Rose. I'm in awe. You learned Gallifreyan! On your own! That's—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I'm at a loss for words, and you know how hard that is. It's—amazing, fantastic, wonderful, and…" He smiled, releasing her so he could stroke her hair away from her face and then frame it with his hands. "And it's so very you. Thank you."
She was flushing again, but with pleasure this time, and when he bent forward to kiss her, she leant into him, sliding her hands over his waist and beneath his suit jacket to the small of his back. He opened his mouth, let his tongue stroke along hers, and felt the familiar thrill of pleasure when she moaned softly. His arms went around her, holding her to him, feeling the comforting rhythm of her heart in her chest as he kissed her.
When she broke the kiss, she was gasping for air, and so was he, respiratory bypass or no. She pulled back to look up at him, eyes wide and dilated. "An'hua se brigginte cahr," she whispered. Teach me more.
Silently, he swept her up into his arms and carried her towards their bedroom.
Author:
aibhinnPairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: M (for part 2)
Summary: The Doctor's been sharing a few words of Gallifreyan here and there. Rose wants more - and the Doctor's amazed by how much she knows.
Warnings: None
Author's Note: Part of the Language Lessons series, which began with Always and continued with Precious. Having read the others isn't necessary before reading this one, but it wouldn't hurt. Many thanks to
jlrpuck and invisible_lift for quick and thorough beta-reading.Part 2 here.
Rose entered the library tentatively, almost afraid the TARDIS would object to her being there—or more accurately, object to her ultimate goal. She closed the door and stepped into the ring of comfortable sofas and overstuffed chairs, looking around at the familiar room.
It looked very much like the library in the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast to her eyes, but without the windows. It stretched upwards into dimness, level upon level of books, scrolls, data crystals, and every other form of information storage that had been invented throughout time and space, most of which she didn't even know the name for. The TARDIS was the sole librarian here; the ship could find any piece of information anywhere within the stacks, and deliver it in a way that could be understood by the inquirer.
If she wanted to, that was. The TARDIS was definitely a sentient being, able to make her own choices, and Rose was terribly afraid that this choice, the TARDIS wouldn't approve of. There was really only one way to find out, wasn't there?
"Um, hello?" she said.
The lights brightened slightly and then dimmed back to their original level. The TARDIS was listening.
Rose took a deep breath. "I, erm… I wanted to know… I mean…." She stopped, took another breath, and tried again. "You know how pleased the Doctor was when I asked him about his language? I, er… wanted to know if you could help me. Learn a little more of it, I mean. Not fluently, I don't know if I could do that, but even a few words or phrases…?" She trailed off hopefully, but the TARDIS didn't respond. Rose felt her heart sinking, but went on.
"It's just…he's given me so much. I… I want to give him something back," she finished lamely. "I know I can't give him Gallifrey, but maybe I could give him something."
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Three books thudded to the floor in quick succession behind her. She whirled, startled. A bit unsure, she walked over, picked them up, and looked at their titles.
English-Gallifreyan / Gallifreyan-English Dictionary, one of them read. A Basic Grammar of Old High Gallifreyan, a second was called. And a third, Ancient Phrases of Old Gallifrey.
The tight knot of worry in her chest loosened, and she grinned in relief. "Thanks," she said, looking up. "Mind if I do a bit of studying in here?"
A lamp near the chair she usually favoured brightened in invitation, and Rose's grin broadened. She curled up in the overstuffed chair and opened the one of the books.
***
The Doctor looked up from his tinkering, glancing about for Rose—who was conspicuously absent. In fact, she'd been conspicuously absent during their "down" times for the past week or so. Not that she was hiding—whenever he'd actually gone looking for her, she'd been there, easily found. But she normally hung about in the console room while he tinkered, and he found he missed her company.
What was she doing, anyway?
The TARDIS's hum deepened slightly, sounding almost admonishing.
"What?" he asked, looking up towards the ceiling—which was really ridiculous, now he thought about it. What made him think he could communicate any better with his ship if he looked at the ceiling? He'd be better off looking at the floor. Or at least at the console.
The hum lightened again, skipping along almost like laughter, and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, thanks," he said. "I feel so much better when my ship laughs at me." He glanced about again and huffed out a breath. "Where is Rose?" he asked aloud, setting the sonic screwdriver down. "I'm a little worried about her disappearing like this lately. Maybe I should—"
Again the deepened hum, definitely a warning this time, and he stopped, hands on hips. "Right," he said firmly. "This has gone far enough. What are you cooking up with Rose?"
An impression of utter innocence made itself known in his mind—like Rose's favourite wide-eyed artless look.
