I can't believe I've kept you guys waiting for so long! I was holding onto this chapter, hoping to write the next one before I post it (so I'd keep a bit of headway) but between my finals, wrapping up my second year and starting my third year of school and beginning a ten month long internship in a children psych ward, I didn't had a second to myself! I'm afraid it'll take me a couple of weeks at the very least before the next chapter, sorry. Thank you all for the great reviews! Hope you'll enjoy the end of this tiny arc.
Beta'ed by the great hawkerin!
The Unquiet Dead (3/3)
When she came to, her back was cold and her legs were burning. Frowning, she opened her eyes to realise that she was laid down on the snow-covered road and that the funeral home was burning. "It's over," she muttered. The Doctor, who'd been kneeling at her side, scanned her immediately before pulling her up in his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked her urgently.
She nodded, hugging him tight. "Gwyneth?" she questioned, although she already knew.
"I'm sorry. She closed the rift."
"At such a cost. The poor child," Dickens said mournfully.
"I did try, Rose," the Doctor assured her, in a desolate voice, "but Gwyneth was already dead. She had been for at least five minutes."
"Five minutes?" Rose repeated, because the Doctor would have found it strange otherwise.
"I think she was dead from the minute she stood in that arch."
Rose slowly stood up and the Doctor rushed to help her, before wrapping an arm around her waist to support her. "But she can't have. She spoke to us. She helped us. She saved us. How could she have done that?
"There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Dickens said sombrely, before adding with a little smirk, "Even for you, Doctor."
"She saved the world. A servant girl. No one will ever know," Rose said, mournfully, because it did break her heart.
"We will," the Doctor told her, squeezing her waist before turning his back to the burning building, pulling her with him toward the TARDIS.
Once they reached it, the Doctor turned toward Dickens, who'd followed them. "Right then, Charlie boy, I've just got to go into my, er, shed. Won't be long."
Rose turned toward him as well. "What are you going to do, now?" she asked him.
Dickens grinned at her. "I shall take the mail coach back to London, quite literally post-haste. This is no time for me to be on my own. I shall spend Christmas with my family and make amends to them. After all I've learned tonight, there can be nothing more vital.
"You've cheered up," the Doctor remarked, and Rose frowned, he, on the other hand, was still in the same sombre mood he'd been since she'd woken up.
"Exceedingly!" Dickens exclaimed. "This morning, I thought I knew everything in the world. Now I know I've just started. All these huge and wonderful notions, Doctor. I'm inspired. I must write about them."
"Do you think that's wise?" Rose asked, knowing full well he'd never get around to write it.
"I shall be subtle at first," Dickens answered. "The Mystery of Edwin Drood still lacks an ending. Perhaps the killer was not the boy's uncle. Perhaps he was not of this Earth. The Mystery of Edwin Drood and the Blue Elementals. I can spread the word, tell the truth."
"Good luck with it," the Doctor told him. "Nice to meet you. Fantastic," he added, with a shadow of his usual smile.
"Bye, then," Rose told him, shaking his hand, before leaning toward him to kiss his cheek. "And thanks."
"Oh, my dear," Dickens said, quite flustered. "How modern. Thank you, but, I don't understand. In what way is this goodbye? Where are you going?"
"You'll see," the Doctor answered. "In the shed."
Dickens chuckled. "Upon my soul, Doctor, it's one riddle after another with you. But after all these revelations, there's one mystery you still haven't explained. Answer me this. Who are you?"
The Doctor gave him a small smile. "Just a friend passing through."
"But you have such knowledge of future times." Dickens hesitated. "I don't wish to impose on you, but I must ask you. My books, Doctor, do they last?"
The Doctor nodded. "Oh, yes!"
Dickens swallowed heavily. "For how long?"
The Doctor grinned, "Forever!" Dickens took a deep shuddering breath. "Right. Shed. Come on, Rose," the Doctor then said, tugging her along.
"In the box?" Dickens asked, forgetting momentarily his emotion. "Both of you?"
The Doctor smirked. "Down boy. See you."
