The Rose And The Thorne: CHANGES
A/N: In view of David Morrissey being in "The Next Doctor", I decided to do a story in the "Rose and the Thorne" universe about the possibility of Rose having to cope with a new Doctor. This story occurs after they have been joined in the Gallifreyan equivalent of marriage.
For those who are wondering, I still am doing and plan to do 10/Rose stories, in this universe and in others, but I just wanted to explore the possibility of our mental energy vampire getting to know a different Doctor. This is kinda a "what if" story, so it is out of canon with the BBC series.
As always, the usual disclaimers apply.
CHAPTER ONE
Rose's eyes followed the movements of the Doctor as he checked the TARDIS's console for any systemic damages. They had been back from the planet Graknauk and the caves containing the poisoned gas for about a week; a week that was, in Rose's opinion, the most taxing week of her young Time Lady's life.
They had landed there to seek yet another part of Rose's overall cure; the Doctor having said that the gases there, in a more concentrated form, might provide a purging effect from her body of her vampiric urges. What had happened was anything beyond what they could have both forseen. An explosion from the compressed gasses, something which, had they both gotten clear would have been minor given their Gallifreyan healing abilities, ruptured through the catacombs. The Doctor managed to throw Rose clear, but had not had time to save himself. It was only by the will of Rassilon, or sheer providence, or both that she had managed to save her husband, her bi'no'nau, from being totally burnt to a crisp; thereby negating any chance to regenerate.
Rose dragged the round faced, freckled Time Lord back to the medical area inside the TARDIS, and after switching on the tissue renewal device to take care of the third degree burns, she settled down to wait. The TARDIS tried projecting images of happier times shared between her and the Doctor on the adventures they'd experienced, and she melded with Rose to keep the Time Lady mentally stable. The Doctor had even regained consciousness, his tissues healing, his skin becoming the paler shade she had known, rather than the red hued, burnt shade she had seen recently.
His mind touched hers briefly, but she could tell from the way his thoughts flickered in and out, much like a candle that was losing its light, that her husband was dying. No tears fell from her hazel eyes as she tried to remember that this was just another normal event in a Time Lord's life; that regeneration was really like breathing. Her mind knew that. Her hearts were a different matter.
Rose saw the massive light covering the Doctor and the instrument panel readings indicating erratic heart beats, an unusually high metabolic rate, as well as very erratic mental synapses before the light dissipated, leaving normal readings again. Her Bond mate did not stir, but just mumbled slightly in his sleep, his hand drifting toward hers. As she gripped it, Rose's first impression was that it was bigger, his fingers larger than the Doctor she had known. His hand dropped again, hanging limply on the side of the bed. He turned on his side, facing her despite his eyes being closed. Rose could see that in addition to his hand changing, his face had changed. She knew from studying the various pictures of him, from even contacting his deceased other selves, that this was the eleventh form of him, his eleventh body.
She studied his face. It was slightly more square than rounded, smoother than the grungier tenth persona she had known and bonded with. His hair, while still dark brown, was slightly lighter than chocolate brown. It was also more curled in front and longer on the sides than his predecessor's had been. His nose was more aquiline, not quite the hooked nose that his tenth body had sported. Rose stared at him as she saw it twitching, as if the Doctor were sniffing the air around him. She saw his slightly larger lips curling into a smile. Unlike the tenth doctor, whose smile was very broad, this Doctor's smile was more like a smirk; the left side of his lip going up, the other side of his lip staying down.
The sheet had fallen for a moment, revealing his chest through the open shirt Rose had attached the medical instruments to. She saw a less thin, more muscular chest. The chest had more hair on it, but not too much. Before she could get a better look at it, the Doctor started to rise slightly, but then settled back down when the effort had proven too taxing for him. Rose jumped back when, all of a sudden, his eyes popped open. She saw that the brown eyes were gone, replaced by dark blue eyes, darker than the deceased Ninth Doctor's she had "met" mentally along with his previous selves, but lighter than her former Master's. For a moment, husband and wife stared at each other. Then, without warning, the Doctor grabbed Rose's hand. His eyes closed as he slipped back into unconsciousness, but his hand remained where it was, its grip strong and sure.
