A Christmas to Remember
Preface
This story is based on a song by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton with the same name. While listening to the song before Christmas, I knew right away that I had to write it. So when my laptop died, trapping a work in progress, I switched to this story.
Another author, paradoxon has written with the same title. However, hers is in German and not the same at all, so I asked her permission to use the title, and she has granted it. If you want to read her English version, it is called Santa's Lost His Mojo and is another Nine/Rose story.
This story is a little different than my others for two main reasons.
The first difference is that this is an all human AU story. I used to avoid reading these and never planned to write one, but you should never say never. So here I am. These characters have the primary personality of the Doctor and Rose (and Rose's back story is very close to canon), but their differences mean they might make decisions that canon Rose and the Doctor would not. It is also set in 2014 rather than back in 2005. Therefore there was no adjusting for technology or even having to know what was the right day of the week when I wrote it. I borrow dialogue from Series 1 (and a bit beyond) and re-purpose it, sometimes having different characters say the lines than did originally. There are also Doctor Who "Easter eggs" to be found. It's a little silly, but it is part of the fun.
The second difference is that this started as a daily serial. The plan was to post a chapter each day until it was completed, and revise errors after it was complete. It ended up stretching into longer intervals with the epilogue to be finished in 2015 instead. The chapters are edited but my authors notes still reflect my original plan.
That is probably all I need to tell you before you begin.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Enjoy!
Day One—Monday, 22nd December
"Don't go, sweetheart. Please don't go," Rose Tyler heard her mother, Jackie, say from the doorway of her room.
Rose had already addressed her mother's protests twice that morning and several times in the two weeks leading up to it, so this time she continued packing without acknowledging her.
"I'll stop bothering you about getting a job," Jackie said more earnestly. "I'll work weekends till you find one. And if Mickey comes round again and begs to see you, I'll say no. I really will."
"I'm not leaving because of you," said Rose while continuing her task. "I'm traveling, that's all. I'll be back right after Boxing Day."
"But it's not safe goin' all on your own," Jackie said as she entered the room and sat on Rose's bed.
"I'm twenty-four, and it's a ski resort," Rose said. "I'll be fine."
"I just don't see why you need to leave," Jackie complained.
Rose finished folding the scarf in her hand and put it in the suitcase on her bed. "I just do," Rose said. "All my life, nothing's happened. Nothing at all. Not ever. Then my job blew up and—"
"I wish you would stop saying that," Jackie said in a mother-like tone that Rose hadn't heard in a long time. "Henrik's is still standing and in one piece."
"Well it might as well have," complained Rose. "First the bankruptcy reduced my hours down to nothing, then there was the buy-out." Rose returned to packing in order to channel her frustration. "They said it was supposed to be a good thing. They didn't tell us that as soon as it was under new management they'd sack all the mangers inside the store—including the assistant managers—and hire their own people."
"I told you—you should have sued for compensation."
"It was perfectly legal, Mum," Rose told her. "But at least I got a good severance package and double holiday pay. And maybe it's for the better. They passed me up for a promotion twice and told me I'd never be a buyer without a higher degree, no matter how well I could have done it. So I needed something new. I just thought I'd have found something after two months of looking."
"There were plenty of seasonal jobs," her mother reminded her.
Rose slammed a drawer in irritation. "And be unemployed again after New Year's?" she asked. "I had to use that time to look for something permanent. I'm going nowhere! I'm in my twenties and still live with my mother!"
"What wrong with living here?" Jackie asked. It was clear Rose's words had hurt her.
Rose pushed the suitcase further back on the bed and sat next to her mother. "Sorry, Mum. That's not what I meant. I love you. It's just I'm still sleeping in the room where I used to have tea parties with my dolls, and I can't afford to make any other choice." Rose sighed. "I just need to get away for a little while. Then I'll come back and figure out what to do next." She rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "I'll miss you though," she told her.
Jackie sniffed. "Okay," she said finally. "But why over Christmas? You can go anytime!"
