Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. This is a slash (male/male) story, so if you dislike the concept, don't read.
"Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away."
- Frida Kahlo
The woman's eyes shone a menacing shade of gold as she stared him down. He felt the prickle of goosebumps along his flesh, feeling the power emanating off her very expression. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Doctor?"
"Stop calling me Doctor," he demanded.
"That's the name in your head," she challenged, her piercing glare unwavering.
"It shouldn't be," the Warrior said, weary and aching. Years and years of battling had taken its toll, and he was simply a husk of his former self. "I've been fighting this war for a long time. I've lost the right to be the Doctor."
"Then you're the one to save us all," said the woman, sotto voce.
"Yes," the Warrior replied without hesitation.
"If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job," the woman quipped.
The Warrior struggled to his feet and crossed the dusty old yard towards the woman, who stared at him with unflinching curiosity.
He sighed deeply. "If you have been inside my head, then you know what I've seen," he rasped, his eyes growing haunted and distant. "The suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end. And I intend to end it the only way I can."
The woman started to speak, expositing his own plan, perhaps in a bid to seek out his weak spot, but the Warrior simply staggered over to a perch.
"Daleks and Time Lords alike," the woman said, halting the Warrior. "I could, but there will be consequences for you."
"I have no desire to survive this," he said immediately, refusing to meet her gaze. He crossed the short distance to his perch and slowly sat down, still refusing to meet her gaze as she waited for him.
"Then that's your punishment," she said hauntingly. "If you do this — if you kill them all — then that's the consequence. You… live."
The Warrior stared into the distance, feeling the gaze of his friends boring into him. All so brave and bright — his own personal fire. But every flame had to be extinguished eventually. "Living is only living if you have someone with you. I have nothing."
"And yet you have so much," the woman breathed. "Romana, Leela, Amy, Dorothy, Fitz, Ryan, Sarah Jane —"
"All gone," the Warrior said mournfully. There were some names he hadn't recognised, but the memories of his friends overshadowed them. "You'd be putting me on life support. That is not living." He could feel her searching gaze, burning into his very being and tearing him apart without any sleight of hand.
"Then that's your second punishment," she whispered. "For your crimes, you will never be alone again. But I assure you — it is a consequence you will not want to live with."
Brendan Ambrosi-Jackman startled awake with a sharp gasp, shooting into a sitting position. He looked around wildly, trying to ascertain his surroundings, before the gaudy flower portraits and distant hum of the television soothed his racing heart and lulled him back to reality. He was in the living room, a throw-blanket draped around his legs. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and sighed. He had been plagued by a nightmare, but it was over now.
His senses caught up with him, and he belatedly realised he wasn't alone.
"What are you doing?" He directed the question towards his mother and brother, who were both crowded around the television, a buzz of nervous anticipation exuding off them like an aura.
"Finally," his little brother Nathan huffed. "You've been asleep for ages. I thought you were dead."
Brendan rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He turned back to his mother. "Mum, what're you —"
"Shh!" his mother hissed, whirling around to glare scathingly at him. She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the television. Brendan dutifully craned his neck, and tuned into the news report.
"The whole of Central London has been closed off as police investigate the fire. Early reports indicate —"
"What happened?" Brendan asked. "Was there an explosion or something."
"Duh," Nathan muttered snidely. Brendan threw a cushion in his general direction to silence him.
"Henrik's blew up," his mother replied worriedly, her Italian accent thickening. "They're saying it was a planned detonation."
"What, someone wanted it to blow up?" Brendan questioned, reeling from the news. He stared at the BBC footage, which detailed a burning building flanked by an emergency response team, transfixed by the flames.
"Duh," Nathan chirped, breaking the spell.
Brendan shot a withering glare in his direction. "I told you to shut up!"
"You shut up!" Nathan challenged angrily. The pair lunged for each other, punching and kicking whenever they got the chance.
