The End of the World | Dating

I'm glad you're impressed. I, personally, am blinded by the nauseating, in-your-face shade of every pink conceivable.

-.-.-

"The tree woman? Jane?", you ask tentatively, seeking confirmation of what you assumed I told her associates.

"Jabe."

You look back to me, waiting for a solid answer.

My eyes are hard. "She died saving the rest of us."

...

You asked me where I'm from, what I am, after we'd arrived on the station. I shouldn't've yelled at you. Sometimes, in this body generated for the sole mission of combat in mind, I get more defensive and more irritated than I should, and sooner than I should. Not having anyone to answer to in awhile, let alone to meaningfully converse with, I've lost some perspective on the universe. Perspective and any innocence I could have had left after living so long.

"You think it'll last forever. People and cars and concrete. But it won't. One day, it's all gone. Even the sky." You follow my gaze up to the pale cyan and whisps and the few streaks of white that decorate it. It's nearly as bright as the burning red we saw minutes ago, except it is so much more serene ﾗ lazy, even, like it's got all the time in the world to hang above and look down on everything below.

I wasn't ready to talk about myself to anyone then, though you've opened me up to it now. After nearly getting you killed, and after reflecting my mood by showing you the end of your world, with you as the single survivor, ungenerously sharing through a scheduled peace what I had to experience through bloodshed and tragedy, I feel like I owe you something else. Maybe an explanation. And now that the honeymoon of running away from your home planet and time has piddled out, you're coming to realise you know next to nothing about the alien you ran away with.

"My planet's gone." You look over to me with interest ﾗ no, concern as well ﾗ and I continue.

"It's dead. It burned like the Earth. It's just rocks and dust. Before its time."

"What happened?"

"There was a war. And we lost." I didn't bring you here so you could be dragged down with me. I want you to see that time is what people make of it. So much time was frittered away by those who called themselves Time Lords. I never did understand why they never wanted to take all the time available to them to live.

I think you'd said something, but I only pull myself back to the present to pay enough attention to what you ask after: "What about your people?"

"I'm a Time Lord. The last of the Gallifreyans.", I finally tell you this time. "They're all gone. I'm the only survivor. I'm left travelling on my own 'cause there's no?e else."

The pain in my expression must show because you're so kind to try and ease it. "There's me...", you look up at me expectantly.

There is that.

But I need you to seriously think about what I'm getting you into. "You've seen how dangerous i' is. Do you want to go home?"

"I dunno. I wan'..." You really start to consider it, but then you look away, almost confused, and sniff. "Oooh. Can you smell chips?"

"Yeah." Leave it to you to make me laugh in relief after that. "Yeah!"

"I want chips." It's a definitive. It can't be said you're a girl who doesn't know what she wants. The rest can come later.

"Me too.", I answer promptly in kind.

"Right, then, before you get me back in that box, chips i' is, and you can pay."

I shrug my pockets with a grin. "No money." I could go grab some from a cash machine, but it's more trouble than it's worth if you've got something on you.

"What sort a' da'e are you?", you shake your head, chiding. "Come on then, tightwad. Chips are on me."

Ha! Rose Tyler, I would be delighted for you to take me out for chips. I can't believe it: I tell you how alone and damaged I am, and you offer to give me an understood connection I haven't had with anyone in so long, to keep me company, if even just for chips. That's really something.

"We've only got five billion years 'til the shops close.", you stick your tongue out the side of your mouth through your teeth as you giggle. Your recovered mood is not only infectious but welcome.

We start off down the boulevard hand in hand. I look back over at you for a few seconds, mulling over just how first-rate you are. Saving my life, hopping in my TARDIS, and surviving the annihilation of your planet — and you're collected enough at the end of the day to want to stroll around and have a meal with me. You let go of another giggle, bouncing the side of your head against my shoulder.

In following your expert nose to the chippy, you stumble over asking more about me that I seem more willing to reveal before. "So you're... Golfree..."

I inadvertently wince. "Gallifreyan."

You narrow your eyes ever so slightly, focusing on saying it right. "Gallifreyan." I nod and open the door for you. Least I can do after your experience today, I figure. We stand in line to order.

"So... all those aliens. Like I said; they were so different." You didn't stress 'different' this time like you had last. Maybe you're getting used to it already? "Why's it you look human?"

I laugh out loud at that one. "You mean why do humans look like Gallifreyans." The girl paying for her food in front of us gives me a once-over over her shoulder.

"That works too.", you concede.

I order us chips and a water, and you add on a cream fizzy. "Convergent evolution.", I pick the conversation back up. "By co?cidence, we happened to develop along the same anatomical lines and therefore mostly the same physiological lines. Nature tends to vary the themes on what she knows works. But for a few differences, our species're practically identical in looks."