"Because that's when everyone comes round," Rose said. "And every one of them will have questions and advice. I'd rather not deal with that." Rose stood up and began to put the final items in her suitcase. "Besides, you can't turn Mickey away at Christmas. We're the closest thing he has left to family, aren't we? Can't very well let him be all alone." Rose zipped up the suitcase. "But if he's here, he's gonna look at me with those puppy dog eyes and beg to get back together. Three months and he still doesn't get it's over." She put the suitcase on the ground and rolled it over to the door before turning back toward her mom. "I'd rather not deal with that at Christmas."
"Fine," said Jackie as she blinked back tears. "I don't like it, but I understand." She stood up gave her daughter a hug. Rose hugged her back and found that her own eyes were watery.
After a moment, Rose let go and looked at her mother. "Okay," she said. "No tears. It's still Christmastime. I have some time before my plane leaves. Why don't we use that travel club membership go eat a nice brunch at a discount? We could even exchange gifts."
"We can get brunch," Jackie said. "But rules are rules. No presents till Christmas. You'll just have to wait till you get back."
Rose smiled. "Okay, Mum," she said with a smile. "I had a feeling you'd say that."
John D. Smith wasn't sure when he stopped listening to his Chief Operations Officer. All he knew is that his mind had begun wandering several sentences ago. So while Barbara Wright continued to talk about the upcoming contract negotiations with their latest merger, he stood up and began to put on his black leather jacket. (He never wore a suit and tie, preferring his jacket and comfortable jumper to traditional office attire. He reasoned that there had to be some perks to being the Chief Executive Officer, President, and primary shareholder of his company.) Then, without a word to his more professionally dressed colleague, he left his office.
"Hold on a minute," Barbara said, following him as he made his way through a sea of desks and out to the hallway. "You can't just go swanning off."
"Yes I can," Smith said, stepping into a lift. "Here I am. This is me, swanning off. See you."
Barbra hurried into the lift before it closed. "But it's Monday morning," she protested. "We're meeting with Auton Distributing right after lunch. We only have three and a half days before the whole office shuts down for a four day weekend, and we need things decided by then."
"Ten out of ten for observation," he said. A bell dinged, the lift door opened, and John D. Smith exited, followed by Barbara.
"You can't just walk away," she said as he passed the reception desk in the lobby. "That's not fair. You've got to stay for the negotiations."
"No, I don't," Smith said. Auton Distributing was just one of about a dozen subsidiaries his company oversaw and the office he had just left—though the primary headquarters—was just one of three he had to oversee. He had bigger things to worry about than his subordinate's frustration over a routine merger.
"All right, then," the businesswoman said. "I'll finalize the contract, but you said they'd make unreasonable demands. I might just concede to them."
"Is that supposed to sound tough?" He stopped in front of the reception desk to conclude the mostly-one-sided conversation. He didn't need Barbara following him out to the car park like a lost puppy.
"Sort of," she retorted.
"Doesn't work," he said, also attempting to sound tough. But when he looked at Barbara's face, he softened. "You can do this," he said. "I trust you. Draw up the papers. Get legal to look them over, and I'll sign them when I get back."
"From where?" Barbara asked.
"Don't know," he said with a shrug. "Skiing, maybe."
Barbara looked at him with an expression that seemed like a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Okay," she said slowly, "but why did you just get up and walk out in the middle of the conversation?"
He didn't know. After a moment of contemplation, he answered, "I was bored."
"What do you mean you were bored?" she asked.
"I oversee a multi-million pound corporation and have the bank account to prove it," he said. Then he paused, not sure where he was going with his explanation.
"And that's not enough for you," she concluded.
"Exactly," he said. Barbara's intuition and perception was part of the reason she had the position she did. "I have the power to make my own schedule and travel where I want, but I hardly ever use it. Can't remember the last time I took a trip for pleasure."
Barbara smiled. "Then it's about time you took a proper holiday," she said.
Smith grinned. He didn't take the time to cultivate any real friendships, but if anyone in his life came close to fitting the description of a friend, Barbara, with her kindness and understanding would have been the one.
"Right then," he said, drawing their conversation to a close, "guess I'm off. I'll see you in a week and approve the contracts then."
Barbara nodded. "Okay," she said. "But you better make sure you have fun."