"Silenzio!" Sofia's voice cracked like a whip, and the pair disentangled immediately, though they still glowered murderously at each other. A small gasp from their mother caught their attention. "They've found a body…" she whispered solemnly. "That poor person." Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Rose!" she breathed, and hurried away to the phone.
Rose Tyler was their upstairs neighbour. She was a girl about two years older than Brendan, who lived with her mother, Jackie, a good friend of his mother's. Her father had died some time ago, but he was pretty vague on the details. His ruminations were interrupted by his mother's shrill voice. Clearly, she had got her hands on Jackie and was indulging in gossip.
Brendan rolled his eyes and slouched on the settee, exhausted. Nathan had lost interest and disappeared to play on the PlayStation. The news broadcast was still playing in the background, but Brendan's mind was elsewhere. Powell Estate had its fair share of issues, but it was a relatively peaceful area in London. Idyllic, even. He'd never seen an explosion on that scale in real life before.
He took a shuddering breath to steady his frayed nerves, just as the front door opened.
"Honey, is that you?" Sofia called out.
"Yes," came the reply. Brendan rolled his eyes at the sound of his dad's voice. "Is everyone okay?"
"We're fine," Sofia said reassuringly. "No, Jackie, Kevin just walked in…"
Brendan was on his feet in an instant, barging past Kevin as he stomped towards the front door, grabbing his iPod on the way.
"Where are you going?" Kevin called out after him.
"The roof," Brendan said neutrally, his gaze focused on the door.
"What, now?" Kevin's tone was incredulous. "Oxford Street's just been blown to hell. You could at least wait a bit before going off to cry."
Brendan promptly ignored him. He had sixteen years of experience. Sticking his earbuds in to drown out the whining, he slammed the door behind him and made his way up to the top of the building. The council were always bragging about their safety measures on the roof door, but they didn't seem to realise that Gavin on the top floor had managed to swindle a key and hid it for the residents to use. Or maybe they knew and just didn't care. He wouldn't put it past them.
Producing the key from its hiding place beneath the planting pot, Brendan pushed the red door open and stepped out onto the chilly rooftop. He made his way to the edge of the roof and leaned over the metal rail, first looking down below out of curiosity — a man was leaving the estate — and then peering in the direction he assumed Oxford Street to be. It was so far away, and yet…
He shivered involuntarily, a flutter of excitement in his stomach, and moved away from the railing, hopping onto the raised plateau and lying on his back. He looked up at the night sky, his music blaring in his ears, and pretended that he could see the stars beyond the thick London smog.
Slowly, Brendan's heavy eyelids started to close, and he quickly drifted to sleep.
When Brendan awoke, it was morning. He winced at the bright blue sky, and rolled to the side to avoid the glare of the sunlight. His earbuds dropped out as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his sore neck and arms. He didn't make a habit of sleeping rough. Realising his parents were going to throw a fit as soon he entered the flat because he stayed out all night, Brendan groaned loudly.
He pondered on his next course of action, when his rumbling stomach growled warningly, making the decision for him.
He jumped off the plateau, strode towards the exit, locked the door behind him, and hurried down the stairs. As he progressed, his ears perked up automatically when he realised two people were arguing with each other.
"Hang on a minute, you can't just go swanning off."
"Yes I can. Here I am. This is me, swanning off. See you."
"But that arm was moving. It tried to kill me."
"Ten out of ten for observation."
Brendan tuned out of the conversation. With a topic like that, they were probably drunk, or worse. He shoved the two strange voices to the back of his mind and entered the flat, already dreading the reprimands that awaited him.
"Hey, cutie. Did you hear or what?"
Brendan pressed his finger between the current page of his book, and looked up at Shareen. He took a moment to mask his irritation before answering."Hear what?"
Shareen narrowed her eyes incredulously. She was a cool sixth-former who attended Deffry Vale to retake her exams, after she was purportedly kicked out of her old secondary school for unknown reasons. She was also probably very pretty, with her olive skin and silky black hair, but Brendan didn't know why guys were so infatuated to girls.
