jlrpuck | A Near Thing, 4/4

Title– A Near Thing (4/4)
Author– jlrpuck
Rating – T
Pairing – Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer – Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary – Rose’s job is dangerous—but so is Peter’s.
Author’s Notes – Beta’d with flair by both

chicklet73 and

earlgreytea68; thank you so much to both of them for their suggestions, encouragement, and assistance.

O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

- Robert Burns, In the Prospect of Death

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Peter returned to work after two weeks’ recuperation at home—time enough for him to be up to going to work, but still earlier than Rose or his doctor would have liked. It was odd to be back in the Pen, to be back to the relative normalcy of a day in the office.

“You want to know the status of our fine friend?” Elias asked, once he and Peter had the usually-busy room to themselves. His partner, unsurprisingly, had recovered much more quickly, and had been back for nearly a month by then.

Peter glanced around to the empty desks, feeling a pang of jealousy. His colleagues were all out, doing their jobs, finding bad guys; he was trapped at his desk for at least another month, consigned to fielding phone calls and wrangling paperwork.

He hated being injured.

“Carlisle? You there?” Elias was snapping his fingers, trying to get Peter’s attention.

“Aye. Feeling sorry for myself for bein’ trapped in here.”

His partner gave him a sly grin. “What makes you think you’re any less effective for being stuck here, eh?” Elias opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a thin folder and tossing it over to Peter. “Case in point. Our fine friend.”

Peter opened the folder to find a picture of the man who’d shot the two of them, and felt a flash of hate for the face that glared back at him. He’d heard Nonnie had been caught—Rose, of all people, was the one to tell him, shortly before his DCI called with the news. She’d seemed satisfied as she shared what she knew of Nonnie’s arrest; Peter had felt nothing but weary relief.

“What of him?”

“No disrespect to our colleagues—they really did try to nab the bastard, you know. But it was a fine bit of desk jockeying by yours truly that led to his arrest.” Elias beamed, full of pride.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to work that case. Something about ‘vengeance’ or ‘personal involvement’,” Peter replied, drily.

Elias put on an air of wounded innocence. “I hardly broke a rule, Peter—”

“By ‘hardly,’ you mean ‘I bent the ever-loving hell out of a rule’, Elias.”

“That’s not important. What is important, is that Charlie and Brooks were able to arrest him because of something I did, from this desk right here.” Elias tapped the blotter in front of him. “So don’t feel sorry for yourself, thinking you can’t do a bloody thing because you’re trapped behind a desk. That’s a load of bollocks, and I don’t want to be near you if you’re thinking like that.”

Peter blinked, taken aback by the vehemence with which Elias spoke.

“Right,” he finally said, glancing down at his desk.

“Good.”

Peter reached for the pen he habitually kept at the top of his blotter, pulling it towards him and idly spinning it on the note-bedecked paper. “You use that pep talk often?”

“Haven’t needed to.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

“Honestly, Carlisle, you’re the most emotionally needy partner I’ve ever worked with. You’re the only person I’ve used it on.”

“Mostly because I suspect I’m the only person who’d not tell you to sod off upon hearing it.”

“That might be truth.”

Peter grinned. “So long as we’re honest about that. Now. What rule-bending treats have you secreted away for us?”

~ - ~

Peter had been back to work for a few weeks by the time Rose began to feel under the weather. She was exhausted, and achy, and finally had to admit that perhaps she was battling something a bit more severe than the twenty-four hour bug which had been going around.

It was a bit of a surprise, then, to learn that she was pregnant and not simply ill.

“You’re sure?” she asked the doctor for the fifth time. “Really sure?”

“Yes, Rose. I’m sure.” The woman had been her doctor since she’d come to Pete’s Universe; had been the doctor she and Peter had come to see when they’d had trouble conceiving. She looked as disbelievingly elated at the news as Rose felt, and continued, “You’re a couple of months along, give or take.”

“’m pregnant,” Rose murmured, stunned. Finally, finally, she and Peter had succeeded. And a few months along…she’d been pregnant when Peter had been shot. She felt a brief chill at the idea that he might have died before having the opportunity to find out they were going to have a child together.

“Yes, Rose.” The doctor patted her shoulder, then turned to leave the room. “I suggest getting a lot of rest, and perhaps putting in a pair of earplugs before you tell your husband. I’ll be in my office once you’ve dressed.

Rose was left alone in the examination room, thoughts rushing madly through her head. She was pregnant. With Peter’s child.

She couldn’t get dressed quickly enough, wanted to be home, waiting for Peter, wanted to tell him the news as soon as she could. She rang upstairs to Mickey’s desk before she left, simply saying “Goin’ home. In tomorrow. Maybe the day after.” before rushing out the door.

Mercifully, it was one of the evenings when Peter was home early from work. He was still mostly confined to desk duty—work protocols dictated he have three months out of the field, regardless of how well he claimed to feel—but he still seemed to be doing a fine job of working challenging cases and his usual punishing hours.

“You’re home!” he exclaimed as he closed the door behind him, his voice carrying down the hall. “How am I supposed to set ye a surprise for your birthday if you’re lurking in the house?” He entered the lounge, grinning.

She’d completely forgotten it was her birthday; she blinked, stunned.

“Rose?” Peter crossed over to where she sat on the sofa, settling down next to her in the small space available. “Are ye well?”

She blinked, focusing on the man in front of her, her eyes tracing over his beloved features. He watched her, confused, his focus unwavering as he waited for her to say something.

“We’re pregnant,” she finally blurted out, grinning madly.

