This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon the television series Doctor Who. All related characters, places, and events, belong to the BBC, and Russell T. Davies, used without permission. This story, with all original content, belongs to the author, © 2007.
Impossible Things III: If You Can Still Dream
by Orianna2000
This story takes place post-Doomsday and is third in the Impossible Things series.
Rated PG-13 for mild and implied sexual content in later chapters.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"But
if you can still dream, close your eyes—it will seem that you can
see me now and then."
—
Song
For Ten
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Chapter One – Grand Delusions
Rose had never seen a more beautiful sight. The beach curved away from her in a perfect half-circle; its pale sand reflected the tropical sun, and the water sparkled in a thousand shades of turquoise. As she stood at the top of the cliff looking down at the scene, the wind carried to her the sound of the waves crashing against the sand, a rhythmic song that brought a shiver of memory. She forced it away with the reminder that this beach looked nothing like the other, not with all the palm trees and lush blue-green mountains in the background, with the warm breeze that played with her hair and caught the edge of her sarong. Even the air smelled exotic, mingling the fragrances of strange flowers and fruits with the tang of salt. Only one thing kept the scene from being absolutely perfect.
It figured that she would still think about him, even half a world away from London, in a place they'd never visited together. But she couldn't help the bittersweet memories that danced through her mind as she walked down the weather-worn staircase from the hotel. Sand gritted against her bare feet, making each step uncomfortable, but her thoughts about the Doctor distracted from any discomfort. What would he do if he were here? Would he strip down and concede to wear a bathing suit on the world's most beautiful beach? Or would he laugh at the thought and come out onto the sand in all his pinstriped glory?
She knew what her first Doctor would have done.
"Beaches are for the young!" he'd protest. Then he'd cross his arms and lean back against the TARDIS, making little shooing motions to her and Jack. Of course, Jack would pretend that he didn't know it was not a nude beach, and she would pretend to be shocked and horrified at the sight of his naked bum as he raced ahead of her into the water.
But those days were long over. Jack had died, back on the GameStation, and a small part of her had died with him. Some days she missed him nearly as much as she missed the Doctor—both of them. After her very first trip with the Doctor, she'd imagined dying, being killed trying to protect or help someone. After the GameStation, she'd imagined watching the Doctor die again, changing into a stranger before her eyes, or having his regeneration fail and seeing him die for real. After the incident with the black hole, she'd even imagined being trapped somewhere far from home. She had been prepared for any of those possibilities.
But she hadn't considered the possibility of being trapped on a parallel world that looked just like home, but wasn't. She hadn't imagined being separated from both the men who had once made her truly happy. In all honesty, she'd rather have died on an alien planet than to know that the Doctor was alive and well, but so far away that she couldn't be with him. It nearly killed her to think that he would keep on living the sort of life that they'd once lived together, to know that he'd moved on without her.
Of course, she had her mum, and Mickey, Pete, and even little Johnny. A regular family they'd become, the five of them. She loved them all dearly, and if she had to be stuck somewhere, she was grateful to be with them. But it wasn't the same.
They didn't challenge her. They didn't make her feel alive.
But they did love her. And they were the only ones who even had a clue about what she'd been going through the past two years. It wasn't like she could talk to grief counsellors or therapists, because what would she say? "One of my best mates, who was like a big brother to me, was murdered by Daleks thousands of years in the future. Oh, and my other best mate, who, by the way, is the man I love more than life itself, is living his life somewhere that I can't get to without destroying the entire universe. Two of 'em, to be exact."
So, she cried alone in her bed. At first, she'd let her mum soothe her with hot cocoa in the mornings, and take her shopping in the afternoons for everything, since she'd arrived in this world with nothing more than the clothes on her back. It worked as a distraction for a while. But then she'd decided to make the Doctor proud. She'd gotten her A-levels in History, Physics, and Critical Thinking, and started part-time courses at University, all while working for Torchwood. No longer the ignorant shop girl from a council flat, Rose Tyler!
