Author's Notes:
For those who have read chapter 5, I apologize for the lack of editing when I initially posted it. It now has new material and a great deal less typos. I hope. This chapter begins the real journey... now it begins.
Chapter 5: One Hand, One Heart
"Now it begins, now we start -
One hand, one heart."
- Leonard Bernstein
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2012, February 23rd
Alternative London
The Tyler Mansion
"Aaaaiiiiaahhh!"
The woeful cries of Tony Tyler - toddler, terror and alarm clock all built into one - awoke Rose from a blessedly dreamless slumber. She groaned and stirred in the blankets, reaching up to scrub at her eyes. Forcing them open, her eyelids felt like heavy sandbags as she blinked against the sunlight. She stretched her arms and legs and gave a great, jaw-cracking yawn. As her arms settled back to the couch, she noted the empty space beside her. The Doctor had always been an early riser, but his absence somehow magnified the chill of the air against her skin.
Rubbing her arms to heat them, Rose hoisted herself off of the sofa and glanced at the old grandfather clock: 7:28am. Her eyes widened in amazement that she'd slept so late on a weekday- Wednesday, February the 23rd, if she recalled correctly. Jackie had probably kept Tony cooped upstairs to let her get some rest. Rose headed toward voices coming from the kitchen, and quickened her footsteps at the delicious smell of waffles.
Jackie, Pete, Tony and Fred were talking animatedly on the semi-circular booth surrounding the kitchen table. The plastic cushions were bright red with inlaid sparkles - a garish addition by her mother - and the entire tabletop was of white marble, striated with blue veins and supported by a thick marble pedestal. Empty plates, strewn with leftover crumbs and streaks of marmalade, lay before the table's occupants. A square plate holding a tower of waffles had been set in the middle of the table. Jackie sat on the edge of the bench, bouncing a most distraught Tony on her lap as she attempted to maintain a conversation with her husband. Pete was seated next to Jackie, and had just turned to speak to Fred when Rose entered the room. Fred looked up at her, grinned and exclaimed, "Rose!" He jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking over a carton of orange juice in his eagerness to greet her.
"Last I checked," she agreed, unable to keep the laughter from her voice as he threw his arms around her and spun her in a circle. Rose clung to his neck for dear life, her legs swinging out as the room circled its way around her. Oh, how she'd missed this! The way levity came off of him in sparks, and how he would sweep her up in the tides of his spontaneous joy.
As Fred let her feet rest once more upon solid ground, he removed his hands to place them in his coat pockets. He smiled delightedly as her, bounced on his heels as her eyes acclimated to the standard rate of the earth's rotation.
"Good morning," she said, reaching a hand out to the marble island in the middle of the kitchen to steady her balance.
"And a good morning to you," he said. "Jackie made waffles. I didn't know she could cook! And from a real toaster!" Fred pointed to a shiny appliance on the island that was covered in crumbs. He gazed at the toaster as an archeologist would at the ark of the covenant. "And they popped!" he exclaimed, accentuating the "p." "Oooh, you should have seen them, Rose…" his hands mimicked the waffle's flight. " I wanted to see what would happen if I tinkered with the springs to make them twice as strong, then covered them in marmalade before we put them in so that they'd stick to the ceiling!"
Fred gestured with his head towards her mother, shoving hands into his pockets once more. "She wouldn't let me, of course," he related with a wounded expression. "No sense of fun in that one. It's no wonder Tony's such a bother; I doubt she'd let him in a sandbox for fear he'd get dirty his fingernails."
Rose's eyebrows rose as he called her brother a "bother" - granted she didn't like him half the time either, but he was family. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he went right on:
"There's a fresh pot of hot water on the stove," he pointed towards the gleaming copper kettle, "and tea and coffee are over here." Fred took hold of her hand, and Rose, mollified, let him take her on a guided tour of the morning's breakfast.
He led her to the counter, reached into a cardboard box and pulled out a tiny plastic carton. "This," he proclaimed, "is a coffee pod! You put it inside the coffee making engine and it pours you a cup of coffee, straightaway! No more grindy filters!" He held the tiny carton up to her face, tapping it on the lid with an index finger, "Coffee Pods! What will they think of next? Solarium sachéts? Red wine rucksacks? Atipose attachés?" He quirked an eyebrow as he went on, "certainly none of the latter, I'd hope." He stopped for a moment, tapping the carton to his lips as he peered out the window. "I wonder if they've come up with Coffee Pods in our universe?"
