She woke up to a persistent knocking on the door. She hadn't drank enough to have a hangover, but she had certainly drank too little to forget yesterday's events. She was still in her clothes from the evening prior, and her face felt puffy and dirty and her mouth parched.
She rose up at the knocking, wondering if it would be childish to ignore it or yell 'go away'.
"Who is it?" She demanded instead, still curled up over the covers on the bed.
"It's Roger."
She got up, glanced at herself in the mirror. She was a mess, dried mascara running down her face and her complexion pallid. She called out that she needed a sec, and washed her face and hands in the bathroom.
What was she going to do? What if she was being asked to leave? It was Saturday morning, and she'd have no where to stay and no money and no nothing until Sunday when (and if) the doctor showed up.
Still, Mickey and her mum will be here in... she glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. It was almost 9am, so they'd be here in about half an hour.
When she felt there wasn't really anything else to do right now to improve her appearance, she opened the door.
Roger stood there, blinking hard at the light the streamed from the eastwards windows behind her. She cracked a half-grin. Must have been one hell of a party last night.
She let him in and closed the door firmly behind her.
In her mind there were a couple of directions this could go, so she turned to lean on the door and wait until he spoke.
He sat down at the little dining table, same spot he sat in yesterday. There was a long moment of silence as he blinked hard and rubbed his face there, then ran his hand over the fuzz of his close-cropped hair.
"...Rose."
She waited. He sounded tired, stressed. Whatever he was here to say, Keisha should have probably come to say herself.
"Sorry about last night."
"Is it you saying it, or Keisha?" She finally shoved herself off the door and went to pour herself a glass of water. On second thought she poured one for him, too. It's wasn't his fault. None of this was even remotely his fault.
He thanked her and drank greedily.
"It's from her. She was a mess when I came back last night. Kept on crying through the door on how she didn't mean it."
Rose felt only the merest twinge of compassion. "Why isn't she here, then?" She said, then bit her lower lip. This was their wedding day. She was asking Keisha to come apologize instead of prepare for her own wedding?
"She's afraid you wouldn't have let her in. Said something about... boot camp?"
Boot camp?
Oh, a couple of months before she met the doctor Keisha and her went to one of those exercise camps. Rose was hitting on a cute guy (she couldn't recall almost anything about him), but Keisha, jealous, 'accidentally' shoved her in the pool. Rose spent the rest of the day in a huff, refusing to look at her friend or talk to her.
"I'm not like that anymore." She said tiredly. When she met Roger's eyes, he seemed sympathetic and apologetic and nervous that he was getting married in two hours.
Married. To her old friend. A friend that other than the incident with The Ascendant and now, she had scarcely spoken two words to in as many years. She took in a deep breath, let it out just as slowly.
"You know what?" Rose said, smiling tiredly, "Tell her it's all good."
His brows shot up. "Wha'? Are you su-?"
"Yeah." She sighed, feeling old. What Keisha said yesterday... didn't matter. None of it did. The doctor mattered. She had felt bad that so much of her was now tied to him, but now, sitting here, she realized that it was ok. People kept telling her these days that 'you didn't need a man', that a woman dependant on a man was less of a woman, that she was weak.
He wasn't her weakness, he was her strength. Was it wrong to love? To want to hold on to that person you loved? How was fighting alongside him, loving every moment of it, made her weak?
"Yeah." She said again, with more conviction. "Yeah, she was drunk and still angry at how I disappeared. I get that. But this is her day," She was surprised herself when the smile on her face became genuine, "This is her wedding day. Whatever happened yesterday, that was a different Keish, yeah? The new one starts today."
Sort of like Keisha was regenerating, she laughed inside. Even if Keisha will never change, it was ok. If she got drunk again, and got belligerent, well, Rose wasn't going to be there anymore. She had her own life now and Keisha's opinion or thoughts about it didn't even enter into it. It was a sad state, perhaps, but she couldn't bring herself to feel it was sad at all.
Roger's face showed such compassion. "You're a very good person." He said, filled with honesty.
She just shrugged, "Not really," She laughed a little. She had faced Daleks and the end of the universe on more than one occasion. It helped put things in perspective. What was important, what wasn't.
