Whenever Rose gets angry these days, she cleans. The new Doctor is ten times messier than the old one, and the TARDIS is full of little scraps of paper and sweet wrappers. Why does he always choose sweets with bloody wrappers? Why not mint imperials or wine gums or jelly babies? Rose picks each wrapper up methodically and throws it away, and with each action a little bit of anger goes too.
She's tried to get him to deal with his own rubbish, even going so far as buying him a new bigger bin for his room. All to no avail. It all starts off cheerily enough, with each wrapper and ball of paper being launched from one end of the room to the other. Naturally, he gets it in every time. Until the bin's full. When he continues throwing things which bounce off and scatter to all five corners of the room, where they play with dust bunnies and dirty clothes. Worse, he leaves a trail of destruction in his path, when he leaves the room. Rose finds his debris in the strangest of places.
He can always tell now when Rose is angry. Once upon a time she'd have sulked it out, pouting and acting like a child until he dragged it out of her. Or she'd have told him up front. Now when he sees her wearing the old tattered jeans, with her hair bundled up into a rough ponytail and her face stripped bare of make-up, he knows to avoid her. Only once has he made the mistake of crossing Rose in her Mrs Overalls mode. He will never make that mistake again.
Rose finds cleaning therapeutic. She finds that when she's occupied with something so mundane, she can finally cope with thinking about the less ordinary things that have happened to her. Lying in bed awake at night, she can't quite grasp at everything; her brain fumbles clumsily and hurts. When she's with him, visiting strange places and faraway times, her mind is too concerned with other things. Like running. Thinking isn't high up on the agenda when the blood's pounding around her body and her feet are burning and still she has to keep on running. But cleaning sets her free, giving her enough to do to not dwell on things, but enough brain space to think about everything.
It was cleaning that helped her get through his change. While she'd lain awake at night, sobbing silently into her pillow, all she'd been able to think of was her Doctor. His smile, his eyes, his accent. Those stupid ears. The way he said her name. The way he'd risked his own life to save hers. Those thoughts had haunted her night after night, torturing her. The only thing worse than thinking about the old Doctor was getting up in the morning and finding the new Doctor… a stranger, someone she didn't know. And then she'd turned to cleaning and she'd found some comfort there. She wrangled with it all in her head silently, her lips moving sometimes to express her angriest sentiments.
He's still the same man, nothing's changed.
He's changed. Just look at him.
What's in a person's looks? You hate people who think that. People like Cassandra.
It isn't just his looks though, is it? He's a different person. He's rude and irrational and sarcastic and untidy and…
…Funny, and charismatic and charming and kind… what exactly has changed?
Eventually her positive side had won through. He was the same person, the same person who had taken her to see her father, and shown her the end of the world. The same person who had risked his own life to save hers.
Only today cleaning isn't helping. So far, Rose has filled five bin-bags with scraps of paper and sweet wrappers. It's toffees this week, he's gone mad over toffees. At least this is better than his chewing gum phase, when he left what he'd finished with stuck to various surfaces. He claims he was fully intending to wrap it up at the time, but he'd been right in the middle of something and couldn't possibly have stopped. Toffee wrappers are pretty awkward though, especially when he leaves the toffees too close to the vortex. Rose has spent half the morning scraping bits of toffee off the most unusual places. In addition, she's mopped the kitchen and bathroom floors, and scrubbed at the sink. His untidiness stretches so far as to include him being unable to put the lid back on the toothpaste.
The Doctor wandered past a few hours ago, trying to avoid direct eye contact with her.
"Do you want anything for lunch, Rose?" he asked tentatively.
Rose shook her head. She hasn't time for lunch today. She daren't pause in her work today, even for a second, and especially not with him around. She can't stop for fear she'll let slip the words that are still bouncing round and round her head, that she just can't shake off. She's never had this problem before, a problem she can't solve through cleaning and thinking. Instead of her anger leaving her with each piece of rubbish she throws into the bag, she finds herself becoming more and more irrational.
He left you. He threw himself through that mirror and left you.
