AN: before we get started, I am no expert on the Doctor Who timeline, so I'll be using dates that may have been mentioned in the show and that may not correspond to what's taken place there. Most characters (apart from Rose and the doctor) will probably be original. It's my first multiple-chapter story in the fandom so I'm very excited to hear your reactions. Hope you'll enjoy.
…
Though Rose Tyler is by no means the first girl to enter the Tardis, she is the first who's managed to make it look domestic. There're clues scattered all over the place for him to pick up and admonish her if he cared to. A pink jacket left to hang on one of the levers of his brilliant time machine, as if it were a vulgar object – a chair, a coat rack. Books, notepads, eyeliner and lipstick. Why does she even need a purse if its content is always bound to be outside of it?
He's warned her about this. Everything here is important. Too important for her to leave her things hanging around. And yet, as he takes an honest, fatalistic look at his Tardis, strewn with girlish items, the doctor feels no desire to argue. He's had other companions who weren't so much awed by the time machine that they didn't dare to exist in it, but Rose is different – she's made a home there. Without asking for permission or forgiveness, but naturally, as if it was just the way of the world.
And so it is, he thinks to himself. Maybe there's a time for everything.
"Morning."
She surprises him, slithers out of her room. He didn't hear her get up. There's a cup of coffee in her hand, the very same cup he's made for himself just a few minutes ago, before wandering out of the kitchen to take a look at the main room. Now, of course, the coffee's ruined by all the milk and sugar she added in.
Rose smiles as he raises her eyes back to her face and takes an innocent sip, like nothing's righter than drinking his fresh coffee. Talking about things getting domestic.
"Is that mine?" As if the question needed asking.
"I'd taken it for granted you'd had yours already. I thought it might become a new habit, waking up to something hot to drink. How neat. In case it's giving you any ideas, I'm much more of a tea person."
"You're welcome."
"Hey, I deserve it. I've had a hard time sleeping tonight. Did we go into some sort of space storm or something?"
He can't argue there. It's been a rocky descent back to earth and he's been up most of the night himself getting them through in one piece.
"Yes, you could call it that." He answers cautiously. Watching her casually drink his coffee. Until recently, he thought he knew her tricks whenever she was up to something. It's only fair. He has years of experience, after all. But in the past few weeks – or is it months? – it feels like they've been playing a game that's a lot like the sort he's known with other companions before her, but with too great a variation for him to be completely sure. They've been descending into normality. Not just living adventures but sharing quieter moments – pleasant, adrenalin-free.
He watches her lips over the porcelain brim, enjoying the bitter-sugary foam.
The doctor decides he'll call this the Rose Tyler Paradox. It's part of the game, living mad experiences with him, following him to the end of the world and the apocalypse – that's what he sells, what he promises. And, yes, sometimes there'll be some flirt thrown in it, and he never fights against getting attached because that's the way of things – between loving none of his companions and loving them all, he's chosen the latter – but it's never anything like the un-thrilling joys of ordinary life.
He's not a boyfriend or a husband. He's the doctor. That's the package deal, that's the only shape he comes in.
But Rose, Rose is not just a companion. And what's worse, he thinks, she knows it. A cool, cynical voice seeps in – when she's gone, will you miss the extraordinary, the time travels, or will you miss this, the untidiness of her stuff scattered about, her stealing your coffee in the morning?
Because she will go. The doctor's been around too long to be an idealist. However much he gives them, no matter how many heart-stopping sights he provides, in the end, they all leave him.
He's heard a few of them say Forever before, but he alone knows, forever is lonely. They shouldn't speak words they don't understand.
So why does Rose smile at him sometimes as if she's thinking the exact same thing?
"So," she says, putting down the mug of coffee on the first horizontal surface she can find – terrific. She's using his advanced technology as a mere kitchen table and she's not even bothering with a coaster. "What year is it?"
"Around 3099."
"Haven't we been there already?"
He smiles. He likes how she makes it sound like this life could get redundant, like he could turn into a boring old man. Rose has the same, very slight stamp of arrogance shared by all young and beautiful people. It has its charms, he can't deny it, even on someone who's basically as old as time itself. It has its charms.
"Well," he answers, teases right back, "we might have been to England in the late fourth century, but why let that stop us from thinking wider? I mean, unless you're homesick already."