You seem to process this information quickly. "I knew you 'ad a second pair of arms folded up under there.", you tease, poking one jacketed arm.

"Two hearts."

You blink, obviously not expecting that.

I can see you're holding back from the urge to invade my personal space with more than a simple poke, and I roll my eyes good naturedly while turning my body square with yours. "Go ahead."

Your hand comes up to rest a little on the left side of my chest, where you rightly expect the first one to be, and you cock your head a bit before moving your hand to the right. "That's nice.", you comment, meeting my eyes. "Must be helpful?"

"Yep."

We regard one another for a moment before you self-consciously break the moment by pulling your hand away and grabbing our food and drinks off the counter. I follow you to a table by the window and take a seat opposite. "What else?"

"More complex brain. Respiratory bypass system." You quirk an eyebrow and start to suck in a breath to ask when I interrupt with the answer. "Means I can conserve and recycle residual oxygen in my system without having to breathe for awhile. Advanced immune system and healing ability," I go on, "and an extremely long lifespan, relatively speaking." Your expression shows you're imagining just how long I mean by 'extremely', but I avoid that complicated and unnecessary explanation by adding on just one of two other major differences. "And telepathic. And no," I add on lightly, "before you panic, I'm not now nor have I ever been inside your head."

You immediately appear to ease upon hearing that.

But all I can think of is how the loneliness in my own head has been deafening. The only thing that's kept me from losing my mind entirely has been...

"And the TARDIS is telepathic too."

Her. I nod again but verbally qualify "Yes, she is.", thankful you don't push the subject of my people any more than that because I honestly don't think I can handle it right now.

You let those words sink in. "Conscious and all?" You inch a chip into the side of your mouth where your tongue had been briefly perched earlier.

"To a degree."

"Can she talk?" You mind the pronoun, and it causes me an appreciative grin.

"Not as such." I shovel another couple chips in my mouth at once, glad to hear you're more or less over what you'd made out to be the telepathic invasion of your mind. "But she does have thoughts. And moods that she lets me know about when she feels like."

You seem to be thinking for a few seconds, and then you ask, "So... Are you actually speaking English now?", waving a chip between the two of us, "Or is she doing that?"

"This is all me. I like this little island you have here. Made it a point over the centuries to pick up some of its languages, dialects, ...clothing habits."

You crack a wary smile before looking down and back up again. "'M I annoyin' you?"

"Almost. Give it 'nother question or two." I lift my brows in a playful manner. Yes, most times, with most people, I would be annoyed, and I would've already changed the topic or ignored them. Right now, though, I just don't mind. Must be these excellent, crispy, crinkly strips of fried sugar we're enjoying.

I stand, stealing the last chip from our 'community basket' and reach across the table to swipe your drink for a taste. You stand as well, making a slight face but not entirely clearly showing if you're upset or not.

"Don' tell me you're afraid of alien germs."

"I assume you'd tell me if I should be." You mock-possessively snatch it back and take a long slurp 'til it gurgles to its end.

I flick my tongue around in my mouth to pick up the last of the flavor and microbubbles. "Vanilla-y. I drank it once before. Years ago, though. I like it."

"So do I. An' if you weren't so cheap, you could get one for yourself." I get a light elbow in the ribs with your cheekiness as you throw our trash away, and I have to grin. How many humans in this age would be chummy like this with a stranger, an alien, they met less than an Earth day ago?

We head back to the TARDIS, our next destination unknown. The bustle of life on the street must remind you of where we'd just deposited ourselves after the observation station because you take a hold of my hand, as we were before, as if you'd been comfortable doing so for years now. It seems like the first true, pleasant constant I've experienced in... too long.

"Front row seat, and all I could feel was...", you sigh. Knowing exactly what you mean, I give your hand a little squeeze. Felt as if I'd been doing that for years now as well. "Bu' it was beautiful. Just think instead, if it'd withered away to nothing. Wen' out in a blaze of glory instead."

My hearts clench. If only my own world had gone gloriously, not just gone down in flames. But maybe you have a point: Would it really have been that much better to wither? They had been on the slow road to that for so long.

After a minute of silence, lost in our own thoughts, I speak up. "Do you want to stick around?"

"Yeah.", your reply is immediate this time, and then you seem to consider supplying more of an answer for my benefit. "I think I could get used to this kind a' life." You add, purposefully sounding grandiose and raising your free arm, "Savin' the world an' all."

I chuckle. "In that case, I think you might make the perfect companion." I took you to the end of the world partly to see how easy you would scare off, but you came to grips with it about as well as could be expected for any human thrust into that type of unknown.

We're back standing in front of the TARDIS now, you almost imperceptibly slouching, and as I unlock the door, you comment "It's only the middle of the day here, but we've been goin' for awhile. I feel exhausted."