Yet, she still cried at night.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Rose forcefully banished all sorrowful thoughts the moment her feet touched the warm sand. It felt heavenly between her toes, and she silently thanked Pete for having decided the family needed a holiday. Today, he'd gotten up early for a few rounds of golf, and her mum had plans for an afternoon of island shopping. Mickey had promised to spend a few hours with Johnny at the pool—teaching him how to dog paddle, in theory, but she suspected that he hoped to pick up a cute girl or two with the lure of his infant charge. Johnny already knew how to bat his eyes and smile at the ladies... between the two of them, what woman could resist?
Although it was already quite warm, the beach had no other visitors this early in the day. Of course, the fact that it was a private beach owned by the hotel might have something to do with it. Rose felt utterly spoilt by the things Pete did for her and Mum, but really, who could turn down a holiday at one of the top resorts on the only remaining Hawaiian island? She had her own suite next to Mickey's and across from her parents', gorgeous views, beautiful weather, and a credit card with no limit.
But all she really wanted was some time alone on this luscious beach. She chose a spot well above the tidal marks and spread a large towel out on the sand. Another towel rolled up into a decent pillow. She squinted up at the sun, then rummaged through the bag she'd packed. Her sunscreen released the scent of coconut as she rubbed it generously into her arms and legs. Wouldn't do to get burnt so early on her holiday, would it?
As she settled back onto the towel, Rose wondered what the Doctor would think of her bathing suit. She'd picked one in the height of style here on this world, with old-fashioned bottoms that covered a lot more than she was used to, and a halter-styled top. It reminded her of something they might've worn in the 1960s on her world, and that's exactly why it had appealed to her. A little piece of history—a slight, intangible connection to the Doctor.
After a few minutes, a young waiter brought down the beverage she'd ordered: a frozen tropical drink. How she'd missed alcohol! This world's ultra-chaste England actually had a prohibition law. London just wasn't the same without a pub on every corner. This drink nearly made up for her recent abstinence, though. Fruity and sweet, with a tang that constricted her throat as she swallowed, it reminded her of something she'd had once on a world with an orange and violet sky...
With another sip of her drink, Rose opened a magazine. She'd been trying to improve her reading habits, but while a local gossip rag didn't exactly meet the Doctor's intellectual standards, it constantly amused her to note the differences between Pete's World and home. Fashions here were unusually modest. Many of the celebrities that she expected to find reports about had never been born, and as a result, some of her favourite films had never been produced. Even worse, Hollywood had been destroyed in the massive flooding that followed the rise in global temperatures due to the breach between worlds. Now, India, France, and New China were fighting to see which country would become the new leader of the film industry. She didn't really care, so long as one of them got around to making The Planet of the Apes. Not that the film was a realistic portrayal of the future—after all, she'd been there and back and not once had a chimpanzee spoken to her.
Well, not unless you counted ones with pink and green fur...
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
After half an hour, Rose realized that she'd been reading the same paragraph over and over, without seeing the words. The drink had helped her body to relax, but she couldn't concentrate with her mind so restless. Everything reminded her of the Doctor, or one of the worlds they'd visited, or something extraordinary she'd seen while travelling. Not bothering to mark her place, she tossed the magazine onto the sand and stretched out on her back.
The sun began to warm her and eventually the sounds of the ocean lulled her into a relaxed state. So peaceful here... No responsibilities. No frantic phone calls from Torchwood demanding she identify this artefact, or communicate with this alien, or solve this puzzle or that mystery. No wailing babies or screaming mothers. No sounds at all, except for the rhythmic crash of the waves, the gentle sigh of the wind, the occasional chirping of sea birds, and, of course, the familiar wheezing of the TARDIS' engines.
After two years, her heart no longer raced when she heard that particular sound. She didn't jump up to search for the time ship; she didn't look frantically around for the Doctor. He couldn't come back for her. He'd said that, and she believed him... but that didn't stop her mind from playing tricks on her. She heard the sound of the TARDIS materializing every time a dirigible flew overhead, whenever Mum ran the waste disposal, and sometimes even when Pete snored. She saw the Doctor in every crowd, just out of the corner of her eye. Her heart jumped whenever she walked by someone in a brown suit, or wearing Converse trainers, or even just with wild brown hair.
