A product of too many RPs turning sad and this song following me around on the radio. Seriously, it's always on, no matter what station I turn to. Also, with the 50th coming up quickly, I've been having 11/Rose feels. I cried a little while writing this. You might cry a little while reading this. So, you know, maybe grab a few tissues before going any further.
I don't own Doctor Who or 'The A Team' by Ed Sheeran.
000
The Doctor coughed and waved away a bit of smoke that had escaped the consol. "Amy! Are you –"
"Doctor!"
Looking around wildly, he finally spotted his companion. Well, half of her anyways. From the waist up, Amelia Pond had somehow gotten tangled up in the wires below the glass floor, and was now awkwardly trying to keep her balance with one foot on the swing he made repairs from, which was swaying unsteadily back and forth as her other foot scrabbled for purchase on the base of the consol. Hurrying down the stairs two at a time, the Doctor positioned himself so that Amy now sat upon his shoulders, like a child sitting on her father's shoulders to see over a crowd.
"Can you get untangled?" he asked, trying to peer up into the mess of jumbled together parts and wires that had accumulated over the many years and repairs, and feeling very thankful that she had, for once, forgone the short skirt in favor of some proper trousers. "How did you get up there anyways?"
"How d'ya think?" she shot back angrily, her Scottish accent thick with annoyance and frustration. "When the TARDIS went mad, I got tossed around and held on to whatever seemed stable for dear life! Apparently what I was holding was something down here and I got all mixed up in this mess!"
"Yeah, sorry about that," the Doctor winced, "I don't know what happened, we were just orbiting a dead sun, off in a corner of space where no one would bother us for a while. Then everything got all…"
"Spacey wacey?" Amy bit out angrily as she tugged at the wires trapping her left wrist.
"Spacey wacey," the Doctor nodded in agreement, making Amy snap at him to stay still before she kicked him in the ribs. Thankfully, after a few minutes she had freed herself enough that she could stand on her own and unknot the last few wires while the Doctor took a look outside.
It was snowing, not heavily, but enough that it looked as though the stars were falling from the night sky, covering the street in a light powder. They had landed in an alley that dead-ended into a brick wall behind the TARDIS and was covered in the usual graffiti. Side entrances to the buildings on either side were between where the Doctor stood and the entrance to the alley, and a small red light briefly flared next to the left one. Focusing on that spot, he suddenly realized that a person was sitting there, her back against the three cement steps leading up to the door, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. He watched silently as she let the smoke drift out of her partially open lips, past her closed eyes and into the wintery night sky.
White lips, pale face,
Breathing in the snowflakes,
Burnt lungs, sour taste.
Light's gone, day's end,
Struggling to pay rent,
Long nights, strange men.
"Hello?" he called cautiously. "Are you alright?"
She cracked open one bleary eye. "Alright?" she snorted. "Wha' kinda question is that? Who're you to ask someone like me if 'm alright?" She took another long drag of her cigarette as she opened both eyes to give him a look that wasn't friendly, but wasn't angry either. It felt more like she was…evaluating him or something.
"Well, I'm the Doctor," he offered after a moment.
"A doctor," her dull brown eyes suddenly sharpened as a hard look entered them. "I've had jus' about enough of doctors to last me a lifetime."
And they say,
She's in the Class A team,
Stuck in her daydream,
Been this way since 18.
But lately, her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries.
And they scream,
'The worst things in life
Come free to us.'
"Why do you say that?"
"'cause he was a doctor wasn't he?" she spat angrily, more to herself than the man in front of her, though he heard anyways. "And he jus' up an left me here with that bleedin' idiot. Oh, they tried to tell me that they were the same, that there was no real difference, but the idiot wasn't him, was he?" She trailed off into incomprehensible mutterings as the Doctor slowly approached and sat down next to her.
"What's your name?" he asked gently.
She stopped cursing the mysterious him and gave the Doctor a look of such complete and utter shock, he thought for a moment he had accidently spoken in an alien language.
"My name?" she asked wonderingly. "No one's asked for my name in a long, long time. They give me whatever name they want. He loved saying my name," No anger touched her voice this time as she spoke of the man who had hurt her, now she merely sounded reflective. "Said it all the time. My full name, not jus' my first one. It was kinda nice, if a bit annoying at times." She fell into a silence full of memories as the Doctor waited for her to give her name.
'Cause we're just under the upperhand,
And go mad for a couple grams.
And she don't want to go outside, tonight.
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland,
Or sells love to another man.
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly,
Angels to fly.
"Rose," she finally said, so softly the Doctor almost didn't hear. "But he almost always called me Rose Tyler."
For the first time in his long life, the Doctor was suddenly unsure if the planet he stood on was moving or not. That it was Rose, his Rose, seated next to him, had blindsided the old Time Lord. His thoughts froze in place as every atom of the Doctor gaped at the girl next to him.
"What?" she shifted uncomfortably next to him.
Ripped gloves, raincoat,
Tried to swim, stay afloat,
Dry house, wet clothes.
Loose change, bank notes,
Weary eyes and dry throats.
Call girl, no phone.