"You can't tell your boss what to do," Smith said, pretending to be offended.
"Seems like I just did."
Smith shook his head. "Happy Christmas, Barbara."
"Happy Christmas," she said. "Now go."
John D. Smith gave his colleague a brief wave, then walked out to the car park with an inexplicable sense of excitement. He felt like a school boy who was running away from his responsibilities to go play in the snow, and it felt fantastic.
"What do you mean my room is not available?" Rose asked the woman behind the counter at Hotel Galaxie. She had finally arrived in Val d'Isere, France—the most popular ski resort with the British—after a rather bumpy flight and a cab drive in a taxi that was not quite warm enough, and she didn't need any more problems.
"I am zo sorry," the woman (Audrey, according to her nametag) said in a thick French accent. "Vee are overbooked, and other guests checked in before you."
"But I paid in full," said Rose as she pulled out the paper with her confirmation. She pushed it across the counter to Audrey, who read it and nodded.
"Yes, you are booked at zis 'otel," she said. "But we do not have zee room."
"So what do I do now?" Rose asked. She was beginning to think her mother was right about traveling alone.
Audrey did not answer right away. She was looking at the paper Rose had given her and typing rapidly on the computer. Finally she looked up. "You booked your stay through zee Tarids Travel Club?" she asked Rose.
"Yeah," said Rose. "The company that bought out my job gave a year membership to all the employees when they took over." Then they sacked us, she added to herself.
"Zen you are in luck," Audrey said. "Zat membership comes with guaranteed confirmation."
"How does that help if all the rooms are filled?" Rose asked. "Getting my money back won't help when I'm stuck in France for five nights."
"All zee rooms are not filled," Audrey said.
"But you said…"
"All zee rooms in the price-range you chose are filled. But zere are two luxury suites available," Audrey explained. "Because of your Travel Club membership, we can upgrade you at no extra fee."
Rose just nodded. Her mood had switched from irritated to elated in seconds, and she didn't want to say anything that would make her look over-eager.
"So which suite would you like?" asked Audrey, turning the monitor toward Rose so she could see the suites' locations on the map and the layout and a photograph of each one. They were next door to each other and looked virtually identical. They both contained a bedroom with a queen sized bed; a salon with a sofa, fireplace, small table, mini fridge, and sink; and an en-suite bathroom with a jet-powered tub and a separate shower. The only difference was that they were mirror images of each other with all the features on opposite sides. There was also a slight difference in décor. Rose chose the one with floral accents over the one that was decorated in dark blue and white.
Audrey did more typing on the computer. "You are confirmed for suite eight," she said as she handed Rose a new print-out and a key card. Then she handed her another card that appeared to be a credit card. It was embossed with a picture of the hotel. "And for your trouble we are giving you complimentary meals in our restaurant. Just give them zis card, and zee 'otel will take care of zee expense."
Rose could no longer hold in her delight. "Oh, thank you so much!" she exclaimed. "This is wonderful!"
Rose thanked Audrey again before going to find her room. When she did, it surpassed the picture she was shown. It had to be almost as big as her entire flat in London, and twice as beautiful. Though she was tempted by her inner child, she did not jump up and down or twirl around in circles, but she did let out a squeal and fall backward onto the luxurious bed. Once there, she realized that the flight and the preparations for her trip had left her tired. She had a few hours before the restaurant would start dinner service, so she decided she would have a nap then enjoy a complimentary five-star dinner, all thanks to the company that made the mistake of letting her go: Arcadia Associated.
"Did you enjoy your meal Monsieur Smith?" the waiter asked.
Smith nodded, though he was sure his face did not display the desired amount of enthusiasm. He also knew that, based on his monetary worth, the waiter had likely assumed his apparent indifference was the result of a refined palate that found the food at Restaurant Nébuleuse below his expectations. However, the opposite was true. Smith's tastes had changed very little from his youth in Lancashire, England and it was during the Christmas season that he craved the simple dishes that he grew up eating. It was one reason he usually kept himself busy in December. He had to distract himself from remembering a life that he had lost a long time ago.
