A/N: Folktale - story that originates in popular culture, typically passed on by word of mouth. Characters/events are in threes and they're typically one-dimensional. Folktales are meant to have a moral.
Counting Ives
If one wanted to talk about quaint villages, St. Ives first came to mind. With its unpopular name and small, compact houses, the systematic village faced dissolution more than once. Thankfully, people were moved by the diplomacy that sat in the quiet neighborhoods lined with its identical "bird-houses" and stick straight mailboxes. Despite its constant problems, the people never fretted about such dark subjects but instead woke up to the bright, early sun that shone everyday without fail, and prepared for another day.
Although a small town with quiet people, St. Ives held many buildings. Houses, hospitals, offices, and a few gas stations –all stretched across the small community. Within the heart of the beautiful village was a gas and grocery store just at the intersection of Main Street and West Avenue. People were instantly mesmerized by its neon colors that called for their attention. The great big apple in the middle of the sign was considered the final break of their weakness as people turned into the store parking lot.
One particular evening, Rose and her best friend Jack Harkness, too, were drawn to the sign like moths to a flame.
Rose was intelligent. At the age of three, she could spew out algebraic equations as if they were colors and names. By the age of eight, she had already created theories concerning extraterrestrial creatures and objects accepted into the scientific community. She enjoyed counting and had even accomplished counting every star in the sky by the time she turned fourteen. Although others considered Rose wonderful for having the brains, Harkness the Fabulous Horror thought otherwise. If anything incredibly impulsive, Jack voiced every opinion in his head which Rose could easily consider as Jack's fatal flaw.
But the two were good friends and didn't mind the other –mostly. Rose, as soon as she walked in, made a beeline to the coffee machine with a small pack of orange-flavored gum. Beside her stood Cassandra, the cruelest girl Rose had ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Cassandra would gladly nurse an injured bird back to health, feigning the attitude of a peaceful saint; but sooner than anyone could expect it, she'd break the bird's neck with a bottle opener and purposely serve it to her mother for dinner.
But even so, considering all of Cassandra's unusual actions, Rose was surprised when she saw Cassandra approach the cash register with just a pack of gum.
Unbeknownst to others, Rose had kept a track record of the number of items people bought the summer before when she worked at the store. Nobody bought less than two items at the store. Even people who hadn't kept track knew that. That had become the reason why Rose worked at the store in the first place. It was common-knowledge that had no justification. It was possible that people were drawn to the shiny plastic chip bags, and the aromatic scent of a hot cup of coffee.
Rose grabbed her coffee and gum from the coffee station and stood behind Cassandra to really see if an entire summer's worth of counting had gone to waste. Jack came up beside her, blabbing on about how the lighting in the store didn't compliment his skin, and how the red head in the first aisle looked too pregnant to be pregnant. The red haired woman shot Jack a dirty look.
Before anyone at the store could comprehend it, Cassandra backed up against a short cart piling with chip bags with a revolver in her hand, pointing at the sleepy cashier.
"Everyone to the back!" Cassandra growled. One couldn't have imaged her voice, filled to the brim with anger and malice. Few screamers spotted around the store were suddenly quieted by the sound of her voice.
Rose, without flinching, obeyed and followed the huddling group of people to the refrigerated area. Rose leaned to where she thought Jack was. When she didn't feel the impetuous man next to her, she twisted to see her friend with his hands on his hips.
"Who do you think you are, Cassandra? I have to get home now, or I'll miss –" Jack started, but didn't get to finish.
Rose hadn't even blinked when a shot rang out. Jack let out a loud yelp and tumbled onto the tiled floor.
The first thoughts that ran through Rose's head related to all the medical terms she'd learned two summers before. The mechanical instruments in her mind turned quickly on how to help the dying heap on the floor.
"Don't you dare move, Rose, or you're next," Cassandra snarled. Rose ignored the girl's order and perfunctorily moved to Jack's body. She crouched next to her best friend, analyzing the wound next to his left temple. The blood from his head pooled around it, slowly seeping under Rose's shoes. Jack's glazed eyes were still wide open while exasperation still etched on his face. Rose knew there was nothing she could do for her best friend.
"You killed him, Cassandra," Rose said, monotonously. "We need to call for help…." Rose could feel the hatred roll off of Cassandra in waves, but she didn't move her gaze from Jack's pale, dead face.
Cassandra began to lose her patience. She raised the gun up to the ceiling and shot four times. "Get in the back, Rose!"
"We need to call…." Rose stopped suddenly. Cassandra had a revolver in her hand. Rose knew that there were only six rounds in most revolvers. Cassandra shot once at Jack and four times into the ceiling. Now she had only one bullet left. Rose could make this work. If she could get Cassandra to shoot her last bullet at nothing –or somethingand have her miss –Cassandra would be helpless. Her thoughts were cut when she saw movement from the corner of her eye.
Slowly, the cloudiness from Jack's eyes seemed to vanish and the pinkish color returned to his cheeks. His eyebrows drew together. He sat up suddenly, grabbing Rose's collar. "Shut up, you idiot!" Jack yelled. He quickly charged from his position at Cassandra's legs.
Rose heard Cassandra growl as she shot at the impulsive boy hanging onto her leg. This time, Jack slumped from Cassandra's legs, face down. Rose didn't see this time where he was shot. As I have been told, Rose lifted her hand in the air and made a forward motion because Cassandra's last bullet was gone. Some of screamers…well…screamed but the others stomped forward towards Cassandra.
Rose glanced over at Jack, suddenly thinking what an idiot Jack Harkness was. Whatever caused Jack to come back to life had given him another chance but he blew it in the matter of thirty seconds. Rose could've made everything work.
Cassandra got sent to a juvenile detention center (she later died after a psychotic pre-teen skinned her alive) and Jack got buried at some camp for spontaneous people. Most people were unsure what happened to Rose, but rumors have been going around that Rose is best friends with an alien.
Moral: Intelligence prevails over instinct
A/N: Thanks for reading this Doctor Who-ish folktale!