Fred looked at Rose just as the words left his mouth, then turned back to the cardboard box. "Cuppa tea?" he asked her, replacing the tiny carton with considerable care.
Rose looked grateful. "Sounds lovely," she answered.
Fred nodded. "I'll get it - you go have a sit with your family. What kind?"
Rose opened the cupboard and pulled out two white mugs - at least her mother had shown some taste with the table settings. "Lady gray, thanks," she responded, setting the mugs down by the kettle.
"Our lady and earl gray, coming right up," he said lightly, picking up the assortment of teas and beginning to rifle through them. Rose grabbed a plate and some silverware, and made her way to the kitchen table. She sat down next to Pete, nabbing a few waffles before asking her mother what the problem was with Tony.
"Fell and cut his elbow," she answered, blowing a lock of hair out of her face as she continued to bounce him on her knee. Jackie's neat ponytail appeared to be losing strands already - thanks to Tony's grabby hands, no doubt.
"How?" Rose asked, tucking her own hair behind her ears as she reached for the marmalade. Jackie cut a scathing glance in Pete's direction, who in turn cleared his throat and addressed Rose:
"Tony wanted to learn how to play football," he declared, somewhat defensively. "I took him out back to show him the ropes, and he fell trying to make a catch playing goalie."
"Well of course he did!" Jackie exclaimed. "At six in the bloody morning! He probably couldn't even see it coming it was so dark out… And you expect me to believe it was his idea?" Jackie rolled her eyes at no one in particular, turning her attention back to her son.
Tony was a slightly built three-and-a-half-year-old with curly hair the color of spun gold. His eyes were blue, his cheeks rosy and full, and his expression was generally adorable enough to have the world wrapped around his little finger. "Oof-baww," he gurgled to his father, a tiny trickle of drool making its way down his chin. Tony smiled to reveal two perfect rows of gleaming white baby teeth. "Oof-baww!"
"Oof-baw!" Fred repeated, nodding in agreement with the toddler as he set down two steaming mugs and climbed into the bench beside Rose. "I know I've heard that before... an obscure dialect of the Jaggarath, if I recall correctly," he confided to Rose's ear. "Oi, Jackie!" he shouted in her mother's direction.
"What is it?" she asked him irritably. "I'm right here, no need to shout."
"Ah, sorry," he assured her, complete lacking any tone of sincerity. "It's just that your son here seems to have picked up an alien language. Thought you ought to know," he added, turning the mug around in his hands.
Jackie narrowed her eyes at Fred. "It probably came to him natural, havin' you around," she replied.
"Ooh! Was that supposed to be an insult?" he demanded, eyebrows shooting up in mock-surprise. "Are you trying to offend me, Jackie Tyler?" Fred sounded shocked and even pleased.
"Don't look so thrilled," she told him, shaking her head in disgust. "Insults aren't something to go lookin' for. Not on this planet, at any rate."
"Of course they are," he explained patiently. "To insult someone is to show that you care enough to do so. It's the first step toward reconciliation." Fred grinned winningly at her. "And those waffles smell fantastic, Jackie."
She frowned at him for a moment. "You just went on about insults bein' good," she began, wrinkles forming upon her brow. "Does sayin' my waffles smell nice mean that you want to start a fight, then?"
Fred shook his head. "No. No, no don't," he admonished. "Really, don't try." He raised his mug to sip at the steaming hot tea, then set it down again to continue: "I'm afraid your mind isn't capable of understanding that sort of logic. You'll only get hurt."
Rose choked on her tea, beating a fist into her chest as her face turned colors. Fred turned to her, looking concerned: "Tea too hot?"
She swallowed and managed to croak out, "down the wrong pipe," and he nodded slowly. The phone rang, and Jackie rose to answer it, setting Tony on the seat next to Pete. He looked up at his father, his torso weaving back and forth as he knocked a hand repeatedly on his knee. "Oof-ball!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes once more.
