THE SOUND OF DRUMS
I have a confession to make. I didn't like the last two episodes of season three very much. Everything just seemed a little too convenient.
And so you're going to see something a little different in my Alternate Universe's 'Sound of Drums' and 'Last of the Time Lords' - my somewhat sorry attempt at a fix-it.
Thank you, everyone, for the reviews of the last chapter! You guys rock.
Spamurai, you've made me blush, quite a bit, at your glorious and helpful review.
Oh! And Charli - ;) wrong Queen!
Enough from me, I hope you enjoy the second last chapter.
Rose struggled to her feet, holding onto the TARDIS for support, glaring through her hair at the man dancing around the centre console like it was his own.
"Turn us around!" she commanded. "You can't just steal the TARDIS!"
"Well," the man considered, grinning up at the centre, his face highlighted in green glow. "It's not really his, either, now is it? So we can call it karma," he scrunched his nose at her, as though it was their little secret.
Rose shook her head, frustrated and confused, and felt a dull ache where she'd smacked it against the centre console. "Then just…take me back," she risked a couple of steps forward, imploringly. "I'm no use to you, he's all I've—!"
"All you've got?" the man finished, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, boo-hoo-hoo," he made a fake crying motion with his fists, then flashed a winning smile, like he expected her to laugh.
Rose didn't find it funny, and bit her bottom lip.
His smile dropped, and he took a couple of slow, deliberate steps toward her, looking down with what Rose mistook, for just a moment, as sympathy. His voice was soft. "Au contraire, Rosie, you're all he had. You, and this funny blue box," he giggled at her and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to block his glee.
"And now you're mine," he whispered, close to her ear and she flinched, her eyes shooting back open in fear at the intimacy of his tone.
He laughed. "Do you have any idea what that's going to do to him?" he wandered away, to resume fiddling with the controls.
He's mad. Rose stepped backward, and felt the TARDIS doors with her hands. She couldn't go any further. "What about Chantho? And what happened to that nice old Professor back at-?"
"Don't!" he commanded, pointing across the room, straight at her, his head turning in a slow, eerie movement. His voice was low, grating. "Don't let me ever hear you say that name again," he glared at her. "I am the Master."
The nerves, the fear, and the sheer hopelessness of the moment was overwhelming Rose; with this final proclamation, she snapped – and burst out laughing.
"Master? Master of what, petty thieves?" Rose fired, trying to fight the insane desire to keep laughing.
The Master raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. "Just…the Master," he nodded.
"Just…the Master," Rose waved her hands, mocking his voice.
The anger in his face should have made her back down, but she was feeling rather reckless, all of a sudden. Where could she go from here? She couldn't run from the TARDIS – not if she ever wanted to see the Doctor again. This madman couldn't be reasoned with, seemed to have no sympathy for the Doctor, and the only thing he was responding to was anger.
He started to charge for her and she could almost see steam coming out of his ears.
"What?" Rose screamed at him, picking up the rubber mallet he'd thrown at her earlier to stop her escaping, bearing it like an axe, convincing herself this was a desperate enough situation to use it if she had to. "Gonna throw more stuff at me?"
He came to a stop, a few arms lengths from her, clenching his fists.
"C'mon," Rose felt like spitting at him, but her voice was low, daring, as she searched for words, her blood pulsing. "You…you'd better finish me off now," she nodded, uncertainly at first. Then her resolve strengthened.
"Because the moment your back is turned, I'm taking the TARDIS and going back for the Doctor and Jack!" she yelled.
She had gone back for the Doctor, by herself, before. She'd absorb the Heart of the TARDIS again, if she had to, she told herself boldly, fully aware now that it had nearly killed her last time, and had forced the Doctor into regenerating. She'd do anything – anything - to get back to him, and to get his TARDIS back to him.
An image of him, standing there, screaming at the TARDIS as it disappeared from the laboratory formed in her mind, and she pushed it away. She would not let him and Jack, the only two people left in her world that she cared about, be stranded, forever, at the end of time itself. She would fix this, or die trying.
Rose breathed heavily, waiting for his reaction.
The Master's glowering look transformed slowly, into one of amusement.
"Oh, I can see why he liked you. Yeap," he chuckled.
With that, he turned away, moving back to the controls, spinning the monitor – the Doctor's monitor – around to view it, cheeky grin back in place.
Rose gripped the mallet in her fists, lowering it, shaken by his quickly altering moods; one minute furious, the next, elated. She crumpled to the floor, wincing as the welt on her back sent fire shooting through her body, leaning against the doors, her mind searching, desperately, for a way to turn him around.