He tugged Rose with him into the TARDIS and helped her up the ramp. He guided her toward her medicinal herbs box where she'd left it on the console seat as the TARDIS hummed welcomingly at them. Frowning, he opened it and pulled a seed out, handing it to her. She immediately swallowed it, waiting anxiously for the total relief she knew was coming. She sighed when all pain disappeared from her body and made a mental note to never go anywhere without it again.
The tightness around the Doctor's eyes softened marginally when he heard her sigh and he slowly approach the console, stroking it, before pulling a lever down.
"Doesn't that change history if he writes about blue ghosts?" Rose asked him, hoping to turn his thoughts away from whatever was upsetting him.
"In a week's time it's 1870," he told her softly. "And that's the year he dies. Sorry. He'll never get to tell his story."
Rose sighed. That part was a bit harder to wrap her head around when traveling to the past. The knowledge that the people she met and formed an attachment to were already dead. The knowledge that they saved their lives only to let them die of something else. But it was life. "Oh, no. He was so nice."
The Doctor gave her a small smile. "But in your time, he was already dead. We've brought him back to life, and he's more alive now than he's ever been, old Charlie boy. Let's give him one last surprise," he suggested, sending the TARDIS spinning into the vortex.
As the TARDIS dematerialised, they heard Dickens burst out laughing and they both chuckled, but their hearts weren't really in it. Sighing softly, she watched the Doctor drop heavily on the seat near the console and wondered what was going through his mind. "Doctor?"
He looked up and gave her the tiniest smile. "You should go get changed." Biting her lips, she nodded, understanding he needed a moment alone and walked away with a heavy heart.
Once in her bedroom, she slowly slithered out of her corset, lost in thought. She didn't remember the Doctor being so down the first time around. But then again, she'd been a wreck herself, what with almost dying and all. She hadn't been used to it, yet, and didn't have the ultimate faith she had in the Doctor now. She let the dress slide along her body and pool at her feet, and stepped out of it. Grabbing a shirt, she put it on before sitting on her bed to remove her boots. Those were staying in her room.
Once done, she dropped on her back, to take in all that had happened. Nobody had lived this time. Before landing in Cardiff, she'd been high on her last success at saving everyone on Plateform One. It hadn't even crossed her mind that she might not save Gwyneth, but she hadn't even really tried! Gwyneth had been so determined, so sure of herself and of her actions. She'd used the right words to convince Rose of stepping back and a part of her was feeling terribly guilty of sacrificing the girl to keep her chance with the Doctor. But even now that the pain was gone, even as she wracked her brain, she couldn't see any other way out of it. And she had to admit that Gwyneth's actions served for more than saving the world, the breach was the perfect fuel for the TARDIS and Gwyneth's actions...
She suddenly sat up, struck by an idea. Is that why you brought us here instead of Naples, Girlfriend? The TARDIS hummed mournfully at the back of her head and Rose's mind was assaulted by images of different Doctors stoping on the breach to refuel, of her own Doctor telling her less than an hour earlier 'time's in flux', along with waves of exhaustion and she suddenly understood that what had transpired here tonight had shaped the Doctor's actions throughout several of his lives. So we had to come here and Gwyneth had to die. The TARDIS hummed sadly again and sent her pictures of humanity's evolution, of the many places they would visit, of all the lives they'd save, of Jack's friend Gwen. I get it. She didn't like it, but she did get it. Gwyneth had to die; she had to close the rift, leaving a scar leaking energy for the TARDIS. She'd also had to die so that Rose's world would exist, so that Gwen would live. You can't save everyone, no matter how hard you wish for it, Jack's voice told her in her mind, and she sighed. Talk about a wake up call. She closed her eyes, picturing Gwyneth in her mind, and sighed. I hope you're with your parents now. Breathing slowly, she swore to never forget her sacrifice. Gwyneth... she didn't even know her last name... defender of the Earth.