"Does he say anything else?" Fred asked. Pete just looked at him, then picked up his son and stood up to rock him a few feet away from the table. Tony gave a small hiccup of contentment, resting his head on Pete's shoulder and shoving a thumb into his mouth.
"It's for you, love!" Jackie called, reaching into the kitchen to hand the wireless phone to Pete. They heard him say "Pete Tyler," as he made his way toward the other room, Tony still perched in his arms.
"Domesticity seems to be treating him well," Fred remarked, watching Pete's retreat from the kitchen.
"Mm," Rose affirmed, nodding her head as she chewed on a bit of waffle. Her eyes fell on the empty plate in front of him - not a crumb to be seen. She swallowed and looked up at him. "Not hungry?" she asked.
"I should be," he replied with a slight frown. "Had a bit of a headache since I woke up. Nothing against the waffles - they really do smell delightful. I just can't fathom the idea of stomaching them." His stared at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in thought.
"That's not like you," Rose told him, lowering her fork to the table. "Has it gotton any worse?"
Fred blinked, and turned to regard her. "Not particularly," he said slowly. "It's sort of a dull throb, originating somewhere along the divide between my frontal and parietal lobe," he went on to explain, gesturing to the top of his head. "It's hard to tell, being born yesterday, but I imagine I should have more of an appetite than I do right now. I should think I'd be famished," he added.
Rose frowned at him. "Maybe- " but her words were cut off as Pete re-entered the room. Tony wasn't with him. "That was Torchwood," he told them. Rose saw Fred's jaw firm as he sat up straight.
"They've been picking up an unidentified signal since late last night. None of our sources can confirm the origin, but it's steady and very strong. Apparently it hasn't stopped since it began," he finished, glancing first at Fred, then at Rose.
"What sort of sensors are picking up the signal?" Fred asked, curious despite his misgivings.
"When we first started planning the dimension cannon," Rose explained, "we hired a team of experts from all over the world. One of them came up with a device - sort of a by-product of his research - that would resonate when it picked up certain frequencies."
"It was Dr. Bartholemeus Nielsen," Pete corrected her. "We call him Bartho for short."
"And he's alright with that?" Fred asked. Rose elbowed him in the ribs. "Course he is," she chided him. "He's the one who came up with the nick-name."
"At any rate," Pete went on, "the phone call was from him. He's been up all night trying to isolate the signal, find out where it's coming from." He paused for a moment, hesitating, then turned to Fred: "We'd appreciate any help you might be willing to give on this, Fred."
Pete and Rose remained silent as Fred tilted his head upward, closing his eyes as he sighed in resignation. "Alright," he intoned testily, easing himself out of the bench. Rose frowned as he put a hand to his head. Catching her reaction, he gave her a rueful smile. "Stood up too quickly. Although," he admitted, "an ibuprofin couldn't hurt."
Rose stood up as well, dusting the crumbs off of her pants. "I'll get some for you," she told him, reaching past his shoulder to take a bottle of tablets from the cupboard behind Fred. She took his hand, turned his palm up and gave him two tabs. He opened his mouth to thank her, but she shushed him and stepped into the pantry, emerging a moment later with two energy bars.
"They're not much for taste," she explained while handing them to him, " but they'll do in a pinch."
Fred nodded in understanding. "Thank you," he said, and pocketed the bars as he tossed the ibuprofin into his mouth. "One more thing: any chance of borrowing a suit, Pete? I'd forgotten how malodorous human perspiration can get, and my clothing could do with a good wash." He yanked at the neck of his t-shirt, took a whiff of himself, and pulled a face: "Could do with a hot shower, myself," he added. "You could have said something," he whispered to Rose in reproach.
"Didn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," she told him with a shrug.
"Shower's upstairs," Pete said. "Rose can show you. I'll see if I can find a something that will fit, and leave it outside the washroom." He turned to Rose. "I'm going to get back in touch with Bartho, tell him we're on our way. Be ready to go in an hour."
Rose and Fred watched him leave, heads turning in unison as he moved purposefully toward the sitting room. Once he had gone, Fred turned to Rose: "Is he always so… militaristic first thing in the morning?" he asked her in an undertone.
