Tick Tock by Natural-blues
This story is rated M due to its content, not only due to the smut content that will be in later chapters, but due also to the fact that it features blood, battles, psychological disorders, character death, self harm, suicidal thoughts, description of certain psychological treatments that are less than legal or kind, hallucinations, and a definite cascade between what is real vs. what might not be. This story does contain angst, but it is also a romance story, and it holds some inspiration from Sucker Punch! and Girl, Interrupted. Any lines taken from those belong purely to their owners just as Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Bad Wolf features in this, although not quite the way she usually does, and this is most definitely a Doomsday fix-it.
Each part will be long. This is a hints of Ten/Rose but the couple is Eleven/Rose. River will also feature in this fic, but not in the way she normally does. Don't worry, River fans, there won't be bashing. There will be fixing.
I hope you like it, please review and let me know.
This story is dedicated to my bb skittttlezz who believed in me, hugged me, squealed with me, put up with 1 am banter, and harped on me until it was done. Oh and snuck up on me while I was listening to my iPod twice! ... hvdu.
The next chapter and a good chunk of this one are also dedicated to the lovely Bubblygal92, whose stories are an inspiration for Classic Whovians everywhere.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
That sound was her only comfort, the only thing in existence that made perfect, clear sense to Rose Marion Tyler. At least anymore. Which was funny in and of itself, because time made no justifiable sense. It was wibbly wobbly. It was at times linear, non-linear, sometimes it flowed as a river, and sometimes it all occurred at once, like the water in a lake. As such, it could go stagnant…. Sometimes the winds of change could occur… sometimes each thing had its place. There were good paradoxes, such as circular ones; bad ones, they brought the Reapers… time. It was the only thing that gave her comfort, this watch. It was one of the few things she'd been allowed to keep in this room. She'd had to prove herself in order to keep them, and she was convinced that one of the reasons she was even allowed them in the first place was because they were leverage. The employees here were very big on giving their guests just enough possessions that they had something to need, something they would break without having. All she had was her necklace with the TARDIS key on it, her pocket watch with a picture of herself and the Doctor at Christmastime taped messily on the inside, a torn up children's book, and of course, Mopsy. How did it come to this? She stared down at the ground, hearing the voices down the hall, the steps on the tile floors coming closer. She looked at her pocket watch, the time.
12:15. The Doctor's handsome face loomed on the other side of that watch. Smiling so hugely, at her. God, look at her smiling at him…. She'd been so happy. She'd been so beautiful… how did she look now? Oh wait, what was she thinking about? Oh right. 12:16 and 23 seconds…. Why would they come…?
Of course. Feeding time. A well-fed crazy was a slow crazy. The slower they were, the easier to take them down. Rose had stopped eating full meals a long time ago, often refusing food altogether. She would only eat enough to stay alive, enough to keep from losing too much weight (then they got to put you on a feeding tube, and she'd rather rot than give them any leeway to have her covered with wires and filled with tubes) but to give her a bit of energy. She could never be fully certain if her food had been poisoned, so small doses of her food worked to quell her mind. A weak poison would only disturb her system a bit if she ate small amounts, and any poison strong enough to kill in tiny doses would be fast, with luck. A rustle next to her alerted her to the presence of another, whose voice whispered, "They're coming. Please eat this time. Please. Just a little bit." She scowled. The orderly opened the flap on the bottom of the door, slid in a tray with cold tea and buttered toast on it, closing and locking the flap. "Better eat that this time, Tyler, you agreed, one meal a day. Or you don't earn your gold star."
….God, what was she, fucking five? She had a chart outside of her… bedroom… of a calendar. If she ate once per day, she earned a gold star sticker. Any days without the sticker were considered 'difficult days', during which Mopsy whinged at her, the orderlies glowered over being forced to fetch a plate that was unused, and Doris, the head nurse, would be cross with her. Doris was an Irish woman, who was short, trim, and had some of the brightest red hair Rose had ever seen in real life. Her hair was always up in a tight bun, a no-nonsense bun to go along with her ever so riveting personality. She wore the traditional nurse's dress and cap, her white tights and shoes always smudged from something to do with a patient. Oh, excuse her, a guest. That had been what the Director had written on the paperwork in order to excuse the wrongful commitment of every known alien in the UK.
Her paperwork. Jesus Christ. She'd seen it. It would have sent the Oncoming Storm into an Oncoming Babble to end all babbles. Well, she'd seen some of it, she was certain there was more.
Legal status at admission: Voluntary. That was a laugh. But it was her diagnosis that really had gotten her to start thinking. Established Diagnosis, Mental Disorder: Borderline Personality. She'd frowned upon reading that, at the time. She hadn't known precisely what it'd meant, and it looked so out of place with all of the other information, bland information that dumbed her down to her most basic information. It may as well have been a death certificate – Education: High School Graduate, Sex: Female, Marital Status: Single, everything that made up her little world, even down to her mother's maiden name and the address of her physician's office. It was all there. She remembered those words glaring out at her, and she'd picked up a medical dictionary in the TV room – one of the few books on those mostly barren shelves. She'd have to complain about the environment she was a 'guest' in. The reading material had left much to be desired.
She'd found what she was looking for. The words had jumped out of the paper at her, scary words. True words. Words like 'repeated acts of destructive behaviour', 'unstable', 'anger', 'extreme behaviour', 'hallucinations', and 'episodes of depersonalization'. This lot was good, she had to admit, albeit begrudgingly. They were professionals, very good at making people disappear when need be. Even using the truth to do it.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Mopsy shifted uncomfortably next to her, looking meaningfully at her food tray and then at her, obviously ready to launch into another of his attempts to convince her to eat. She frowned at him, she could always see him, even when she wasn't looking at him. He was her imaginary friend, did she even remember when she first started seeing him? She did, didn't she? Of course. When she first began to work for Torchwood. She hadn't done it on purpose, but everything had become too much, she couldn't handle the depression any longer, and she'd needed him. He was the Doctor but he wasn't, just enough different that she wouldn't have to see that spikey brown hair and those whiskey colored eyes staring at her with accusation, disappointment, or pity. Oh God, she wouldn't be able to handle that, how much she probably disappointed the Doctor. No, Mopsy's emerald eyes and floppy hair were different enough that it didn't sting the same way. His Manchester accent made the words not sound enough like the Doctor's, even if his babbling, odd mannerisms were so Doctor... he was perfectly imperfect. He was in a suit of course, but where the Doctor had looked as eccentric as he was, in brown pinstripes and a pair of Chucks, Mopsy wore tweed and honestly looked more like a raggedy Maths professor than anything else.
He was comfortably uncomfortable for her. She needed him, and that was why he'd started appearing one day. It'd taken her too long to notice that the man that had been consistently speaking to her and 'running into her randomly', the one she'd gotten a friendship with, the one she'd finally begun being happy with, been laughing with, speaking to, asking for paperwork at work, eating lunch with – no one else could see. This man for whom she'd begun to be happy, begun to put her feelings into, the one she'd trusted and finally found a way out of darkness because of...
The coincidences, once they'd clicked into place, had caused a breakdown, and total regression.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
"If you don't eat something, it'll be another bad day again. Really bad, really very very very not good. Doris will glare at you like she does, smoosh her face up in that way you insist makes her appear like an angry weasel, and demand of you all sorts of silly, rhetorical questions, such as 'Are we going to have trouble here?' and 'Do I need to give you something to help you relax?' and you know it'll be Thorazine again. You don't like the taste of it, it drops to your stomach and then your body feels dropped as well, and your life feels dropped enough, Tyler. Please. Please eat."
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Oh yeah. The Thorazine. Oh yeah, the star chart. Oh yeah, Doris.
"She'll call your TARDIS key a 'sharp' again, and take it away!" he sounded offended by the mere notion of something as complex and important as a TARDIS key could be reduced to its texture and considered a weapon for self-mutilation.
Tick….tock….
Fuck these people.
Tick….tick….tick….