Solution eluded her, but a singular realisation arrived; it was all her fault. She'd known what the watch meant, and she'd let him open it.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her knees, drawing them up, not wanting the Master to see her cry as tears spilled forward. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, not all Time Lords were going to be like the Doctor. But the Professor's humility, and his yearning to let the last humans in the universe live their lives in hope, had tricked her. She had been certain that since he was a good man, that nothing bad could come from letting him realise who he really was.
There was a kick to her trainer, and Rose startled, then looked up through tear-streaked hair.
"Quit it!" she fired at him. "What do you want?" she added, petulantly.
The Master was glaring down at her. He pulled her roughly to her feet, his fist closing around both jacket and hair, without a word. The TARDIS was quiet; they must have landed.
"What?" Rose repeated, trying to escape him, flailing to grab hold of the TARDIS, her hands grasping, but reaching only empty air.
He pushed her into the centre console, holding her face to the monitor so her nose was nearly touching it.
His voice was full of rage, when he finally spoke. "What did you do?" he turned away, pushing her head as he did, his hands falling onto his hips in disgust.
Rose pulled back a little from the monitor, moving her head from side to side and wiping her eyes as a tiny glimmer of hope sparked. She'd done nothing. But if he thought she had…
She stared at the monitor. Oh, none of it made sense, the TARDIS had never translated Gallifreyan for her and the old girl either would or could not translate it for her now. Still, best let him think she had some control here.
She stood back, crossed her arms, and leaned against the console, facing the Master, giving him what she hoped was a smug look.
"Told you you'd never get away with it," she bluffed, shakiness in her voice.
He threw up his hands in disbelief. "Why here, why now?" he asked the roof, then stepped back toward Rose.
"Change it back," he demanded.
Rose pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. "I don't think so!"
The Master pointed a finger at her again, shaking it, his eyes glinting, as though she'd helped him work it out anyway. "Oh, ho-ho-ho," he shook his head a little. "You're good, Rosie. Great, even," he tested words, considering to himself. "Wicked?" he tasted the word, then poked out his tongue, like it tasted wrong. "Uh, no, sound like a moron. Fantastic?" he mused.
Rose slapped him, before she knew what she was doing. The Master recovered quickly, his eyebrows both raised, but finally, he was speechless.
"Don't you ever say that again," Rose grated, feeling a lump rising in her throat as she said it. She stormed off, planting herself on her usual seat, glaring up at him as the springs underneath her bounced, and came to rest.
He blinked, then huffed. "You know, I was going to just kill you but I think I'll keep you around," he said idly.
Rose's blood turned to ice.
"You're much too fun just to get rid of."
Many months later…
Rose surveyed the cell one of the black-clad guards led her to, dully. She felt nothing, at this change of scenery. Every cell looked like every other cell.
To the guard, she was a nobody. The Master, now known as Harold Saxon to the world, had said "Shift Rosie to U31", and just like that, she'd been shifted. Apparently to U31. It didn't matter. He'd given an order, and it had been carried out. People listened to Harold Saxon; listened, and acted, without questioning him.
She was still on the Valiant, she could tell, from the constant background humming from the engines, almost like a fluttering heartbeat, and the brief, cloudy patch of sky-scape she caught in passing from one cell to another.
With a final shove, to push her further into the room, the guard closed the door, and with a 'bleep-bleep', deadlocked them.
How long had passed since she and the TARDIS had been stolen away from the year one-hundred trillion? Months. Perhaps, even, over a year. Had to be over a year, more like a year and a half. She wasn't sure of the exact amount of time, anymore.
She pulled the pen she'd swiped from the guard's pocket out of her sleeve, and turned it in her fingertips, frowning at it. "UNIT" was printed on the side, in bold, black letters. Whoever they were. That didn't help her at all.
The cell was almost exactly the same as the last one; the walls a dull, metallic colour, and soundproofed, she supposed, since nobody had ever responded to her screams in the beginning, and Rose was now used to living in almost complete silence. The cell door, on the other hand, was Perspex, and Rose glared at it, remembering all the times the Master had stood at doors just like it, in whichever cell she happened to be in. He'd gloat, grinning manically, for some perverse reason keeping her up to date with the going-ons, back down on Earth.
