A/N: Hah! Got this chapter done despite school… how do you feel now, teachers? ;)
Disclaimer: Yep, heard it before, will hear it again. I do not own Doctor Who in any way possible.
Chapter Two
She eventually found in him outside, in front of the swimming pool.
"Very impressive stuff," the Doctor commented without turning around to face her. He was sitting on the edge of the hotel pool, dangling his feet in the water.
Rose slipped off her sandals and joined him, water warming her feet. She grinned, thoughts drifting contentedly. "Stuff indeed."
Their rooms, connected by what looked like a closet but was actually a little passage, had been lavishly furnished. Dark wood desks, mirrors with metal engraving on the edges—the beds had been so comfortable she half wanted to sleep already.
They hadn't seen anyone else in the hotel except for staff, but Rose suspected that they were all out enjoying the island.
She looked around. The pool was a blue she was almost sure couldn't be natural, and the gleaming navy titles surrounding them were warm to the touch, relaxing her. The sun was shining and it was quiet.
(Too quiet?) She shook the thought off.
Smiling to herself, Rose slipped her hands in the water, quickly splashing the Doctor.
"Hey!"
She had to muffle a laugh; he wore a deeply insulted look with water dripping down his face, from his ruffled hair to his jaw.
"I'll get you back," he threatened with a grin, gathering water in his hands.
She scrambled hastily back from him, tongue peeking out between her teeth. "Wanna bet?"
Rose could practically feel all the looks they were gathering as they walked into the hotel—she was positively soaking due to their impromptu pool fight. The clothing stuck to her skin, and she was sure someone from the hotel staff was going to come up to her and tell her to get her bum up to her room.
The Doctor laughed at her openly, grinning widely.
"Oh, sod off."
Peeling her dripping clothes off, Rose hung them in the bathroom to dry. Changing into jeans and a blue t-shirt she had brought with her to the hotel, she stepped on something that was distinctly not part of the plush carpet.
Leaning down by her bed, she picked up a scrap of plain white paper, no bigger than perhaps her hand. It was blank—but as Rose flipped it over the see the other side, she spotted the message.
In a dark pen—blue, she thought—something was written with a very familiar, rounded hand. She looked closer and—
Rustle.
She tilted her head; was she hearing things now too?
"Rose!" the Doctor called.
"Comin'!" she yelled back.
Quickly, she slipped the paper into her back pocket. She would read it and show it to him later. She wouldn't forget.
Really, she wouldn't.
The Doctor considered the things that would make the waiting better. Caxtarids, perhaps—but he wasn't in the mood for metallic red hair and torture. Dragons would be an improvement, he decided. Or Foamsasi; humanoid chameleons would certainly get a reaction.
Maybe then the line would actually move, he thought.
An island like this had to have more than one smoothie shop, but as he and Rose waited in line, he was sure it didn't.
His thoughts were a mix of not even a purple cow would get anyone to move and one Mississippi, two Mississippi…
Eventually, he grumbled, "I'll be over there sitting down," and made to leave the long line.
"Lazy bum!" Rose yelled after him jokingly.
The Doctor was about to answer when the line surged forward to take up his absence, and a crowd of people rushed around him. He ended spitting hair out of his mouth, and struggling to find his way through the mass.
A person pushed hard on his right, and he stumbled, but didn't fall, feeling someone lend their weight to pull him up slightly. The stranger's hand grabbed his own and wrapped the Doctor's fingers around an object he couldn't see.
A wooden park bench beckoned once he had gotten out of the throng and he sat down eagerly, ignoring everyone else, glancing at what he had been given.
Two dream-catchers lay in his hand.
When Rose returned with the drinks she found him studying his palm intently. When she got closer, she saw he was holding something.
He hasn't gone completely mad yet then, she thought with some humor.
"Dream-catchers," he told her, not looking up. The Doctor quickly caught her up on what had happened.
"Can't you leave alone for a moment," she said regretfully, and leaned closer to see.
They were each based on a willow hoop, with a loose net in a seemingly flower shaped design woven in the center. Both hoops were dyed a deep blue, and three strands of tan feathers, interwoven with dark beads, hung below the hoop.
"Used to have one when I was little," she told him, remembering. "I called it a dream snare. S'pposed to catch nightmares and trap them in the net. The good dreams would slide down the feathers to the sleeper, while the bad ones would die in the light of dawn."
She traced the feathers with a finger, the dream-catchers still in his hand. Her touch along with smooth feathers sent tingles through his hand, and he shivered for a moment.
"If they're to catch nightmares," the Doctor wondered, "why would we need them here? It's the island where dreams come true—good dreams—and the island's name holds no meaning that anyone knows of."
"Or have they just forgotten it?" the sentence passed her lips before she was aware of it.
He gave her a cheeky smile. "Fantastic Rose."
She flushed, but continued thinking. Just as she was about to say something, he interrupted the silence that had fallen.
"We have a mysterious benefactor, two dream-catchers most likely meant for us, and an island name that may or may not hold meaning," he organized. "The only thing is: how to they connect?"
And that was something neither of them could piece together in a few minutes.
"G'night," Rose murmured, peeking into his room. The Doctor was lounging on his bed, spectacles on, reading. She scowled when she saw that—he almost never slept. This would probably be no exception.
"Spidey Time Lord mechanics," he said, glancing up and seeing her grimace.
"Or insomnia," she grumbled, feeling more than a bit silly.
"Oi, cheeky!" he retorted.
About to make another remark; a yawn interrupted Rose. She covered her mouth exasperatedly.
"Go to bed," the Doctor told her, letting his gaze rove concernedly around her. "It's getting late."
"Fine," she mumbled, too tired to protest. She felt almost like she was moving through molasses, her body too exhausted to move properly.
Turning her lights off, she slipped between the smooth hotel sheets. When her head hit the pillow she was too drowsy to fight any longer.
In the other room, the two dream-catchers lay forgotten on the Doctor's desk. He barely glanced up, never remembering them.
Underneath a mass of rooms, someone laughed freely. It looked like they were going to creep into Rose Tyler's dreams tonight.
A/N: Hoped you liked this chapter—I had fun writing it.
First off though, I know Rose has an accent, and I'm trying a bit to put that in, but I'm not sure if I'm under-doing it, over-doing it, or just… not doing it right. If you have any comments about that, it would helpful.
Second… forgot it, dang it.
Anyway, reviews would be appreciated and all that jazz. ;)