Sighing heavily, she sat up and went to her closet to grab a pair of jeans. Once on, she put back her trainers and went to the bathroom to undo and brush her hair, ignoring the worried hum at the back of her head. She removed the bit of the make-up she'd put on and looked at herself in the mirror. She was still a bit pale and the tightness around her eyes – put there by constant pain for hours and grief – wasn't totally gone yet. Shrugging at her reflection, she turned away and left the room, slipping her medicinal herbs in her pocket as she went looking for the Doctor.
She slowly made her way back toward the console room, frowning when the TARDIS started to send her wave after wave of worry. What is it, Girlfriend? She accelerated, breaking into a small run and froze upon entering the console room.
The Doctor was in a corner of the room, pounding the coral-like walls of the TARDIS angrily. Numbness invaded Rose's senses. She'd never seen him like this! Not once had he lost control like that the first time around. Or had he? When she'd been too busy pitying herself in the wardrobe room, wondering if traveling with him was worth the risks, had he been beating his frustration away at the TARDIS? Had he been in such a state and she hadn't noticed? She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him to stop him but she wasn't sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt her for her efforts. So she let him work out his frustration for a moment while thinking of the best course of action.
When her second Doctor had left her with John on that beach, he'd said that John was 'born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge.' Just like when he'd first met her. This was the man he'd been talking about. The man who'd let Cassandra die – in his mind; the man who'd been ready to leave Cardiff to die out of the anger of what one man had done to her; the man who'd pointed a gun at her in his need to destroy the last of his enemies; the man who'd been ready to sacrifice Jack with no hesitation – granted to save a lot of lives – but to this day Rose wasn't sure they would have gone back for him if she hadn't begged him for it. He was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at a moment's notice and Rose hadn't even realised the first time around that she'd been diffusing the bomb without even knowing. This time she would have to do it consciously.
The Doctor was still pounding the wall, not noticing the cuts on his knuckles. He would later. Expletives were streaming from his mouth, too low for her to understand clearly but she could guess. The TARDIS hum at the back of her head was breaking her heart: pain, worry, despair for her Doctor, so hurt by the War, still so damaged. He was seething. Bits of coral started falling under the weight of his rage. He let loose an unholy howl that would send braver men running, but it still wasn't enough. He continued with a renewed rage. Punching. Kicking. Swearing. Sweat running into his eyes. Blood staining the coral, dripping on the floor. Blood and sweat were what had made him the Oncoming Storm.
But Rose didn't want the Oncoming Storm. She wanted her Doctor. The man who showed people a better way of life. The man who ran head first into trouble on the tiniest chance of being able to help. The man who'd taken her away in his blue box to show her worlds she had no idea existed. The man who'd made her better than a mere shopgirl. The man who'd love her enough to try giving her a life he couldn't offer her.
It was her job to bring him back.
She wasn't sure she should talk to him in this state. Maybe not yet. Reasoning wouldn't work. It would require him to absorb, to think, and right now, he clearly wasn't able to do so. So she stayed silent, waited patiently until tremors started to shake him. First in his hands, then his arms, then his shoulders. Soon, it was a full body shake. The rage. The indignation. The betrayal. The guilt. All those emotions boiling inside him. He was about to explode.
Rose decided it was enough. She slowly stepped inside the room and her movement caught his attention. She could almost hear the joints in his neck pop as he slowly turned his head toward her. His eyes were dark and cold. Gone was the mischievous sparkle she loved so much. His eyes locked on hers and she stopped breathing. This was it. Time to diffuse the bomb.
The Doctor took a deep breath, his chest expanding to almost inhuman proportions. She braced herself for the scream he could let out. Had she been wrong? Wasn't it the right time? What if he lashed out at her? He'd never forgive himself later. She watched warily as his fingers curled in on themselves. Fists clenched at his sides, he finally breathed out. Softly. A whisper on his lips.
"My hands hurt," he said.
She nodded, not sure she should talk yet. The tremors still coursing through him started to subside. "My hands hurt," he repeated, walking slowly toward the console seat to slump onto it. He looked at his hands, flexed his fingers. The blood was dry. The wounds had already started to mend. "That was a stupid thing I did."
