I.
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Rose dreams of red-gold star fields, running for her life and the familiar feeling of another hand in hers
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It started one morning with the insistent beeping staccato of the alarm clock, dragging Rose from dreams of red-gold star fields, running for her life and the familiar feeling of another hand in hers. She rolled around and flung an arm out to shut off the clock and clung on to the images in her head as long as she could until the images faded into the white ceiling of her room. Rose stayed there for a moment, counting to fifty, listening to sounds of activity around the house. She was never a morning person. After sighing, she decided she might as well get up and prepared to dress.
"You've got to eat more than just cereals, sweetheart," Jackie said the moment Rose appeared in the kitchen.
Jackie was wearing a silk robe over her nightclothes, the material stretched over her stomach, six months gone. Rose smiled at her, married life and a baby on the way suits Jackie, she's all pink cheeked and all the lines she had from worry and loneliness are softened.
"Lived on toasts before," Rose nodded to Jackie's belly, grabbing a toast and spreading jam on it. "How's the baby?"
Jackie beamed. "Doin' pretty well, can already tell she'll be as spry as you."
Rose looked around for Pete; he was usually all over Jackie in the morning, cooing over her. It was nauseating and cute at the same time. One of the maids bustled by, she's been here for months and it was still something to get used to. She waited a few more seconds and finally asked, "Pete left already?"
"Said he had a business meeting." Jackie said, putting another slice of toast on her plate then added, with a bit of reproach, "You could call him 'dad', you know. You used to."
Rose pulled the newspaper from under the plates, brushed breadcrumbs off it and read the headlines. Nothing unusual: lobbies against company monopolies, a mention of Vitex and something about a Mr. Saxon. She chewed on her bread before saying, "Torchwood?"
Jackie made a face. She's still not forgiven the other Torchwood. "His real job, Vitex Industries."
Rose grinned at the note of wonder and pride she heard. Jackie never had the opportunity to see her Pete flourish this way but she also didn't know Rose's real father died a hero, saving the world. She polished off her meal with three bites. "Must be going myself," she said, grabbing her keys and bussing Jackie's cheek. "See ya later, mum."
"Be home for supper!" Jackie called behind her.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
When Pete presented her the keys to the black BMW Rose regarded it with equal parts happiness and wariness, and after the initial euphoria cleared, she had tried to turn it down. He'd already provided so much for them.
"It's just a car," was Pete's reply. "I've a whole fleet of them, so you might as well use one."
Put that way Rose wasn't daft enough to say 'no' again. For Pete buying a car was as trivial as buying a new suit. Apparently he was richer than he was when she was here last. Amazing considering the war and the money he must have put in Torchwood. After Cybus Industries crashed and the Government repossessed almost all of John Lumic's fortune, Pete absorbed most of Cybus into Vitex Industries. He'd been on the brink of bankruptcy himself not counting all the bad press, mistrust and lawsuits he'd had to contend with.
"You're a chip off the old block, you are, Pete's not one to give up too," Mickey told her during her first days adjusting to the idea of living on this Earth. He told Rose how Pete kept on fighting to reestablish his credentials and finally cemented his legacy in the war by taking hold of Torchwood Institute from the misguided fools who ran it once Torchwood's projects became public and brought the Preachers in.
Pete also helped her establish her credentials, calling in favors from the government and Torchwood as tabloids suddenly took notice of the other blonde with the newly found Jackie Tyler whom everyone thought was dead. Rose was the only one who needed papers. The only Rose Tyler that existed in this world was a furry dog Pete's Jackie had adopted. Jackie, her mum, took one look at the dog and sneered at it. "You two had this yappy dog instead of a daughter?" Jackie had asked Pete.
It was a wonder the dog was still around, considering the war and the years in between that, yapping its way around the house, Jackie had gotten used to the dog but to Rose's relief hadn't even once referred to it as 'Rose'.
Torchwood and the government came through but not after some ceremony or other. Apparently the People's Republic of Great Britain ('Since when was Britain a republic?' Jackie asked before Pete could 'shhhh' her) like Her Majesty's Government back home loved giving people medals. The lot of them received medals for 'exemplary courage and bravery in service of humanity', for all the good that would do them since they were not allowed to wear the medals outside of 10 Downing Street. The mission, they were informed, was now classified as 'Most Secret'.