"You won't believe it, Rosie! You missed one hell of a battle down there at the wharf. Daleks, Cybermen everywhere, then, just like magic – they all started being sucked toward Torchwood tower —"
Rose had cried and cried when he'd said that to her, and he'd laughed and laughed. She'd been stuck on the Valiant for a few months by then, thinking she was trapped somewhere in the future; the Master's taunt had told Rose that they were in her recent past. Down on Earth, her mother had just been sucked into Hell – again. The Doctor was down there – unaware of the Master's existence, or her imprisonment. She was down there, too, mourning her mother and with no idea what was in store for her future.
The Master had continued visiting her with news.
"Goodness me, I blew up a star today! Ha! Well, a Racnoss ship, but I could have sworn I saw you, the Doctor and some silly-looking ginger bride for a moment."
"Wow! Fantastic day, great news – Harriet Jones is gracing us with her presence! She's actually here, the ex-Prime Minister, in the cell next to yours. Did you see them bring her in? Hasn't got a clue what's going on, silly old bint!"
"I'm getting married, Rosie! Sorry pet, try not to be too devastated, it would have never worked between us – I'm a Time Lord, and you're a stray dog, a pairing that's fundamentally frowned upon."
"Well! Didn't you two leave in a hurry today! Almost like you're avoiding the vote. You know, it's quite pathetic now, how the Doctor hasn't even realised what's really going on. Or perhaps he does know, and doesn't care? Perhaps he's simply found somebody to replace you, like he has done time and time again."
Rose scowled, telling herself again that she had to stop being so angry, stop letting him get to her. He wanted her to be angry. She was letting him win, by showing anger, fear, sadness - anything - as he gloated at her cell door.
Escape, by her own means, was unfathomable up here. No more TARDIS key, no more super-phone.
Rose had no idea what had become of the TARDIS herself either, from her imprisonment in the airship. With no one down on Earth to miss her or worry about her, but she suspected the Master was keeping the old girl close by. Rose assumed that the TARDIS was no longer operational. She knew something had gone wrong in the vortex; something that the Master had thought she'd done herself, when he'd first stolen them away. The TARDIS could no longer travel like she used to - otherwise, why would the Master have chosen her time, to settle down in?
TARDIS or no TARDIS, there had to be a way out of this. She could not live out the rest of her days in a cell, she told herself with determination.
As though the slightest whiff of resolve had alerted him, the Master appeared at her door, pressing a button on the side to talk to her.
"Great news, Rosie!" he smiled, sighing and blinking in a relaxed manner. "I won. I'm Prime Minister of Great Britain!" he chuckled, as though the joke was on them.
Rose rolled her eyes, looking away from him and focussing on a spot on the wall, but he continued.
"And to celebrate, I have an outing planned for you. You know," he scrunched his nose, "since I couldn't have done it without you, really."
Rose stayed silent, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"The Doctor and Jack have been spotted, in the city," he raised his eyebrows. "So I thought we'd send them a little message."
Rose's eye twitched, but she forced her expression to stay neutral. He was such a sadistic bastard. After all this time – all he had achieved – he still had his grudge against the Doctor, still wanted to hurt him.
She forced the tears of frustration, and yet relief, back. The Doctor and Jack had made it back from the end of the universe, somehow, he'd said. Was he telling the truth, or just trying to raise her hopes? She tried to push the questions from her mind, and again, focus on the immediate future.
Rose was dressed in a demure black skirt, light-blue shirt, black shoes, and white stockings, the uniform completed with a sharp black jacket. Her hair was washed and brushed, and some makeup was applied by a member of staff on the Valiant. Nobody talked to her, and perhaps they'd been ordered not to. Rose tried to engage the makeup lady in conversation, but the woman had remained silent, her eyes glazed over, tapping an annoying, four-timed beat on her leg the whole time, like she was hypnotised.
A private jet had them in London within the hour of the Master announcing her outing. The Master had sat with his wife, Lucy, for almost all of the journey, coming back once to lean over the seat in front of Rose's and tell her that if she uttered a squeak once they landed, the Toclafane would have her for dinner.
Rose began to feel nervous, and she knew that he meant it. Harriet Jones had been given to the Toclafane; the Master had gloated to Rose about it afterwards. The Toclafane were this strange, floating ball-like alien race, that seemed to dote on the Master's every wish and whim. Maybe he had created them? After all, someone had once created the Daleks, too.
So was her time, her imprisonment, nearly at an end, she wondered? Had he only kept her around this long, to send his message to the Doctor once he'd figured out how to get back to them?
Rose closed her eyes. There was no point in worrying about it. She needed to keep her mind blank, and her focus sharp, and look out for an opportunity to get away. Any opportunity. This was the best chance she'd ever been given. She'd been on the ground. She'd be in London. She had to keep her wits about her.
