John blinked against the daylight, unsure what had pulled him from the first sleep he'd gotten in three days. He lay still in bed and paid attention to the sounds in his flat—the low buzz of the refrigerator running, the ever-present hum of traffic, and—
There it was again. He swung out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown on the way to Rose's room. He'd become too familiar with the sound of Rose crying in her sleep in the three months since she'd moved in. He stood at the door for a few minutes to see if she'd pull herself out of it today, like she did most nights.
When Rose's thrashing became more pronounced, John pushed off from the door frame and crouched down beside her bed. He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently. "Rose, wake up. You're safe. The accident is over." From the few mumbled phrases he'd picked up on other nights, he figured her nightmares were mostly filled with reliving the accident that had taken her parents, which was to be expected.
Tonight, his reassurances didn't seem to breaking through her distress. He shook again, a little more insistently. "Rose, it's all over. You're not there anymore; you can wake up."
Her eyelids flew open, and the panic he saw in her whiskey coloured eyes had John taking an instinctive step back. Her arm swung out a second later and barely missed his jaw. "Calm down, Rose," he said, keeping his voice low and even. "You're safe."
Rose blinked twice, then closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. "Sorry, John."
"It's fine. You know I have nightmares too." She nodded, but didn't open her eyes. "Right, I'll just… You know what? Come on. Let me make you breakfast."
He left her room without giving her an opportunity to argue. He'd learned within a week of Rose moving in how much she hated others to see what she perceived as weaknesses, which struck him as crazy since Rose Tyler was one of the strongest women he'd ever met.
"Even strong people need a friend to lean on," he'd told her after her first nightmare. He was aware of the hypocrisy, but as long as it convinced Rose to let him be her friend, he'd live with that uncomfortable realisation.
The early evening sunlight streamed in through the kitchen windows while John bustled around, pulling out everything needed for a full English. He was still peeling potatoes when Rose joined him in the kitchen, hair pulled up in a pony tail and a pink dressing gown wrapped around her waist. She washed her hands and started slicing the tomatoes, and between the two of them, they had the meal ready in a half hour.
"Are you working tonight?" Rose asked she she scraped butter over her toast.
John considered his two jobs. He wasn't needed at the observatory tonight, but it had been two days since the Doctor had patrolled London. Luckily, Bad Wolf's help meant London was in good hands when he was in the middle of a research project, but he should probably go out again.
"For a bit."
DWDWDWDW
John took off while Rose was in the shower. The leaving and coming home were the two tricky parts of having a flatmate, and it was just easier if he could avoid any questions as he walked out the door.
One street down from the flat, he ducked into an alley where he quickly donned the Doctor's costume. The pinstriped suit was unconventional, as far as superhero costumes went, but he'd adamantly refused all of Jack's attempts to put him in spandex. In the end, the compromise was a tight suit that still allowed for full range of motion.
He grinned as he tied the laces on his Chucks. Jack had despaired of his style when he'd chosen them, but he thought they made the outfit edgy.
The mask was the final piece of the outfit, the one concession to superhero tropes he made. That was purely practical however—secret identities only stay secret if no one can tell who you are.
He put his street clothes in his backpack and tucked it safely away. Then, after making sure no one was watching, he climbed the walls of the building to reach the roof. As cliche as it sounded, it really was easier to keep an eye on the city from above.
As he scanned the streets below, his mind wandered to Rose. He hadn't been sure a new roommate was a good idea. Jack was his oldest friend, and he knew his secret. How could he possibly live with anyone else without putting his identity at risk?
But his cousin Donna had insisted he try. "You need someone," she'd told him, and as much as John hated to admit it, she was right. Left alone, his thoughts turned dark.
Not that anyone could blame him, of course. The sole survivor of the horrible fire that had taken his parents, John had lived the next two years...
Well, that was beside the point. The point was, he hadn't been certain about getting a new roommate-until he met Rose Tyler.
Two things about Rose had intrigued John from the moment they met: one, it was the first time in years that he hadn't automatically seen a timeline swirling around a person; and two, despite the lack of a timeline, he'd felt her slot into his like a jigsaw puzzle piece. She was a perfect fit.
Something tugged at his time senses now, pulling him out of his ruminating. He followed the strange sensation to the rear of a hospital, where he watched an old man in a motorised wheelchair diaper through the back door.
While he watched, he felt a telepathic brush from the Bad Wolf. It was their standard evening greeting—I'm out, let me know if you need any help.
He hesitated for a moment, but something about this man was just wrong. Meet me at Albion Hospital. There's something going on here.
