Family TimeAuthor: butterflybornPairing:
Jack/Rose/Ten and of course the TARDISRating:
What do you get when you throw together a dimensionally transcendent blue police box, the last of a mighty alien race, a human with a bad case of immortality and a recently rescued Rose Tyler? Well, if you are very, very lucky, you might get a taste of chicken soup for the soul. And if they are very, very lucky, they might just get a family.Betas:
At the moment, due to unfortunate computer ailments beyond my control, only my roommate. But if someone has time and inclination for the next chapters...Author's Note:
This story is set after series three and after a reunion fic that lives only in my head at the moment. Jack and the Doctor have managed the impossible and broken through to the parallel world to rescue Rose. Unfortunately she was off world for a funeral. Jack remained with Jackie, keeping her company, while the Doctor and Rose's "12 year old" sister, Carlie go off to get Rose. They have been back in the proper universe for several months, and they are finally truly beginning to heal from recent hurts.
For the OT3 Ficathon
, for funnythat
An adventure (or them being in the middle of an adventure) with some amount of running away from something scary, in a light-hearted way. Ten/Rose/Jack having "A cunning plan, my lord." and Pre/during/post-danger huggles. They will be there I promise.
The swirling clouds of the space-time vortex cradled within their luminescent mist the miserable figure of a police box with a head cold. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a police box, so much as a truly magnificent time ship in disguise, and is wasn’t so much a head cold as it was a very aggressive strain of virus that had infected the TARDIS’s navigational systems, but the effects were similar. The result being that the TARDIS and crew had spent the past two days, linear, curled up in the safety of the vortex, avoiding navigation altogether except for the occasional contortions of what, for all the world, looked like a police box sneezing.
While the TARDIS had been safely tucked away, slumbering to the heartbeat of the universe, the trio within had not been idle. Rose, Jack and the Doctor had all had their turn at “blowing the poor girl’s nose,” which had involved thigh high rubber boots, mops, squeegees, buckets and loads of warm, wet cloths. By the time they had begun day three of their nurse duties, even Jack had to concede that there were only so many comments to be made about thigh-high boots, wet tee-shirts and Rose, although, the Doctor was amazingly creative and had kept Jack and Rose happily supplied with stories, quips and general silliness long after Jack had surrendered his title of captain of the innuendo squad.
After two and a half days of mucking out the underbelly of the TARDIS, the Doctor finally announced that they seemed to have gotten things mostly under control. The only remaining obvious symptom of her recent “unpleasantness” was a slight post-navigational drip that really only needed one person for hanky duty and monitoring for any changes in the readings.
Rose had jumped at the chance to escape the gelatinous goo that had begun to bond her clothing to her body and had dried in her hair, leaving it the exact color and texture of Easter grass. As she had climbed out from under the console, intent on her mission of soap, shampoo and LOTS of hot water, she missed the clandestine picture taking courtesy of one ex-time agent’s Swiss army vortex manipulator.
After Rose had left for a cleaner future, Jack offered to take first watch at the console which left the Doctor free to play chemist, working out a formula to eradicate the remaining virus that has escaped the TARDIS’s initial defenses. So focused was he on his calculations and experimentations that when he finally returned to the console room, he was surprised to find Rose curled up in a blanket on the captains chair, handkerchief in lap, book in hand and reading aloud towards the console. He paused in the doorway, having yet to be detected. Leaning into the doorframe; ankles crossed, arms crossed, eyes closed, he allowed his thoughts to wander, buoyed along peaceful currents by the sniffling hum of his oldest companion and the gentle susurrations emanating from beneath a slightly wild cascade of recently degunkified blonde hair. Rose’s sure, warm tones were amplified as they chased each other across the cavernous chamber. There is definitely something to be said for domestics
he laughed to himself as he pondered the scene that had greeted his return to the console room. Me, a 900 year old Time Lord, bringing the mechanical equivalent of chicken soup to one of my dearest friends, whilst she dozes to the sounds of . . . what is that? Harry Potter??? Lord of the Rings??? No, no. Hold on a tic, that is definitely Harry Potter! She’s dozing through the best part!!! I know the old girl’s read this before, but she loves the bit about the port key!!!!! Awwww she must really be knackered, poor thing.