She was handed a posh-looking black briefcase when they landed, then ushered, with the Master and Lucy Saxon, into 10 Downing Street, surrounded by bodyguards. They were lead to and fro, through hoards of people rushing around, apparently working, none of them appearing to notice the skinny, blank-looking blonde girl that was part of Harold Saxon's crowd.
They ended up in front of a frantic sort of press conference. Camera flashes blinded Rose and she blinked, shielding her eyes as they walked down some stairs, holding the railing for support.
The Master and Lucy smiled at one another as the cameras continued to flash. He leaned over, kissed his wife in a movement that nearly made Rose vomit, and then stepped forward.
"This country, has been sick," he announced to the eager reporters confidently, his voice carrying none of the insanity Rose was used to.
Oh, he was good. He had them all wrapped around his little finger.
"This country needs healing. This country needs medicine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that what this country really needs, right now," he uttered. "Is a Doctor."
What?
With a winning smile at the camera, they were ushered forward, past the news crews, one of the Master's black-clad guards grabbing Rose's arm and leading her through the throng, in an apparent gesture of aid. Rose tried not to tug her arm away as more cameras flashed around them, aware that the guard was only there to stop her from running.
She was bait, she realised. The Master wanted the Doctor to come after him, right now. That's why she was still alive; that's why she was here, now.
The questions and camera flashes faded, and they were out of the reporters reach, quite suddenly. The guard pushed Rose forward a little, letting go of her arm in the process. Rose tried not to trip over the shoes, not used to walking so quickly, anymore, particularly in heels.
"Finance report, sir," an envelope was passed to the Master, two strides ahead of Rose.
"Military protocols, sir," another.
"E.C. Directives, sir."
"Annual budget, sir."
The pathway of people eager to greet their new PM continued to pass documents his way, as they kept walking. Rose hung back, but the guard behind her prodded her discretely to keep moving.
They stopped at a doorway, and the Master turned back to Lucy, documents under his arm.
"I'm so proud of you Harry," Lucy breathed.
Rose fought the urge to throw up again as he kissed her, averting her eyes with a scowl. How could she kiss him? How could she bare it?
"Sir! If you don't mind me asking, I'm sorry but it's all a bit new," an eager voice gushed.
Rose couldn't believe what she was seeing. Martha's sister, the one she'd met at Professor Lazarus' party, oh so long ago, was standing there in a black pinstripe suit, in front of the PM. Tish, that was her name. Rose shuffled forward, trying to catch her attention.
"What exactly do you want me to do?" Tish asked the Master.
"Ah yes," the Master blinked. "What was it, um—"
"Tish. Latisha Jones," she cut in quickly, laughing and blushing.
"Tish," the Master nodded. "Well then, Tish," he made a move to enter the doorway behind him, then looked Tish up and down. "You just stand there, and look gorgeous."
Rose gaped, watching Tish blush even more profusely, and Lucy laugh, at the Master's antics.
Then he entered the cabinet room, and Lucy Saxon turned back to Tish. "I think it's high time for a cup of tea," she smiled to the girl kindly, nodding her forward to lead the way.
Tish had noticed Rose, now the Prime Minister was gone. She gave her a sideways look and Rose mentally cried out.
"I'm sorry, don't I know you from somewhere?" Tish asked.
"Oh, I doubt it," Lucy Saxon waved her hand dismissively at Rose, and stepped forward, between Rose and Tish. "Just an aide from Archangel, flew in from Norway this morning, in fact. Doesn't speak a word of English. Now, tea, Latisha?"
Martha's sister seemed to shake herself awake, then nodded. "Of course, Ma'am, right away."
And she was gone. Tish was gone, without giving her a second look. Rose's shoulders slumped, as she felt the guard take a hold of her arm again, and usher her forward.
"Where am I going now?" she asked the guard.
The guard ignored her.
Rose was stopped, a few paces out the back door, the heavy hand falling from her shoulder, to her elbow. They were in a courtyard; a solid brick wall to their right with the other three sides of the yard fenced by the many-storied building they'd just come out of. An iron gate was spread open to the far right. A black car was idling at the end of the path, its door open, the driver reading a newspaper and sipping coffee.
Rose looked back up at the black-clad guard that had been leading her around, for any signs of instruction. He stood there, just behind Rose, betraying nothing, his grip still firm.
"What happens now?" Rose prompted.
The guard ignored her again, his head roving from side to side.
