Title: Strange and Beautiful.
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Genre: Romance, fluff, teeny bits of angst sprinkled in.
Rating: PG
Summary: Maybe, one day, she'll let him in.
Note: 1700-ish words.  I know this is a sort of atypical view on Rose, where she's the one who needs to be reached, but I like it anyway. For dreaamer. Comments are love.


I've been watching your world from afar,
I've been trying to be where you are,
And I've been secretly falling apart, unseen.
To me, you're strange and you're beautiful,
You'd be so perfect with me but you just can't see,
You turn every head but you don't see me.

I'll put a spell on you,
You'll fall asleep and I'll put a spell on you.
And when I wake you,
I'll be the first thing you see, lyric's top
And you'll realise that you love me.


He sees her entering from across the room and grins at her. She waves back, preoccupied with talking on the phone.

“No. No way, seriously? You’re going out with him?” Rose says into the phone, and the Doctor tries to tune out everything she’s saying.

Instead of listening to her, he looks at her. Her hair is done up, rather messily, but blonde strands wisp gracefully down her neck. Her clothes are loose and casual, but he likes it. Her lips are a pale pink, dry and formed in a smile as she chats on her mobile to whom he assumes is Shareen. It’s only around her best friend that he’s ever heard Rose sound like that, and it reminds him that there’s a whole side of her life that he doesn’t even know.

“I would definitely go for that Eric bloke, if I were you,” Rose continues, taking a piece of gum out of her pocket, unwrapping it and sticking it in her mouth. “I fancied him like none other during school,” she admits, giggling, chewing on her gum. “Even sent him loves notes at one point.”

The Doctor tries to ignore this. It isn’t any of his business, anyway.  Who Rose fancied during school shouldn’t be any of his interest.

“I still like him a little bit,” Rose mock whispers into the phone, and then bursts into giggles. “So I’d say go for him, mate. He’s really fit.” 

The Doctor shakes his head and continues running a not-so-routine scan on the biofilters. Really none of his business.

“Me? What about me?” Rose asks. “Do I have a guy?” Rose laughs. “No,” she says definitively. “Really no.”
   
The Doctor ignores this. He really wishes she’d have her conversation somewhere else, though.

“The bloke I’m traveling with now?” Rose asks into the phone, and the Doctor’s ears unintentionally perk up. That was him, right? Why were they discussing him?

Rose continues: “No, I’m not with him with him. We’re just good mates, is all.” She glances awkwardly over to the Doctor, noticing him for the first time since she entered the console room, and she heads back out.

He can hear her laugh down the hall, and he gives a small smile. Of course she’d say that. It was true, wasn’t it? Nothing on at all. No…hanky panky, or whatever it’s called, he thinks.

But as he fingers the controls he can still feel her palm on his, their fingers intertwined, and hear her laugh and smell her hair. He can feel her moist breath on his neck as they hold each other in a hug. His hand running through her hair, her fingers clutching at his back.

No, that isn’t being with someone, he thinks. Just being good mates, is all.

He can still hear her giggle from down the hall, and he shakes his head. That’s part of her world that he can never be privy to.



She’s beautiful.

He’s met women that have been the great temptresses of history. He’s met women who have been powerful rulers. All of them were, in their own way, absolutely beautiful.

But Rose, she’s different.

It’s not that she’s conventionally beautiful, because, well, she is. But he never notices that her eyebrows are too dark for her hair, or that she used cheap bleach to dye her roots. He doesn’t notice that most of the clothes she gets are from goodwill, or that her mascara is caked on to her eyelashes.

He notices the way the edges of her lips curl up when she’s slightly amused, and how her teeth always show when she smiles. He notices that her eyes are the most beautiful shaped eyes he’s ever seen in the universe, and that her irises sparkle like the royal jewels of a thousand planets combined. He notices that her hair is silky, and that she’s warm.

She’s so beautiful.

“Why are you starin’ at me?” Rose asks, and the Doctor snaps out of his trance.

“Oh, no reason,” he replies, and she shakes her head.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she says, her lips forming into a smile, and the Doctor is immediately lost again.



Maybe one day he’ll tell her, and he’ll make her his.

Maybe today he’ll tell her, but maybe he won’t. Either way, they’re still going to one of the most revered (and romantic) restaurants on forty-second century Earth.

“Are you ready yet?” he calls down the hall.

“Almost, just wait a sec!” Rose calls back, her voice echoing. The Doctor wonders what is taking her so long. He supposes she’s getting ready, and wonders if he should have at least changed his tie.