President Harriet Jones pinned the medals on the lapels of their best clothes and Rose found she had to bite her tongue and keep her hands to her sides to keep from saying more than a hello and tackle this Harriet Jones in an embrace.
"Blimey, she's a prime minister here too!" Jackie had whispered beside her.
"President, mum," she reminded her, but Jackie wasn't listening, too awed that she was in 10 Downing to do anything other than gape and take photos.
Rose grinned and turned to study the President. Harriet Jones was the same and yet so different from the one she knew. She looked harder and grimmer, but it wasn't any wonder. Rose learned Harriet Jones was a wartime president, a woman who rose to the occasion when she found herself the only cabinet member spared from the horrific Cybermen culling. Her leadership kept the Republic together and when it came time to re-establish the government, the people's choice was unanimous.
Rose remembered Harriet Jones, MP from Flydale North had had a mother and wondered what happened to this Harriet Jones's mother.
For one instant, Rose was glad the Doctor wasn't here because she was sure he would not have liked President Harriet Jones' methods and he'd already almost broken Prime Minister Harriet Jones' government back home. She didn't think this Britain could do without a Harriet Jones.
Still, Rose was surprised to find Harriet Jones standing before her. Before she could blink President Jones whipped out an identification card and said, "Hello, I think we haven't met yet. I'm Harriet Jones, President."
Rose grinned at the familiarity of those words. "Hello, President Harriet Jones."
"I would just like to give my deepest thanks to you and for your service; without your sacrifice this world would have fallen to ruin."
"It wasn't really me-"
"Ms. Tyler," President Jones said sternly, "Accept the compliment."
"I-- thank you, ma'am."
Harriet Jones smiled at her, "That's better." Then she gestured to her aide, who approached her and handed Rose a packet. "I think your father requested these."
She looked through the brown packet and found her newly minted papers, authenticated by the President of the People's Republic of Great Britain. Rose looked up at Harriet Jones to thank her but she had already moved on, greeting and shaking hands.
It took some time before Rose knew what to do with herself. The days passed into weeks and she finally realized she had to do something until the Doctor found his way through the void, if ever. She and Pete talked about her prospects until the wee hours of the night. She noticed he twitched everytime she called him dad. He offered her a job at Vitex and it appealed to Rose for all of five minutes. She knew next to nothing about running a business and then he'd mentioned Torchwood.
She was reluctant to join. It was hard not to feel suspicious of an organization that was instrumental in the arrival of the Cybermen, but she was bored of just hanging about the mansion and staring at the yapping dog. So, when Torchwood London finally reopened its doors Rose shrugged her shoulders and reported to the personnel department.
Rose had, eventually, come to the conclusion the Torchwood in her world meant well, they really did, and Yvonne seemed to have been competent in her work (despite Jackie's claims to the contrary) if in a bit misguided way. Although if Jackie's story was to be believed the blame fell solely at her and the Doctor's feet. They were the reason Torchwood was established in the first place. But if there was one thing Rose learned it was that if something was meant to happen it would happen. She hadn't existed in this world and she was certain the Doctor in this universe had not survived the Time War. This parallel Torchwood was created by other means and other reasons but their purpose remained the same.
Rose had gone only for the sole purpose of talking to the Torchwood people, nothing more. Exploratory talks if you will. David, the head of personnel, studied her from head to foot and recommended a complete change in wardrobe. Since all she'd brought with her were the clothes on her back and a few gadgets and trinkets that fit in her pocket, it wasn't hard. Still Rose had to ask. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
"Doesn't say professional," David said, eyeing Rose with a disinterested clinical eye. "It says 'window dressing' rather than Torchwood."
Rose looked down at her red shirt and jean jacket. She'd grant the professional part. "I thought we were going for inconspicuous?"
"Still, your clothes are a bit flash."