Peter’s jaw went slack, his gaze riveted to hers. “Really?” he finally asked, voice hoarse.

“Really,” she replied, her grin softening to a smile.

“A baby?” His eyes suddenly shone, full of hope. He’d wanted a baby so desperately; each time she’d thought, perhaps, she’d been pregnant, he’d been more excited than she, and had taken each negative as a devastating blow.

“Yeah.” She moved her hand to rest on her stomach, protective of the new life forming there.

Peter glanced down, seeing where her hand rested, and moved to cover her hand with his. “Our baby.” A beaming smile spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness. He giggled then tilted his head back and shouted—a sound of pure, unrestrained joy.

“Our baby,” she replied, joining him in laughter. “Our baby!” She shouted the words into the small room, leaning into Peter. He moved, his arms enfolding her in an embrace; he leaned back, pulling her with him so they both reclined against the sofa, and began to excitedly whisper about the future.

~ - ~

“I need to talk with you.” Peter pushed off from the wall outside the back entrance to the Yard, falling neatly into step with Elias and Ruby as they arrived for work the next morning.

Ruby slowed, glancing to him. “Shall I leave you, then?”

“Nae, ye should be along for this as well.”

Peter suspected that both of the McCoys knew at that point what he’d be telling them—at least, if their expressions were anything to go by. Elias was wearing the smirk he’d never learned to hide—the one that meant he’d just come to a dazzling conclusion and couldn’t wait to be proved right. Ruby let a slow smile cross her lips, and gave him what could only be described as a knowing look.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s along to anywhere but here, shall we?” He strode ahead of the pair, leading the way down the road to a small alley which cut towards the Embankment. Elias hurried to catch up to him, while Ruby followed behind, content to let the two men talk. Or not.

He led Elias past their usual ‘remote office’, all the way to the coffee shop they used to out-and-out hide; it was busy enough that they could often talk without worrying overmuch about being eavesdropped on, and far enough away from the office that there was little chance of anyone finding them: in short, it was perfect.

It also happened to be the very same coffee shop Elias had invited him to, back when Peter had been mulling accepting the job he now held.

“Right, out with it, Carlisle,” Ruby said as they finally settled at a table in the crowded café.

Elias calmly stirred his tea, happy to let Ruby carry the curiosity for both of them.

Peter opened his mouth…and found he simply wasn’t able to speak. He closed it, tried again; still no luck.

Ruby leaned forward, patting his hand. “’s alright, Peter. Drink up.”

The three of them sat together, sipping their drinks, watching the crowd ebb and flow around them. And then, without thought, Peter said, “We’re having a baby.” He blinked, surprised, then grinned.

Elias smiled in return, offering “Congratulations,” as he clapped Peter on the shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Ruby said, beaming. “I’d kiss you, but, well…”

“People would talk,” Elias added, waggling his eyebrows.

“Like they don’t already?” Peter asked, putting on his best innocent expression.

“Point.” Elias took a sip of tea.

“How’s Rose?” Ruby asked, leaning forward.

“As well as can be, I guess. She was roundly cursing my name this morning when I left.”

“Sounds about right. She’ll be fine, given time.” Ruby pushed her empty mug away from her, settling back in her chair as she began to think.

“Rose, I think, will be giving you a ring at some point today. She’d mentioned she wanted to have lunch…so, ah, maybe don’t mention that I told you? I think she wanted to surprise you.”

“Not unless she asks,” Ruby replied, smiling indulgently.

Peter leaned back in his chair, his hand idly turning the nearly-empty coffee cup as the three of them settled back into happy silence.

~ - ~

Rose was pulled from sleep—a delightful dream involving Peter, and a field of soft green grass, and blue skies—by the squalling of an infant.

“Your turn,” she groaned, rolling over, her hand reaching to thump Peter on the chest.

Her arm landed in empty space, although the sheet was still warm.

Lucy squalled once more, then quieted. Rose could hear the soft sounds of Peter speaking to her, and propped herself up on her arm.

Soft morning light filled the room; it was later than she’d thought. Peter was across the room, his back to the bed as he stood over the bassinet. He was holding Lucy, looking down at her as he rocked her side-to-side; Rose quickly lay down as she saw him turn to take their daughter to the changing table, to take care of her soiled nappy.

She never had the chance to watch Peter with Lucy, at least not when he thought he wasn’t being watched; she wanted to enjoy the moment, to see him speak to their daughter in Gaelic (he’d been studying the language again, wanting to be able to converse with her fluently by the time she could speak). Peter tickled Lucy’s tummy as he finished, earning a giggle from their daughter; he grinned sleepily in response, then scooped her up into his arms.

He crooned to her as he crossed the room, heading for bed; Rose rolled over, blinking her eyes open, greeting Peter with a smile.

“H’lo,” she whispered.

He smiled back at her, before returning his attention to Lucy. He settled into bed, then gently lay back, shifting Lucy to rest on his chest, gently rubbing their daughter’s back as she squirmed briefly.

“You’re too thin for her,” Rose said softly, smiling as she curled against her husband.

“Ye’ve nae complained.”

“No,” she agreed, placing a gentle kiss against his skin. The light from the small lamp on the bedside table—most likely turned on by Peter when he’d risen to take care of Lucy—caught the quick shine of one of his scars, and she leaned up to place a quick kiss across it as well.

Peter slid his arm under her shoulders, pulling her to him for a soft kiss; his other hand rested on Lucy’s back, keeping her safely in place.

“Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his dark eyes warm.

She smiled, whispering in response, “Good morning.”

~ fin ~

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Date: 2009-01-22 11:01 am (UTC)

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