#mrtimeandspace

        finding him in the library she gave a low hum -- clearing the space to him.  fingers slipping to brush through his hair as she leaned to nuzzle at the nape of his neck.  ‘   i missed you..  ‘  her voice still held the richenss and depth of sleep,  the tones oddly sensual as she moved to walk to the front of the chair.  unashamedly leaning to kiss him.  lips parting against his as she drew back slowly.

              ‘    shall i go get th’kettle on?   or...  ‘ 

           tardis doors parted easily under her touch,  stack of work to be graded set on the edge of the stairwell  -  bag dropped beside it as with singular purpose she approached the console.   ‘    i need a planet.  a proper futuristic planet.  not one of those ones where you tell me how amazing it’ll be in a few millinium, but a proper one that’s bustling and alive now.   and then i need to be back here   --  just this instant,  when we get back.  ‘   

         ❛  if i remember correctly -----  ❜  her words are drawn out , rouged petals curling & soft chuckles filling the air of the tardis.  ❛  you still owe me a cocktail date on mars.  ❜  thin arms cross over clara’s chest with a raised brow. it’s practically a challenge ; are they even capable of going somewhere nice without danger following ?  she has become so much like him , perhaps the traits had always been there. buried deep within her being. 

           ❛  that is of course , if you can handle such a simple , safe ,  thing. ❜  delicate shoulders rise and fall , mocha hues averting from the time lord to the tardis console before moving back to him. 

            ❛  do you ever have a small break ? i mean , you have a time machine. surely , if anything bad were to happen , you could go back & save planets and it’d be as if the break never happened ?  ❜

   HE had seen it all.  rejected first by her father  (  he wasn’t!  ),  then her boyfriend   ( neither was he!  ).  cheeks as warm as her namesake in the sun &. the colour of it too, rose soldiers on.  the TARDIS door creaks its homely chime, opening up under her fingertips, and the hot tears are scrubbed away like the dirt  ( and sometimes blood )  caked beneath stubby nails after any day with the doctor.  the makeup isn’t so easy to make disappear.  subtle, sticky evidence of her inner trouble like storm clouds over olive skin--- and as is her silence.  nothin’ but the voice of those silly heels fitting for the waitress she isn’t:  clang, clang, clang. until:

 ❛ ...----so how’s about next trip some place warm, then, yeah?  ❜

     ‘  ----  doct’r?   i could really use a hug righ’ now..   ‘   there was a breathless feeling in her chest,  a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.  something was off,  the day was saved   --  but something just on the edge of her vision,  just at the back of her mind..  something she wanted to ignore.  it felt off. 

                        ‘    she’s beautiful.  th’tardis kept bringing her picture up on th’monitor... i was jus’ sittin’ here with m’cuppa. ‘   as if to prove her point she raised the mug of tea she’d been absent-minded sipping for over half an hour.   ‘   was she very clever?  ‘ 

        yet what state her body sought was not a time lord’s regeneration,  but a stasis of normality.  yet in her weakened and healing condition, she was not strong enough to hold the connection to the vortex. and despite the tardis best efforts -- there had been but one option. even as she had writhed in agony,  the chameleon arch had been their last hope.  

      when she woke,  she was not rose tyler  --  she was channon noble,  widow of john noble  --  doctor and scientist.  the home she lived in was filled to the brim with equipment,  the coffers it seemed remarkably full from her husband’s endeavors.  yet in his pursuit to save the world,  he had died and left her alone. standing in front of the floor length mirror,  hands rested mundanely at her side.  fingers just gliding down the fabric of her skirt.  the world seemed empty without him.  as if the spark of magic she’d craved so  ---  had been snuffed.  and this years after his death. 

     with such thoughts shaken from her head she finished pinning her hair,  it was a particular vanity... the lightening of her hair.  by no means was it necessary... but the way it appeared was pleasing to her, as was the soft blush pink tone she so frequently worn.  a phrase just -- in the back of her mind,  all pink and yellow...  yet it was a foolish thought,  brushed aside easily as she pinned a silver locket to her collar.  a family heirloom,  with a lock of her husbands hair in it.  or so channon noble thought. 

       easy sweeping steps brought her downstairs well before most households began,  the kitchen was not her real domain.. except for tea.  the blessed elixir that kept her sane or so she claimed.  yet she was not alone in the great house,  a cook and a kitchen maid bustled about preparing for the days meals.  her conversation with them gentle and teasing,  warmth evident in her gaze.  these were not women most would hire,  she had brought them here --  taught them self respect,  and given them a chance.  the butler she brushed by with two mugs of tea was another stray she’d brought to this sanctuary.  a former gang member --- wrongly convicted of manslaughter.  and lastly  --  the doctor. 

        a man who inhabited this house as unnaturally as any man might.  never at ease he seemed sitting on pins,  as if the world turned just a little too slowly for him.  at john noble’s death she had reached out to scientific societies,  wanting someone to continue her late husband’s research.  in answer -- the doctor had arrived.  scottish and prone to bouts of poor temper -- he had joined the band of misfits and seemed content when largely left to his own devices.  a tap on the study door warned her entrance as she swept in,  tea in hand as she extended a mug to him.    ‘  ----just like you like it doctor.. ‘  

      she had no idea the picture she made,  blonde hair pinned but never tamed,  blushing pink silken blouse complimenting the warmth of her skin,  and fitted skirt of the deepest maroon.  the only accessories she wore,  a simple band on her ring finger,  and the locket.  yet if asked  ---  she never even really noticed the locket.  never noticed how her fingers brushed it as if seeking reassurance of it’s placement,  as if craving to set its contents free.  because what was held within that simple silver trinket was a mind once human,  a mind that held the vortex and the power of a tardis and didn’t go mad.  a mind and soul that had willingly changed every fiber of her being to be with a man she now treated as a cordial stranger.   

       yet she was innocent of such notions,  instead she offered him her warmest smile and took a seat in one of the chairs across from the large desk.  ‘   now tell me,  have you made any progress on his studies of different universes and dimensions?  i must admit the royal scientific society looked at me as if i’d lost my mind,  but i know he was on to something..  and i must admit i believe if anyone can understand it and validate it.. you could.  ‘  the trust in her features was obvious, the pleasant smile, the warmth in her voice  --  yet there was still a blankness.  as if subconsciously aware of all that she ought to know but somehow couldn’t reach.  even as she sipped her tea,   fingers reached to caress the silver oval at her throat. there was so much more to this world  --  but to know it now? to know it now would be to sign her death warrant.