He reached out to stroke the nearby coral sympathetically.
A slight shift in the lighting and a momentarily altered pitch in the ever-present TARDIS song assured him that his concern was appreciated. Of course they also alerted a certain blond bookworm to the presence of said concerned Time Lord. Rose closed the book and looked over her shoulder towards the doorway where the Doctor was standing. He knew that when he looked into her eyes he would see that welcoming warmth that always sparked a sense of giddy joy within. So he was quite unprepared for the sniggering and finally, outright laughter that greeted him when their eyes did meet.
“What?” the Doctor asked defensively, looking down self-consciously to see if he had forgotten to take off the Lord of the Grill apron he had been wearing during his chemical frenzy.
The only response he received was another fit of giggles accompanied by a hand gesturing in the general direction of his head.
Since interrogation obviously wasn’t going to work in this situation, the Doctor did what any intelligent, quick-witted being would do; he tried to play the guilt card.
“What’re you on about then? Here I am, slaving away in the deep, dark, recesses of the ship, for hours…HOURS, trying to come up with the mechanical equivalent of chicken soup. Did I mention the dark…aaaaaand the cold…aaaaaand the chemical formulae?” He tried to effect the woebegone-puppy-dog look that Jack had been trying to teach him, but it only resulted in another fit of laughter that was brought to an end only by a sudden squeak, a flailing of arms and the thunk of a blanket entangled body hitting the metal grating of the console floor.
Thoughts of needing to schedule time with Jack for more lessons and a slightly embarrassed flash of what Donna would say if she saw his obviously flawed attempt to maneuver his way out of the situation were put on hold as he bounded the few steps over to where Rose had landed in a heap of book, blanket and...hold up...bunny slippers?
A blond mop of slightly damp hair finally managed to poke its way through the tangled blanket, followed by the slightly sheepish face of one of the imps of his hearts. Angel just didn’t quite cover the shear scope of what she, or Jack for that matter, were capable of. Devil didn’t express the joy of living that they had brought back to his lives. Yes, imp certainly seemed to fit.
“Now. Just…what…were…you…laughing…at?” the Doctor asked as he reached down to ensure Rose didn’t escape the horribly twisted blanket.
“Well, I looked up expectin’ t’ see Jack or you, but what I first saw was this mad scientist with a manic grin, wild hair and brainy specs, holdin’ up a test tube . The only things missin’ were lightning, thunder, and a bloke named Igor. Hold up…now that I think about it, the way the lights were flickerin’ in here earlier, we’re just short the sound effects and the creepy sidekick.” She punctuated her last sentence with a rather impish tongue peaking between her teeth.
“You’re one to talk, miss recently degunkified, reading to thin air, pink bunny slippers in the console room!” he shot back, successfully maintaining a wounded air.
“Awww, come on, Doctor, admit it! You’d’a laughed too if you’d’a been sittin’ where I was.” She managed to get one hand free and brought it up to ruffle the Doctor’s decidedly manic mane.
“Oh, I might’ve done. Indeed, I might…have…done!” he answered congenially. His voice, however, lowered menacingly as he continued, “I’m always up for a good laugh, me.” His free hand hovered over her prone form with foul intent.
“Now, Doctor,” Rose began, all mirth gone from her features as she began to back away with all the speed of a panicked inch worm, “you don’t want to do anything I’ll…I mean…you’ll regret later. Doctor? DoctEEEEEEK!” Her final plea was cut short as questing fingers found their mark.
The TARDIS’s “chicken soup” and handkerchief lay forgotten for the moment as Rose and the Doctor tussled across the console room floor. Some say that laughter is the best medicine and the TARDIS heartily agreed as she absorbed the healing energies of happiness generated by her recently reunited crew.
She sent a little of the extra giddiness (there always seemed to be an excess with this crew) towards Jack who was hidden away in his room, making good use of his Rose-of-the-green-hair picture. He smirked, rolled his eyes in amusement, wished he was a participant and thanked the TARDIS for sending the little lift in spirits his way. But he was a man with a mission and his two favorite distractions would just have to wait.