The small crystal clock on Pete Tyler's desk was so distracting to her. She was supposed to be paying attention to what her parallel father was telling her, but she was far too distracted by wondering why there was no distinctive 'tock' noise coming from that clock. For some reason, it bothered her when time telling devices did not make the noises. She was wearing a wristwatch, she had a pocket watch in her pocket, and was wearing a watch ring, one of the stretchy ones from the mall. She needed them, they made the noises, and they told time. Clocks ran her life, now. They made her think of that Time Lord in a way that was non-threatening, in a way she could remain calm. The ticking and tocking gave her a calm feeling reminiscent of the TARDIS' humming. She glanced up when she heard Pete pause, thoughtfully. God, was he still talking? Just give her the job already, she knew it wasn't even in question. Her mother had been harping on her, and Mickey too, that if she'd just find busy work she'd be able to adjust better. Maybe she would take her loss easier, and move on. But Rose knew better. She would never move on, and somewhere in them, they knew it too. She tuned out every one of their longwinded speeches about how she just needed to move on, new universe, new chances. All she heard was how irritated they must have been, or even frustrated, that she was the one not going with the program.
"Now Rose, not that I'm doing this out of nepotism, although I will undoubtedly be accused of such by those who are unbearably jealous of you," there was a twinkle in his eye, a fatherly twinkle that he reserved just for her. A parental tease laced in his words, he had never really been able to tease since becoming a bigshot. Jackie and him had had a tumultuous marriage, and by the end, nothing he did could please her, nothing was enough for her. She hadn't appreciated him, she'd appreciated funds. But still, he'd been in love with her since high school. Since ever. He'd always wanted children, but his Jackie had complained about waistlines and never considered having children. He'd loved her, and believed it was her body, so it should be her choice whether or not she got pregnant. But he'd even suggested adoption, or surrogacy. She wouldn't hear of any children. He'd loved her, and losing her had been so much pain. But gaining her parallel self had been incredible.
Jackie's parallel self had been everything he'd ever hoped his Jackie could be. She'd had to raise Rose without him, something he regretted, even though it wasn't he who had died. She appreciated all of his hard work because she had painfully learned the value of work. She appreciated having him, because she had lost him. Jackie was still quick to anger, defensive, and impulsive. She still couldn't cook worth a damn. She still had her controlling ways, but it was the endearing ways... she was a better, more mature version of the girl he'd fallen in love with in high school and married. She was also the most loving woman to him, she showered him with affection, his life felt like a beautiful romance story of its own.
His life had changed so much. Now he had a fully grown daughter that amazed him, even though she was in such great pain. He could understand, losing Jackie had devastated him. Losing him had devastated Rose's biological mother, Jackie. If he'd simply been separated from her, by universe…. God, he'd be in a similarly depressive state. He understood Rose in a way that he worried the others didn't. He waited, just trying to show her that when she was ready to talk, he would listen. He would be a non-judgmental, sympathetic, fatherly ear. He couldn't wait for his son's birth, either. He wasn't certain how to be a father but Jacks would help him, and Rose…. Rose would help him too. He reached over the table and touched her hand, on the back. She hated anyone holding her hand, too many memories. She glanced up at him, tilting her head to the side. Zoned out again.
"…But…?"
"But, I want you to work for Torchwood. I need you in Ops, Rose. Your prior experience makes you invaluable." He always worded himself carefully to not mention him. He didn't even use the word 'Doctor', he used 'physician' if only to keep her content. He'd do anything to help her.
"I accept," she murmured, glancing at his clock again. He'd been wondering what to get her as a present for her new desk at Torchwood. Perhaps the answer had been glaring him in the face. He'd buy her a desk clock. She'd love that, she seemed obsessed with telling time anymore.
"Thank you, luv. You're really doing your old man a favour here, getting me out of this tight spot. If you go to the front desk, Gertrude will give you all the paperwork to sign, and we'll discuss schedules and necessities over dinner, mm?"
She smiled at him, and he felt genuinely good. He was helping her, he was earning his fatherhood. She hugged him tightly, and even kissed his cheek! Did she just call him 'dad'?! She had! His entire heart warmed in his chest, and he waved lightly as she left. He'd have to tell Jacks.
The ticking was gone, and Rose felt a momentary loss as she left the office. She felt like she was in freefall again, and didn't know how to hold her mourning at bay without those sounds. Oh God. Don't think of the word, don't think of the word, don't… Doctor. Darkness permeated her feelings at that word… she tried so hard to keep the depression away. She needed him, he was the love of her life, he was The One…. She didn't know how to function on the slow path anymore, she had seen too much. She didn't want this, this feeling that her entire life had fallen apart. She had no one to talk to, everyone just wanted her to smile and be okay with it. She stepped over to the main secretary's desk with her wrist by her ear, probably looking like a loon. The ticking and tocking of her wrist watch made it worth looking like anything, though; it was her security blanket. She glanced at the secretary who smiled, and set down a large pile of paperwork, to be signed in triplicate. Rose sighed, but smiled a bit; or at least tried to. She mostly just felt tired, and her heart hurt. It was so sore, she was convinced there would be no mending it, she just had to learn to put on a brave face... She wanted it so bad. She wanted a friend, someone to understand, someone perfect.
A strange man came into her line of vision, making her glance up. He was right behind the secretary's desk, walking toward her from the lifts. A bit strange looking, probably one of her father's scientists… wearing a tweed jacket, a button down, a ridiculous bow tie, and boots, why boots…? His trousers were too short, and she really wondered why he would dress so odd… Oh right, scientist, him. Geniuses didn't need to dress posh, they made up for whatever they wore with their minds. She must have been staring, because he was looking right at her, and smiled, a slow smile that took over his face. Oh Lord, she got a guilty look on her face, and knew she looked so very caught, even though she shouldn't feel such. It wasn't like she was attracted to him, was it…? Oh God, she did find him attractive! She felt the hot burning shame and tried to play it down to a blush, looking back at her paperwork.
Apparently, he didn't comprehend that she was trying not to become involved, because he somehow was standing right next to her, smiling. She glanced at Gertrude while she was doing her paperwork, but the woman didn't even glance up, just kept staring at her computer screen and typing.
"That's quite the daunting pile of paperwork. You'd think it'd all be electronic by now, what with the resources disappearing on this planet and the need to recycle and replant trees and the like. Honestly, paper is quite a renewable resource but human beings are absolutely awful at making certain to use things on a responsible level, if only they had thought to renew back when the science first started to occur…." This one has quite the gob on him, Jesus. He had a Manchester accent to him, which for some reason completed the weird professor getup. He seemed to take note of her reaction, and changed tactic. "I take it you're brand new? I'm John, John Smith."
"I'm Rose Tyler."
Gertrude glanced up, raising an eyebrow in an 'I know' sort of fashion, but Rose was looking at the paperwork, signing her life away. She didn't read it any more than she did her iTunes update contract. "Gertrude Johansson." She murmured, and Rose looked up, smiling at her as well. John was looking at Gertrude with a smile as well.
"She's a nice secretary, Gertrude is." He said, smiling softly.
"Pleased to meet you, Gertrude." She murmured, politely.
The woman was smiling, and Rose thought, Well, he can't be that bad, ol' Gertrude seems to like him, and from what I've seen of her for the past three months, Dad didn't hire her for her computation skills. She's shrewd. She felt sorry that she hadn't met her before now, but. She took the paperwork over to a table in the middle of the room to let Gertrude get her work done better. Rose knew she hated it when people leaned over her while she was working, somewhat like that man, John, had been and…. Jesus Christ, was doing right now. She continued signing the paperwork with near reckless abandon. She'd done it carefully the first fifteen pages, but the man was making her flustered as he just watched her, as if waiting for her to prompt him. Geniuses were so strange, it was a good thing she had years of experience with one of the biggest geniuses in the Multiverse to…. There it was. That sharp pain again, slicing into her heart. Her face fell, and all of that strength she tried to get a hold of dissipated. Suddenly, he spoke again.
"Rose… Tyler, was it…? You wouldn't happen to be related to Director Tyler, would you?"
