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Title: A Matter of Scale
Summary: Set after 4x13: Journey's End. The new Doctor and Rose.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I have no idea where this came from, since I always resisted writing DW fic. But here we are.
John Smith lifted the toddler towards the ceiling, holding it with arms outstretched, elbows locked. The baby's ears seemed to glow where they caught the light, and he wondered if Jackie ever noticed that her son's ears were freakish. He resolved not to bring it up. He was getting better at picking his battles. The poor little guy would have ridiculous ears whether he pointed it out or not.
Tony gargled with delight, blowing spit bubbles from his mouth and snot bubbles from his nose. Babies were disgusting. He had seen a lot of strange creatures and touched a lot of disgusting substances, but he was pretty sure babies were the worst of the lot. And this one. This one with its wide, green eyes. And its soft, blond hair. And it's delighted smile every time he inspected him. What was he supposed to think of this one?
It clearly shared the same genetic code with his Rose. John Smith couldn't deny that. He might have had dull human senses—and he still didn't know how he lived with only five—but he could still see well enough. And all visual evidence pointed to the fact that Tony was a part of Rose. It made a series of noise that wasn't anything except gibberish—though both Jackie and Rose always seemed to understand what it meant. He echoed the noises back, prompting a giggle, but no indication of comprehension.
“I thought he was asleep.”
“He was,” he said, without looking away. “But then I woke him up.”
“You're not clear on the concept of napping, are you?”
“Nah. Who has time to nap? Eighty, ninety years is a blink of an eye. A drop in a bucket. A mere paragraph of space in the book of life. And you want him to waste most of that time sleeping?”
“He's a baby,” Rose said slowly. “Babies need sleep.”
“Not this one. Look, he's wide awake.”
“He's frightened.”
“Nah. Not frightened at all. What would he be frightened for?”
“Because he's just a little guy and you've almost got him touching the ceiling. Hand him over.”
John didn't argue. He handed the small human over to Rose, but he didn't stop watching it. It would be better if babies could talk. Their little brains were always working. John was sure of it. They were always watching, always cataloging, always behaving like the little explorers they were. Delighted by new discoveries. Frightened and fascinated at the same time. And there was always something more to learn. Tony watched the world with wide open eyes, like he was bound and determined to take it all in.
“Why do you spend so much time in the nursery?” Rose asked, gently bopping the baby on her arm.
“I don't.”
“You do, you know. Do you like babies or something?”
“No. I don't like babies. They stink. This one stinks, and he doesn't even have a dirty nappy.”
Rose laughed. “He doesn't stink.” She inhaled, as if to prove her point. “He smells like a baby.”
“A stinky baby.”
“A tired baby.” She gently sat him in his crib. He fell on his rump and clapped his hands with delight, like Rose had just invented a new game. “Come on, Doctor, let's leave him alone.”
“But he's not asleep yet. Look at him. He wants to play.”
“If he plays now, he'll be grumpy later,” Rose said as she pushed him towards the door. “And you know what my mum said before she left.”
“But...”
“What did she say?”
“We can't babysit anymore if we disrupt him from his routine.”
“Right. Now if we leave him be, he'll tire himself out and take a nap.” She gently closed the nursery door, and John held his breath. As soon as they were out of sight, Tony began to cry.
“You see that? He doesn't want to sleep.”
“He's fine.”
“He's crying. Things don't cry when they're happy.” And since Tony was a part of Rose, it always made him anxious and unhappy when Tony really started shedding tears. He only had one heart, but it still hurt like he had two.
“Some things do. And he cries when he's tired.”
He allowed Rose to pull him away from the door, though he couldn't stop hearing the helpless, frustrated cries. Couldn't stop feeling them, either.
“Do you want one of those?” John Smith asked.
“What?” Rose turned the water on and shoved the electric kettle beneath the faucet. “A baby?”
“Yeah. A baby. My baby.”
“No.”
He gaped. “No? But I thought...you don't want to have my baby?”
“It's not that. I just meant, I don't really want to have one now. You know? Do you?”
“No.”
“You don't want to have my baby?”
“Oh, of course I would want to have your baby. Your baby would be brilliant. The most brilliant, beautiful...”
“Doctor.”
“What?”
“I was teasing you.”
“Oh.”
“If you don't want to have one, why are you always pestering Tony?”
“I'm not pestering him. I'm helping him. He's got a lot of world to discover. I remember what that was like. Endless possibilities. You can't even imagine all the possibilities. Look in his eyes sometime. You'll see what I mean.”
“I don't need to look in his eyes to know what that's like,” Rose murmured, plugging in the kettle.
“He's probably too young to even really understand what stars are. One day, he's going to look up, and he's going to see them. I mean, really see them. He won't see them up close, but I think it still counts.”
“It does.”
“Then we can tell him.”
“We can.”
It was a simple agreement. In a tone he had heard before. One designed to keep him happy. Agreeable. Because she was distracted and he wasn't saying anything new.