He was helping others.
He was helping himself.
But he came back. For you.
He came back for her. She was supposed to come too. If he'd had the TARDIS he'd have stayed in France.
He wouldn't just abandon you, it's not his way.
He abandoned Jack. He abandoned Sarah-Jane. Why not me too?
You know why not. You're more to him than they are. Ten times more.
More than Madame de Pompadour? I'm no one, I'm nothing compared to her. I'm just another Sarah-Jane.
Is that a problem if you are? Why do you care, you've got Mickey?
You know why.
The arguments chase each other round and round her head, repeating themselves over and over again. Occasionally, a new thought will strike her and she'll digress.
What about Mickey then?
What about him?
You talk about abandonment. You've abandoned him.
That's different.
How is that different? You left him behind too.
But Mickey doesn't have to stay. He can come with us. He's been asked enough times!
Ah, so that's what this is! You didn't get invited with him this time. He went somewhere without you.
No, it's not that at all! He abandoned me!
And so it goes again. All morning this has been going on, while she moves from room to room. Her internal demons are pulling her from side to side, each trying to convince her that they're right. She knows which one she'd like to believe. Rose wants to believe in a fairy-tale ending. She wants to believe the good voice, the one that says she's worth far far more to him than anyone else ever has or ever could. But she's learnt that there are no fairy-tale endings, at least not where he's concerned. He makes promises and breaks them. He told Sarah-Jane he'd be back for her. He told Reinette he'd come back for her. How long until he tells her the same old lie? The only endings with him are painful and drawn out. He leaves hope and then just lets it fizzle out, taking you with it. Rose has learnt it all the hard way, through experience. The Doctor is worth the heartbreak. He is worth the monsters. She's not the only woman to have learnt that. But she is the only woman to have realised this: she is disposable. All people are to him. Sarah-Jane, Jack, Reinette. Rose can't help wondering who else he has used and discarded before, as calmly as he does these goddamn sweet wrappers.
Why don't you leave then?
What do you mean, leave?
Leave. Ask him to take you home and leave you alone. Live with your mum again, and marry Mickey and have the life you once dreamed about.
My dreams have changed.
You think you're above it all, you mean. You think you deserve better.
I do deserve better!
You deserve to be dragged across time and space? You deserve to be put in danger day after day? You deserve to serve as his magician's assistant? You deserve to be dumped when he's finished with you? Is that better?
It's not all like that!
Then what is it like?
Rose has tried explaining that before. Being with the Doctor. It's more than seeing things and places she never even dreamed of. It's more than being an omniscient being in the universe, free to go wherever they want. It's about people and helping them. It's about having her eyes opened and her mind expanded. It's about him and how she feels every time he looks at her and smiles at her and says her name. It's about feeling like she'd do anything for him. It's about standing together hand in hand and facing whatever it is that goes bump in the night, and facing it together.
The Doctor sticks his head out of his room, where he's already filled his bin up again. Rose can smell aniseed in the air. It must be blackjacks this week. He raises his eyebrows.
"Still hard at work?"
Rose considers his question. She shakes her head.
He grins. "Any chance you fancy going somewhere?"
Rose thinks again. She nods.
"Fantastic!" Rose feels her stomach contract painfully as he says that word. "I'll go and fire her up then!"
As he bounds away Rose lets her demons wrangle for a moment longer.
Where's he going to take you this time? Planet Zarg so the ganaganagars can eat you?
He never takes me anywhere to deliberately harm me.
Or that's what you think.
He cares about me.
Is that why he abandoned you?
He came back. That's not abandoning.
He didn't know he was coming back though.
Wouldn't have been very brave if he'd have known he could run back though would it?
Is that brave? More like stupid in my opinion.
Well no one asked for your opinion.
I thought you did.
Shut up.
Rose pulls her hairband out and shakes her head to let her blonde hair fall onto her shoulders. Maybe one day he will grow tired of her and leave her. But there's no use worrying about it now. For now, Rose intends to be the best magician's assistant ever. Because even disposable things have their uses.