Rose looked at her jeans and shirt again. Nobody had ever called her jeans and shirt a bit flash. Must be the reds. So she became less prone to wearing denim and shirts. It was a bit strange at first, but eventually she got used to it. Now she'd taken to wearing dark suits and less mascara. When she looked into the mirror, sometimes she didn't know who the woman staring back at her was.
She didn't know who Rose Tyler was any more. Her old life was gone, dead amongst the rubble in the other Canary Wharf. She once defined herself by who she was with and who she took care of: Jackie Tyler's daughter, Mickey's girlfriend, the Doctor's plus one. Now she wasn't any of those things.
In this world she wasn't even her father's daughter.
Her only consolation were her trainers-- black, sensible ones but trainers nonetheless. Nothing beat trainers when running for your life - that is, if she'd ever have that opportunity at all again. But her department head, Ianto Jones, had other ideas. First day on the job he gave her a desk, business cards and a title of analyst.
"Not field operations like Mickey?"
Ianto looked up from his papers. "Let's see after three months."
But Rose was familiar with that look. He wasn't impressed with her and the fact that she was the 'daughter' of Pete Tyler meant nothing to him. She sat on her desk and resigned herself to her fate cataloguing the files that ended up on her desk, which never seemed to lessen or disappear. She ignored the itch at the base of her skull, the voice that shouted for something and that feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was another life far from the stars and the danger. It wasn't the life she'd chosen but it would do.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The office was empty when Rose arrived and she remembered Mickey and Jake were out scouting. There was the usual pile of paperwork stacked neatly in a pile on her IN tray, where Rose had left it almost empty last night. Everyday she worked over the files and every morning new files kept on arriving. It was like Christmas morning, only not.
Her office was a communal workspace she shared with Mickey and Jake and divided by cubicles, giving the pretense of privacy. If Rose was in any way claustrophobic the whole place would have sent her clawing at the walls. Mickey jokingly called their office the Void and it fit. It was closed off from the other departments, away from sunlight and windows and surrounded by bright fluorescent lights that turned her skin yellow under the glare. It was almost as good as being stuck in a basement, tucked away from the rest of Torchwood-- the renegade rebels called Preachers and a girl they'd rather forget existed.
Rose suspected it was her Torchwood wanted to forget, not Mickey and Jake; they were, after all, heroes of the war. They had a certain cachet because of that, but the war's been over for years and all the old soldiers are either retired or absorbed into the system. Mickey and Jake remained because they were Mickey Smith and Jake Simmonds, heroes.
She took off her jacket hung it on the coat rack and set right to the reports. She paged through each of them, marking down notes on her computer. The reports were the usual kind: photos of alien looking equipment that most likely were just some hi-tech toothbrush, alien sightings with only 5 ever ending up as the genuine sort of alien-aliens and more often than not, already catalogued by UNIT.
By the time mid-morning rolled by Mickey strode in in his black khakis and jacket, looking wind blown. A good look on him, Rose decided a long time ago.
"How you doin', babe?"
Rose raised a folder, "Chained to the desk, still."
"Should've come with Jake and me."
She eyed him. "Found anything?"
Mickey tossed his rucksack on his desk. "Not a single thing, Torchwood Three has better luck finding alien junk." He shot her a look. "Still better than sitting in this place the whole day."
She gestured to the paperwork. "Someone should be doing this."
"Yeah, the assistant, Anna."
"Yeah, because that'll be so helpful!"
Jake walked in, carrying his own equipment. He greeted her around a yawn. "Tyler."
Rose raised her eyebrows. "What time did you two set out?"
"Sometime around two a.m."
"And you wanted me to join you. At least I had a full night's rest in my big, warm bed."
"Shared pain," Mickey said with a lopsided smile.
Rose snorted and threw a crumpled paper at him. "Oh, go on to your debriefing."
"C'mon, Mickey," Jake draped an arm around Mickey's neck, "Lady wants her privacy so she can view more porn."
"Oi!" she said, indignant, throwing another piece of crumpled paper but Jake ducked it. Mickey rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be dragged out. Chuckling, Rose returned her attention to her work. With her head bent reading another file, she missed the look Mickey gave her before he left.