Title: It starts with Barcelona
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rate: T
Story: AU version of "Doomsday": Rose stayed with the Doctor and they set up their new beginning. There's something different in Rose, something that she still doesn't understand. The Doctor does though and he'll try to help her. This time, he'll allow himself to be selfish. Only this time, because she's the reason. She's the main reason that keeps him going.
A/N: Hello, guys. I've decided it's time to try something new and that's the reason I've started watching "Doctor Who". Then, I found myself falling in love with Ten... and then in Ten/Rose relationship. Because they are unique and special. So, I've decided to write my own post-version of "Doomsday". Enjoy and I hope you like it. :)
Chapter Ten: My Rose, pt.2
When they lips touched it was like a fire and ice. It's been a long time since the Doctor had kissed another woman like that. Something more, Rose was a human. She was something different. The last time he had felt like this was so long ago. He pushed her gently onto her back, hovering over her. His fingers laced with hers. His lips never left her. It was like they both didn't need air. Their tongues danced together in a magical dance that left them breathless, but wanting more. And this time, Rose wasn't possessed. It was her. It was simply… her.
The Doctor finally pulled back, breathing heavily. He met her eyes, full of love for him. She loved him truly, unconditionally. She'd give her life for him, literally. In a way she already had done this, but she just didn't know yet. The Doctor was wondering when she was going to feel the change. His hand rested on her face.
"What?" Rose gave him a quizzical look.
He simply shook his head. "Nothing." Her skin was so soft, so humanly soft. Right now it was glowing like the sun. That soft and warm golden light, he had seen when she came back to save him. "You look beautiful." The Doctor said simply. He didn't want to scare her, not yet.
"You just looked at me like I'm…" She touched his face and he couldn't resist the need to lie on her palm. "Doctor, what's wrong?"
He sighed and lay back on the bed, but this time wrapping his arms around her. "Nothing." Then he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Nothing."
"I know you." Rose said, resting her head on his chest. "There's something that bothers you."
"You mean beside the fact that we're in Elizabethan England?" The Doctor tried to chuckle. "Blimey! That's a big problem."
"It's not something that we can't deal with, right?" Rose sighed, feeling safe and secure in his arms. "I meant… us."
"Us?" He trailed off. "What about us?"
"We kissed."
"Yep."
"Why we stopped?"
"Because-"
A sharp scream, interrupted them. They both jumped off the bed.
"That sounded like Martha!" Rose blinked.
"You think?" The Doctor was already on the door. "Let's go and find out!"
Soon after that they rushed into the Shakespeare's room. Martha was standing there, covering her mouth and staring at a woman's body on the floor. Shakespeare, previously asleep on his desk, now woke up with a start when they entered and stopped to examine the hostess body.
"Wha'? What was that?" Shakespeare muttered.
Rose ran to the window where she saw the silhouette of a witch on a broom flying in the sky. Martha followed her and gasped.
"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." The Doctor sighed.
"Doctor?" Rose called him.
He joined her and Martha to the window. "What did you see?"
"A witch." Martha blinked. "A real witch!"
Rose just rolled her eyes. "She might look like a witch, but I don't think she really is… a human even. Am I right, Doctor?"
He gave her a proud smile. "That was good!"
Rose grinned. "Thanks."
They stayed with Shakespeare until down, trying to figure it out what it was. Martha was sitting at Shakespeare's desk, while the Doctor and Rose were having a quiet talk by the window. The Doctor was casually touching Rose's face from time to time. Rose was holding his left hand; her thumb sliding back and forth his one. It was like they were in their own world.
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey." Shakespeare shook his head, talking about the hostess. "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."
The Doctor looked at him. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
"I might use that." Shakespeare looked impressed.
"You can't. It's someone else's." The Doctor shook his head.
"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you." Martha pointed out.
Shakespeare gave her a look. "You're accusing me?"
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches." She shrugged.
"I have? When was that?" Shakespeare looked at her with confusion.
"Not, not quite yet." The Doctor lowered his voice.
'Peter Streete spoke of witches." Shakespeare answered.
"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha looked interested.
Shakespeare sighed. "Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"The architect?" Rose looked at the Doctor.
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!" He walked to the table and slammed his fist on the table. "The Globe! Come on!" He rushed off with Rose holding his hand, followed by Martha and Shakespeare.
They ran into the Globe and the Doctor and Rose went in the pit while Martha and Shakespeare stood onstage.
"The columns there, right?" He looked at Rose. "14 sides. I've always wondered but I never asked... tell me, Will, why 14 sides?"
Shakespeare answered. "It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well."
"Why does that ring a bell? 14…" The Doctor mumbled.
"There are 14 lines in a sonnet." Rose tried to help him.