Maybe it was a mistake to take a holiday, especially when the entire world was turning their thoughts toward family and home. He had neither, and he did his best to keep busy so he would not be reminded of that fact. However, it was too late to change his mind. If he went back now, Barbara would stubbornly refuse any help and likely chide him for not seeing his holiday through. No—he had to stay and prove to himself that he could have fun and enjoy himself. But it couldn't be a relaxing holiday. He needed to keep running from one activity to the next and keep his mind occupied. Most of all, he needed to steer clear of those things that threatened to bring back any painful memories. It would be a challenge, but a challenge was exactly the thing that would keep his mind moving.
All meals were being charged to Smith's hotel account, so he thanked the waiter again and left the restaurant. Maybe tomorrow he would eat in town. There had to be something in Val d'Isere that appealed more to the common man. After all, it was a prime tourist location, and people of all income levels flocked there during ski season.
It was too early to turn in for the night. Smith needed something to occupy his time, but every event at Hotel Galaxie that evening seemed far too social for his taste. He might have chosen to stay at another hotel if he had known how family-oriented it would be, but it was in the center of town and one of the only hotels with any vacancies. In fact, there had been only one suite left when he arrived.
After some pondering, Smith decided a good book might be a way to pass the time until morning. Maybe he could locate a bookshop and find a copy of A Christmas Carol. He could even attempt to read it in French, though he was far from fluent in it. Dickens was one of his favorite authors, and it seemed like an appropriate way to spend the season. He wasn't a Scrooge himself, after all. He was generous with his money and he actually loved Christmas, it was just a hard time of year to be alone, and he didn't let people in easily.
Smith left the hotel and shivered slightly. He tolerated the cold fairly well and didn't feel the need for a heavier coat, but tomorrow he would remember to put on another layer underneath his jumper. For now he needed to decide which direction he should go to begin his search for a bookshop. But as he was deciding, he was pelted from the left by large ball of snow.
"What the?" he sputtered as he brushed the snow off his leather jacket and turned to locate his assailant. There was no one to be found.
It didn't matter. It was likely an overenthusiastic kid. He had been like that once. He and his sister—
Smith shook his head to expel the fragmented thought from his head and headed in the direction from whence the snowball had come. It was as good a direction as any.
When he had reached the end of the hotel building, Smith discovered the source of the rouge snowball. Between the Hotel Galaxie and the one beside it, a full scale snow war had erupted. The median age of the combatants seemed to be nineteen or twenty and, from the evidence of wine and other bottles, it appeared that most of them were at least slightly inebriated. They didn't seem to be doing any harm at the moment, but something about them caused him concern. He made a mental note to check back when he returned and make sure things had not gotten out of hand.
Dinner was amazing. Rose was glad that no one could read her thoughts because she felt a little like Cinderella experiencing the prince's palace for the first time. Yesterday she had eaten beans on toast for dinner; tonight she had dined on Filet Mignon. Then she had consumed a decadent éclair with some coffee for dessert. And all of it was included in her complementary meal.
After she had finished, Rose decided to explore the village surrounding the hotel. She could tell from looking down the street that it was decorated with an abundance of white and multicolored fairy lights, so it seemed like a pleasant way to spend the evening. However after just moments outside, she knew her coat was not warm enough keep out the chill. There was a small shop in the hotel that sold items for tourists along with an assortment of winter coats. Since she didn't have to pay for food during her stay, Rose reasoned that she was justified in buying a new coat.
Twenty minutes later, Rose was done shopping. She had chosen a magenta colored ski jacket with trousers to match, and a pair of ski boots as well. It was more than she was used to spending at one time, but it was all part of the holiday pay Henrik's—or rather, Arcadia—had given her. When she returned to reality, she would go back to being thrifty, but while on holiday she would spend a bit more freely. Rose returned the trousers and boots to her room then exited the hotel from a side entrance, eager to take in the winter wonderland that awaited her.
What awaited her, however, was not the wonderland that she had expected. The minute she was outside in the space between her hotel and the next, she could see snowballs flying in every direction. She put up her hood to shield herself from flying snow and ice and then stepped into the battle zone so she could turn right and reach the main street.