And she heard his voice near her ear, every time she closed her eyes.
"Rose Tyler..."
Just like that. Soft, yet backed with incredible strength. A voice that could stop an alien invasion in its tracks, topple the British government with just six words, or turn her stomach into a quivering mass of warm goo.
Of course, just now, she'd barely gotten a shiver down her spine, but that's because she knew the voice didn't exist. Not for her, not here, not any more. That didn't stop her mind from letting her hear it from time to time, of course.
"D'you have any idea how hard you were to find?" the Doctor's voice asked. "We were bouncing all over the British Isles before we figured out that you might not be in England at all. This is nice, though, innit? An island, at least, so we weren't too far off. Where are we, anyway—Hawaii? Tahiti? Polynesia? Lovely beach, this is, wherever we are. Just look at all that sand! Perfect for making sandcastles, wouldn't you say? Did I tell you about the time I saved an entire civilisation by winning a sandcastle competition? No? Remind me, sometime."
The voice paused for a moment and Rose could easily imagine him looking around, taking in the view. "It's nice and sunny, too," he continued, "Not like the last beach we were at—that was dismal, wasn't it? All windy and overcast. Oh, but—c'mon, now I'm getting sand in my shoes!"
He made an exasperated noise, and Rose could picture him shaking his leg off to one side, trying to get the sand out without actually taking his shoes off and dumping them upside down. She muffled a laugh.
"Don't think I didn't hear that, young lady. That was rude, that was! Laughing at me, when all I'm trying to do is get the sand out of my shoes. D'you know what—never mind. I give in! I'm taking them off."
Now that she wished she could see! Only once had she ever seen the Doctor's bare feet, and that had been her first Doctor, not this one. He'd had long toes, she remembered, long and narrow, and pale, with a sprinkling of dark hair across the joints.
"There we go! Much better. Nice and comfy now. Nothing in the world's like cool, damp sand between your toes, that's what I always say. Speaking of, you've been awfully quiet, Rose. Well, aside from that little snort of amusement a bit ago. Don't I even get a proper 'hello' after coming all this way? Navigating the Void wasn't easy, y'know. Neither was finding a way through, in the first place. But I managed, for you. Wouldn't catch me doing it for just anyone."
Liar. She knew better than to say anything out loud. People tended to stare when someone young and not obviously senile began holding a conversation with thin air. But it didn't matter. She knew that the Doctor loved the entire universe. He'd risk quite a lot to help someone—anything except tearing two universes apart. Sometimes she wished he had taken that risk, for her. But only when she felt particularly selfish and down. Most of the time, she accepted that he'd done the right thing. After all, she would've hated it if he'd tried to come get her and the universes had both imploded as a result.
Her imagined Doctor was quiet for a few moments, then sighed. "I didn't expect a party... well, maybe just a little one, with tea... oh, and those little fairy cakes! D'you remember those cakes? I must've eaten a dozen of them when we catered Jackie's birthday party! Remind me to bring a bunch back with us, yeah?"
He paused again, and Rose wondered if he'd be pouting. "So, no party, that's fine. But I really didn't think you'd ignore me, either. No 'hello, Doctor, it's lovely to see you again'? Not even a slap across the face for taking so long to get here?"
A flapping sound could have been the tails of his coat, or the palm fronds moving overhead in the breeze. Either way, the Doctor continued, "I'd be happy with just a hug, for old times' sake. Well, I say hug... I mean to say that a full-fledged snog would do the trick. But, you know me, I'm content with whatever. Hug, kiss, slap—all the same, really."
They had names for people who heard voices. Rose knew, because she'd looked it up the first time she'd heard him talking to her unexpectedly. After careful research, she'd eliminated the general causes, such as schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder. That left, what? Dementia caused by a broken heart? Her mum used to have conversations with Pete, back before she'd met the alternate version of him. Maybe it wasn't that uncommon, then.