"Only when he hasn't slept," she answered. "So yeah, I suppose he is." Reaching out to take his hand, she tugged him towards the kitchen stairwell, and they began the rickety ascent. The stairs rotated along a central axis, as though they were scaling a castle turret.
"I like this staircase," Fred told her, all enthusiasm. "Much more flavor than the main one, all grandiosity and aristocratic pomp. These are the ones that have stories. Oo!" he exclaimed, "stairs for stories, get it?"
"Ha, ha," she said in a monotone. "Here I go, up the stairs with Fred Astaire."
Fred stopped dead in his tracks. She turned to see what was the matter, and found him standing stock-still, hand still in hers. He said nothing, only looked at her. Slowly, he raised a foot and ascended to the step just below hers. Their eyes were now level, and neither of them blinked. The only sound was their breathing, and Fred leaned in so that his face was mere inches from hers. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin. Rose's heart had made its way into her throat by this point, and she subconsciously licked her lips as Fred's hand rose to linger before her face. Then:
Pop! Fred's fingers snapped before her eyes to make her blink, and he shouted, "HA! I won the staring contest!" He let go her hand and raced around her to the second floor landing. Rose nearly collapsed against the wall, rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shouted after him, "That was SO unfair!"
Unable to hold back a smile, she gathered herself and caught up with him. Fred grinned cheekily at her, mouth slightly open and eyes full of mischief, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Where's the shower, Rose? Much as I'd love to spend all day playing games, we have work to do." Rose's jaw worked as she tried to come up with a suitably scathing reply. She hated it when he rendered her tongue-tied!
"Rude," he told her by way of explanation. "It seems you've forgotten how rude I can be. New new new Doctor, that's me - thrice rude and twice as smelly."
Rose snorted and grabbed his hand to yank him in the direction of the shower. She took the itchiest towel she could find from the hall closet, and opened the washroom door for him. "After you, sir," she said, shoving him into the room with a mock curtsey. "You should find all necessary toiletries within reach. Do enjoy your stay," she told him sarcastically, and shut the door in his face.
She turned on a heel and was half-way to her own bedroom when she heard him call after her: "Rose!"
Closing her eyes for a brief second, she made her way back to the shower. Fred's head poked out from behind the door. "Yes?" she asked, as patiently as she could.
A slow smile spread across his face. "I'm glad we're together again," he said.
Damn him for knowing exactly what to say! Rose cursed inwardly. That smile always undid her, and he knew it. But she also knew that he meant it sincerely. "So'm I," she agreed, shaking her head with a rueful grin. "See you in a bit." Fred nodded and closed the door.
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2012, Februrary 23rd
The TORCHWOOD Institute
Snow was just beginning to drop from the sky in large, flaky clusters as Rose, Pete and Fred made their way up the stairs and into the main entrance of TORCHWOOD. Pete nodded at the guards posted outside of the rotary gates, and flashed an I.D. badge to grant them access. All three moved past the initial security check, and Pete turned to face Fred and Rose.
"I'm going to have an I.D. printed for Fred at the information desk," he told them, and headed towards the end of the entrance hall. Rose watched as Fred approached one of three exhibits decorating the center of the lobby, heels echoing in the watery acoustics of the room. Her father had found a navy blue suit that ran just short at the ankles, highlighting Fred's trainers. He wore a white button-down shirt beneath the jacket, with a burgundy silk tie. He hadn't used any product to gel up his hair, which remained in its natural state - sticking up at the front, the rest of it relatively calm.
All in all, he looked quite dashing. As usual, she admitted to herself with a smile. His head tilted up to observe a crystalline model of the earth's crust. Tectonic plates of tinted glass shifted along the globe, forming many plausible versions of what might happen to continental drift in near millennia. She could almost see him reaching into his overcoat pockets to pull out those geeky, thick-rimmed glasses of his. Rose closed her eyes, striking the image of her Doctor. No use torturing myself, she chided. Still, the tiny flame that had been reborn in her last night had yet to fade away completely.
Opening her eyes, she found Fred looking at her from across the exhibit. "Tired?" he asked her softly.
"Yeah," she admitted. "Bit of a long night." She grinned at him, tongue visible at the corner of her mouth.
Fred returned the smile. "Yeah," he agreed, and drifted toward her to take her hand in his. "Shall we?" he asked, eyebrows raised and head tilted upward as he looked down at her.