“Let's go out.”
“Where?”
“Out. Out of here. Out of the house.”
“We're babysitting.”
“Oh. Right.”
John Smith settled back on his stool, resting his chin on his hand and idly watching Rose move around the kitchen. She was good at that. Moving. She didn't walk through the dimension like she didn't belong there. If he could smell her, and he still could in a way, her shampoo, and her perfume, and her tea, and when she ate too many onions, and when she brought home fish and chips, because he loved chips. Fresh ones. Hot. Covered in salt. In some ways, he couldn't taste them before. But now he couldn't properly smell Rose, and if he could, then he would know she didn't belong in this dimension. But he wouldn't know it just to look at her.
Which made him wonder if anybody could tell by looking at him. Probably not. Nobody except Rose. And she could always tell.
“Let's go out later.”
“We can take Tony for a walk when he wakes up.”
“Let's take him now.”
“Still a bit unclear on the nap concept, aren't you?”
“Naps are boring, Rose Tyler. Would you like to go to bed for hours in the middle of a perfectly good day?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? What do you mean yes?”
“You're daft. Do you know that?”
“Daft? I'm daft? Oh.” John Smith's eyes widened. “Oh. Oh!”
“That's what I was thinking.”
“Well, why didn't you say so? I can't read minds.”
“I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I'm quite clever.”
Rose leaned over the counter. “Then why are you still here, talking?”
“I'm waiting.”
“For what?”
The house fell into silence, the baby monitor no longer cracking with sound. “That.”
Rose circled to the other side and pulled him to his feet. “We'll go out. Later.”
“Some place we've never been before?”
“Some place new.”
“That was a trick question. I've been everywhere.”
“Then we'll go out and get some chips.”
“Tony hasn't seen it all, though.”
“No.”
He bit the tip of his thumb. “But that's true for all the babies, isn't it?”
“Yep.”
It was something to think about it. It was a world to think about it. And the human race. And the stars that he knew but didn't know and could show but couldn't see. It was an existence to think about. And a piece of Rose Tyler. Something that was a part of her genetic code. In a world that didn't have its own Rose Tyler, but it didn't have its own Doctor either, but they were making do. Just fine. It was all about scale.
Scale.
How strange to be a god in a mortal form. How strange to be the wrong scale. Tony had the right idea. Being the proper scale.
“Come on.”
Rose tugged on his hand. He followed her without hesitation. She was the wrong scale, too. But that was fine. Her scale fit his and that, at least, was comfortable.
Summary: Set after 4x13: Journey's End. The new Doctor and Rose.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I have no idea where this came from, since I always resisted writing DW fic. But here we are.
John Smith lifted the toddler towards the ceiling, holding it with arms outstretched, elbows locked. The baby's ears seemed to glow where they caught the light, and he wondered if Jackie ever noticed that her son's ears were freakish. He resolved not to bring it up. He was getting better at picking his battles. The poor little guy would have ridiculous ears whether he pointed it out or not.
Tony gargled with delight, blowing spit bubbles from his mouth and snot bubbles from his nose. Babies were disgusting. He had seen a lot of strange creatures and touched a lot of disgusting substances, but he was pretty sure babies were the worst of the lot. And this one. This one with its wide, green eyes. And its soft, blond hair. And it's delighted smile every time he inspected him. What was he supposed to think of this one?
It clearly shared the same genetic code with his Rose. John Smith couldn't deny that. He might have had dull human senses—and he still didn't know how he lived with only five—but he could still see well enough. And all visual evidence pointed to the fact that Tony was a part of Rose. It made a series of noise that wasn't anything except gibberish—though both Jackie and Rose always seemed to understand what it meant. He echoed the noises back, prompting a giggle, but no indication of comprehension.
“I thought he was asleep.”
“He was,” he said, without looking away. “But then I woke him up.”
“You're not clear on the concept of napping, are you?”
“Nah. Who has time to nap? Eighty, ninety years is a blink of an eye. A drop in a bucket. A mere paragraph of space in the book of life. And you want him to waste most of that time sleeping?”
“He's a baby,” Rose said slowly. “Babies need sleep.”
“Not this one. Look, he's wide awake.”
“He's frightened.”
“Nah. Not frightened at all. What would he be frightened for?”
“Because he's just a little guy and you've almost got him touching the ceiling. Hand him over.”
John didn't argue. He handed the small human over to Rose, but he didn't stop watching it. It would be better if babies could talk. Their little brains were always working. John was sure of it. They were always watching, always cataloging, always behaving like the little explorers they were. Delighted by new discoveries. Frightened and fascinated at the same time. And there was always something more to learn. Tony watched the world with wide open eyes, like he was bound and determined to take it all in.
“Why do you spend so much time in the nursery?” Rose asked, gently bopping the baby on her arm.
“I don't.”
“You do, you know. Do you like babies or something?”
“No. I don't like babies. They stink. This one stinks, and he doesn't even have a dirty nappy.”