Her imaginary Doctor had never sounded so uncertain before, though. He almost sounded dejected that she wasn't talking back. Great, all she needed now was for him to take on a life of his own... It'd start with demanding she talk to him, then they'd be having conversations in public, and before you knew it, she'd have to start saving a seat for him at the corner bistro.
"Rose... what is it? Have I done something wrong? Are you upset that I took so long? Is this a bad time? Or... wait. No! Oh, no, no, no! Beach, romantic... Dammit! Tell me I didn't just show up in the middle of your honeymoon!" He huffed as though pacing desperately. "It's your honeymoon, am I right? I knew it! Is it Mickey? It's Mickey, isn't it? You've gone and married the Mickey the Idiot and here I come along and interrupt your blissful island holiday."
Rose groaned, listening to him babble. How could an imaginary Doctor be even more vexing than the real one? Finally, she rolled onto her side, away from the voice. "Look, will you shut up about Mickey?"
"Oh. Right. Of course. You're married to the man—that's disrespectful, isn't it? Sorry, no more Mickey jokes. Though, if it were our honeymoon, I'd be out here with you, instead of letting you sunbathe alone. Where's he got to, then? Lemme guess, the hotel has an internet café?"
Rose's heart skipped a beat at the honeymoon comment, then resumed with a painful thud. As if she needed proof, the real Doctor would never have said any such thing. The comments about Mickey, however... "Were you this annoying in real life? How'd I ever put up with you?"
"Well, excuse me. I did just travel thousands of miles—millions of miles—only to find that you don't need rescuing after all. I'm a bit put out!" He sighed and made the sort of noises one might make as they tried to sit down on soft sand while wearing a dress suit and overcoat. "Wait. Hold on! Did you just ask if I was 'this annoying in real life'?"
Rose rolled her eyes, and bit her tongue to stop herself from calling him a baby. "I shouldn't have said that. Will it make you happier if I tell you that I'm not on my honeymoon? Mickey's along, but it's just a holiday. Mum's here, too, and Pete, and the baby. Just one big, happy family, yeah?"
"Oh, yes, the baby! How's that working out for Jackie? Midnight feedings, nappies to change, all that lot. Suits her, does it?"
"She's never been happier."
"Good, good! That's great news. Fantastic. What about Mister Mickey, then? How's he getting on?"
"Just fine," she said, shifting onto one elbow. "He's Torchwood's top computer specialist. Works there with me. Last year, he hacked into an Argolin database and saved the president from being turned into a half-alien clone. Gave him a medal, they did."
A sea bird made a sound very much like the Doctor whistling. "Good for him! And... what about you? Are you happy, here?"
Rose blinked to clear away the sudden tears that filled her eyes. What right did an imaginary friend have to make her cry? "Peachy," she mumbled, tired of all this.
"Rose, why won't you turn over and look at me?"
"Why?" Her fingers dug into the towel, gripping the rough fabric. "Because you're not bloody real, that's why! And if I try and look at you, you'll just fade away. That's what happens every time, and I'm sick of it! It's better when you're just a voice and I can pretend... oh, God, why am I bothering to explain any of this? You're imaginary, yeah? So do me a favour and just go away! Let me sunbathe in peace."
For a long moment, she heard nothing. Thinking she'd driven him away, she let her shoulders relax just a little. Tears still fell from her eyes, but she'd spent too much time crying already. She let out a shaky breath and almost didn't hear his reply.
"Oh, Rose," he whispered. "What have I done to you?"
(To Be Continued...)
Author's Note: I began this story nearly a year ago, but for many reasons (mostly being overly picky and editing it to death) I haven't posted it until now. It began as a short story, but quickly took on a life of its own and now stands at nine chapters, including an epilogue. Since it is completely finished, I will try to post a new chapter every two or three days. Your comments are, as always, appreciated and welcome!
Thanks to duchessoftime and Little Zink for expertly catching all of my extra commas while beta-reading, and to sensiblecat for her patience and editing skills while Brit-picking.