DWDWDWDW
Once she was sure John was gone, Rose quickly finished getting dressed generic jeans and t-shirt combo she wore as the Bad Wolf. The costume had two advantages, as far as she saw it. First, since she wore a different shirt every time she went out, there wasn't a standard image villains could be on the look-out for.
Rose thought of the Doctor and smirked. His outfit certainly… suited him, but it was pretty conspicuous. Who leaps around London rooftops in a pinstriped suit?
Oh yeah, the second advantage—since she wore the basic uniform of a young woman in her twenties, if she was ever in a situation where she thought she might be caught or found out, all she had to do was whip the mask off, and bingo! She was just Rose Tyler.
A quick stop in the alleyway near the flat and she had her mask tied around her face. She tipped her head back and reached for the Doctor. I'm out. Let me know if you need any help.
Rose was halfway down the street when she heard his answer. Meet me at Albion Hospital. There's something going on here.
She abruptly changed direction, heading for the back of the building so she could climb to the roof. Traversing the rooftops of London was much faster than staying on street level.
Less than ten minutes later, she dropped lightly onto the ground next to the Doctor. "What's going on?" she whispered.
He looked over at her, and she thought she saw his eyes widen behind his mask. "Are you sure about that shirt?"
Rose looked down at her new shirt, emblazoned with a Union Jack. "Too early to say," she said breezily. "I'm taking it out for a spin."
She saw his left eyebrow go up, but he let it drop and pointed to a van pulled up to the back door of the hospital. "About fifteen minutes ago, a man in a motorised wheelchair got out of that van and went into the hospital. I can't tell that he's got anything to do with the hospital, and there wasn't anyone at the door to meet him or let him in."
Rose surveyed the situation. From her standpoint, it didn't seem that unusual, but there must have been something for the Doctor to be drawn here in the first place.
"How did you find them?"
He pointed at his head and she nodded. Time senses.
There were enough similarities in their powers for both the Bad Wolf and the Doctor to wonder if their origin stories were the same. Super strength, super speed, telepathy… and a unique relationship with time. Rose could manipulate time around an object or individual to eliminate it from existence. The Doctor could sense individual timelines, and fluctuations in time. He knew, somehow, what had happened, what would happen, and what must not happen. If he said something was wrong here, then he was probably right.
They sat together in silence for thirty minutes, waiting for something more to happen. Finally, their patience was rewarded. The doors opened and Rose saw the same man the Doctor had seen earlier: a wizened creature who looked like he was being kept on the edge of death by some miracle of modern medicine.
He held something in his lap, but Rose couldn't tell what it was. She itched to go down for a closer look, but when she started to move, the Doctor immediately clamped his hand over her arm.
Rose narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to tell him off, but he shook his head violently. Look again, he told her, and Rose turned back to the van.
They hadn't considered that the old man might have accomplices, but now, she saw a strange looking robot rolling across the pavement toward him. The robot lifted a plungered arm to the side of the van, and a wheelchair access ramp dropped.
What is that? Rose asked.
The Doctor shook his head. I don't know, but I don't think we should stick around to find out.
They quietly backed away from the hospital, not turning until they were certain they were out of earshot. "Okay," Rose said. "What's the plan?"
"First we need to find out what they took. Pay attention to the police reports over the next few days and see if you can learn anything."
"And then?"
"And then we'll figure out how to stop them."
DWDWDWDW
John wasn't home when Rose got in, and she was grateful for the moment of solitude. She sat on the edge of her bed and carefully raised her telepathic shields again. She lowered them at night so she could work with the Doctor as needed, but leaving them down all the time would make her an easy target.
She shook the fatalistic thoughts off and changed into her pyjamas. The appearance of this shadowy, new enemy had left her too wound up to sleep, so she settled onto the sofa and scanned through Netflix looking for something to watch.
She'd just picked a comedy when John's key turned in the lock. He looked more weary than usual when he came inside, and from the way he tossed his backpack in the corner and shuffled into the loo to wash his face and brush his teeth, she guessed it hadn't been a good night at work.
"Long night at the observatory?" she asked when he returned to the living room, dressed in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms.
He rubbed wearily at the back of his neck and nodded. "Spent most of it arguing with the graduate assistants about the possibility of alien life."
Their shared belief in alien life was one of the things that had made it so easy for Rose to become friends with John in just a few short months. Of course, he didn't have quite the same reason to believe that she did…
Rose stroked absently at the IV scar on her elbow. "You'll convince them eventually," she said soothingly.
"Well at least I have you to talk to until they come around."
He sat down next to her on the sofa and plucked the remote from her loose fingers. "What're you watching tonight?" A press of the button woke the television up. "Young Frankenstein. Need to wind down?"
Rose snuggled back into the cushions. "Yeah. That okay?" In answer, John hit play and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.