"Don't mess me about, Brendan. You must have have heard."
Brendan furrowed his brow. "Heard what?"
"About the terrorist attack!" she exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "The one with the mannequins last night?"
Brendan shrugged. He supposed that was why his mother had ranted about safety during breakfast, before he'd tuned her out. "I was asleep," he said lamely.
Shareen smirked mockingly. "Aw, does lil' Brendan have a bedtime? Are all Americans like that? So cute." She reached over to pat his cheek, but Brendan slapped her hand away.
"Get lost," he snapped.
"Oi, I was kidding. You don't need to be a dick about it," Shareen spat. "D'you know what? Forget you. I dunno why I hang out with you anyway."
Brendan silently slammed his book closed and walked away. He knew exactly why Shareen hung out with him, but the memo of his disinterest had apparently flown over her head.
He shook his head, thinking about the supposed terrorist attack. It was terrible, of course, but a little thrill of excitement coursed through his veins at the thought. He had always been an avid fan of adventures. He hoped something exciting would happen again, and soon.
Frustratingly, nothing remotely exciting happened for a long time. The only event that Brendan knew of was the mysterious disappearance of Rose Tyler, who had gone missing in the terrorist attack. Some guy on the estate was a murder suspect, according to Rose's mum, and the entire estate harassed him because of it. Although Brendan didn't really believe the rumours, he generally kept out of Mickey's way to avoid harassment.
The days slowly trickled by, turning into months, until an entire year of mundane normalcy had passed. Brendan passed five GCSEs; moved onto A Levels; eagerly anticipated his seventeenth birthday; ditched Shareen; argued with his father every day about their difference of opinions; bickered with his brother, and stayed up on the roof when things got too heated at home.
That was how he found himself trudging up to the rooftop one day, after a particularly nasty row. His father had insisted that Brendan join him for a church meeting, and had become frustrated when he was rejected. Angry words were exchanged, and Brendan had decided to skip school, wishing to be alone with his thoughts and music.
He sought for the key underneath the pot, but it was missing, and the door was open, with two voices wafting towards him from the other side. Brendan frowned curiously, and stepped outside, freezing immediately when he noticed the not-so missing Rose Tyler staring back at him.
She smiled at him. "Alright?"
Brendan couldn't help but stare. "Er…" he said dumbly. The surrealism of seeing a presumed murder victim alive and well left him dazed. She looked at him expectantly from her perch on the plateau, her knees drawn up to her chest. His mouth flapped open and closed, floundering, as words escaped him. To avoid looking like a complete muppet, he focused on Rose's friend.
The man was older, more gruff-looking. His military buzz cut was complemented by a leather jacket and black boots. His gaunt face made his prominent features — the ears and nose — more noticeable. Bizarrely, his hand was pressed to his cheek, and his expression was marred by a frown. He wasn't somebody that Brendan would generally find attractive, but there was something captivating about the man and those bright blue eyes — a twinkling spark that seemed to search him out. It was ridiculous, but he almost wished the look was exclusively for him.
Then, the man smiled broadly. "Hullo!" he trilled in a… Scottish accent? Northern? Brendan couldn't tell.
"Don't listen to him," Rose said, mistaking his silence as a sign of intimidation.
"Oi, I was just being polite!"
"The world must be ending," Rose said sarcastically with a big grin.
Brendan snapped himself out of his stupor. "I…" he cleared his suddenly dry throat. "I just came to listen to some music."
"Oh, that's nice. What you listening to?" the man asked, looking at him intently.
Rose slapped his arm with the back of her hand. "Leave him alone, Doctor."
The man — the Doctor, apparently — playfully rolled his eyes at her, before refocusing on the new arrival. "You can sit here if you want. We don't mind, do we, Rose?"
"Nah, go for it!" Rose encouraged. Brendan was torn between running back to his house and wanting to run as far away as possible.
