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“Reinette Poisson!”
Rose stared at him, not sure if she should laugh or strangle him. “Reinette of the Fish?”
“No, no, no.” The Doctor shook his head but then tugged his ear. “Well, yes. Yes, it does mean fish. But she’s—” He frowned at her. “Hang on, how do you know poisson means fish? The TARDIS didn’t translate that.”
He looked suspiciously around the area, though they weren’t near the TARDIS. Rose shrugged and sighed, leaning more toward strangulation than laughter. Shame. Even when she wanted to maim the Doctor, she usually felt like laughing, not like actually hurting him. This time, not so much laughter and she couldn’t place why.
Something between them changed, and Rose didn’t know what. His attitude here on this ship. Or how he treated her. Or Mickey—which seemed a convenient excuse but seriously, Rose had no idea. She wanted to blame Sarah Jane but that, too, sounded like a convenient excuse.
Instead, she cleared her throat. Why was she nervous? Straightening, she lifted her chin and met the Doctor’s surprised—and suspicious—gaze. “No, the TARDIS didn’t translate. I know poisson means fish cause I studied French.”
Mickey choked beside her. Rose didn’t look at him. The Doctor, ignoring Mickey as usual, merely nodded. “Right. Yes. Right.”
She’d told him that, ages ago. After they returned from their disastrous trip to see her father. He seemed to remember that, but brushed it off. Around them, the odd spaceship groaned, and the time windows echoed with resonances of the past. Despite living in the past—and future for that matter—something about this trip had dread settling in Rose’s stomach.
“So?” She prompted. “Reinette of the Fishes?”
“What?” He shook his head again. “No, no, Reinette—well, history remembers her as Madame de Pompadour.”
“Ah. So Reinette of the Fishes with Really Big Hair?” Rose blinked innocently up at him, smirking.
The Doctor opened his mouth then snapped it closed. She knew that look. He was trying hard not to snicker. She’d take it.
And just like that, whatever odd spell between them vanished. Like a snap of fingers, things shifted on an axis and righted. Perfect. Well, not perfect, there were murderous robots to take care of and history to save, and whatnot and so forth. But between them? Rose once more felt on even footing with the Doctor.
As it should be.
Later, in the kitchen with the Doctor muttering about the TARDIS and the odd time windows, and poor Arthur the Horse wandering the hallways, Mickey turned on her.
“Studied French, eh?”
Rose smirked. “I did! Was going to get my A Levels in it, you know that.”
“Oh, I know that.” He nodded readily. “But I also know you wanted to study French because—” He took the pose, the pose he’d taken uncountable times when they were young. Arms out, on his tiptoes, head thrown back. “Les poissons, les poissons. How I love les poissons! Love to chop and to serve little fish. First, I cut off their heads, Zen I pull out their bones…”
Laughing, Rose swatted him with the dishtowel. “Shut it, you!”
And that’s how the Doctor found them—Rose laughing until she cried, and Mickey dancing around the kitchen on tiptoes, holding the frying pan.
Suddenly the words clicked—poisson, Little Mermaid. He grinned, and almost snapped a photo of Mickey being an utter dork as he mimicked Chef Louis dancing around the kitchen and singing about fish.
But the look on Rose’s face—such joy, such unfettered joy, made him pause.
This was how he wanted to remember her. This was how she should always look. So happy and carefree. The Doctor paused, one hand closing around the camera he had known he’d stashed in his pocket.
Always.
He slipped out the camera, took a bunch of pictures of Rose, and several of Mickey (because he really did look silly), then slipped the camera back into his suit pocket. Stepping into the kitchen, the Doctor skirted a spinning Mickey and made his way to Rose’s side.
This was where he belonged.
“So, fish for dinner?” he asked blandly.
Rose blinked up at him only to laugh again, this time her tongue teased the side of her mouth and that grin—his grin—blooming across her face.
Yes, all was right in his world.