Roger left after a few more pleasantries, and she told him to assure Keisha (through her room door, as they weren't allowed to see each other), that Rose didn't remember much from yesterday and that all is forgotten and forgiven.
It wasn't true, really. She remember and it wasn't about forgiveness, but about relevance. Keisha... She was becoming irrelevant.
It wasn't that she didn't want anything to do with her old life. It's not like she was going never to see any of her old friends again or that they didn't matter to her, they did. It was becoming simply that she no longer defined her worth by their opinions. It was a good thing, and it made her smile as she rounded the corner from the hotel to the parking lot. Behind that lane of trees, tomorrow, the doctor will come back.
Time had allowed some of her anxiety of his return to ebb, as well as calm her anger at the insufferable Time Lord.
The morning was wet. It hadn't rained but the dispersing fog and lingering dew was splashing on her feet from her open shoes just walking through the manicured grass. It was refreshing, and when the sun peeked from behind a lonely cloud it seemed like the world was decorated in diamonds. The leaves, the grass, people's shoes and the cars in the parking lot as she approached.
The area was a scene of much mirth, with most of the guests showing up that morning. She glanced around to see if she could detect Mickey's car, but instead noticed Fred, Tanika and Shauna, all immediately starting after her when she turned hastily to leave.
"Rose!" Cried Shauna, catching up quicker than Rose would like. Setting her face passive, she turned to face her friend.
"I'm so sorry, Rose." Shauna said, and Rose was surprised to find tears in the girl's eyes. "I'm so so sorry!" She threw her hands around her neck and sobbed into her shoulder.
"It's- It's alright!" She found herself chuckling, patting her friend on the back. Tanika and both Freds (her and her husband) approached as well, all looking guilty and apologetic. They pried Shauna off and took turns apologizing.
"We believe you travelled." Said Tanika awkwardly, "The way you handled it last night... You've really grown, and you made us all realize how stupid we were being. Sorry."
Rose's toothy grin was genuine and she laughed and accepted their apologies.
"Do we get to meet him?" Fred (her) asked with a gentle smile, trying to make peace, "This illustrious companion of yours?"
Internally Rose thought it strange that he was the companion and she the leader, but for her friends, she was.
"I don't think so. He had other stuff he had to do today." She still felt a pang of regret. Her old life, her life before she met him. Didn't he want to see it? Be a part of it?
She knew why he didn't. Couldn't ever force him to face it, either.
"Where's Mickey and my mum?" She asked as a way to veer conversation away from awkwardness and apologies.
"Not here yet." Confirmed Fred (him), with his arm over Fred (her). "Mickey said he'd bring me the laptop he's fixing for me, so I've been asking around." He was almost a head taller than his wife, with the airs of accomplishment backed by nothing. He was nice enough, but always found ways to have other people do stuff for him and claim it is an achievement.
"I'll give'im a call. Wedding ought to start in an hour and I'm not even changed yet." She said, taking out her mobile and waving it around as if to prove that this is what it could do.
She thanked everyone and stepped away, only to see Rog's best man striding towards her with a smile. She was blond and available for long enough to know what that swagger and that smile meant, and she had already met his eyes, so she couldn't very well pretend she hadn't seen him.
Instead she pressed her mobile to her ear and waved amicably at him, walking away towards the lane for some privacy. She hadn't actually dialed yet, and felt a little bad about the deception. But hey! She was on the phone, the universal 'do not disturb' sign.
She rounded the trees and returned to that little cute village. The blue box made her smile again, and, thumbing through her contacts to find Mickey's mobile number, she tried the handle of the faux TARDIS. Wouldn't hurt to hide away for a moment from the world, in case the best man was coming round.
The handle gave way, slippery and cold from the early morning dew. Some drops dislodged from the frame and dripped on her head and phone screen as she entered. She shook the device clear of the water, climbed the ramp.
Phone boxes didn't have ramps.
She exclaimed in surprise to find herself inside the real TARDIS.
This box was here when they landed! Mind racing wordlessly through a million possibilities.
It was the TARDIS, no doubt about it. What was it doing here since... well, since before they got here?