Eventually, he plucked up the courage and mumbled a measly "thanks" in their general direction as he passed to stand by the rail. He glanced at the Doctor through the corner of his eyes, but quickly looked away when he realised was staring.
"Good to see you, though, Brendan," Rose called out, probably out of kindness.
"You too." Brendan was dying to ask her where she'd been, and why she was back, but he refrained, focusing on the view of the street ahead instead. He stuck his earphones and selected a random song from his soundtrack, blocking out the pair of near-strangers.
Despite the burning desire to glance back at the pair, he successfully suppressed the urge until Rose hopped off the plateau with a huff. She said something, but the music drowned her out. He reached for his iPod, and stopped the song.
"... and I'm the only person on planet Earth who knows they exist," she finished reverently. Brendan furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to ask what she was talking about, where a loud, deep horn pierced the air and startled him into a jump. He whirled around just in time to see a battered gold object lurch through the sky.
A spaceship.
He was looking at an actual, proper spaceship.
The ship dove over the rooftop, prompting the Doctor and Rose to quickly duck into a crouch; belatedly, Brendan followed. They watched as the ship sailed through the air, making a beeline straight for the heart of London, a deep plume of smoke spurting in its wake like a trail of breadcrumbs.
For a while, the three were too stunned to speak, and the only sound that could be heard were the clothes flapping on the clothesline.
"Oh, that's just not fair," Rose breathed. The Doctor laughed with joy and rushed for the door, with Rose in tow. Brendan watched the pair leave, feeling a ridiculous urge to follow them. He briefly considered it. feeling like he was letting an opportunity slip through his fingers. He made for the door, but quickly stopped.
Something was holding him back.
Squashing the urge, he turned back and hurried to the edge of the roof, peering over the railing in an attempt to get another glimpse of the ship, but it had vanished from sight, leaving behind a fading trail of smoke. He looked down, managing to catch the Doctor and Rose as they disappeared around a corner. Even if he tried to catch up now, they would be long gone.
Disappointed, Brendan turned around and went home.
"Big Ben destroyed as a UFO crash lands in Central London. Police reinforcements are drafted in from across the country to control widespread panic, looting and civil disturbance. A state of national emergency has been declared. Tom Hitchinson is at the scene."
"Dio mio!" Sofia declared breathlessly. Brendan looked up and rolled his eyes when he saw that she and Nathan had their eyes glued to the TV. "A spaceship crashed," she continued. "An actual spaceship."
"Yes, mum, I know. I saw it with my own eyes," he muttered, although his comment went unnoticed.
"Are we gonna die?" Nathan asked worriedly.
"No, caro," Sofia was quick to assure him. "They're not here to harm us."
"Yeah. And anyway, your ugly face would probably scare them away if they were," Brendan said with a smirk.
Nathan glared mutinously at him. "You're ugly! And stupid!"
"Brendan!" Sofia snapped. "Stai zitto!"
"Si, mamma," Brendan said dutifully. He smirked at Nathan as soon as his mother turned her back, infuriating the boy even more.
"But I'm being told a body has been found in the wreckage. A body of non-terrestrial origins. It's being brought ashore."
That grabbed Brendan's attention. The reporters were on the Thames embankment, dragging away a shape covered in a body bag. He gulped and looked away, feeling a mixture of dread and excitement shoot through his body.
"An alien," Nathan whispered in awe.
"Don't dwell on it, sweetie," advised Sofia, tousling her youngest son's hair. She switched off the TV and tossed the remote away. "Right, boys. Jackie's invited us upstairs to see Rose. She's come back!" She looked between the pair, expecting a bigger fanfare, but they just stared back blankly, disinterested. "Who wants to come?"
No response.
She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. "There's going to be free food."
Nathan bounced up immediately. "Me, me!"
Sofia turned to Brendan expectantly. "And you?"