"Yes," she replied, her frustration with the paperwork becoming more obvious. She was on page 32 now, this was past ridiculous. Just how much life did she have left to sign away?! "I'm his daughter. ….What abou' you, Mr. Smith? What do you do?" She raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to hint too hard that he was up in her business and she just wasn't certain what to do. It was almost a comfort to have him hovering over her. Just like—oh no….. Instantly he spoke again, distracting her.
"Physics. Astronomy. I'm afraid I do a bit of everything, to be honest. I'm very clever." She smiled, and nodded slowly. Finally, she was done. Finally. That answer though, it reminded her of… and the instant the thought hit, before the pain could come full circle, he spoke again. Distracting her.
"Would it be inappropriate of me to ask the Director's daughter if she'd like a cuppa? I don't know if you've seen the cafeteria here, but if you'd like, I can show you about. Not easy, being new," he said by means of explanation. Worried she'd say no. Oh my, he was so helpful. Rose already knew where everything in this building was, but for some reason she wanted to see it with him. For some reason, she trusted him instantly, craved some form of social connection with another outside of her family, someone who wouldn't know her story. Someone who wouldn't give her a constant, pitying stare. She could hear the ticking of her clocks, and wondered if he did too. If it bothered him, he didn't show it. She glanced at one of the wall clocks. 2:42 and 19 seconds. She could do this. She smiled, and nodded the affirmative, handing the completed paperwork to Gertrude, and asking her to tell her father that she was going to be shown around by a friend, and not to worry. She'd completely missed the raised eyebrow from the secretary, who had wondered if Rose had been speaking on a Bluetooth, but didn't see one.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Her mother had been looking at her with horror that morning, before she'd left for work. She wanted her own flat, but they refused to provide the funds. She would use her Torchwood wages for a flat, she'd decided. They had a long row, one that Rose felt had been coming for the past seven months of her being trapped in this awful 'Parallel Hell' as she called it. Her mum was picking at her again and again, over how Rose should be dating, and Rose was working too much, and Rose could feel that pressure beginning to build further. Inside, she was screaming - had been internally screaming for months. Her hands twitched, with the urge to cover her ears. Her legs twitched, she wanted to run. She did neither.
"I'm just saying, get over that stupid alien git already and find a good Earthling to be with! It'll get you the hell out of the house! Find a friend, for God's sake! Spend some time with other people."
She couldn't believe her ears. Her mother could be so thick, she was just railing at her as though what she felt meant nothing. "So bloody sorry my heartbreak is so inconvenient for you, Mum." she finally grit out, her tears brimming in her eyes nearly blinding her.
"Excuse me, what was that?" the light tone of her mother's voice was only used when it was a dangerous tone. She was angry. Good. Rose was tired of being the only one around here who was angry and hurt.
"I said, I'm sorry that my heartbreak, mine, not yours, is so bloody inconvenient for you mum! For you, for Mickey, for all of the lot of ya!" Her voice raised somewhere near the middle, and toward the end, while not shouting, she was beginning to sound a bit shrill. Her father stepped out of the dining room at that, looking between the two women.
Jackie's laugh was mirthless, and she shook her head. "Inconvenient?! Is that what you think? You're my daughter, Rose. My little girl! You think it doesn't hurt to see you in pain?! But you need to get over that ruddy alien and enjoy your family! I'm just trying to help you move on!"
Rose knew her mum wasn't intending to be harmful. She knew it. But, her mum's words were also too little too late, damage had already been done by her mother's attempts to 'fix' what happened. Rose was too far gone from months of holding it in. She wanted to scream, but the only thing she could get out was a biting comment. "So why don't you just keep on about how Brady Bunch bloody happy we are, eh? I just love being spoken for, I ever tell ya?" she grabbed her car keys, angrily, and got out of the house, ignoring her mother yelling at her to get back there.
"Rose Tyler don't you walk away from me, I am your mother!" The bane of her existence from childhood on was hearing that phrase. That phrase was meant to cause instant submission. It used to work. Instead it just riled Rose up more. She ignored her, revved the engine just for spite, and turned away from her mum to peel out of the driveway, blasting some heavy punk screaming music that she just didn't normally listen to. She needed the music more and more of late, the screaming echoed her angry feelings.
She didn't have to be to work for another two hours but she just needed the drive. No destination, just a good, angry, shouting with the song lyrics sort of drive. It was cathartic. It was beautiful. It was something that made her feel better. She cranked up the next song, Katy Perry's 'Hot n Cold' but Katy Perry didn't exist in this universe. This song was sung by a band called 'Woe is Me'. She felt the thrum in her veins from speeding while ...singing, she supposed it was singing she was doing. Once she hit a red light, her mobile chimed. A text from her mum.
If you don't want to talk to me, fine. But I think you should see a psychiatrist. Your dad said you lot have one at Torchwood so no one would ever know.
She didn't know what to think about that, but she did know that her mum's suggestion to see a therapist was out of the damn question.
She gunned the engine as the light changed green. Fuck that, she was done letting other people speak for her.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Her ….dad, Pete, he'd bought her a new desk clock. It was a fancy one, made of crystal. It looked like a miniature grandfather clock, only the pendulum spun. She had cried when she'd received it, baffling her mother and concerning Pete for a moment. It'd been the first thing he'd given her that was an actual gift, something that had taken time and him actually noticing things she liked. She'd smiled a watery smile at him, because laughter through tears was her favorite emotion. The hug she'd given him was unable to be helped, even though she'd tried to distance herself from him a bit. She knew the Doctor wanted her to mould into this life, to live a good life, but she couldn't suddenly delve into a relationship with her parallel father. It would take time. Not to mention her mother and Mickey were just pissing her off. It'd made her feel so alone in this world, more alone than she'd ever felt in her life. Her mum was eight months gone now, and all she and Mickey could talk about was how everyone was one big happy family. Whenever Rose was mentioned by her mum, her mum was always certain to mention, in a chuffed tone, how truly happy Rose was in this universe and how perfect it was for their family. It made Rose angry to hear it, not only because she was decidedly unhappy but also because she hated being spoken for that way. Her mum knew how unhappy she was, how heartbroken she was. Her mum knew, and was trying to force the situation to her own comfort instead of taking Rose into account. It only solidified her darkest inner thoughts – that her family would be better off without her. They'd certainly be happier. But she couldn't run off to her home universe, so that only left room for darker thoughts that she refused to entertain. Rose felt that darkness clawing at her right now, and made a snap decision to call the one other person she'd met in this universe that actually made her feel less alone. She picked up the phone, and dialed the extension for the Geek Department, aka Research and Development.
"Hello, Research and Development, this is Clive." Clive? She hadn't met him yet, but it was his first week, she knew that she would eventually.
"Hello Clive, its Rose Tyler. I need the latest paperwork on that ship that crash-landed last week."
"No problem Ms. Tyler…." he paused, asking 'what?' faintly to someone who sounded near him.
"... I'll send Beth." His voice had an odd tone, as though confused. Why did everyone take a funny tone when speaking to her? Oh, of course. Director's daughter. That's what it was. But he genuinely sounded confused by something, instead of using the 'walking on eggshells' tone.
"Actually, I was wondering if you could send John up to do it? Not that Beth isn't wonderful, but I'd like to ask his opinion on a few more things."
"…John? And which John would that be, Ms. Tyler?"
"John Smith. Your physicist." There was an awkward pause, and the sound of two people talking with the phone semi-covered. She couldn't hear, but then Beth came on the line.
"Of course Ms. Tyler, we'll send John right up. Can you leave any papers that you want him to take with on the side of your desk? Just so he doesn't forget?"
Rose smiled, comforted in an instant into forgetting how strange the conversation sounded. Clive sounded so confused and nervous, and Beth had sounded so coached… like she was reassuring a child that Santa existed. But it was easy to ignore as she gave her affirmative, and a few pleasantries before ending the phone call. She set her paperwork on the side of her desk and turned away from that part of her L-shaped desk, to the computer that faced away from the entrance to her cubicle. She heard the ding of the elevator, and was about to be excited, except she deflated upon only hearing Beth's voice, and no one else's. She sighed and went back to her computer. She'd seen something on her computer screen, someone was by her desk. She heard the sound of papers moving, and wanted to turn around, but something prevented her. Something inside, telling her not to. She counted the seconds with every tick and tock of her new desk clock, the dark thoughts trying to come back. They'd been festering all day, she realized. Because today was the day, the exact day, the anniversary of Bad Wolf Bay. This day every month was her worst day. She hated this.
