back again, loves! thanks again for all of the reviews. story is heating up! I think I have all the details ironed out, now, so barring a sudden strike of writer's block expect another update shortly. :) let me know what you think, or if I've made something a bit too weird!
The Doctor had seen many horrifying things in his life. Death and destruction and ruin - some he was the cause of, and some he had simply been powerless to prevent. The blood of his people dripped from his fingers, a stain that would never wash off no matter how much he scrubbed. The gaping wound that his actions had left oozed and festered inside of him, guilt-infected, angry and red, never turning into a proper scar. How it ached him.
How many good, decent people had died in his name? How many lives had he ruined simply by his presence? How much damage had he done in the name of helping? He had made too many hard choices. And yet, the universe kept asking him the same questions, over and over. What would you do to protect what needs to be protected? How far will you go? What are you willing to sacrifice?
He decided that he had, perhaps, lived for too long.
He had felt Rose's descent into madness moments before it happened, possibly before she herself had even sensed it. The gentle glow he had felt ever since she had woken this morning was gone, and it had robbed the light from her spirit. Rose's warm eyes, which had always held a welcome for whomever she encountered, were hard and cold and soulless as she charged across the room, finger extended imperiously, teeth bared in a grotesque mockery of a snarl. The easy fluidity of her movement was replaced with a predatory stalk, the lines of her small body held taut and stiff.
The universe was asking him a question, and he had to respond.
As She-That-Had-Been-Rose screeched her accusation at Toby, an accusation he knew to be true, the Doctor could see the options presented to him. Jefferson was already drawing his weapon, and it was clear he was training it to Rose. She had already proven herself unstable with the crew - it was only logical. He couldn't blame the man.
Two paths diverged before him, the one he should take and the one he must.
It was the missile at 10 Downing Street, the Dalek under Utah all over again. He could save his pink-and-yellow girl, of course he could. But at what cost? Rose had become dangerous. He had no way of knowing if what was controlling the Ood was controlling her. If he tried to save her, it could posses him. Could he risk it?
What a bloody stupid question.
Lunging forward, his rough hand caught the sleeve of Rose's tee. He spun her around, anger and purpose leading him to be rougher than his usual inclination. She faced him then, mouth agape, eyes empty and cold and so terribly angry. Everything that had made her a value to him, all of her endearing humanity, was vanished from her precious face. And it was his fault.
Of course it was. It had to be. He had brought her here.
That made his next actions very easy, indeed.
Without hesitation, his right hand flew to Rose's temple, catching the points of contact instantly. He threw his mind into hers as he watched her eyes roll back into her skull, and felt her body sag. The Doctor flung his left hand out, palm up, a supplication and a warning to Jefferson and the rest of the crew. He could see the security officer lower his weapon, nodding as he did so. Ida's eyes were filled with tears, and Danny simply stared, hands hanging impotently at his sides. He was vaguely aware of Zachary screaming for an update over the comm, something that no one seemed ready to give. He couldn't focus on that, now. He allowed the three figures to his right to become white noise as he sank further into Rose's mind.
He was not gentle this time as he blasted through rudimentary mental barriers. Temerity had got him nowhere. May Rose, wherever she was, forgive him. He would certainly not forgive himself.
The beautiful hallway was gone. In its place lay its carcass, windows shattered and doors hanging open on broken hinges. The gauzy curtains were in tatters, slashed and torn. The Doctor ran through the hall of Rose's mind unimpeded, whatever had stopped him last time no longer present. Or no longer caring. He wasn't sure which possibility was worse. Seeing the splendor of her mind laying in shambles around him took it's place in the gallery of horrible images that he had borne witness to.
Heaping insult on injury, the sound of Rose's weeping ached in his bones.
Her cries came from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding him but intangible all at once. In equal parts it wounded him and galvanized him. Somewhere, his precious girl was still alive. Whatever had taken over her mind had not obliterated her consciousness like it had savaged her memories.
He did not have the luxury of the time needed to truly restore Rose. Or the necessary support. He needed the TARDIS for that. The loss of his ship burned him, and the Doctor's face twisted into a grimace as he resisted the impulse to slam his fist through a wall. A cloying sense of defeat mixed with the bile in his stomach. Powerless. Trapped. As he stood stock still, trying to control his impotent rage, Rose's statement from earlier today tickled his memory. The Doctor's scowl turned into a wry grin.
A plan crystallized before him as he strode past open doors, watching Rose's childhood memories float through the hallway like fallen leaves. He would save her. He would not let her die. Not here. But first, he had to find her.
Rose's cries would have an origination - even here. It was just easier to twist fact into nightmare within the boundaries of a mind. Whatever was controlling Rose's body - and holding her consciousness hostage - was surely masking her true location. Rose herself may not even be aware of her whereabouts or situation - there were just so many horrific crimes one could perpetrate within a mind.
Closing his eyes, he shut off his senses, one by one, until all that remained was his sense of hearing. It was a handy trick, and one not taught on Gallifrey. One more thing to thank his wanderlust for. Rose's cries, unhindered by the tricks her possessor was using to disguise her true location, were clearer than ever. But the Doctor knew that if he opened his eyes, she would vanish again. He was going to have to do this the hard way. Carefully schooling his features into a mask of neutrality, he took a step forward, hands firmly at his sides. No touch.
"Rose!" the Doctor bellowed, relief washing over him as her sobs abated, giving way to a hiccough instead. He could have laughed aloud - nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that silly little noise. "Rose, if you can hear me, keep talking. I'm coming to get you. I can't see you, but I know you're there. Do you know where you are?" his voice was calm, reassuring, making him sound far more confident than he really was. He took a step forward, moving slightly to the right.
