Patience

[pinkandyellow]

Based on the prompt 'Patience', set during Girl in the Fireplace. 

Patient

Rose wasn't, by nature, exceptionally patient. Sure, she could tolerate people, not snap or lose her temper, it wasn't people she was impatient with. It was waiting. Given the circumstances, she was going to have to get used to waiting.

And I'll make you wait a long time!

He'd jumped. Just like that, he'd taken the horse (that damn, stupid horse, she didn't even like horses) and jumped through the mirror and out of her life. Reinette was beautiful. She was graceful, intelligent, born in wealth. She was everything Rose wasn't- well, except blonde. They were both blonde. A tiny voice in her head argued that Reinette was a natural blonde, but Rose quickly squashed that thought. Reinette de Pompadour. The queen of the world. The most intelligent, beautiful, amazing woman in history.

Rose Tyler. Shop girl.

It's no wonder he went back for her. He'd known her a day, she'd known him her whole life. Funny how that worked out.

And there she stood, in a space station, alone. Well... alone with Mickey. He tugged at her sleeve, spoke to her, and she ignored him. Poor Mickey, she was always doing that to him. Mickey, who'd never left her side. Mickey who wasn't wandering around in France. Mickey, who wouldn't be settling for her. She could be Reinette to Mickey. And wouldn't it be so easy? Reinette and the Tin Dog.

Just a shame it'd never work. Not after everything she'd seen. Not after everything she'd done. Not after all the time she spent with the Doctor, with a hand that fit hers better than Mickey's ever had, in two different bodies. Not that she... Not that it mattered. Not that it was important.

For the first hour, she was in denial. He'd be back. He was the Doctor, and she was Rose. The Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS. No French aristocrat could get between them, no matter how wonderful, no matter that she'd seen more of his mind than Rose ever had, no matter that she understood him perfectly. No matter that she was amazing. He wouldn't leave her. He promised he wouldn't leave her behind. He'd be back. She had complete, absolute faith that he'd be back. Not that it mattered. Not that she... felt... not that it was important.

Mickey gave up. He said things that hurt, but she didn't hear them. They didn't matter, and that seemed to infuriate him more. A distant part of her acknowledged that he was probably screaming at her. She stood there, her thumbs in her pockets, as he turned to leave. Back to the TARDIS. The TARDIS she couldn't fly, the TARDIS she was stranded with while she waited. She wasn't the patient type. She didn't wait for him to save her, she found her own way out. She wouldn't stay here. She wasn't stranded. She'd be fine, he'd be back, and absolutely nothing would be wrong.

The second hour, she was angry.

He left. He left her. He just... sodded off and left her there. Never mind the past needed saving, never mind that, he'd left her here to spend the rest of her life on a space station, living in the TARDIS and holding out hope that he might swoop in like a bloody hero and save her like a damsel in distress. Like a useless, stupid idiot who couldn't pilot a TARDIS or save herself or pull off a ball-gown as well as that tart.

He was always doing that. Sending her away. Leaving her behind. Telling her things that weren't true. Treating her like a stupid human. A stupid ape. Never good enough, or smart enough, or clever enough. Never strong enough. Never important enough to break through the barrier that kept them....

Not that it mattered. Because they weren't... Because she didn't... feel... that way about... Not that it was important.

And what right did she have? Some random woman who thought she was just entitled to everything. She already had the world. She already had everything. Why did she deserve the one person that actually mattered? The one thing that was important.

Not that it...

The third hour, Mickey came back.

“Come on. Let's go back in.” She could. She could, she supposed. If he'd just come back, he could bring her. Madam de Pompadour. If he'd just come back, he could bring her, and Rose would be alright with it. She got on well enough with Sarah Jane, hadn't she? She could just... give it another go with Mickey, and not be jealous of this beautiful, wonderful woman, while he showed her the awe of the universe.

Some things were worth getting your heart broken for. She'd take a broken heart, if it just meant he'd...

Not that it would break her heart, because they weren't... she wasn't so pathetic as to think... he wasn't... she wasn't...

Or, maybe she did.

She was willing to admit Reinette was wonderful. She was insightful. She knew things instinctively... as a person who prided herself on her instinct, she had to hand it to that woman. She really knew her stuff. The Doctor and the Monsters. She wanted to argue that she could keep the monsters away from him well enough by herself, thanks.

But maybe she couldn't. Maybe this Reinette could fix a part of him she'd never been able to. Maybe... maybe.

She went back to her room and tugged out her travel pack. Mickey hovered at her door for a minute, watching her quietly shove her things into the bag with a resignation that only came after three hours of staring at a wall. He didn't say anything, bless him, but he did shake his head gently and walk away. Like he knew something she didn't. Like he knew she wasn't leaving.

She wanted to be angry with him for that, but she wasn't.

It was hour four.

She just wanted to go home. In all of her time traveling with him, the end of the world, seeing people die, being terrified, being afraid, being... feeling things that she never... She'd never wanted to go home.

Today, she did. Her rucksack sat fully-loaded beside the door, and she sat on her bed, staring at it.

She wasn't crying.

Because it didn't matter.

Because it wasn't important.

Because he didn't... because there was someone better, and she...

Hour four was quiet. Hour four was lonely.

And the there was hour five.

Hour five came with contemplation and realization. She didn't want to go. After everything she'd seen, after the amazing and wonder, after all of the good she did, after seeing him so alone... no, she wouldn't go.

She made her choice. She was never gonna leave him. She'd tell him as much, later, but not now. Mickey came back to help her unpack. He folded her clothes and put them in drawers. He set ornaments out on shelves and books on tables.

She could learn to get along with Reinette. Because Reinette understood immediately what it took Rose five hours to figure out.

Because it mattered. Because it was important. Her. Him.

Five and a half hours, and Rose learned patience.