Just as the feelings made her stomach feel cold, she heard a Manchester accent behind her, calling her attention.
"Specifically requesting my presence now, Tyler?" That could have been the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard in this universe. She smiled widely, and every dark thought was instantly forgotten as she turned around in her chair to face her friend.
"Why yes, Mopsy, you've caught me. I couldn't bear an instant without you." She laughed softly, and he looked at her, nodding at the paperwork on her desk.
"Got those figures for you, Tyler. But that's all boring. How about we skive off work and go for a walk?"
She grinned widely and grabbed her jacket. "You're a dreadful influence on me, Mopsy." She'd started calling him that when he'd insisted on calling her 'Tyler', claiming that it fit because he was a flopsy, mopsy, raggedy professor looking man, and after his initial offense, she'd told him it made him look cool. After, he accepted her nickname with pride.
"I'm the only influence on you, Tyler." What was that touch of foreboding? She smiled at him, walking away from her desk. He reached for her hand, and their hands touched. His touch was light and cold. She tried not to think about how much the cold skin reminded her of another, and only marveled at how perfectly their hands fit together.
"Cold hands," she murmured softly, walking to the lifts with him, pressing the button.
"Warm hearts," he murmured, but she couldn't be certain if that had been pluralized, or if it was just the sound the 't' made in the soft whisper he'd used.
The ding of the elevator broke her out of her reverie, and she smiled at him, feeling some relief.
Rose stood in the Hub by her team, going over a few pieces of paperwork. Her outfit was her usual one when actually doing Ops work. She preferred nice jeans, kitten heels or flats, and a good blouse occasionally paired with a blazer when doing only desk work, trying to keep it office casual. It made it easier to blend in with the crowd when they left for lunches off property. But when she was doing Ops work, she wore thick black leggings that made it easy to maneuvre any way necessary, knee high combat boots, a black shirt, and her black Torchwood zip up leather jacket. Her current jacket was asymmetrical, and one she preferred to keep unzipped and open when not on a case. She frowned, something was off with the paperwork, like it was missing an important page.
She walked over to Owen, who was patching up the idiot alien that they'd just saved from London police for crashing through a warehouse. Thank God he was humanoid. "Owen, I'm going to need a full report of every single treatment you applied on the Creoloid case, and this one you're currently in too. I keep missing paperwork to complete my files, and damn if it isn't always yours that goes missing!" her eyes narrowed. Owen was a brilliant doctor, but such a pain in the arse when it came to his personality.
Owen rolled his eyes while giving the alien, who insisted his name was 'Mister Sir', simply because he liked the way it sounded, sutures. "I told you I turned it in, the magenta bloody copy, just like you lot keep harping on me about."
"It's the goldenrod copy they need, Owen." muttered Tosh, from her laptop. She was absorbed, as usual. "When Gertrude receives your magenta copy she sends it down to the Archives, where the magenta copy actually goes."
Toshiko Sato really was a nice person. She was a whiz with computers, and contributed happily to their team. She considered everyone family, even the newer members that she hadn't known for very long. Tosh's hair was black and ramrod straight, brushing just past her shoulders, and her eyes were a soft shade of chocolate. Her brown eyes completed her in that way, reflecting her warm personality. She continued typing in the column for inventory, making an order for more ammo, and an extra net, since Owen lost the last one.
"I thought Rose received magenta, and Pete received the white, and Archives received the blue, and I kept the goldenrod," the black haired man insisted, almost petulantly. Really, he wasn't fooling anyone on the team, they knew he just didn't care about paperwork. He thought it was too corporate. His dark jeans showed all of the sploshes of the past day's events, some of it was blood, some of it chemical, and some sludge parts just didn't dignify identification. He adjusted his posture, feeling the soreness starting in his lower back.
Ruby Storm, another member on their team, let her head fall back in exasperation. She dressed in her Torchwood blacks just like everyone else, except she and Rose appeared to prefer the leggings. She had light brown hair down to her mid back, and never took her sunglasses off. She claimed they were prescription, but they were so dark you couldn't even really see her eyes. She and Owen usually clashed the hardest, because they were two very strong personalities. She shook her head at him, muttering under her breath and ignoring the pleading look Ianto shot her. He was always trying to avoid a confrontation between the two of them.
"I receive the goldenrod, Dad receives the blue, Archives gets the magenta, and you keep the bloody white copy." Rose grit out, tired of having this talk with him for the millionth time. She swore to God, if he wasn't such a great doctor, he would so be shit canned. For some odd reason, she even liked him. They all did. His personality left a lot to be desired, but he was one of them. They all looked out for each other at the end of the day, even if they occasionally fought like siblings.
Owen hated being interrupted while he was doing his work, and hated even more being wrong. So his next comment came out as a sarcastic pondering. "You know, I'm shocked you didn't receive my magenta copy with the last case, Rose." He glanced up from stitching Mr. Sir to stare her in the eyes.
"Why is that, Owen?" she sighed in exasperation, finishing checking off that all the equipment was in place for their mission later on tonight. Her dad was counting on her to be at their home by dinner, because her mum was becoming quite hormonal of late, and as such, it was easier to have another woman around rather than the 'bastard who preggered her up'. Rose didn't want to have to tell them, but she'd already put her down payment on a flat and signed the lease with John. She had decided she was leaving their house before that baby came come hell or high water, because once Anthony was born she knew it would make it harder to go. She'd already moved out, but had done it so sneakily that they'd had no idea she hadn't been living with them for the past three weeks. She'd just been 'pulling an all-nighter' at the office, or 'going out with John!', not telling them the truth. But she would tonight.
"I gave it to John, of course. I knew he'd see you before I did, so I handed it to him. I think he said something about saving it for you!" His tone was almost singsong, and Tosh closed her eyes and grit her teeth at the computer. Ianto gave Owen a look, as though he was shocked to near devastation at the way he was acting. Rose sighed in irritation, not taking note of the way her other team members were staring at the medic. "Owen, for Christ's sake! It is not John's job to deal with your paperwork! You take advantage of his mercy, you do!" she muttered under her breath about people who couldn't follow orders if their lives depended on it, and shook her head.
"Without all of the paperwork in line, there's no way we'll have an all systems go for tonight. I'll run up and fetch your page from John, but I mean it, Owen. Start filing properly or I'm putting you on leave."
She headed to the lifts, and as soon as the doors closed, Owen made "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" noises.
Tosh spoke up first. "What is your problem, Owen?" she was so disgusted with his behavior, she couldn't even believe it. True, Rose was a bit... unique, but she was a great team leader and always took care of them. "So she doesn't remember some guy's name or occasionally forgets that someone doesn't work here! She's the director's daughter, she's met so many employees it must be difficult to keep them all straight. You can't mock her for that..."
Ruby gave Owen an unforgiving stare from behind her aviators. "His problem is that he is an absolute horse's arse."
Ianto sighed, giving up in an instant. he was impeccably dressed, as usual, and brushed off invisible flecks of dust from his vest. He really cared about other people, especially the people on this team. He understood Rose had her issues, but when it came down to it, her issues didn't ever interfere with missions or her capabilities at work. But her issue was not forgetting someone's name, in Ianto's opinion, as much as it was a poor attempt at lying. Owen had dropped many hints before that he thought that Rose was sleeping with the Archives Keeper, and that was the source of his mocking comment. Ianto found it to be exceptionally distasteful and rude. But even if she was, if she chose to hide it, that was her decision, her privacy. Working at Torchwood was enough to make anyone just a little bit barmy, at any rate, let alone being Director Tyler's daughter and feeling like she had something to prove. He pinched the bridge of his nose. They at least had Rose as their team leader, instead of someone vile like Alexis, and Owen should be more grateful.