It's actually been a while since he's taken Rose home for a bit. How long have they been travelling together? He can't remember how many years, but they are talking years, surely.
"Not in the slightest." She rises to the challenge.
He shrugs. "Italy's rather nice this time in history. No, wait – am I mixing my dates up again?" He remembers there'll be some political turmoil leading to civil war at some point, but he can't remember if it's in the fourth or fifth century. "Never mind. Anywhere but Italy."
"Why not leave Europe aside altogether?"
"Your wish is my command."
She raises a brow, like she knows he means it. "Okay," she says. "Surprise me. But somewhere hot. Where the beetles aren't too big. And –"
"Rose," he cuts her off, with a mock chiding tone, "time travel isn't an a la carte menu."
He raises the lever for effect and they go up whirling. The coffee cup comes crashing on the floor. Rose finds balance against the wall expertly enough. She's been there long enough to land on her feet. He shouldn't love this, watching her struggle against gravity, holding tight as the Tardis rocks its way through time. Maybe it's just that he's thought of making her stumble, losing balance, for other reasons, in hundreds of different ways, the feel of her body swaying against his –
No. Now, they're on their way to someplace new, it's better that they don't stick around here too long, better that they're outside the Tardis rather than inside, with no one trying to kill them, no aliens or humans to save, no distractions at all.
But he's been paying too much attention to her and not enough to the Tardis. He meant to send them somewhere near Florida but something's gone wrong and they're off course.
"Damn it," he curses.
"What is it? Are we lost?" She asks without genuine concern.
"Sort of. We shouldn't be too far off –"
Rose arches a skeptical brow. He has to admire her ability to hang on for dear life and look sarcastic at the same time. "You know," she says, "we should buy your Tardis a new sense of direction."
"Now, that's not fair." It really isn't. They're used to teasing each other but the Tardis is sacred, is like his baby – which is probably why she never tires of using it.
"Should I name all the times we've landed in the wrong place? Puerto Rico. Barcelona. Disneyland."
"Hey, you loved Disneyland."
"That didn't make us any less lost."
Soon the ride gets too rocky for her to sustain the argument. Ha. The Tardis might lack a sense of direction, it sure isn't running short on stamina.
Finally, the air gets even and quieter, and he watches as Rose releases her hold on the wall behind her – too soon, he thinks, just as one last spasm sends her flying across the room.
"Christ." He lets go just a few seconds later and flies to her side. Though he doesn't get the chance to help her up or be chivalrous – she's basically on her feet by the time he gets there.
"I'm all right." She brushes imaginary dust from her clothes – a tank top and some tight shorts he's never seen her wear before. Of course, they have to buy her clothes frequently enough. With their lifestyle, it's easy to get holes in them or any alien substance that leaves them ruined – probably, they'll be due to go shopping again soon.
That's the sort of little things that does it, that tells him Rose has been around longer than most companions. But he ignores the warnings. What else is there to do?
"Am I dressed for the weather?" She asks.
He shrugs evasively. "We'll see."
Then, he extends his hand and, sure enough, she takes it, and out they go, towards the door of the Tardis, off to one more adventure…
For a second, absurd, inexplicable glitch, he sees himself stopping her, turning her back around. Let's not go, he would say. Not today. Let's just stay here, hidden from the world. Let's just steal immortality and cheat the clock forever.
"Are you dragging your feet?" She aims an effective smile at him.
"On the contrary," he claims. "Ready as ever."
"Good."
And, of course, she means it. After all, isn't she here for the fun ride, the wonderful travels?
But if he had asked her to stay, he has this feeling she wouldn't have called him crazy.
They open the door and take the leap together. The outside air is hot and thick, smells faintly of burnt grass and wilderness.
Here we go. No more turning back. He can't say exactly where they are, but it's not Florida for sure. Where did you take us? He wonders. Will it be dangerous, packed with unbelievable creatures and plenty of thrill? Most certainly. The Tardis is full of surprises.
So is the young woman at his side. Maybe, the next time he feels like sticking this one out, when his mind sways between going or staying, he'll let Rose decide.
…
End Notes: I've had a really pleasant time writing this. Please let me know your reactions and your thoughts on what should happen next. I've been given to read very exciting ideas over the years and it's always nice for the story to be an interactive experience. See you soon with an update!