I quip "Jet lag." and guide you through the control room and back into the corridor. "You can have your pick of the guest rooms.", I suggest with anticipatory amusement lacing my tone.

"Rooms? How big is the TARDIS, anyway?"

"Big. But in truth," I slow to a stop and press my fingertips to one of the first doors we've come to, one that wasn't there when we left, "she can make new rooms any time she wants." At this you raise two not-quite-disbelieving eyebrows. "Go ahead.", I nod to the door, removing my hand. "Put your hand up there and tell her ﾗ in thoughts, images — what you'd like in yours."

You do as instructed, carefully if not reverently placing a flat palm against the heavy and thick but artificial wood, and close your eyes for a few seconds. When you open them, you remove your hand as well, looking to me in expectation.

"Go on.", I give a small smile. Almost as much fun as watching your first reactions on Platform One.

You grin back and turn the handle, then push the door wide. Your grin falls to open-mouthed astonishment. "'S like my room at home but loads bigger!"

I'm glad you're impressed. I, personally, am blinded by the nauseating, in-your-face shade of every pink conceivable. Looks like a Fepslal was murdered in here. twice.

"Look at that bed!", you indicate by running over and turning at the last instant to flop your backside on it, bouncing happily while regaining balance and taking in the rest of your surroundings: a light wooden desk and chair, a full mirror, a long chest of drawers, a wardrobe that covers almost the entirety of one wall, and a large, realistic faux window ﾗ with pink curtains, of course ﾗ displaying twilight. No doubt the TARDIS will show you your own night sky, as seen from your home in your time, in just a few minutes.

"Good then?", I chuckle at your animated spirit.

"Amazin'." Your attention focuses back on me. "Thank you, Doctor." You couldn't sound more sincere.

I hold your look for just a moment, to be happily serene living through you. "Sweet dreams, Rose." With that I close the door and leave you to do 'whatever it is human women do' to get ready for bedtime.

...

The TARDIS knows to move my room near to yours for the first couple of weeks, so I'm hardly surprised to now find my door immediately diagonal from where yours appeared earlier. New companions can break so easily — in the mental department, that is, at the least. Recurring insomnia, nightmares, irrational mood swings, homesickness; none of it's uncommon for those swept away from the simple, beans-on-toast lives they've been accustomed to leading. It can easily be too much for their subconscious to take, and most have a breakdown of some sort or another after a very short while.

Your cheery, chip-sniffing demeanor right after witnessing your planet burn could not have been entirely honest. Nobody I've travelled with up and adapts thatquickly. There's always a perceptible shadow of anxiety if not outright fear in the background at first, laying in wait for a weak moment to be brought out. I don't sense any outward indication of fear in you, yet, but knocking around up there somewhere, you might have lingering uncertainty, and you must have a little creeping disquiet.

I leave it unmentioned to you, but I keep my door open so I can hear you if you need me during night. Most of the time you lot can't sleep on that first night until you talk out your shakes.

Your first night, however, I don't hear a peep until nearly eleven hours later when groggy-yawny sounds finally emanate from your room. I put my book down on my nightstand and leave my room for the kitchen in anticipation of you needing some fuel in your stomach. Forty-five minutes later, long after I've asked the TARDIS to keep the plate of sausage and eggs, sans slices of melon, warm and returned to my room to relax on my bed and pick back up on the chapter I left off, is when you decide to grace my doorway with your showered and still-a-bit-damp presence. "Thought I might need to send a search party in t' find ya.", I toss your way with an upturned brow and mildly disinterested, fleeting look.

"I'm awake and alive and ready to take on the day." I then see your hand dart to your abdomen from the corner of my eye. "M' stomach's alive too. Don' suppose you got anything to eat on your ship?" With a pause, you add "Human food?"

I almost snort. Well, I did snort, but just a little. And roll my eyes. "In the kitchen, Rose." I put my book back down, and once to you, I walk alongside, leading you there. The rest of the day is spent showing you around a few of the more commonly-used rooms of the TARDIS. In the process, I'm glad to say we don't lack in any of the comaraderie and humor and interest we've enjoyed together already.

Still, you seem perfectly normal, 'though I can only go on what I know so far is normal for you. But I assume your prior, very long day's experiences will catch up with you tonight.

They don't. It's always such a thingto me when I find out I'm fundamentally wrong about something. Maybe because that doesn't happen very often.

After an indulgence during the next 'day' and 'evening' in chatting about this and that and a short and uneventful trip to New Jyarshanem, it's time for your third night aboard. I don't hear a sound from you until right at eight hours later when you awake as normal as can be.

Strange, that. Unless you are one screwed up little ape who intends to lose her mind at some unexpected and inconvenient time in the future, I think it's fair to say you pass the muster.