"Owen, seriously. If she is having... a relationship... then that is her business. Don't muck it up by being this way. Nobody mocks you for your obsessive narcissism." Ianto murmured, picking an invisible thread off his shirt.
Ruby snorted, pulling on her red leather jacket. Tosh stared at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, but the former UNIT member paid her no mind. Owen looked offended. "First, I will mock her for it because bopping that old geezer is fucking gross, and... nobody what?! That's bullshit, you lot always mock me for it! Especially you!" he shot Ruby an accusational glare, which she didn't even dignify, loading her gun belt.
"Old geezer..." murmured Tosh, whose face changed to shock as everything added up in her mind.
"Kind of fun when every part of your brain starts working together to come to a conclusion, eh?" Ruby jibed her lightly, smirking at Tosh's blush.
"That brings up another thing. Why do you always fight with Ruby anyhow? You fight like an old married couple. Just ask each other out, already!" Ianto joked, trying to lighten the mood further.
Owen glared at Ruby, who gave him her most unkind sharksmile she could manage. "Because I'm out of his league," she responded, coolly.
"Excuse you?!" Owen damn near shrilled his words, shocked to his core about them. It wasn't that he liked his teammate, it was just the insult that he was somehow inadequate.
"You heard me," she murmured on a sigh, as though having to explain herself was a burden in and of itself. "I'm out of your league. So far out of your league in fact, that your league could explode," she made an explosion gesture with her hands, to further emphasize her point, "and I wouldn't hear the sound for the next five days."
Owen was lost for words. This had never happened to him before. He didn't like it one bit. The other members were so amused, and Owen was so offended, that their previous subject of Rose's oddness was completely forgotten.
In the lift, Rose had been unable to explain her nerves. For some reason, that conversation had bothered her. It shouldn't have, but it felt like something was under threat. It wasn't, of course. But, eugh. She didn't like Owen speaking to John. Owen was a rude twat, he'd said so himself. Why would he try to talk to John? Why would John let him? Why was she so overprotective of John? He was a thirty year old man, he was fully capable of taking care of himself, she didn't know what her issue was. But for some reason, she felt scared. Unnerved. Was it the mission that was bothering her, too? She heard a chuckle next to her, right when her stomach began to twist in knots. Christ, when had this life become tap dancing on a razor- wait, laughter? Tutting? She turned to her right as she saw Mopsy, who murmured, "Ignoring me, Tyler? So cruel."
"Mopsy! You gave me a fright! ...How are you in here? I don't remember it stopping on any floor..."
"I was already in the lift, Tyler. I was heading to R&D but you know the lifts are programmed so the Hub has priority."
Yes, she did know that, didn't she? She knew that. He was prattling on now, about research he was doing with his group, and she inhaled deeply. She felt at total ease, and then the dinging of the lift making it to the Archives reached her ears. John had told her that Owen had left his file with the Recordskeeper. She left the lift, and headed down into Archives, muttering about what a sod Owen could really be, sliding her ID card and gaining entrance.
"Daffyd, are you about?" She called out, the silence of such a large, metal room filled with shelves of files made the ticking noise of her stopwatch so loud. She could hear her wristwatch, her ring watch... tick tock tick tock tick tock and she didn't know where the hell the old man was. "Daffyd? Dave? Are you here?" she heard shuffling from a few feet in front of her, and it made her blink, eyes wide. A voice spoke to her, calling her back. An adult woman's voice, a gentle voice. "Rose, you've gone someplace else again. We can't make the most of our session if you cease speaking to me and just zone out."
The entire Archives room disappeared, and she found herself looking up at a beautiful woman, mid thirties, hair done back in a casual, but professional bun. She was wearing an elegant grey pantsuit, sitting in a chair right beside where Rose was sitting on a divan. Shrink couch. Rose wrinkled her nose as she saw the garish, burgundy leather thing. She was in a pair of stylishly worn out jeans, a nice white shirt, and a white blazer that had rolled up sleeves and buttoned at just below her elbows. She didn't remember wearing that this morning. She remembered having her hair pulled up, not down. When did she buy those nude flats? She didn't remember them... She glanced up, but looked beyond the woman, trying to figure out where she was. She was in a shrink's office, but why? She couldn't think of why. She couldn't hear any ticking from the woman's clock she had in the room. She didn't like that, clocks making no noise. It was unnatural. She heard the ticking from her pocketwatch, and reached for it's usual spot, but instead stopped, feeling heaviness of it around her neck. She looked up at the woman in front of her, and wanted to open the watch, but something in her mind told her not to. She didn't know what was in the watch, but she could almost hear Mopsy's Manchester lilt on the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan, floating across the room to her. Don't open the watch, Rose... don't open it. It would be bad...
She believed him, instantly. Mopsy knew everything.
"Why am I here..." She murmured, less a question than a whimper. She didn't remember being here, it was scaring her.
"Let's start with something a bit less daunting, shall we, Miss Tyler? May I call you Rose...?"
"I'd rather," Rose murmured. "But for some reason, I don't think you're here to give me good news..."
The woman deflected the statement with an elegant flick of her hand, as though she could bat it away. She spoke again, asking Rose a question. "Do you know who I am, Rose?"
Rose looked toward the desk behind her, but the nameplate wasn't facing out. She looked along the walls, trying to figure out if she could see anything, a degree, something with a name. The degrees were on the wall, all right, but behind the woman's desk. They were so hard to read from this angle.
"Try to remember on your own, Rose," She said, gently.
Rose tried, she really did. She just couldn't. "I... I can't," she whispered.
"I'm Julie Bowers. I'd like to give you my full title, but I've been advised that there is a certain set of words that cause psychological regression in you," she murmured, carefully. "Just know I have my degree, and am qualified to treat you."
Rose wanted to be grateful. Julie. The name matched nothing, she felt like the past few hours were a blur. How many... wait, treated?! She felt panicked. "How... how many..." she was most panicked about that. She kept such constant count, she counted in her head all the time, every single tick, every single tock. 86,400 seconds in a day, 1,440 minutes, 12 hours. She counted all of them, adjusting for them each time she slept. How many hours had she lost? How many minutes? "How many hours did I lose? My seconds... my minutes... where are they?" She felt robbed.
Julie smiled, gently. "Time is very important to you, isn't it Rose?"
Rose nodded, slowly. She was staring at the clock as though it could answer her, but it didn't matter how much she counted now, her count was off.
"Rose, I want you to tell me the last thing you remember."
"...I was going to see Daffyd."
"Davith?" Julie mispronounced the Welshman's name only slightly.
"Recordskeeper... I couldn't find him," she stated, plainly.
"You and Daffyd are friends." Julie took note of this, calmly, writing on a pad of paper in a leather, professional binder.
"What are ya writin'?" Rose asked, suddenly, as a trickle of fear ran down her spine.
"Don't worry," Julie placated, calmly. "I'm a psychiatrist, I'm just jotting down notes. For instance, I just wrote that you and Daffyd were friends. That's all. Nothing bad."
Rose felt relieved at that. "What is this about? Why can't I remember what happened?"
"I'm going to have you slowly come to terms with this," Julie murmured, softly. She was being as caring as she could. "Do you remember preparing for the mission you had...? Your most recent one?"
Rose nodded slowly, still trying to come to terms with this. She had lost time, and apparently, something traumatic had happened to her. She sucked in her breath, she was used to strange things happening, she had been since she changed from being a 19 year old shopgirl. She kept telling herself that she shouldn't react, not until she knew what happened. She needed to save her feelings for when her memory came back. She took a few deep breaths, and then noticed Julie was waiting to be filled in. "I... Owen was acting like an arse... he misfiled some important paperwork... it's his fourth time doing that... I had to go and retrieve it."
Julie nodded, writing down things after Rose spoke, on her fancy paper, and upon finishing, asked, "Do you remember what happened after you sought out the Recordskeeper, Daffyd?"
Rose opened her mouth, and then frowned. "I... I went back downstairs... I told Owen to refile it later... I said I'd take the heat this time, but he needed to be more responsible or I'd sack him this time, I swore it. ...I didn't mean it, though. I'd never sack him. He's like family, he is."