"Is Dad coming home early today?" Brendan asked innocently.
Sofa pursed her lips. "No."
Brendan yawned theatrically and languished on the sofa. "Then I'll just hang out here. I saw Rose earlier, anyway."
"You're too hard on him," said Sofia.
"Nahhh," Brendan drawled. "He's too hard on me."
"Be nicer to your father, Brendan!" Sofia chided.
"You should be nicer to Mickey," Brendan shot back. "He's not a murderer like you thought."
Sofia huffed resignedly at the retort, and lightly smacked the back of his head. "Smart boy."
Brendan grinned lazily at her. "So, can I stay here?"
"Fine," Sofia sighed. She briefly turned to Nathan and ordered him to wash his face, before turning back to her eldest. "Food's in the fridge. And I'm upstairs if you need me."
"I know," Brendan assured her. "Have fun."
"You too." Sofia kissed the top of his head. "Love you," she called out as she left the living room.
"Yeah, yeah," Brendan said with a fond eye-roll. He waited until he heard the front door close before searching for the remote. When he located it, he switched the TV back on.
"Albion Hospital. We still don't know whether it's alive or dead. Whitehall is denying everything."
Brendan leaned forward, engrossed by the situation. Aliens were real. They actually existed on other planets. Normally, he wouldn't have been bothered. It felt like a topical issue made for a physics class debate, but now that it was unabashedly presented before his eyes, he was hooked.
The news report droned on for some time. Brendan half-listened while he busied himself with other things, popping in at regular intervals in case there were any interesting developments, but it was disappointingly quiet on the whole.
He lounged on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table, a packet of crisps half-forgotten in his hands, ready to fall asleep when the door clicked open. At first, he assumed it was his mother and brother finally returning from the party, but then the familiar grunting dashed his hopes and left him dreading the inevitable encounter.
Kevin stumbled into the room, and looked down at him. "What are you doing up?"
"Watching the news," Brendan said curtly.
His father scoffed derisively. "Whaaat? You? You don't even — know what the news is. Too stupid."
Brendan sunk deeper into the sofa, mortified. His father was drunk.
"I'm talking to you," Kevin slurred.
"I heard you," Brendan replied snappishly.
Kevin huffed a breath of laughter and jabbed a finger at him. "There you go. Ungrateful again. You wouldn't — wouldn't know how good you got it. You're spoiled rotten. If we were back home, you'd be —"
"Praying for no reason?" Brendan quipped, unfairly.
"Disciplined," Kevin amended. "Don't ever say that again. You've no right."
"Whatever," Brendan sulked.
"Brendan," Kevin said warningly, but the boy was already on his feet. "Where you goin'?"
"You're drunk, Dad," Brendan pointed out.
"Sit down," Kevin ordered.
Brendan shook his head. "I'm getting Mum and Nathan."
"You'll do what I tell you to. We're not done here," said Kevin as he staggered forwards. Brendan merely maneuvered around him and made a beeline for the door, leaping out before protests could be made. Positively, the conversation was less intense than the argument that had blazed between them in the morning. Somehow, that made things worse.
He heaved a sigh and walked towards the staircase. There was only one place he wanted to be right now.
The raucous partygoers had long-since retreated to their homes by the time Brendan made it to the rooftop. He sat on the rock plateau with a beleaguered sigh. The heavy silence was a breath of fresh air. He swung his legs back and forth, simply savouring the silence, pondering on the possibility of missing potential advancements in the alien case, when someone sat down next to him.
Brendan glanced at the newcomer through his periphery. It was a man, with a distant, glazed expression and a pack of chips in one hand. He noticed Brendan's staring and grinned brightly. "Hello!"
Brendan smiled nervously in return. He wasn't scared per se, just a little shy. He'd seen stranger things on Powell Estate's roof.
"Want one?" the man offered, holding out the pack.
"No, thanks," Brendan politely declined with a shake of his head.