Rose laughed. “He doesn't stink.” She inhaled, as if to prove her point. “He smells like a baby.”
“A stinky baby.”
“A tired baby.” She gently sat him in his crib. He fell on his rump and clapped his hands with delight, like Rose had just invented a new game. “Come on, Doctor, let's leave him alone.”
“But he's not asleep yet. Look at him. He wants to play.”
“If he plays now, he'll be grumpy later,” Rose said as she pushed him towards the door. “And you know what my mum said before she left.”
“But...”
“What did she say?”
“We can't babysit anymore if we disrupt him from his routine.”
“Right. Now if we leave him be, he'll tire himself out and take a nap.” She gently closed the nursery door, and John held his breath. As soon as they were out of sight, Tony began to cry.
“You see that? He doesn't want to sleep.”
“He's fine.”
“He's crying. Things don't cry when they're happy.” And since Tony was a part of Rose, it always made him anxious and unhappy when Tony really started shedding tears. He only had one heart, but it still hurt like he had two.
“Some things do. And he cries when he's tired.”
He allowed Rose to pull him away from the door, though he couldn't stop hearing the helpless, frustrated cries. Couldn't stop feeling them, either.
“Do you want one of those?” John Smith asked.
“What?” Rose turned the water on and shoved the electric kettle beneath the faucet. “A baby?”
“Yeah. A baby. My baby.”
“No.”
He gaped. “No? But I thought...you don't want to have my baby?”
“It's not that. I just meant, I don't really want to have one now. You know? Do you?”
“No.”
“You don't want to have my baby?”
“Oh, of course I would want to have your baby. Your baby would be brilliant. The most brilliant, beautiful...”
“Doctor.”
“What?”
“I was teasing you.”
“Oh.”
“If you don't want to have one, why are you always pestering Tony?”
“I'm not pestering him. I'm helping him. He's got a lot of world to discover. I remember what that was like. Endless possibilities. You can't even imagine all the possibilities. Look in his eyes sometime. You'll see what I mean.”
“I don't need to look in his eyes to know what that's like,” Rose murmured, plugging in the kettle.
“He's probably too young to even really understand what stars are. One day, he's going to look up, and he's going to see them. I mean, really see them. He won't see them up close, but I think it still counts.”
“It does.”
“Then we can tell him.”
“We can.”
It was a simple agreement. In a tone he had heard before. One designed to keep him happy. Agreeable. Because she was distracted and he wasn't saying anything new.
“Let's go out.”
“Where?”
“Out. Out of here. Out of the house.”
“We're babysitting.”
“Oh. Right.”
John Smith settled back on his stool, resting his chin on his hand and idly watching Rose move around the kitchen. She was good at that. Moving. She didn't walk through the dimension like she didn't belong there. If he could smell her, and he still could in a way, her shampoo, and her perfume, and her tea, and when she ate too many onions, and when she brought home fish and chips, because he loved chips. Fresh ones. Hot. Covered in salt. In some ways, he couldn't taste them before. But now he couldn't properly smell Rose, and if he could, then he would know she didn't belong in this dimension. But he wouldn't know it just to look at her.
Which made him wonder if anybody could tell by looking at him. Probably not. Nobody except Rose. And she could always tell.
“Let's go out later.”
“We can take Tony for a walk when he wakes up.”
“Let's take him now.”
“Still a bit unclear on the nap concept, aren't you?”
“Naps are boring, Rose Tyler. Would you like to go to bed for hours in the middle of a perfectly good day?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? What do you mean yes?”
“You're daft. Do you know that?”
“Daft? I'm daft? Oh.” John Smith's eyes widened. “Oh. Oh!”
“That's what I was thinking.”
“Well, why didn't you say so? I can't read minds.”
“I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I'm quite clever.”
Rose leaned over the counter. “Then why are you still here, talking?”
“I'm waiting.”
“For what?”
The house fell into silence, the baby monitor no longer cracking with sound. “That.”
Rose circled to the other side and pulled him to his feet. “We'll go out. Later.”
“Some place we've never been before?”
“Some place new.”
“That was a trick question. I've been everywhere.”
“Then we'll go out and get some chips.”
“Tony hasn't seen it all, though.”
“No.”
He bit the tip of his thumb. “But that's true for all the babies, isn't it?”
“Yep.”
It was something to think about it. It was a world to think about it. And the human race. And the stars that he knew but didn't know and could show but couldn't see. It was an existence to think about. And a piece of Rose Tyler. Something that was a part of her genetic code. In a world that didn't have its own Rose Tyler, but it didn't have its own Doctor either, but they were making do. Just fine. It was all about scale.
Scale.
How strange to be a god in a mortal form. How strange to be the wrong scale. Tony had the right idea. Being the proper scale.
“Come on.”
Rose tugged on his hand. He followed her without hesitation. She was the wrong scale, too. But that was fine. Her scale fit his and that, at least, was comfortable.