And how did the door open without her key? Did she instinctively unlock it, without thinking? She looked down at her free hand. It wasn't wet with dew, it was blood.
.
Shoving the phone into her pocket without a second thought, she concentrated on calming her breathing and looking around. The lights seemed dimmer as the door closed behind her. The machine was humming normally, like the breathing of some ancient, half mechanical dragon in slumber.
"Doctor?" She called. The room did not answer.
It looked just like her TARDIS, like she left it yesterday. There was her jeans jacket draped on the railing. The only thing that was missing was the Time Lord himself, as the controls were deserted.
Wait, what was that?
Something shiny glinted on the console, just on the other side of the central tube. For the better part the myriad of buttons and levers were too old to sparkle, so this anomaly drew her attention.
It looked like a large jade egg, resting on a panel between a rounded lever and a big nobbly button. And there...!
A dusty trainer and a leg!
She rushed over to find the doctor sprawled on the hard metallic floor, just under the green crystal egg and almost entirely under the controls. He was on his back, arms splayed as though he just collapsed in mid action. Head leaned listlessly to the side, away from the controls.
There was blood. Oh, god, there was blood. His suit jacket was torn, especially at the arms and chest, with dark stains around each tear. His face was haggard and pale, his lips tinted blue. Rose only realized she had stopped breathing when her lungs started protesting. She inhaled a shaky breath, kneeling at his side.
"Doctor! Doctor! Don't you dare! Don't you dare do this to me!" She called, patting him on the cheeks. He felt cold, ice cold. He didn't wake, but proved his hearts were still beating when he moaned and rolled his head away from her hand, brows coming together for just a moment.
"Doctor!" She gingerly lifted his head off the cold floor, wincing as she felt warm liquid through his hair, too. Her other hand was on his cheek, caressing and patting.
His eyes then did flicker open. His unfocused, glazed eyes settled on her own. Neither said a word for a moment, then his brows furrowed again. He made no effort to get up or even twitch a muscle.
"Rose, you're crying," He said, his voice was soft, worried.
"Yeah, I got scared there, for a moment." She forced a smile, caressing his cold, cold cheek.
"It's alright," He said. He seemed totally unconcerned with his current state, as though they were just chatting over who's turn it is to get chips, "Everything's alright." He assured, "I'll protect you. Always."
And his eyes rolled in his head and his head lolled against her hands.
She shouted his name, but he seemed completely unresponsive now. Tears were running down her cheeks, but this didn't stop her from doing what she needed to do.
She bustled back and forth, bringing the duvet from her room on the TARDIS. She had no idea if the doctor ever slept when he wasn't injured, so didn't know if he had a room to drag him to. Her room was down a flight of stairs, and she wasn't planning on dragging his injured form down stairs. She figured it couldn't be beneficial to whatever injuries he had sustained.
Spreading the duvet on the floor, she rolled the doctor unto it. Her breath hitched and she blinked fresh tears out of her eyes when she saw tears on the back of his pinstriped suit as well as on the front, circles of blood soaked into the fabric. He was completely limp against her urgings, and it scared her to her very core. Whenever she touched exposed skin the cold would chill her heart until she felt it would shatter altogether. Her hands were smeared and stained by the time she was done, and her breathing was hiccupped and gasping. When she was finally done maneuvering his frail frame onto the blanket, she brought every sheet and blanket she could find. A couple she made into a pillow, and the rest she layered on top of him.
A cloth and a basin of water were her only tools of healing, and she cleaned the blood from his broken lip and his forehead, and ran it over the short hairs on the back of his head. The cloth returned red at first, but after the second pass or so it came back pink, then just wet. She counted her blessings.
She had determined to remove his shirts and inspect the damage, but found herself suddenly coy. Her fingers twitching just a inch away from the top button, resting in the little hollow of his neck between his collarbones.
This was the doctor. She could shove him playfully and press her lips to his. She could throw her arms around his neck and hold him for hours, feeling his twin hearts against her single one and never tire of the novelty of it. But she never undressed him. Never found his room. Was never let in, in that way. When he regenerated and fell sick it was her mother who took control. Rose fumbled for her phone in her pocket- maybe her mum and Mickey were here and could come and help! - but when she stared at it she got another shock- the time.