"Unarmed civilian!" she called to no one in particular. At least some of them had to speak English. Her words, however, seemed to be of no effect. If anything, it just made her into a new target. Snowballs flew at her from all directions, and all she could do was stand there and shield her face.
"Yeah, you got me!" she called to the crowd. "Very funny!" She tried to turn toward the street but three people wearing balaclavas began to walk toward her. They appeared to be young men, and in their hands were snowballs that appeared to consist mostly of ice, which could actually cause injury to the person that was hit.
"Right," she said as she backed up in the opposite direction than she had intended on going. "I get that I entered a battle, but I'm not playing."
One of the masked young men threw his snowball, which hit Rose in the shoulder. She could feel the sting from the ice within it. Another snowball followed. Then another. She was starting to feel worried. She knew they were just snowballs, but the majority of the crowd looked drunk. With too much alcohol in the mix, something innocent could quickly become dangerous. Rose kept backing up, hoping that they would leave her alone, but it appeared that a crowd mentality had taken over. The game had changed from a two-sided war to a fox hunt—and she was the fox. At least a dozen people had now made her their target and were coming at her from all directions.
In an attempt to back up and get away, she had unknowingly turned slightly and was now backed up against a wall. She closed her eyes and waited to be bombarded with frozen projectiles, but as soon as she did, she felt a hand grasp her left hand.
She turned her head and opened her eyes. "Run," said the man who was holding her hand. His voice was deep and authoritative, and she complied without question. He pulled her around the corner and they ran through a double gate to an outdoor dining area, running between the tables as a crowd of intoxicated people continued to pursue them. They passed through an identical gate at the other end, and the man quickly dropped her hand and shoved an iron chair against the doors which swung outward, keeping Rose's pursuers from getting through. A few stray snowballs flew at the bars of the gate and burst before the crowd turned around to look for another way out.
"You stopped 'em," Rose said to the man. Now that they had stopped running, she had a chance to look at him. He was almost a head taller than her and appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties with a high hairline and short-cropped dark hair. His nose and ears were prominent features, but not in an unpleasant sort of way. And he seemed to be under dressed for the weather, wearing only a leather jacket and a dark v-neck jumper.
"Very clever. Nice trick!" she said, talking rapidly because of the adrenaline in her system. There was also an irritation in her voice because of the situation that she unfairly directed at him. "Who were they then, students? Is this a student thing or what?"
"Why would they be students?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of him. Rose didn't know if it was because he was cold, because he thought it made him look tough, or if it was a little bit of both.
"I don't know," she said, feeling irritated. " 'Cos that many young people thinking it's funny to chase random people would have to be students."
The man turned and smiled at her. "That makes sense," he said. "Well done."
"Thanks," she said, not sure why she appreciated his approval.
"They're worse than students, though" he said as he began walking toward the hotel's back entrance. Rose followed. "They're students on Christmas break who've had too much to drink. Noticed them when I went out looking for a shop. When I came back it seemed their new game was to target anyone who entered their snowball fight."
"Yeah I noticed that part," Rose said.
"You were the first that they seemed intent on harming," the man said. "I'd already notified security and had just come back out when I saw you." He paused a few feet in front of the hotel doors and looked at her. "You're shivering, you should go back inside and warm up."
"What about you?" she asked. "You aren't even dressed properly."
"I hear that a lot, me," he said.
Rose shot him a quizzical look.
"Never mind," he said with the shake of his head. "Anyway, I'm going to wait and make sure security follows through, but don't worry about me. No, you go inside." Rose took a step then hesitated. "Go on," he insisted, almost patronizingly as he opened the door for her. "Go warm up by the lovely fire."
Rose stepped through the door and watched it close, not sure what to do next. Just then, man opened the door again.
"I'm the Doctor, by the way," he said. "What's your name?"
"Rose," she said, still feeling confused.
"Nice to meet you, Rose. Now go."
Rose nodded as the door closed once again. Her holiday was off to a rather interesting start.
Author's Notes: My apologies if my business-speak is not entirely accurate. My education focused on learning how to write and how to teach young children, not business.