Julie continued writing, and murmured "So Owen is often of a surly disposition, then?"
Rose nodded the affirmative. "He's a self-admitted right twat."
Julie choked, for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Can you tell me what happened when you were on your way to the mission?"
Rose stared down at her pocketwatch, still not opening it. She refused to, but she heard the comforting tick tock tick tock and she counted as usual. She began to speak.
"Oh would the two of you give it a rest, already?!" Sandra complained, listening to the row coming from Owen and Ruby. Well, it was mostly Owen, Rose's memory served. Ruby was calmly responding, while Owen was losing his mind, rapidly. He just could not believe that a woman would treat him that way. He fancied himself like Jack Harkness but in all reality he was nowhere near that calibre. He scratched his fingers through his black hair, the insult was too much to bear.
"I am too good looking!" Owen protested. What was wrong with him? Slightly tanned skin, dark eyes, medium height... he wasn't bad looking at all! He was quite fit!
"I told you, of course you're good looking, to you. I don't have to share that opinion. Looks are subjective, you do nothing for me." Ruby rolled her eyes, but no one else could see it through the aviators she constantly donned. She pulled her cinnamon brown locks into a tight bun, pursing her lips in the mirror.
"... I turn down women left and right!"
"Your women are your left and right, Owen." Ruby muttered in an unimpressed tone, picking at an invisible thread on her jacket. Owen looked like his head was about to explode.
"You're just in a snit because you know I'm much better at my job than you are!" the medical officer snarled, his sexual prowess obviously not winning any battles. Perhaps his career could. He had been chosen for his talent, had been top in his class. Now, there was this woman he wanted to strangle. Or snog. ...Wait what? No no no no no. Strangle.
"Owen... don't write a check with your mouth you can't cash with your arse. Now shut it and concentrate," Ruby muttered, looking for all the world like she was completely unaffected by the entire exchange. That made Owen more furious. She didn't even have the decency to be angry. Not even affected by him at all. He couldn't stand it.
"Owen, Storm, would the two of you take your love outside?!" Rose snapped, unable to concentrate on mapping the interior for recon. Ruby glanced up from her cell phone, one elegant eyebrow raised in question. Rose never called her by her last name. Ruby reached over, and gently squeezed Rose's shoulder, calming her down almost instantly. Rose blinked a bit, and scanned the blueprints on the screen, before finishing mapping out their plans. When they finally exited the van and began to suit up with their bulletproof vests and weaponry, Owen stomped right behind Ruby, watching her calmly strapping her guns on herself.
"I could never love a soulless bitch like you." He sneered, moving next to her and grabbing his favorite gun.
"You'll never have the opportunity." she deadpanned, stopping as she was completely ready, and turning to look at him, the streetlight glinting in her aviators. "And I finish first. Again." with that she turned heel and moved to the rest of the group who were receiving orders and earwigs. Rose moved next to Owen to strap her own weapons - all blades. Katana, two machetes, daggers. Rose was well known for refusing to use guns. She didn't feel they were fair. She used blades because they reminded her of the Doctor... her nerdy little Errol Flynn. But her mind wasn't on that now, it was on the mission.
"You really need to let this go, Owen," she advised, calmly. "You just keep letting her get your goat, and it's getting pathetic to watch."
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Rose was behind the set of gunmen, the Torchwood agents who were clearing level one. She stayed back wisely, watching as Ruby and Sandra kept their heavy artillery at the ready to clear the floor. The weapons resembled sniper rifles, but shot a thick laser light, which would stun the intended target and send them to the floor, unconscious, instantly. Ruby was nodding at the sound of Tosh's voice over the comm, informing each member of the team when rooms needed to be cleared. So far, not a hostile in sight. This was worrying. Sandra peeked her burgundy coif out of a room, looking Rose dead in the eye, and making some military hand signals.
Room is clear. Reason to be suspicious.
Rose looked at another team member, he was from an extra squad. Michael was his name. Sandy blonde hair, and a haunted look in his brown eyes, all the time. His mocha colored skin was brought out even more by the silver blade he held. He was another agent who preferred the sword to a gun. She held him in such respect for that, such high respect. He understood, he got it. He was the one who had given her the protective bracers that were on her wrists right now, looking like something out of a steampunk novel. Brown leather, gold decoration. They hid retractable blades. She loved them, feeling like she was some sort of assassin of old with them on. She held up one wrist, nodding at him in thanks and salute. He nodded back, solemnly. It was their silent communication that kept her nerves down.
Ruby's soft murmur through the commlink made all of their heads turn toward the entrance. "Level one is clear, Boss. I don't like it. The rooms are clear, the machines are off, but they're warm. I think they were expecting this. We might be looking at an ambush. What do you want to do?"
Rose frowned. It wasn't her call, and she looked up at the head of the mission, Joseph. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, and she shook her head at him. "Suggest we pull out for now, corral a bigger squad. We don't know their arms." Rose murmured, but Joseph disagreed. "No need to pull out. We're moving forward, and that includes you, Tyler. Let's go back your daddy proud, huh?" He spoke in such a chipper voice. It was hard to begrudge him for wanting this victory, but Rose still could. Her team's lives were important. Even Owen's. Rose sighed, she had her orders. She went in with the next crew while Ruby and Sandra were taking on level two.
"Be careful," she murmured, "I want us all available tonight for the Pub Quiz."
She could almost feel Sandra's smile. "I always am available to whip your arse, Miss Tyler." she chuckled softly, finishing the ascension of the stairs.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick...
Rose looked around, the walls seeming to melt around her as she was back in the office. She was speaking to Julie. She looked down at her hands, holding onto her pocketwatch tightly, as though it held her entire life force in it. She frowned as her phone chimed, again. She pulled her phone out, and smiled a bit. Mopsy. She read the text, calmly. How about we go clock shopping again? Devereaux's has brand new stock, from Vienna! She smiled at the text, and set her phone back in her pocket.
"Did you receive an SMS...?" Julie questioned in confusion. Rose nodded, slowly. "From my friend." Julie smiled softly, writing that down. "Will you tell me what happened when you came into contact with the hostiles?"
Rose looked at the clock again. It had been over two hours at this appointment. She hated this shit. She would much rather be shopping with Mopsy. Buying a brand new grandfather clock. She needed them. She sighed. "We made it to the second floor, and it was so quiet... it was eerily quiet. and the windows were covered in boards. Tosh's voice was telling us that she saw something on the cameras she had hacked into, something just glancing across the screen..."
Tick. Tock. Tick...
Rose was looking around the room she'd entered right behind Ruby, who was checking the corners. There were boards on the windows, and the little bit of streetlight that came through showed the dust particles flying in the air. There were linens on the floor that had been used to cover the decrepit machines... or machines that should be decrepit. These machines were far too advanced to be from this time or planet. They were warm. Rose had a knot in her stomach, and moved to tell Joseph over the comm more firmly that they should just leave, when the first explosion hit. Rose ran to the sound.
Rose froze in the middle of her stride, seeing both things happening at once...She could hear the explosions set off by the hostile aliens that were in the warehouse, see members of her team flying backwards. Rose was running as fast as she could, trying to get to Sandra, who was trapped under a piece of the roof. Running with all of the particles in the air, Rose could almost taste burnt skin. Ruby's voice over the commlink told her that Owen had been injured while trying to med-evac Giulia, a member of Joseph's team. She almost made it to Sandra, calling her name, but time seemed to slow down. The explosions seemed almost muted, when she saw the next large, metal ball roll over right in front of Sandra, who was choking out that Rose should leave her. Rose's fingers had barely brushed hers when the ball exploded. The force sent Rose backward, nearly three metres, and she bounced once, skidding along the wooden floor. Her ears were ringing, and her life felt much the same. She was so stunned, slowly bracing herself up on her side, by one elbow, looking at the spot that Sandra had been. The body that was there was burnt up, bloodied beyond repair... Rose was blinded by tears and ash. It felt like the ash was everywhere, in her eyes, her nose, her mouth... she felt vibrations under her body, people running, gunfire in the air, the metal balls rolling.
