My second Doctor Who fic. Rose visits the same place in her parallel world every so often where she fell away from the Doctor and into another world, and through that weakened gap in the universe, and the strong connection between her and the Doctor, she can see what the Doctor sees, feel what he feels. But sometimes what she sees isn't always what she wants to see. Oneshot.
This is story is a companion to my youtube video, which you can access on my profile.
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There was a small 'click' as the door closed softly behind her, and she felt a small shiver run up her arm.
She was alone.
That was one thing she could always guarantee, that she would be alone in this room. It wasn't used for much now; mainly storage. Boxes and broken pieces of equipment from Torchwood were stacked around the walls, but Rose had specifically requested that that wall, the back wall, be kept clean and free from clutter.
To her fellow employees, it was known as 'Rose's Room'.
She didn't come here often. For the most part, Rose had tried to continue with her life as normally as was possible, but now and then…
Rose walked up to the wall in the poor light. She never turned on the light, somehow, that would change it. It would no longer be her room; it would no longer be the same.
She reached out and touched the wall with a trembling hand, a little nervous. The last time she had been here, quite a while ago, she had seen the Doctor wandering through time and space, alone. Just as he had promised her. Rose prayed that this time he was with someone else; that he had moved on.
She leaned against the cool smooth whiteness, as she had done all those months ago.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and thought of him, and suddenly she felt one with the wall, with the Doctor.
There he was; she could see him in the eye of her mind, but so clearly, vividly, that he could have been in the same room as her.
She felt a choking sob rise in her throat as she looked at him in the Tardis, fiddling with the controls. He had a new suit. Rose made a sound that was half way between a sob and a laugh, it looked hideous. Deep blue, and with his brown trench coat, what was he thinking? If she were there she would tell him what she thought about his dress sense.
He was on his own. Rose couldn't help herself; she gave a small smile.
Suddenly, the door of the Tardis opened, and a young, pretty, dark skinned girl walked in.
Rose's smile was wiped off of her face as the woman grinned, leant back on the control pannel and started chatting animatedly to the Doctor, who was replying as if he had known the girl for years.
The memory vanished as the wall picked another of the Doctor's memories for Rose to view.
This time, the Doctor was in what looked like an old fashioned schoolroom. And what was he wearing this time? A horrible tweed suit and a ridiculous bow tie.
He sat down next to a woman in similarly outdated clothing, and showed her a book, with a portrait of her on the left page. Was that a Slitheen on the right?
Rose smiled as the Doctor began talking to the woman. He hadn't changed much, hadn't even regenerated. She never knew he could draw. She smiled again at his picture of a Slitheen, and suddenly, her smile dropped as the Doctor leant towards the woman, and kissed her.
Rose stared. She couldn't even move. She wanted to pull away from the wall and run as far as she possibly could. But she couldn't, she sat and watched, silent tears falling down her face.
And as the couple pulled away from each other, the memory faded, and the connection was broken.
Rose sunk to the floor and cried, burying her face in her arms as the sobs rocked her whole body.
That was what she wanted, though, wasn't it? The Doctor moving on and continuing with his life without her?
Rose sternly repressed her tears and stood up, deciding that it was high time she carried on with her life as well.
She walked over to the door, tears still falling down her face.
How could she have been so arrogant? The Doctor in love with her? Value her at all as anything? She was just another one of his many companions, all of which had been left behind as he found new ones. To think that she, Rose Marion Tyler, who used to live in a council flat and work in a shop, was of any importance to the Doctor at all, was madness, stupidity.
Rose took one last look in the room. Maybe it was best if she didn't come here again, for if she was ever certain of anything it was this.
The Doctor had moved on.
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He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and feeling the cool smooth texture.
He came here every now and then, to that thin layer separating this planet, this existence from the rest of time and space, and searched through the barriers to find the consciousness of one human.
Rose Tyler.
He had been surprised when he had first realised that the strength of their connection meant that he could see her memories and feel her feelings, but it was the only connection to her that he had left, and so he treasured it with both of his hearts.
He relaxed against the wall and thought of her, his Rose, who, thanks to him, was so very far away from where she belonged.
Then there she was, it was like he were standing in the same room as her, and he felt his hearts ache as her smiling, happy face appeared to him across the fabric of reality.
She had hardly changed at all, her hair was still blonde and shoulder length, and she still looked as beautiful as she always had done.
Suddenly, the Doctor's blissful smile fell as he saw Rose look up as someone entered her room, someone who he used to know well: Mickey.
He enveloped her in a hug and the Doctor's hearts froze as he watched the couple share a kiss.
The Doctor shook his head, as if he were having a bad dream, and pulled away from the wall. He couldn't watch any more. He felt ashamed of himself. Rose was getting on with her life. That was good… wasn't it?
He stumbled back from the wall as if it were dirty, his face wet with tears.
Rose.
He had been so stupid. Had he really expected her to stay alone forever? Had he really expected her to remember him at all?
The Doctor brushed away the tears that were stubbornly falling down his cheeks.
If only he could have waited, and seen her pick up a photograph of him seconds later when Mickey wasn't looking, kiss it softly and return it to it's place on her shelf. If only.
But the Doctor didn't wait. He had made up his mind already.
Rose had moved on.