Rose tugged her hand away, leaving the medical area and going to the bedroom they shared. She stared at his place on the bed and sank down beside it, finally sobbing hearts' wrenching sobs. She lay down, turning on her side toward the armoire, unaware of the blissful, dreamless sleep when it overtook her.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Rose woke up suddenly as she felt something touching her shoulder. She turned on her back to see the Doctor beside her, still wearing his pinstriped jacket with the white shirt underneath, still in his new body. She didn't know much about the regenerative process, since Koschei had not told her much, nor had he shared that process the few times their minds had touched, but she did know that once it had taken hold, there was no going back. The Doctor murmured, his arm straying toward her. Rose saw that it had less hair on it than she was used to. When his hand made contact with hers, she went white as a sheet. She remained rigidly still, not wanting to wake him.
"Rose..?" the Doctor whispered softly. She noted that, in addition to his other differences, his voice was lower, definitely a baritone this time, the Cockney accent of the previous Doctor almost completely gone.
He opened his eyes and sat up, turning to regard her. Rose didn't move a muscle but remained perfectly still. The Doctor frowned, the side of his lip turning down.
"Rhy'an'a?" he asked. He saw Rose's face, which had a look of…fear, loathing, disappointment? He reached out to her mind, only to find it blocked off. The Doctor's eyes were confused, then sad.
"At least talk to me…" he said. Rose got up from the bed and stood in front of the closet, facing him.
After a moment's pause, Rose told him "You should change." He glanced down at his pinstriped outfit and nodded, his eyes staring at her.
"Already did that," he said, then when he saw the stricken expression on her face, muttered, "sorry. Poor joke." He got out of bed, the shirt completely open, his legs not covered by pinstriped pants. She saw that they were also very muscular and powerful, like a runner's legs. He reached out to touch her cheek, but she dodged him. The Doctor's hand dropped and came to rest by his thigh.
"Maybe I should go shower…change clothes, then…" Rose said meekly.
"I could join you, if you'd like," the Doctor offered.
Rose's eyes had a trace of fear in them. "No, I'd rather go it alone, if you don't mind," she said sheepishly. The Doctor's eyes dropped from her line of vision. He didn't let his wife see how hurt he was. He waited until she had left the room, not wanting to drive her further away than she seemed to be.
"She hates me…" he said inside the room his wife had vacated.
That may be too strong of a word, he heard the TARDIS saying inside his mind.
"Oh, really?" he asked his ship, a trace of derision in his tone. "What would you call it?"
I'd call it apprehension, maybe some anger that you changed so rapidly, certainly sadness at not being able to say 'good-bye' to the you that she bonded with, but not hatred, the TARDIS said. The Doctor paced back and forth, the brown jacket and white shirt flying as he walked angrilly.
"Why didn't she just tell me that she didn't know completely about the regenerative process?" the Doctor wanted to know. "Why didn't Koschei tell her?"
Perhaps he never got around to it, his ship commented.
"Or, perhaps he never wanted to tell her," the Doctor said. "Would be just like him, to leave her in the dark about things like that, to make her that much more agitated by just letting her be surprised by it all!"
I won't begin to comment on what he might have thought, the TARDIS told him, but I do know that she needs to know about the process before it happens to her.
"How can I tell her? Educate her?" the Doctor moaned. "She won't even come within fifty miles of me!"
You don't tell her right now…his ship advised. You give that Time Lady all the time she needs. Give her the chance to get to know you all over again; then, when she is comfortable, you will share with her the regenerative process.
The Doctor nodded his assent. As he made his way to another bathroom to shower and shave, he knew that the old girl was right. He stepped into the expansive shower stall, letting the TARDIS wash him with warm, soapy water. He lifted his eyes heavenward, hoping that Rassilon, Omega, and whatever deities or Time Lords were out there would give him a chance to make things right with his wife.
