"He's like you.."
"Why do you trust him?"
"Well, because he's like you. Only with dating. And dancing."
The console room of the TARDIS for once was well lit. It was also empty, save for one
timelord, the last timelord, who was tinkering with his ship. Again.
Normally it was to update the systems, or to allow for some quirk in the space time
continuum. Sometimes it was because he didn't know what else to do, because he was
bored, or at a loose end.
Sometimes it was displacement activity. If the worlds seemed to be on his shoulders, you
could guarantee the Dr would be up to his eyeballs in wiring and switches poking about
with his sonic screwdriver.
Today, it was displacement activity, but it wasn't because he was worried. No, today he
was well and truly hacked off.
If anyone could have seen his face, they would have instantly known why his enemies
called him 'The Oncoming Storm', why planets still quaked in fear at him, why some
Peoples still only talked about him and his works in dark, secluded places.
And that didn't count Mosside.
The TARDIS hummed quietly all around him, normal background noise, one level up from
It's night mode, when the ship's lights dimmed and then fluctuated like she was breathing
as her occupants slept. Some the sleep of the righteous, others not at all.
The Dr was usually one of the latter. He didn't sleep like Rose; he didn't need sleep,
though after some of his escapades, his body craved sleep like a junkie for their next fix, or
a drowning man for rescue.
All you could currently see of him was a figure lying prone on the industrial floor, from the
mid torso down. One leg flat on the floor, the other raised at 90 degrees, the foot waving
in erratic circles. His breathing was regular and he seemed to be talking to the ship, but all
that an observer would be able to hear would be a deep unintelligible rumble from within
the console.
All of a sudden, the prone figure wriggled back quickly, followed by an arc of electrical
sparks.
"Damn!" The Dr cursed loudly, "Damn, damn, damn!!" he continued, sticking his fingers in
his mouth to soothe the burns he had just received.
The TARDIS made a noise that, had the ship been a dog, would have been a growl deep
in the back of it's throat. If the TARDIS had been a Jack Russell, the Dr would have been
sporting a nasty bite. As it was he had a nasty burn on the back of his right hand, and the
smell of burnt electrical connections hung around him like an after shave a well meaning
but clueless relative had passed on at Christmas.
He stood up with a face like thunder. He raised his foot and went to kick the console, only
to receive another warning growl from the TARDIS. He pivoted and kicked the handrail
instead, cursing thoroughly and fluently in at least three different languages.
As he did so, his battered leather jacket fell off the handrail, where he had careless thrown
it a few hours before. He fished in one of its inside pockets and bought out a small screw
top jar. He took the top off and smoothed some of the strange smelling green substance
over his burnt skin. The pain immediately started to subside and the skin cooled.
The Dr sent grateful thanks for the giver of this gift, a man he had met on his travels, his
travels before he had landed in London and saved the Capital from the Autons.
The man was also from Earth, just another continent, a part known for it's wide-open
Expanses and unforgiving terrain.
Most people would not, could not have survived its harshness, but this man had revelled in
it. He'd found the Dr wandering, lost in an severe snowstorm and helped him to shelter,
helped him warm himself and feed him while the elements raged outside the small wooden
structure.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you more comfortable surroundings," the man had told him,
wrapping another blanket round the Dr as he hunched as close to the fire as he could to
try and warm himself.
"Don't apologise, you've just saved my life!" The Dr had told him, hugging the mug of
strong black coffee in his hands.
His rescuer had shrugged this off, and set to making the hut they were in more secure
against the snow and wind as it tried to find a way to them through nooks and crannies in
the wood.
The Dr's rescuer had seen that the Timelord had windburn on his face and tended to them
with this balm.
"Powered elk horn," he'd said when the Dr had raised the question, "It's very good. I use it
myself when I've suffered from iceburn."
Eventually, the storm seemed to tire of waiting for the two men to reappear from their
shelter and moved on. As soon as it was safe to do so, the Dr had stepped out of his
blankets and back into his coat.
The man had asked how the Dr had managed to get so far with such minimal clothing in
such a storm, and the Dr had parried the question with a meandering tale of losing his
ship.
His rescuer had cocked an unbelieving eyebrow at this but had agreed to take the Dr back
to where he had found him. From there, it turned out that the TARDIS had been snowed
in, and the Dr had lost sight of his ship not 100 metres from where he had left her.