"Rose Tyler," he said, almost reverently. "My jeopardy-friendly, pink-and-yellow, impossible Rose Tyler. My Big Bad Wolf."
Her eyes locked onto his at the words 'Bad Wolf', and for the first time, she really looked at him, looked into his ancient, sparkling green eyes, so different from the cold blue or the soft brown she remembered, but so familiar.
"Doctor," she whispered, "It's you. It's really, really you."
And they say,
She's in the Class A team,
Stuck in her daydream,
Been this way since 18.
But lately, her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries.
And they scream,
'The worst things in life
Come free to us.'
"Really, really me," he grinned, draping an arm across her shoulders and pulling her to his side. Her hand crept up to lay against his chest, and tears welled in her eyes as that much missed da-da-da-dum beat of his two hearts was felt. He reached his other arm around her in an awkward but extremely comforting and satisfying hug, resting his head on top of hers as he absently noted that she had stopped dying her hair blonde, allowing it to return to its natural brunette.
"How…?" she asked breathlessly.
"I don't know," he shook his head. "It should've been impossible, I thought I had sealed off this world for good. But here we are."
'Cause we're just under the upperhand,
And go mad for a couple grams.
And she don't want to go outside, tonight.
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland,
Or sells love to another man.
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly,
Angels to fly.
"Here we are," she repeated disbelievingly. "Here you are. You came back." She looked up into his face again. "You've regenerated."
"Just once since you last saw me," he reassured her. "Still the same, though. Just a New, New, New Doctor." She giggled slightly, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes as she just listened to the double heartbeat she had missed for so long.
An angel will die,
Covered in white.
Closed eye,
And hoping for a better life.
This time,
We'll fade out tonight,
Straight down the line.
As she leaned against him, the Doctor studied her more closely than before. She was pale, nearly deathly so, and much thinner than before. Too skinny, in fact, in a sickly sort of way. Her makeup couldn't hide the deep purple circles under her eyes, and her hair, while no longer a peroxide blonde, was thinning and lacked any sort of healthy shine. Looking at her neck, which lacked the strong, natural curve he remembered, he could see her pulse fluttering inconsistently under paper-like skin.
"Oh, Rose," he sighed almost inaudibly. "What have you done?"
And they say,
She's in the Class A team,
Stuck in her daydream,
Been this way since 18.
But lately, her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries.
And they scream,
'The worst things in life
Come free to us.'
She opened one heavy eye and looked up at him again. "I missed you," she whispered. "So much. That…fake Doctor, he was too much like you without being you. It hurt to be around him. I couldn't stand it anymore. I ran away." She swallowed roughly. "Started doing things for money. Then started spending the money on…stuff. And when I needed more stuff, I had to do more and more things. I can't –" she gasped out a soft sob, "I can't stand it anymore, but I need to do it."
And we're all under the upperhand,
Go mad for a couple grams.
And she don't want to go outside, tonight.
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland,
Or sells love to another man.
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly,
Angels to fly.
"Oh, Rose, Rose, Rose Tyler," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll take you away from here, I'll make you better again," he promised rashly, even though he could feel her pulse slowing, even though he knew what was happening, even though he understood now why the TARDIS had landed here.
"I'd like that," she mumbled, smiling tiredly up at him as her eyes watered up. "Rose Tyler and the Doctor…in the TARDIS…"
"As it should be," he finished with a nod, feeling his own eyes start to water. "Won't that be just…fantastic, Rose?"
"Absolutely fantastic," she sighed, leaning her head back against him again and closing her eyes once more.
"We'll go to Barcelona," he told her even as his vision blurred with unshed tears "The planet Barcelona, not the city. Just like I said we would. Kept getting sidetracked, though, eh? First the Sycorax over London, then New Earth. Remember that, Rose? The apple grass and the Face of Boe and mad cat nuns? And Cassandra and…" he trailed off for a moment before finishing softly, "…and that kiss…"
But there was no response. There was no movement. There was…nothing.
"Rose Tyler," he sighed, kissing the top of her head again, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "Defender of the Earth. You were fantastic, you were brilliant, and you were my amazing pink-and-yellow human." He took a long, shuddering breath, and whispered one final word. "Goodbye."
To fly, fly,
Or angels to die.
The Doctor stood and scooped up her thin frame easily, walking towards the street and managing to hail a passing police car. "Her name was Rose Tyler," he said shortly, settling her carefully in the backseat. "Her parents were Pete and Jackie Tyler. Just…contact them, please? Tell them she was with an old friend when –" he stopped and cleared his throat.
"Mister, I'm sorry, but this is awfully suspicious looking…"
The Doctor practically shoved the psychic paper under the copper's nose. The man's eyes widened slightly and he nodded.
"Yes, of course, sir, I'll do that. What – who should I say was the old friend?"
He smiled humorlessly. "The Doctor." Without another word, he spun around and walked away, hands shoved in his pockets.
He didn't look back.
He didn't tell Amy what had happened.
He didn't offer any explanation as he piloted them back to the proper universe.
He didn't say her name, he didn't cry, he didn't go looking for her room, he didn't dwell on their adventures together.
He just carried on, same as always.
A boy and his box, off to see the stars.
With two hearts just a little more broken then before.