She got up, gimping hard, struggling for balance but listening not only to her instincts but also to her training. She trusted her training, she trusted her parallel... no, just her dad. She trusted her dad, who had overseen a lot of her training. She was at a severe disadvantage, injured, pain lancing up the sides of her leg, and she definitely had a sprained ankle. Was that shrapnel in her leg? She didn't let herself consider it, just let her mind move. She saw a flash to her right, a hostile who was coming at her. She moved her hands, the reflexes fluid and natural, sending the retractable blade out. Her hand flashed, and a green substance that passed for it's blood sprayed across the air. She couldn't hear as well, but she allowed her other senses to take over, her adrenaline making her forget the pain in her leg. She would get her team the hell out of this killzone. They had tried to be kind, calling out to them initially, telling them to stand down and cooperate with Torchwood. The hostiles had responded with explosions of violence.
No second chances, she thought to herself as she clicked her blade back into her wrist, pulling her twin machetes out of their hilts on her back, glaring like a goddess of vengeance, seeing through the dust that came off the ground. She charged, moving to protect the others, and get them out. She would worry about the corpses later, and getting them proper funerals. But the hostiles had to experience loss as well.
No second chances. She was that kind of woman.
Julie continued writing her notes, smiling at the progress that Rose had made, even though it was a sad smile. Rose had been traumatized to the point of being in shock for the past 72 hours. She had been existing in that state, in a robotic state, and had been brought to Julie by her father in order to work her out of it. Rose had been there for six hours, and had only begun speaking around two hours ago. Rose continued telling her about taking down some of the hostiles, her team managing the rest, and them making it out of the warehouse. Julie knew that Rose had not had the presence of mind to make it back for body retrieval, she'd fallen into shock before then, along with a few other members of the team.
"Please, tell me the last thing you remember, Rose," she murmured, placatingly. Rose was starting to get more visibly shaken, and they couldn't afford a regression when she'd made so much progress. Rose was a strong woman, she'd noted. Her mind was set for survival, no matter what it had to do to convince her to survive. This was found in many soldiers, but Julie wondered what other kind of experiences she must have had before entering Torchwood to make her that way.
"I went out last, after everyone else did... and it was daylight... it had the nerve to be daylight out... like the sun rose without us... I was blinded by my own tears... I could hardly see... I was..." overcome with emotion. Unable to process what had happened. In need of anything... "I saw John... I screamed his name, and he rushed to me, holding onto me. He held my face in his hands, and he was calling to me, but... I couldn't hear very well..."
Julie nodded at that, blinking a bit. She'd read the report, and knew about Rose's encounter. Something about the way Rose spoke suddenly made her head snap up. "What was that...?" Julie murmured, writing something down.
"I said he felt so warm... but John is never warm. He's always cold, you see... cold hands, warm hearts... but, he was so warm... and his face wavered." It really had. As though he hadn't been himself. Julie frowned a bit, and instantly went into Rose's file, looking through it. She had seen the entire report, and raised an eyebrow. "Rose, don't you mean Geoffrey?"
Rose blinked a bit, shaking her head. "Geoffrey? Why would I mean Geoffrey?"
"Geoffrey is the name of the man who you ran to, after you made it out of the warehouse." Julie murmured.
"No," she said, firmly. "No, I would know Mopsy anywhere. It was John. He's my best mate. He's the only... he... it was him." She nodded quickly, and Julie shook her head, softly.
"What does John look like, Rose?" she questioned, curiously. When Rose described him, Julie showed her a picture of an Asian man, medium height and thin build, cropped hair and soft black eyes. Rose stared at the image as though she had never seen it before. Did she know who that was? "Who is that...?"
"Rose, this is Geoffrey. He is the one who you ran to."
Rose became upset, and felt her stomach knotting. She didn't want this conversation. She didn't want to hear it. She heard her phone chime, and looked down at it, clicking the screen on. It was Mopsy!
Let's have dinner. Chips?
She smiled at the text, he always knew what to say. Julie asked her how she'd met Mopsy, and Rose told the tale calmly, her phone away, playing with the watch again. Her words stood out to Julie like giant warning bells, but the last thing she'd said made Julie buzz through Rose's file again. She'd said that John was her flatmate, renting with her. "Is John on the lease?" Julie asked, raising an eyebrow. Rose was in Torchwood flats, so she had a copy of her lease in her file.
"Of course he's on the lease. He's so big on little things like that," she said plainly, looking at Julie. What was this woman getting at? Her tone was clipped, she felt so defensive. Why was she so tense?
"Rose... there is only one name on this lease. Yours," Julie said, handing her the paperwork. "There is a single occupant in the one bedroom flat. You," she continued, now knowing the problem. It was one she hadn't seen for a while. Rose's mind was being a survivalist, deciding that she was unable to handle something, something to which Julie was unaware of, so it gave it back to her. "When you're upset, does John randomly appear?" her voice lilted a bit at the end, trying so hard not to upset this girl, who had already come in in a fragile state.
"I... of course he does, we're best mates," Rose insisted, her voice becoming even more angry. all of a sudden, her phone chimed again. She looked down. Mopsy again. He was being awful persistent...
I've made a paperclip chain necklace for myself, and a rubber band ball for you... rubber band balls are cool.
Rose smiled at it, her system calming. But Julie moved forward, taking the calm away. "Has anyone else ever spoken to John in front of you? Does he speak about his other friends? Do the two of you hang with other people?"
Rose was about to vent her spleen on this woman for being ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, when Julie drove the point home. "Rose, I'd like you to do me a favor. Will you?"
Rose nodded. If it got her off of her back...
"Open your phone."
Rose unlocked the screen. She looked back up to Julie for further instructions. Her knots in her stomach were insane.
"Please, open your messaging inbox."
Oh god, she didn't want to do this. She didn't want this. Her fingers moved of their own accord, and she clicked the inbox.
"Tell me what is in the inbox?"
Rose looked down at it, and suddenly let out a choked noise. Messages (0). No, no no no... she and Mopsy always texted! Where had her texts gone?! Her eyes watered as she came to a realization... all of their conversations... she felt like she was being walked through her own memories by force, taking note of the fact that no one else had seemed to speak to Mopsy... ever... not even Gertrude... she remembered glancing into the reflection on her screen. Seeing Mopsy walking up... then he morphed... into... Beth?! ...herself and Mopsy moving into her new flat... he lived out of those boxes, he never unpacked... going clock shopping with him, all of a sudden the stares that the people at Devereaux's made at her were noticeable... the way he told her the entire history of every single antique they'd seen... it hadn't been him... she'd been reading the history on a placard and heard his voice in her head. Sitting in Hyde Park, giggling with him and texting... she'd known Mopsy for six months... she clicked the next button, Drafts. Drafts (9999) and she clicked the first one. From her to Mopsy. The next was from Mopsy to her. Oh God no. Please no. Not the only person who had helped her begin to feel human again. Not the only person who she felt like she actually had, not the only person who made her feel safe, secure, accepted... not judged... not rushed... no please. Please.
She hadn't realized she'd said all of that out loud, and she couldn't hear Julie trying to calm her. Mopsy holding her face in his hands after the warehouse morphed into Geoffrey's face, and his words came to her. "Miss Tyler, it's all right. You're out of there! Medic!" She felt her insides twist on themselves, as a lone tear slid down her cheek. All of a sudden a tidal wave of blackness broke over her head, and her entire world was completely obliterated... just for a few minutes. But it was long enough. She had gone round the bend, she knew it. She'd been on a slippery slope, and no one had known well enough to know how to help her, if it was at all possible to be helped. She got up and rushed out, ignoring Julie's calls of her name, trying to plead with her to return. The darkness of her mind and the darkness in that room was just too much. The one person keeping her darkest of thoughts at bay didn't exist. She went the only place she could.