The man had insisted he escort the Dr back to this wooden box in the middle of nowhere –
and certainly not near any stretch of water – and watched as the Dr had thanked him again
and ducked inside his ship.
As he swung the ship back into action, he had seen the bemused face of his rescuer, as
the blue box disappeared and the man found himself alone on an ice field with no one
save his companion wolf for company.
He had shaken his head, turned and walked back to the shelter, vowing never to touch
Inuit speciality recipes involving seal blubber and walrus gizzards again.
The Dr tucked the screw top jar away along with the memory of how he acquired it and sat
down heavily on the seat attached to the handrail.
It sagged as he did so, making him jump up and tighten its fastenings with the sonic
screwdriver.
He sat down more gingerly and flicked the switch on the screwdriver on and off repeatedly.
From down the corridor he heard the faint sounds of swing music, the strong beat from
double bass and drums, the cry of the brass section.
He pulled a face in response.
"Dr" he said in mock Cockney tones, "Jack's such great fun! Jack can do this, Jack can do
that, Jack can fly a plane, Jack is so funny, did I tell you what happened the other day with
Jack?"
He huffed through what a kind observer would call his patrician nose and crossed his
arms, hunching his shoulders and lanky frame.
"If Jack's so bloody marvellous, maybe you should jack off with him!" he told the empty
console room.
As if in response, he heard Rose's peals of laughter.
The TARDIS seemed to sigh at him, but at least the console had stopped sparking and
whining at his earlier attentions.
"First Ricky the Idiot, then Adam the Prat, now Jack the Marvellous!" he fumed, "How
many more stray dogs is she going to bring home?"
And enough with this, he told himself.
Was he 900 or 19?
And was he just annoyed at Jack's eloquence, his joire de vivre? The effortless way he
did everything, from making the perfect cup of coffee to handling himself in a fight?
Or was it that Rose seemed enamoured with him so much?
The problem was that he, the Dr, had had her to himself for too long. If he were feeling
poetic, he would have said he was like a hothouse flower feeling the effects of being
exposed to the cold reality of winter.
What he was feeling however was ignored, taken for granted, excluded, discarded.
Dumped.
He'd never really liked Jack that much. I mean, he was alright. For an ex-time agent who
was missing memories of two years of his life. And for a man who saw the universe in a
'so many species, so little time' kind of way. And that didn't mean platonically.
That was what really worried and annoyed the Dr so much.
"He waltzes in here, making eyes at Rose, my friend, and twirls off with her without so
much as a backward glance!" he growled.
"Just because he thinks he's a good looking bloke, with the eyes and the teeth, and the
boringly conservative set of his ears, and that smooth accent, he can walk off with my, er,
Rose." He told the TARDIS.
"And I thought she had brains! I thought she had a mind of her own! But no," he said,
pulling a pained facial expression, "She's fallen for all the old lines. Huh!"
He crossed his arms tighter and then stood up, pacing up and down by the main console.
"There he is, turning on the charm – and she just bats her eyelashes and flutters around
him like a moth to the flame!"
By this point he was waving his arms around in annoyance.
"Just like you – that's what she said. She said she trusted him because he was like me! If
she really thinks that I should either be suing for deformation of character or looking to
regenerate!"
Because that is what Rose had told him. When they were trapped in the Albion Hospital
with that seemingly homicidal child after them. Jack had beamed himself off to safety
leaving the Dr to sort out an escape route for Rose and him.
And the Dr had asked Rose why she trusted Jack, and she had told him that it was
because Jack was like him, like the Dr.
At which point, with the unearthly child hot on their heels, and the Dr desperately trying to
disseminate concrete to effect a swift egress, Jack had managed to turn on the full force of
his considerable charms and flirt with Rose via the radio speaker!
The Dr kept running Rose's next line about Jack through his mind, the words having been
running though his mind since they had left that particular adventure behind.
"He's like you. Only with dancin'. And datin'."
Well, he had shown her he could dance. Okay, so he had been a bit rusty, but a quick
refresher and some Glenn Miller had reawakened his sense of rhythm and timing. Just
because she hadn't given him chance to use it again wasn't his fault – she had been
spending seemingly every spare moment with Jack.
Showing Jack where the kitchen was, where the wardrobe was, the TARDIS Basic
Introduction. Where Jack's room was.
The Dr pushed the next thought away – where Rose's room was.