She had 10 minutes until the ceremony started. It took her the better part of an hour to fix up the doctor...!
It would only take a moment's jog and she'd be there with 9 minutes to spare.
Keisha's wedding, the reason she was here, now.
There was nothing more she could do for the doctor. And she had 8 minutes to decide.
There was nothing more she could do for the doctor. He wasn't even supposed to be here until tomorrow!
The jacket was the easy part to remove, and the tie easier still. Her twitching, nervous fingers hesitated at the first button of his shirt. What if we woke up? He'd never let her live it down. He'd grasp her hands as they fumbled down his shirt, give her that smile that came with the quirk of his head to one side, where he'd look at her and just be happy to have her with him. Like she was special and he just thought it was Brilliant with a popping, capital 'B'. A tug on her hands would be all it would take for her to succumb to the temptation of those thin lips...
But the second button came off and nothing. She could feel his chest rise and fall so slightly, feel the breath from his nose on her fingers when she loosened his collar, pulled the shirt out of his pants. She knew she was blushing, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Blood had made the sleeves a pain to disentangle from his thin wrists, and he kept on drooping to one side or the other as she sat him up. Each time she caught him and felt the chill of his skin. It took several frustrating moments, tugging at the blood-soaked sleeves before she remembered men's dress shirts had cufflinks and it took several tries at that to get her smeared hands to flick them open.
When she laid him back down, shirtless, her heart broke a little more;
His arms were covered in cuts and bruises, purple stains painted over with blood. His chest a veritable garden of blue and purple blossoms, one especially painful looking at the lower end of the right side of his rib cage. With shaking hands she emptied the sullied water in the basin and refilled it, returning with the cloth to dab and caress pale skin.
It felt like ages, but it was only hours later when she woke herself up from her daydreaming (although she would call it day-nightmaring), sitting beside him on the floor, her high-heel shoes set aside and her knees drawn up to her chin. She was hugging her legs, rocking back and forth absently and just wishing so hard that he would wake up and be ok and not be in this situation.
She stared at the deceptively youthful face, wondering what had happened and how could she have let him go off alone. His expression was relaxed, almost too relaxed, like he was dead, like after he regenerated and he just lay there, dying.
Just in case she had a now cold cup of tea beside him.
The TARDIS hummed around them, the only sound other than her pitiful sniffing. The crying has long since passed, and she felt terrible; drained, scared and alone.
What had woken her from her depressed-staring-into-space was movement from the corner of her eye. The doctor was shivering. Slightly, but even as she looked it intensified. He was covered up to his nose in the blankets, and when she touched the back of her fingers to his cheek and forehead he felt... warmer. Still cold, still so very cold, but warmer.
She had seen something like this on TV, on that show with the guy who went and taught you how to survive in the wild. Hypothermia.
Where the hell had he gone alone?!
Without hesitation this time, she lifted a corner of the stack of blankets and scooted, on her back, until their sides touched.
She thought it would be too warm, but even through her pants and on her bare arms she could feel the unnatural coolness of his skin. They've touched before. Plenty of times, but he wasn't sleeping, which was rare enough, and it just felt so... strange.
He moaned loudly in pain. She flinched over to her side, away from him, thinking she must have hurt him, but he followed, rolling onto his side after her and scooping her in his arm across her stomach. She squeaked in surprise as she felt him possessively press against her, his cool skin pressed against her back, his bruised arm clutching so tightly at the fabric at front of her shirt. Drinking in her heat, his cold nose right under her ear, and each breath tickled her and sent shivers down her spine. Shivers quite the opposite of the cold that was wracking his body. He was still soundly out.
The blankets were so warm, his skin so cool...
Chapter 2! The doctor getting in trouble? Never. :) Chapter 3 should be up on Saturday/Sunday.
I was originally considering making this two chapters, but they would have been too short, individually, and darn unsatisfying! :)
I want to thank SittingOnTheEdgeOfTheUnivers e, traversing, kaylala, InvisiblePuppeteer and Sara for the reviews! I love reviews and I always try to give people who take the time to cheer me on a nod! :D
See you all soon!