"Don't try that with me," he warned. "I've been bonded to you for centuries, and I know better. Something's going on with you and Rose. What is it?"
"Talking to yourself, are you?"
He swung around, startled. Rose stood in the entrance to the corridor, grinning with her tongue between her teeth. He beamed, feeling a wash of relief, comfort, and love all at once. She made him feel these things, this fantastic human woman—and while he'd no idea how she'd gone about it, she'd somehow managed to wrap his hearts right around her little finger. Less than two months she'd been back with him, and every time he saw her, he thought his chest might burst with joy, pride, and love.
"Nah," he said, coming forward to take her hand. "Talking to the TARDIS. She likes to take the mickey every once in a while, and needs me to put her in her place a bit."
The ship's smooth ride turned abruptly rough, jostling them for just a second or two before returning to normal, and he hmphed. "All right! I was taking the mickey too. You needn't bounce us around."
Rose laughed. "Not quite who you want to be winding up, her."
"Oh, we've been doing this for years," he assured her. Tilting his head to the side, he took in her appearance: hair pulled back into two bunches, face free of makeup, a slight wrinkle between her brows as though she had a headache. He ran the thumb of his free hand over the wrinkle gently. "You all right?" he asked.
"'Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know." His hand moved to her hair, gently brushing over it in a caress. "You've been… disappearing. A lot. And I wasn't—I mean, I didn't know if—" He stopped, not really sure he was ready to say what he was trying to say.
"Oh, that?" She smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand. "I didn't mean to worry you."
"You didn't," he said quickly. Too quickly, and winced at her knowing look. "Okay, yes, you did. A bit. But it's all right, it's not like you have to be with me every second and—"
"I was working on a surprise for you," she interrupted. There was a gleam in her eye now—an almost predatory gleam, and he felt his heartsbeat speed up at the promise there. "Would you like me to show it to you?"
"Oh, yes," he breathed. "Yes, I would."
She grinned again, and tugged on his hand. "Come on, then. Come with me."
He started forward obligingly, but then his brain kicked in and he stopped, shocked to his core. Because she hadn't said "Come with me." She'd said Ima'sha ebrin ce'seilla.
She'd spoken in Gallifreyan.
She turned back to face him, still grinning. "What?" she asked.
"You—" he stammered, trying to force words out past his stunned disbelief. "Y-y-you said—"
"'Accompany me at this moment in this direction,'" she said. It was clear she was quoting. "Using the familiar tense, so it's clear I mean 'walk with me,' not 'follow me'."
Another shock: That was indeed the exact literal translation of ima'sha ebrin ce'seilla, insofar as it could be translated at all, of course. "But—" he tried again. "But—but that's—that was—where—when—how did you learn that?" he blurted finally. He felt as though he'd been dropped into a vat of ice water; he was certain at least one of his hearts had stopped beating for a moment.
Rose's grin began to falter. "I… asked the TARDIS for help," she said. The wrinkle was back between her brows, and there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
"But that's Gallifreyan!" he exclaimed, still overcome by the wonder of it. How had she done it? She'd learned his language—on her own, no tutoring from him, not even any practice in pronunciation, which was difficult enough by itself. Yet she'd made a good enough stab at it that it had taken him a moment even to realise she'd not spoken English.
He wanted to tutor her, he realised. He wanted to teach her anything she wanted to learn, in exchange for all that she had given him.
"I'm—sorry," she said in a low voice. Her cheeks were bright red. "I didn't mean to—I didn't know it was—I'll just go put the books away and—"
It hit him suddenly, through the fog of his marvelling, that she'd misunderstood entirely. She tried to draw her hand away from his, but he tightened his grip reassuringly. "No, no, no, no, no," he said, reaching for her other hand and turning her gently back to face him. "No, I'm not upset, Rose. I'm in awe. You learned Gallifreyan! On your own! That's—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I'm at a loss for words, and you know how hard that is. It's—amazing, fantastic, wonderful, and…" He smiled, releasing her so he could stroke her hair away from her face and then frame it with his hands. "And it's so very you. Thank you."
She was flushing again, but with pleasure this time, and when he bent forward to kiss her, she leant into him, sliding her hands over his waist and beneath his suit jacket to the small of his back. He opened his mouth, let his tongue stroke along hers, and felt the familiar thrill of pleasure when she moaned softly. His arms went around her, holding her to him, feeling the comforting rhythm of her heart in her chest as he kissed her.
When she broke the kiss, she was gasping for air, and so was he, respiratory bypass or no. She pulled back to look up at him, eyes wide and dilated. "An'hua se brigginte cahr," she whispered. Teach me more.
Silently, he swept her up into his arms and carried her towards their bedroom.
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