"So there is." He nodded, still pacing around. "Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. 14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets…Oh, my head. Tetradecagon... think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"
"This is just a theatre." Shakespeare shrugged.
"Oh, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time... Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that..."
"It's like you're police box." Rose grinned. "Small wooden box with all that POWER inside."
"Oh. Oh, Rose Tyler, I lo—" He stopped in the middle of his sentence, just staring at her. Then just shook his head, as if he just refused to say the right words and kissed Rose's forehead. "I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?"
"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place... lost his mind." Shakespeare frowned.
"Why? What happened?" Martha asked.
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
"Where is he now?" The Doctor insisted.
"Bedlam." Shakespeare answered.
Martha looked interested. "What's Bedlam?"
"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."
"We're gonna go there. Right now. Come on." The Doctor grabbed Rose's hand on their way out of the theatre. Martha followed them as does Shakespeare.
"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!" Shakespeare insisted and looked at the two young actors, who just entered the theatre. 'Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round. Learn it. Speak it. Back before curtain up. Remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know — the Queen might turn up."
"So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors." Shakespeare asked Martha. The Doctor and Rose were walking before them.
"This country's ruled by a woman." Martha explained.
"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are a royal beauty." Shakespeare said, smiling.
"Whoa, Nelly!" Martha stopped. "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."
"But Martha, this is Town." Shakespeare shrugged.
"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later." The Doctor said over his shoulder.
Rose nudged him. "Are you serious, Doctor?"
Shakespeare chuckled. "Is that a promise?"
The Doctor just rolled his eyes. "Oh, 57 academics just punched the air. Now move!"
The Bethlem was a dark place. Loud screams and moans echoed as the Doctor, Rose, Martha and Shakespeare were led through the halls. They met the jailer, who promised to prepare Peter Streete for them and make him decent for the ladies.
"So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?" Martha frowned, looking around.
"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia." Shakespeare looked at her.
"But you're clever! Do you honestly think this place is any good?" Martha insisted.
"I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose." Shakespeare said quietly.
"Mad in what way?" Rose looked at him with sympathy.
"You lost your son." The Doctor said softly and Rose gave him a strange look.
Shakespeare nodded. "My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry." Martha touched his shoulder briefly.
"It made me question everything." Shakespeare shrugged. "The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be... oh, that's quite good."
"You should write that down." The Doctor tilted his head.
Shakespeare made a face. "Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?"
Soon after that the jailer called them. They walked down the hall to Peter Streete's cell and the jailer unlocked the door. He warned them to be careful and then left. The Doctor slowly approached to Peter Streete.
"Peter? Peter Streete?" He called him quietly.
"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him." Shakespeare was watching close behind.
The Doctor lay his hand on Peter's shoulder and called him once more. Peter's head jerked up and he looked at the Doctor with wild, glassy eyes and seemed like he wanted to speak.
"Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go." The Doctor pressed his hands to Peter's temple and let him fall back. Then crouched near him. "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."
"Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. THEIR design! The 14 walls — always 14. When the work was done," Peter suddenly laughed. "They sapped poor Peter's wits.
"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" The Doctor asked quietly. "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"
"All Hallows Street." Peter answered.
"Too many words." Suddenly a witch appeared close to the Doctor.
He went quickly went to Rose. Martha and Shakespeare stood behind him.
"What the hell?" Martha gasped.
"Just one touch of the heart." The witch laughed. Then she lay her hand on Peter's chest.
"No!" The Doctor screamed, but he couldn't do anything to save Peter.
"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare muttered.
"Who would be next, hmm? Just one touch." The witch was looking at Rose. "Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."
"Let us out! Let us out!" Martha shouted.
"That's not gonna work. The whole building's shouting that." Rose scoffed, looking at the witch.
"Who will die first, hmm?" The witch cackled.
"Well, if you're looking for volunteers." The Doctor stepped in front of Rose.
"No! Don't!" Rose grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Doctor, can you stop her?" Shakespeare looked at him
"No mortal has power over me." The witch laughed.
"Oh, but there's a power in words." The Doctor said and then looked back to Rose. "It's okay." He muttered, releasing himself from her hand. Then he turned his attention to the witch. "If I can find the right one — if I can just know you..."
"None on Earth has knowledge of us." The witch said.
"Then it's a good thing I'm here." The Doctor grinned. "Now think, think, think... Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy... ah, 14! That's it! 14! The 14 stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!" He pointed at the witch and she wailed and disappeared.
Rose sighed with relief, while Martha and Shakespeare looked all confused.
"What did you do?" Martha asked.
"I named her." The Doctor said simply. "The power of a name. That's old magic."
"But there's no such thing as magic." Martha frowned.
"Well, it's just a different sort of science." The Doctor shrugged. "You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
"Use them for what?" Rose walked to him.
"The end of the world." The Doctor answered quietly.