Rose was in her flat, and she had completely broken down. Her entire world was shattered, she didn't know what to do. The little supports she had built for herself, they were all gone. She had begun to build a life for herself, and that just didn't fucking matter anymore, because she was absolutely spare and had spent time talking to herself. Six months of time. She had spent twelve months driving her family spare as well. They had just wanted to move on from Canary Wharf and enter smoothly into their new life, and there she had been - a bitter reminder. A child her mother had had with another version of her father. Her inability to forget her universe, her love of the Doctor... oh God. She loved him so much, and she knew that it was possible to love someone for the rest of your life, she'd seen her mother do it for her father's memory... but the Doctor wasn't dead, not to her knowledge - just... could never see her again. Her family was moving on. Her mum had had her little brother a little bit ago... her tears slid down her face. They were better off without her.
"They aren't..."
"Shut it Mopsy, you aren't bloody real," she snapped, reaching into a drawer and pulling out the gun her father had left for her, in case of emergency. Perfect. This would be quick. Cyanide pills, a slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof... she'd considered them all. Even jumping off the bridge, right into the Thames. It would have been poetic. If she wasn't so afraid of being caught, she would definitely make it even more poetic, and go to the store room in the Parallel Henrik's. But God, doing it someplace public, she may as well put the gun back in the fucking drawer for all the good it would do. Some do-gooder would find her and save her life.
She put the gun in her mouth, eyes closed, ignoring Mopsy's worried noise he made in his throat. "Please... Please..."
Rose could taste it. The revolver was cold and greasy, the metallic taste an unpleasant twinge when mixed with her fillings. Her finger was on the trigger, hand shaking. Her thoughts swarmed around how much better off her family would be without her, how her teammates must have been so burdened by her insanity, how that was definitely the reason why she had no one else but Daffyd and her own imagination as her friends... friends... were they even friends?! Oh God... but the Doctor... those thoughts were the worst of all. The Doctor, and Jack... and Mickey... they would be so severely disappointed in her... she closed her eyes, and inhaled.
"Stop thinking of only the bad times. There were good times, Rose Tyler. There were so many good times. Do you remember when you bought the banana jam...?"
Shut up, brain, shut up, can't you let me die in peace?! She thought to herself. But she couldn't fight the memory. The Doctor had been so excited to crack open the banana confection, and he'd begun to eat it... with his fingers. Rose had stepped out of her kitchen, and had been shocked. It was unfair, really. He was so beautiful, and she loved him... and now he was sucking on his fingers in an unintentionally sensual way. She'd gasped out loud, making him look up at her, index and middle finger in his mouth, cognac eyes wide. "Roab!" he'd said, mouth full.
"Doctor... what are you even doing?! That's disgusting, and uncouth!"
"...Rose, this is my jar of jam. You gave it to me, so it's mine. I'm allowed to do this."
"Doctor, nobody should be allowed to do that."
"But Rose! Rose, it's mine." he whinged.
"How old are you, Doctor?" she'd teased, making him respond to her through his fingers again, so she couldn't hear his age for certain.
Rose let out a choked sob, able to see Mopsy sitting on her nightstand, crosslegged. She shook her head. No, no that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to make her let this go. She needed to get rid of this darkness, there was no way out of this. There were parts of this universe that she could almost feel pulling at her, telling her to make. this. happen. She could feel Mopsy appear right next to her, could feel his presence right next to her. He looked at her, and she knew he wouldn't let her do it.
"You're living the one adventure-"
"Fuck your adventure!" She shouted at him, pulling the gun from her mouth, angrily. She kept it on her, holding it against her. She just couldn't... "I don't want it... I don't... that was what you wanted for me. Because you thought that I wanted it, but I don't, I haven't wanted it since I told you it was better with two! I was never ready to turn back, it was always you looking backwards for me, why?!" her only response was him looking down. Because he didn't know the answer. He didn't know the answer because she didn't know it. Or maybe she did, and just didn't want to hear it.
"I... I'm speaking to imaginary people... not even... not even aliens that people think are imaginary, actual imaginary... I've gone..." she moved the gun against her temple, and closed her eyes. She didn't need to explain to herself what she already knew. She was done. She was living in an imaginary realm inside of her head, obviously, and if that was what she needed to survive, no wonder she was burdenous. She counted, softly. Just as she inhaled, she swore she felt Mopsy behind her, breath on her ear.
"What you're imagining right now... that world you control? The world that gives you control, the world where I exist... that world can be as real as any pain..." he whispered.
Something in her broke at that, and she found herself putting the gun back in the drawer, just in time for the two hundred and thirteen clocks in her flat to chime the changing of her hour. She should have known she would fail, she chided herself softly. A successful suicide would have demanded good organization and a cool head... ironically, both of which are usually incompatible with a suicidal state of mind. Rose laid on the floor that night, in the middle of her flat, with Mopsy lying with her. She allowed the pain and the darkness to permeate her being, because fighting it had done nothing.
"It's not as though it's my self that I want to kill..." she murmured, and Mopsy made a noise of curiosity - a deep one in the back of his throat. "It's just part of myself I want to kill... I want to kill the part of myself that wants to kill herself. I want to kill the part of myself that makes me view the entire world as sharp and frightening... because right now everything is sharp, and menacing... and I can't handle this slow path shit..." she breathed. But she made no move to leave her spot. Mopsy nodded slowly, in understanding. She was looking at him, face resting against the carpet, their hands linked. They were L shaped, like her desk. He was staring at her, green orbs meeting soft brown.
The clocks around them ticked and tocked with every passing instant, and she counted all of them.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Rose scowled, trying to think. She needed out of here in the worst way, but they were so smart. Coming here, to the Dark Hotel, as it was called, you didn't get to contact the outside. The world went on without you, you were locked away. There was no one else she had a connection with outside of the Doctor and his TARDIS, but they were so constantly in motion that even if she had the ability to tap into Bad Wolf, she didn't know if she could lock onto them in order to try and speak to them. The TARDIS was so protected... it just wouldn't work... who else did she have a connection with?! Who else could she turn to...?
Mopsy would not stop telling her to eat, even though she knew she had already made the damned agreement, even though she had the stupid calendar. She'd promised, one meal a day. Except for Sunday, she didn't have to eat on Sunday. It was the agreement she and Doris had made. But she knew she didn't want to deal with Doris and deal with her appointment today as well... but the sound of Mopsy's whinging at her to survive... it was driving her more spare than she already was. She finally gave in to her feelings, and vented her spleen a bit at him. "Tyler, I really think you should eat, I don't want her to punish you, and you need your strength. I know you think they are poisoned, but you have no other means of sustenance... Tyler please. Just eat."
"Stop it, stop it, stop it! You always do this, Mopsy, you always try and make me eat, even though you know I have my reasons! It isn't just the poison, and you know it! It's so important, what if it happens, what if it's finally here?! My opportunity passes because I'm full?! You're always harping on me, always! Shut it! Button it up!" she shouted, her voice going shrill.
Mopsy's shoulders slumped, and he stood against the wall. He was defeated. He murmured "Rose Tyler... I exist because you created me, just as you exist because you created yourself. I am merely a representation of the Doctor... I'm him, but different... and I am here because you want me here. If I upset you so deeply... then send me away. I come from your mind, so you can kill me just as easily as thinking about it. But if you kill me, don't delay it out... if you're going to kill me, then just do it..." he meant every word. His voice didn't waver. This wasn't emotional Mopsy, this was... she couldn't explain it. A lone tear streaked down her face.
"Miss Tyler!" came the sound of Doris' voice outside the door, as she rapped on it twice. "Hurry it up with your lunch, you have an appointment with Dr. Chambers in twenty minutes. Is this going to be a difficult day?" the last sentence was a threat, and Doris' heels clicking on the floor told of her leaving to the next patient's door.
"Kill you..." Rose murmured in a dead sounding voice. "Why would I do that...?" Before Mopsy could speak again, she finished her thoughts with a finality that made the silence sound echoed. "You're my only friend..."
Of course, she thought to herself suddenly. She was connected with one other.
Jack.
Thank you very much for reading, and I know it was dark. It will get a bit darker, but I promise, it is a romance fic, and she will be reunited with the Doctor. This is a Doctor/Rose fic, and while it does have dark themes, I just love writing it.
So please, read and review, and hopefully you liked it! Each chapter will be long. I like to have a complete arch.
Thanks again!
Natural-blues
