Completely Random Events
Sometimes fate determines the outcome of events in people's lives. Some things are meant to be. Others are determined by completely random circumstances that hold the semblance of the unavoidable. The line between these two kinds of events, however, is much thinner than one might imagine. It is so thin that in most cases one doesn't ever notice, let alone understand, the difference.
Such was the story of the Doctor's life and of one chapter in particular; that chapter could easily be summed up and entitled with one word: Rose.
The Doctor glanced up from one of the TARDIS's consoles at the young woman standing across from him; a face he'd never really expected to see again, but there she was, almost a year and a half after that day that for her had been on a beach in Norway and that for him had been in orbit around a supernova.
It was amazing how many things had changed since then; Rose's hair was longer but pulled back tightly into a very precise ponytail, spare one strand that hung down around her face, she wore a slate blue jumpsuit with the world TORCHWOOD blazoned on the breast in military fashion. An identification tag hung by a clip below the large letters, explaining with a few colored stripes and number sequences the various clearance levels Rose had attained at her job description at the New Earth's version of Queen Victoria's enterprise. The little laminated placard meant little now, though. He couldn't suppress a smile as he thought how unlike the girl he had met three years ago in a strange series of events involving a department store she was. And yet in spite of all that had happened there were a few things that never changed, the most notable of which was the ease with which he worked with Rose.
Anyone who knew them knew that Rose was the more outwardly emotional of the two but in spite of that Rose had understood, almost immediately, the gravity of something that would so alter the status quo that it would even be once again possible to traverse the two Universes without causing them both to collapse.
Just looking at the sparkle in Rose's green eyes as she looked at the workings of the TARDIS with a great deal more understanding than she had in the past made it apparent that she was and always had been meant for more than just an ordinary life. And yet that was exactly what she was: ordinary, and the fact that she had managed to maintain that classification after all she'd been through and stood to was perhaps the most extraordinary thing of all.
The current problem facing the Doctor and his companion was that the TARDIS's usually mildly unreliable navigation systems had become, for the time being, completely dysfunctional. The Doctor had determined that his trusted ship was merely a bit sea sick; that is, in the wash of the space-time continuum the navigation systems had encountered an unexpected temporal shift sometime after exiting the New Earth's dimensional space but before it was able to reenter "their" Earth's atmosphere. Though the problem had been identified, fixing it was an entirely different matter.
It was only then that the Doctor realized just how deeply immersed in his own thoughts he had become, leaving Rose to fumble about with technology she had only just begun to understand at best. Strangely enough, he found it hard to care much for the TARDIS as he looked at her for another brief moment.
"That doesn't make any sense," Rose said as she used her finger to guide diagnostic dialogues along a screen, perforating the silence as if with a knife.
Finding himself for a moment agreeing with her statement but in response to an entirely different thought the Doctor stammered to respond, "No, it does- wai-what?"
Rose tugged his sleeve and he compliantly moved to look over her shoulder but any explanation was lost in her throat as music began blaring out of speakers positioned around the TARDIS, the sound leveling out as it played for a moment.
The Doctor and Rose looked at one another, a wry little smile curling on her lips as he spoke, "Huh. It's never done that before," he stated matter-of-factly and with a look of real confusion on his face.
Rose burst out laughing in response as she looked back down at the console, causing another strand of hair to hang loosely in her face. Her strangely foreign professional façade returned, struggling to fit behind her smile, "Well maybe it-"
"Rose?" the Doctor interrupted just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"Hmm?"
"I can dance, Rose, I can dance," he replied, taking one of her hands with one of his and offering her the other.
"Yes," she replied, turning to face him and taking his offered hand with a smile, "I remember…"
As the music played Rose and the Doctor danced back and forth, forming a lazy circle. Rose leaned her head against his shoulder and laughed softly. The world, any world, the TARDIS, and words, the words, could, as always, wait.