"Suit yourself." The man shrugged and popped another chip into his mouth. "It's a bit late to be up here, don't you think?"
Brendan shrugged noncommittally.
"Don't you get cold?"
"Not really."
"Hm," the man popped another chip into his mouth. "Family issues?"
Brendan narrowed his eyes. "None of your business," he said shortly.
"Weeell, it'd have to be, wouldn't it? There's no other reason for you to be up here at this hour," the man continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. He grinned. "Families, who needs 'em?"
Brendan's brief surge of anger dissipated. That smile was quite disarming. "I just like it up here."
"So you should," the man sniffed. "Very nice. Gives you some perspective. Sure you don't want a chip?"
Brendan sighed and took a chip, to the man's delight. "What about you?" he asked.
The man tilted his head to the side, puzzled. "What about me?"
"Why are you up here? You got family issues too?"
"No," the man coughed sheepishly. "No family. Just… visiting some friends. Sort of a tour, actually."
Brendan nodded. "Sounds nice."
"Yeah, it is. Still…" the man quickly ducked his head and swallowed the rest of the chips. Then, he suddenly asked, "What's your name?"
"Brendan."
The man smiled warmly. "Great name, Brendan. Brilliant, in fact."
Brendan nodded, slightly flustered. "Thanks."
"Tell me, what year is it?"
Brendan looked at the stranger, perplexed. He scrutinised the man closely. Wide, expressive eyes, wild, spiky hair, a warm, intimate smile and an awfully tight suit. He quickly averted his eyes. "You drunk?"
"Yeah, must be," the man chuckled. "Tell me."
"2006," Brendan revealed. "March 2006."
"2006," the man hummed. "Bit of a bad year, but don't worry. Things'll look up."
Brendan scoffed. "I wish. You know that for sure?"
"Yup." The man emphasised the word. "Well, your dad can't be a nosy busybody all the time. Well, probably. Well, maybe. I never met your dad. Still, everything will look up by Christmas. Promise you."
Brendan laughed. He didn't want to admit he believed the man. "You're weird."
The man chuckled. "Yes, I get that a lot." He stopped suddenly and inhaled sharply, clutching his chest.
Brendan looked at him in concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just… been sat here too long. I lost track of time. Always seems to happen with you and me. Anyways, better go, my boyfriend's waiting. Remember: Christmas." He folded up the packet into a ball and tossed it across the rooftop as he stood. "Nice meeting you, Brendan Ambrosi."
"You too," Brendan replied slowly. He watched the man leave, and quickly jumped to his feet. "Wait!" he cried, clearly surprising the man. "You never told me your name."
The man smiled cryptically at that. "A friend."
Before Brendan could ask him to elaborate, the piercing wail of police sirens disrupted his train of thought, and a helicopter shot past him, aiming a skylight below. He quickly ran to see if there had been an accident, but the action was obscured from his angle.
Disappointed, he slowly pivoted around, a question on his lips. The man had said 'Ambrosi'. He hadn't mentioned his surname at all. The question quickly died in his throat as soon as he turned.
The man had disappeared.
A/N: And so begins the story! Welcome to Come With Me, my first ever Doctor Who fanfic. It was inspired by the amazing 'Random Time Jumps: Profanatic' by HopeforDuende, so definitely check them out!
This story spans from The Christmas Invasion - The End of Time and will incorporate canon elements alongside my own original elements for the Tennant era. It's a re-write, so not everything will be the same as it was in the show. The canon Doctor/Rose relationship will be incorporated as it was portrayed in canon, but the slash pairing is the predominant ship of the story.
If anyone is confused, this prologue spans the events of the first half of Series 1 — Rose to Aliens in London — and provides a glimpse into Brendan's mundane life as he leaves teenagehood and slowly approaches adulthood, much like Rose Tyler, except Brendan is two years younger.
If you have any thoughts, please leave a review, I'd love to hear them! And if not, review anyway, they'll keep me going XD