"Doctor!" the naked relief and trust in Rose's tone broke his heart. He was not deserving of such sentiment. "Doctor, I'm sorry... I don't know where I am. And you need to stay away." her voice quavered, but she was vehement.
"Can't do that, Rose." the Doctor said with false cheer as he took another step in utter darkness towards the source of her voice. She was close. He felt her now, her warmth and tenderness and acceptance as strong as ever. As well as her fear, and her conviction. Oh, his fantastic girl.
"Doctor, please, you've got to. Jus' listen to me!" the Doctor imagined Rose's face creased into her familiar scowl and smiled despite the gravity of their situation.
"Doctor, I know what's happened now. To me, I mean. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you. It's too dangerous. And you have to leave. Go, right now, and find the TARDIS. You can reach her, you know you can, and you know why you have to even if you don't realise it quite yet. But you have to leave right now. She's listening, and right now she doesn't care, but she will soon."
The Doctor stiffened, his calm mask slipping a fraction. "She who, Rose? Who's hurt you?" he growled, quickening his pace towards the sound of her voice.
"Doctor stop!" Rose screamed, voice filled with distress. "Go! Doctor, if you trust me at all, for once in your life you'll listen to me, an' just go!" her voice cracked, hitching up a notch with what must be pain. It was all he could do to stop himself from running to her, crushing her to his chest and damning the consequences. But sometimes, they were there for a reason. The Doctor stopped, raising his hands in the universal gesture of surrender.
If he opened his eyes, he knew what he would see. The Doctor could feel Rose, all of her emotion and spirit and panic floating like a miasma in front of him. What would happen to her if he opened his eyes? Would she vanish back into the ether? Could he chance it?
To be so close, and to fail - it burned him. He stepped forward one last time, ignoring Rose's strangled protest. "Rose, I can't just leave you here." he pled, his confidence falling away. He knew the facade had chipped enough. She could see the dread, the desperation, the determination that he was warring with. Rose could always see right through him. Why hide from her?
"Doctor, you've got to." Rose's words were simple. They hung in the air with a sick finality that he refused to accept.
"What kind of monster am I, Rose, if I just sod off and leave you?"
"No monster at all. Doctor, I am here. I am fine. Right now, she's not interested in me. I'll be alright. But if you don't go, you won't. And I can't, I just... I would die if something happened to you because of me! And it will, you daft old alien, if you don't get out of my head! Leave me, keep my body asleep, and find the TARDIS. You're the most brilliant man I know. You can put those pieces together. I trust you to save me, Doctor. Do you hear me? I trust you. Now trust me, and let me save you. Please!" He could hear her panting, hear the rough beating of her single heart. Every bit of energy she had was pressed into her impassioned plea for him to go, to leave her. How could he ignore it?
His shoulders sagged, and he lowered his hands, turning them palm up in a gesture of supplication. "I trust you, of course I do. I'll go, Rose. I'll go. I'll find a way to fix this, I promise."
"I know. Doctor, I -"
Whatever Rose was about to say was lost in the sudden cacophony of sheer noise. The agonised, otherworldly howls that came from nowhere and everywhere nipped at the edges of his sanity, completely obliterating any other sounds, any other rational thought. It was weaponised.
In pain and surprise, the Doctor opened his eyes.
He would never have expected the tableau that greeted him. Rose hung in a vortex of what he was nearly certain were their timelines. His all-too-familiar greyscale and the same muted colours he had seen in her antechamber were so intertwined that their sinuous fibers held her fast with no hope of movement. But it appeared that her prison was of her own design. Rose's left hand was balled into a fist, holding three strands together with another two. Her right hand was in a similar position. She hung in perfect suspension, holding them in place. Keeping Time from falling apart at the seams. The gilt of the Time Vortex swirled around them, moving to encompass him as he stumbled to his knees. It shouldn't have been possible.
The Doctor had long ago stopped believing in the existence of the truly impossible. Having one's beliefs put to shame on a regular basis would do that for a person. He mental remanded himself to only using the word "unlikely" from now on. Especially concerning Rose.
Rose was staring through him, her sightless gaze turning more golden with every passing moment. As the Vortex around them grew, her shoulders straightened, her grip on the filaments of their lives tightening. Their lives, if she let go, would snap out of existence. She arched her back, becoming once more something other than Rose Tyler. And all the more dangerous for it. This wasn't just her body; this was the very essence of her spirit. Her mind hung in the balance.
The Doctor knew the source of her clouded memories, her headaches, her sudden telepathy, all too well. A little bit of the Vortex was running through her head and the sheer magnitude of it should have killed her. She should have been burned by the energy that was too foreign for her body to process. But somehow, instead of being consumed, she had managed to harness the power, taking their lives into her small hands. Seeing the path offered to her, rejecting it and stamping her foot, she had made her own. That was his fantastic girl - simply too stubborn to roll over and die.
Despite her obvious predicament, the Doctor still suspected there were more to Rose's current troubles than met the eye. He needed the TARDIS. Oh, did he ever need the TARDIS. He lurched to his feet, taking a few faltering steps backwards. The Doctor knew he must leave, that whatever held Rose would have noticed him by now, but it went against every fiber of his being to leave Rose as she crucified herself on the Vortex.
Rose's strange eyes cleared for a moment, piercing him more surely than any arrow. She yelled one word. Just one. It didn't need saying.
He tried to respond, to tell her something, anything, before she was locked away from him, but the words were whisked away. He was thrown from her presence immediately, buffeted and buoyed on his way back to reality by the maelstrom of wordless howls. With the last of his strength, he cast out a command, one that would not be able to anchor in the mind of Rose Tyler, pink-and-yellow human girl. But it would take root and flourish in what she was becoming.