"No." He told himself out there, "Do not go there."
He stood up straight, squaring his shoulders out and holding his head up.
"If Rose and the Marvellous Jack can listen to music, so can I." He told himself.
He turned to the TARDIS and tapped on one of the keyboards that were fixed haphazardly
in the console.
Words sprang up on a screen and he scrolled down the lines of text.
"No. No. No. Definitely not!" He recoiled from the screen, "How did that get on there?!"
He stabbed at the delete button, erasing the offending words from the TARDIS memory.
"No, No, I really don't think so," he muttered under his breath.
And then jumped a foot in the air as he felt two fingers jab in his sides.
"Argh! What the..?!" he said, turning round.
Rose stood behind him, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
Despite himself, the Dr allowed a small smile back to his companion.
"What was that for?!" he asked, rubbing his oblique muscles.
"You were miles away," Rose replied. She leant to one side, trying to peer round him.
The Dr leaned the same way, trying to obscure her view.
"What are you looking for?"
"Trying to see what you were mumbling about…" she said, still leaning, then tried to push
past him.
The Dr lent back on the console, covering the screen with his body.
"Words. Just words."
Rose pouted prettily and put her hand on one hip, shifting her body weight on one leg.
The Dr noticed she seemed flushed, something that had almost past him by as he tried to
hide his own high colour.
"Been running have we?" he asked.
"No. Just dancing. With.."
"Don't tell me. Jack." The flat tones he employed to utter the name told her volumes.
"Yes, Jack. Who else do you think I've been dancing with back there?"
"Who knows with you…" The Dr said, instantly regretting his sarcastic tone of voice.
"Have you got a problem with Jack?" Rose challenged him.
"No." The Dr replied, just a shade too quickly.
"No? Well, it's not coming across like that."
"Oh? What is it coming across like?"
"Like you wish that bomb had exploded aboard his ship."
"No! Not at all!"
"Oh, really?"
"Really."
"Oh, 'cause if it's not that, it must be, well, the other reason then."
"What other reason?"
"For a 900 year old bloke, you are slow on the uptake aren't you?"
"For a 19 year old, you can be very cryptic. Rose, what other reason?"
"You're jealous."
"Jealous? Me?!" The Dr theatrically reacted, "Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!"
"Oh, I don't think so, " Rose countered, leaning back on the handrail and not taking her
eyes off the man striding away from her.
"You think now do you?"
"Yeah, I do. And I think you're jealous."
"Oh well, if we're in thinking mood, tell me – oh wise one – why should I be jealous of your
current stray dog?" The Dr asked her, an edge appearing in his voice.
Rose started to inspect her nails as she told him,
"Because I've been spending time with him instead of you."
"Rose, you spend your time with whoever you like. It's none of my business. If you decide
to throw your spare time away with a time travelling Lothario, that's nothing to do with me,
now is it?"
He paused, drew breath and started to turn dials, to flick switches, to tap controls.
"If you decide that wasting your time in idle chat and mindless flirting with Jack is more
interesting than seeing the universes that are out there, well, don't let me stop you."
He bent his head over another monitor, tapping at keys.
"Really, if you'd rather be dancing with Jack, then off you go, go twirl and be dipped
around the dance floor by your own personal Lounge Room Lizard of the Multiverse. Go
on – off you go. Don't mind me, I'll just pilot the TARDIS and.."
A hand covered his mouth.
"Oh shut up." Rose quietly whispered in his ear, "You sound just like my Mum, going on
like that!"
She put her hands on either side of his face and made him look her in the eyes.
"I sound nothing like your Mother.." The Dr told her, his voice quiet and tailing off.
"Will you just be quiet for a minute and listen to me?" Rose asked him.
The Dr nodded and they sat down on the steps of the TARDIS console, side by side.
Rose took his hand.
"I like Jack. He's fun. He makes me laugh. I can be me with him, no front, no pretending.
He tells me stuff about the things he's seen, the places he's visited, even the stories I don't
really understand, and it's great."
The Dr pulled his hand back and stuffed in his pocket.
Rose sighed heavily and pulled his hand back again.
"I like him because he's like you, Dr. I know you don't believe me but it's true."
"We are nothing alike." The Dr told her, staring off in the middle distance and trying to
ignore the feeling of her hand in his.
"You're not listening are you?" Rose sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder, leaning
her body against his.