"We shall," she nodded, and swinging their hands back and forth between them, Fred and Rose made their way to the information desk.
Where both of them received a shock.
Behind the desk was a woman they both recognized from a long ago encounter. She had long brown hair, deep brown, knowing eyes and full lips. Rose and Fred turned to each other in bewilderment, each recognizing their own expression on the other's face. Pete cleared his throat.
"Rose, Fred, this is Gwyneth Cooper," he said by way of introduction. "Gwyneth, this is my daughter, Rose Tyler, and our very good friend, Dr. Fred Noble. It's Gwyneth's first day here," Pete explained.
Fred continued to stare at Gwyneth until Rose elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!" he whined, and muttered "part human, remember?" for Rose's ears alone.
Ignoring Fred's exaggerated pangs, Rose held out her hand to Gwyneth, who took it gratefully. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tyler," she said with a warm smile. "Like Mr. Tyler said, it's my first day. I appreciate your welcome."
Rose couldn't help smiling in return. "How's your first day coming along?" she asked conversationally. Fred had straightened himself and was listening attentively.
"I quite like it here," she told them. "There's a lot of security checks they put you through in the hiring process, and it came as a sort of shock that I got the job. Not that I've done anything illegal," she added hastily. "It's just that I thought, the job being so competitive, I wouldn't stand much of a chance."
"There, now," Fred spoke up. "Clearly they think you're special, or you wouldn't have been chosen for the job." He smiled and turned to Rose. "Isn't that right, Rose?" Fred's eyes widened knowingly at her, signaling that the game was afoot. Rose nodded, holding his gaze for a second before turning back to Gwyneth.
"You'll probably think I'm mad, but I swear we've met before. Do you come from an old welsh family, Gwyneth?"
Gwyneth straightened in her chair, looking from Rose to Fred to Pete, then back to Rose. "Actually, yes, I do. Is there a problem with that?"
"No, no, of course not!" Rose assured her. "It's just that I once knew a girl who looked just like you. Gwyneth... do you have any idea what they do here at TORCHWOOD?" Pete frowned at Rose, opening his mouth. Rose moved her hand back and forth underneath the desk to cut him off, and Fred slowly turned his head from side to side. Pete seemed to take the hint, and kept quiet.
Gwyneth appeared to think for a moment, rifled through a few sheets of paper to gain time. "Well, I've heard that they had something to do with the spaceships that show up around Christmastime. They stopped them from harming us, I mean. From what I've read, they're involved with extra-terrestrial, or supernatural technologies. Things like that."
"And you-" Rose began, "you felt like you'd fit in here?"
Gwyneth looked confused and turned her attention to Pete. "Is this part of introductory protocol, sir? I have nothing to hide, but I don't want to risk saying anything I shouldn't."
Pete shook his head. "Not specifically, no," he answered her. "But in this case, I think it would be prudent to answer her questions."
"We don't think you've done anything wrong, Gwyneth," Rose told her soothingly. "In fact, I applaud your dedication to the team. Not many would think to question the motives of fellow employees. It's always good to keep a sharp eye."
Gwyneth nodded. "In answer to your question, Miss Tyler - yes. I did feel like I would fit in. I've always had a knack for understanding people. Not seeing the future or anything, but if I look deep inside of them, I can tell certain things."
"Like what, for example?" Rose asked. "What do you see in me?"
Gwyneth looked into Rose's eyes for a good twenty seconds without saying a word. Rose opened her mouth to ask what she saw, and jumped as Gwyneth abruptly wheeled her chair away from the desk, shoulders jarring as the chair hit the wall behind her.
"I see the storm in the heart of the sun," she whispered, and her three visitors had to lean forward to hear her. "Fire and ice and rage, a wolf howling in the eye of a tempest, a sea of gold," Gwyneth's eyes began to glaze over, seemingly going into a trance. "Time as a puzzle, the pieces broken and scattered... a severed hand, a man inside a cage - so small, too small…" she shook her head, tears forming in her eyes as she went on. "but ancient and forever... and all that is, all that was, all that ever could be-" Gwyneth seemed to wobble in her seat, and her eyes rolled up into her head as she fell, fainting, to the marble floor.
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