"Yeah, it was," she said softly, approaching him like she would a wounded animal. Never more dangerous than when backed into a corner.
"I just wanted to help them," he told her sadly.
"I know," she nodded, still moving slowly toward him, still keeping her voice soft.
"I pitied them."
"They made themselves as pitiful as possible," she told him soothingly. "They fooled everybody."
"Not you," he told her, gauging her. "You didn't trust them, did you?"
She shrugged. "I had a feeling. B'sides, I've had my fair share of misguided trust in my life." He studied her for a second, and she prayed he wouldn't ask her what she was talking about because she didn't want to think about Jimmy Stone. Not now. Not ever.
"I just felt so guilty," he admitted. She held her breath, not willing to press the issue. "When they mentioned the Time War, all I could think about was helping them."
"I noticed," she said softly, swearing to herself to not add anything else. If he wanted to tell her about it, he would, if not, well, she wouldn't force him.
"I stayed away, you see?" he told her. "For so long, I stayed away from the War because I was terrified of what I'd have to do once I got involved. The Gelth were right, you know, a lot of lesser species died out while we waged our War through Time and Space. Eventually, I had no other choice but to fight. I led my people through many battles, using every weapon at my disposal. I killed millions. And then I saw the fall of the most secure stronghold of Gallifrey. I saw the madness in which my people descended, and the abominations coming at us, and I couldn't let it happen. I put an end to it all. I destroyed every soldier fighting to protect every innocent trying to survive. But it was too little, too late. So many planets are gone now."
"I think they used your guilt against you," she told him, sharing the conclusion she had reached earlier in the evening. She sat next to him and he immediately place his hands in hers, without having been asked, and she slowly stroked his knuckles, checking the already mended wounds under his blood. "The Nestene Consciousness recognised the TARDIS, remember?" she elaborated at his questioning glance. "I think, maybe they did too. After that, it was easy to mention the War."
"I was blinded by guilt," he admitted. She so wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that the Time Lords and the Daleks were responsible for all the deaths that had happened, that he did the best he could, but she knew it would be useless, so she stayed silent. Gently stroking his slightly swollen knuckles, she let him work through his emotions, accept that he'd been fooled. He shuddered next to her, before sighing, "I made a mess of myself."
"Happens sometimes," she shrugged. Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out the wooden box, grateful she'd taken it with her, and pulled out a seed. His hands still in her other one, the Doctor didn't move and she slowly brought her hand to his mouth, to slip the seed between his lips. "I only wish this could work on emotional pain as well," she told him and he smiled sadly at her.
"Emotional pain never really goes away, anyway. It just stays dormant."
"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone," Rose quoted Rose Kennedy and the Doctor nodded, looking impressed. Rose would have felt insulted if this wasn't the only quote she knew. She'd read it a long time ago and it'd stuck with her throughout the years.
"Something like that, yeah," he told her with a small smile before standing up "I'd better go wash my hands." She nodded and watched him walk away, taking a deep shuddering breath now that the worst was behind them.
By the time he came back, the Doctor seemed to have regained total control over his emotions and he gave her a huge grin. "Right then. Time to get you home!"
"Home?" she squeaked, not even having to pretend to be worried. She held her hands out to him and he put his in hers. He obligingly let her examine his knuckles, grinning.
"Yeah, I'm thinking you probably would like to get your own clothes and stuff before we keep going, no? I mean, the TARDIS can certainly provide you with everything you need if you'd rather we simply go on our next adventure, but I thought maybe you'd feel more at home in the TARDIS if you got some of your own affairs."
"I feel perfectly at home already," she told him distractedly, stroking his pristine skin revealing none of the trauma it just went through, before adding, "That means I can stay?"
He chuckled, pulling his hands back. "Of course! I'm not letting you go anywhere. Quick stop and then off we go. Through time and space!"
She grinned at him, thinking of future times when they'd make a little show out of those words. "Home it is, then."
There you go! Worth the *cringes* awfully long wait?