I will not lean back. I will remain upright. The Dr told himself. I will not be sucked into the
petty human's petty emotionally charged so-called reasoning.
Rose hugged his arm and he felt her breath on his neck.
I will not be swayed by this mere physical contact, he ordered himself. I will ignore the
sensation of her breath on my skin and the way that she manages to make my two hearts
beat a fraction faster….
Bugger.
"Dr, are you talking to me?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"Right then."
"So you are listening to me?"
"Yes."
"I just want to say sorry. To apologise, like."
The Dr looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because I've been neglecting you. I've been so wrapped up with making Jack feel at
home.."
The Dr 'huffed'.
"Which, okay, granted, I may have been a little, er,.."
"Wrapped up? Obsessed? Dedicated? Over zealous?"
"Okay! Okay! No need to go overboard!" Rose told him, "I have been spending a lot of
time with Jack, and I'm sorry."
"I don't need babysitting, Rose."
"I know that. God, you're like 820 years old than me!"
"Do you have to go on about that?"
"Though you don' t look it," she hastily added.
The Dr pulled a face.
"So, are we okay?" she asked him.
"I don't know. I mean, I'd hate to be playing gooseberry with you and your new pet…"
Rose knocked at him with her shoulder.
"Oh give over do! I'll tell you one thing about him though.."
"And what's that?" The Dr asked, trying not to sound to interested, or that he was hoping a
negative facet of the Marvellous Jack had come to light.
"Well, you know what you said about his whole 'anytime, any place, any where'.."
"Any species? Yeah?"
"He's hard work ain't he?" Rose said, blushing furiously, "I mean, he's good fun but I
wouldn't bet on more than a one night stand with him.."
"Well, I did warn you." The Dr said, smiling at her and enjoying her embarrassment.
"Yeah, you did. You get sucked in though, what I mean is that he just lays the ol' charm
on with a shovel and the next thing I know is I'm being thrown all over the place, dancin'."
"Dancing?"
"Just dancin'. I promise." Rose held up her right hand in the Brownie salute, "Brownies
promise."
"Brownies promise?! When did that get intergalactic recognition?!" the Dr laughed.
Rose grinned and relaxed, relieved to have him back and off his high horse of indignation.
"Doesn't every planet have a Brownie pack?"
"Rose, you are too young to know the truth!"
"So, Brownies promise I have just been dancing with Jack. Honestly, that's all that been
happening."
"So if you've been having so much fun, why are you back with boring ol' me then?" The Dr
was unable to leave this alone, it was like picking at a scab you're not actually totally sure
is healed, but unable to resist.
"Because," Rose said, "I want to be."
"Oh."
Rose picked his arm up and draped it round her shoulders.
"I thought you'd be pleased?"
The wistful tone in her voice made the Dr look at her, her eyes looking up at him, a worried
look on her face.
He smiled – how could he not? He told himself.
"Of course I am, Rose."
"Besides, a girl doesn't want dancing all the time," she told him sleepily, "sometimes I just
want to, well, 'be', y'know?"
The Dr was silent.
"I need time to just be, Dr. And I wanted to 'be' with you. Quiet and peaceful. No smooth
talking and innuendoes, no being flung across a room. Just peace and quiet and you and
me."
Rose listened to the silence of the Dr's non-response. She looked back up at him.
"That is okay, isn't it?"
The Dr gave her shoulder a squeeze and nodded.
"Yes, that's okay, Rose. More than okay."
She pulled closer to him and put both her arms around his spare form.
"Good. 'Cause I just got comfy!"
The Dr laughed shortly and tentatively put his other arm round her.
Rose felt him relax against her and the beating of his two hearts synchronise. She felt his
lips brush her forehead and then the gentle pressure of his fingers pushing stray strands of
hair from her face.
"What was that for?" she asked, pausing to yawn.
"I like just 'being' with you, Rose Tyler. Though I could stand a little music. What do you
say?"
"Nothing too loud please." Rose asked, "I had enough of that the rest of the day."
"Okay, nothing loud at all," The Dr promised and the TARDIS, pleased that the Dr's
'tinkering' was done for the time being, obliged.
The gentle sounds of "On A Little Street In Singapore" washed across the control room,
soothing and calming.
And the Dr and Rose sat and listened.
Quiet and peaceful.
Alone.
And just were.