“Ready!” Rose calls out, and he can see her from down the hall. Her hair is pinned up, blonde strains falling down her neck. In one of her hands is a simple, dark purse. Her dress is black, and formfitting, almost enough so that the Doctor can’t really take his eyes off of her.

“You like?” she asks, bending over and straightening out the bottom of her dress.

The Doctor doesn’t say anything for a moment and just stares. “Yes. Yes, I do like. A lot,” he answers.

Rose raises an eyebrow. “Well, then…” She extends her arm. “Shall we go?”

“Oh, yes, right, of course,” the Doctor says, scurrying for the door, arm in arm with Rose.

They step outside, and the cold air is abrasive. Rose giggles, and shrugs closer to the Doctor. She looks around, and he can hear her sharp intake of breath.

“It’s like Paris,” she starts, looking at him, eyes lit up. “But it’s not.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not Paris. But it is beautiful, isn’t it?” He looks at his companion engrossed in the world around her.

“It’s wonderful,” she whispers.

He grins. “Come on,” he tells her, taking her cold hand in his. “We have somewhere to be.”

They start walking around the illuminated city, and Rose looks at him. “Where exactly do we have to be, Doctor? It’s not as if we keep a schedule.”

He looks at her, a smirk forming on his face. “You’ll see.”

She rolls her eyes, but he notices that she looks delighted all the same. Looking up, she exhales deeply. “I can see my breath,” she says quietly, observing.

He chuckles a little bit, and then takes off his long coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Rose seems slightly surprised, looking at the coat and then up at him. She grins. “Thank you,” she tells him.

He nods. “We’ll be there shortly,” he informs her. She smiles at him, but still keeps shivering. He notices this and puts his arm around her shoulders. “Better?” he asks.

“Much,” she says. “Thank you,” she repeats, and stares up at him as they walk.

He barely notices that he is about to run into another person, he is staring at her so intently. Just being with her makes him feel content. He tightens his hold on her.

They talk and giggle and hold hands and exchange looks, and finally they reach their destination.

Rose is agape as she stares up. “You brought me to a palace.” 

“Because you are my princess,” he says, grinning. She looks up at him with a matching grin as she squeezes his hand.

“Is this really just a restaurant?” she asks as they enter.

The Doctor nods. “Yep. Used to be the palace of the queen of Indo-Euroasia, but it’s now used as a commercial center. How very human.”

Rose rolls her eyes, but smiles anyway as they enter the main section. Her breath catches in her throat. “It’s…a garden,” she breathes. “It’s so beautiful.”

He stares at her, and doesn’t notice the giant garden. “Yes, it is.”

He notices that she looks enchanted. A smile creeps up on his features. He had hoped that she’d love it.

“Excuse me, can we be seated next to the rose bushes?” he calls out to one of the waiters, who surprisingly to Rose is dressed as if he could be a waiter from the twenty-first century.

“Which color?” the waiter asks.

The Doctor looks at Rose. “What color do you want?”

Rose scans her eyes over the area they’re in, taking in the sight. “They have…blue roses?” she asks.

“They have every color imaginable,” the Doctor tells her, his voice soft as he takes her hand again. “Do you want the blue roses?”

She nods tentatively, smiling, almost overwhelmed by the beauty of the place.

They’re sat next to the blue roses, which Rose can barely keep her eyes off of. Her hands are spread out on the table and subconsciously the Doctor takes them, rubbing her palms.

“Do you like it here?” he asks, and from the look on her face he can tell what her answer is going to be.

“I love it. So much. And,” she continues, smiling at him, “I love the company.”

“Of course,” he agrees, and then they both laugh.

Neither says anything as Rose looks around them, and he looks at her. He thinks, and breathes, and wonders.

Maybe he’ll tell her. Maybe, just maybe…

“Rose,” he starts, and she switches her gaze to him, a questioning smile on her face. “I…I…you mean a lot to me,” he confesses.

Her smile is erased from her face, and her eyes widen. He’s worried that he’s said something completely wrong. Her lips open ever so slightly, and she stares directly at him.

She looks as if she’s been put under a spell.

Their lips are inches apart. He can feel her breath on his face, and he smiles ever so slightly. He knows he’s made the right decision.

A ringing interrupts them and they break apart without ever having been together. Rose looks at him timidly, digs into her purse and then opens her mobile. “Hello? Oh, hey, mate! No, no you weren’t interrupting anything,” she says, and quickly glances over at the Doctor.

He nods, and she gets up from her seat, leaving the restaurant to talk on her phone.

He sits there, wondering how the spell broke, wondering how he went wrong, and wondering if someday, maybe, she’d let him in.