Rose rolled her eyes and turned her head away, wondering if she could risk kicking him and making a run for it. There was only three of them in the courtyard; Rose, the guard and the driver. Surely this was her best opportunity to make a break for it.
The sound of static made Rose jump and thoughts of rebellion fled her mind, as the guard put his free hand to his ear, listening to his headset. Rose heard talking, through the static, but couldn't make out any words.
"Copy that," the guard nodded, and his grip tightened, even more so, on Rose's elbow. He hurriedly pushed her forward, toward the open back door of the car.
Rose stared upward as she was pushed, her mind sluggishly realising that they weren't as alone as she had first thought, catching glimpses of movement at several of the windows.
"Rose!"
A desperate scream came from the far right, and her head whipped around, her neck twinging at the sudden movement. Her heart leaped into her mouth as she was pushed, head-first, into the car and the door was slammed shut, then locked with a 'clunk' sound.
As soon as the door had closed, the driver sped off, spinning the rear wheels and spraying gravel in haste.
Rose grabbed onto the back of the seat and pulled herself upright, desperate to confirm what she thought she had seen, as the car turned sharply to the right. She fell back into the door, her briefcase falling onto the floor.
Gripping the seatbelt like a safety rope, Rose pulled herself up again, and tried to get a good look out the back window. The tint was very dark. She dug her nails into the back of the seat for support, and her worst fears were realised.
The Doctor and Jack were in the middle of the courtyard. Clearly, they had seen her during the Master's press conference, and come for her. But they weren't running for the car she was in any more, as it rounded the last corner of the courtyard and made for the open iron gate. No, they had been stopped.
Rose bashed at the back window of the car, screaming for the driver to stop and let her out, that this was all a mistake, but he must have also been ordered to ignore her.
She watched in horror, her hand fumbling at the door handles, the electric window button, anything to get her out of the car. Nothing worked; she was locked in.
Jack and the Doctor were surrounded by black-clad special-ops-looking people with guns aimed straight at them. Jack was holding his own gun ahead of him, swivelling back and forth. The Doctor was standing tall, his hands raised. Rose could see his mouth moving, his frantic pointing, toward her, toward the car that was speeding out the gate.
Then she couldn't see them any more; all she could see was wall. The car turned and Rose strained, trying to see what was happening, but it was no good.
Rose cried as the car sped away onto the proper road, bashing at the windows, then taking off her heel and trying to smash the window with it instead.
They'd come for her, even though they were both smart enough to know that it was a trap.
Knowing that the Doctor and Jack had really made it back to Earth, and they were trying to get to her, pushed Rose's desperation into overdrive. She had to get away, she had to help them. They didn't know what this Master was like; not like she did. She kicked at the window with all her might as the car took another sharp corner.
With the force of the corner behind her, her shoe left a spider-like pattern on one of the windows and Rose sighed in relief, her resolve swelling at this small success.
Then something in the backseat began to beep madly, and Rose was drawn away from her need to exit the car, distracted, wondering if it was a lost mobile.
The posh briefcase she'd been given was the only thing in the backseat, besides her, and as it turned out, was the source of the beeping. Rose's eyes widened in realisation. It was all over if she didn't get herself, or the briefcase, out of this car. She grabbed the handle in one hand and bashed at the window again with her shoe in the other, in the middle of her previous mark.
It was not going to end like this, with fire and pain. Tears welled in her eyes as she put every little bit of energy she had into her task.
With a smash, the window shattered, and Rose flung the briefcase from the car, as the beeping stopped and an all-mighty resonating BOOM pushed the car across the other side of the road, into oncoming traffic.
Rose wrapped the seatbelt around her arm and wrist and gripped onto it for dear life, feeling the tough material cut through her as the forward and sideways motion of the car pulled her toward the windscreen. For a moment, she felt weightless.
She slammed her eyes shut as an ear-shattering metal-on-metal twisting sound tore through the air and glass fragments cut into her face and arms.
It was over, so quickly, and Rose jumped into action, ignoring the burning pain in her wrists, the stinging pain on her face and arms. Her legs, thankfully, were still functioning, and moving her almost with a mind of their own. She forced her way out of the window she'd previously smashed, which was now turned to the sky. The car had been blown onto its side. With a couple of wobbly stumbles past worried onlookers, she found her feet and ran before anyone could stop her.
Into an alleyway. She paused; turned, to review the scene. The road was a mess; the bomb that the Master had so cleverly planted on her had done its job; there was a crater in the side of the street, and no trace of the briefcase. The black car she'd been in had been pushed into an oncoming Golf, and both cars now lay on their sides, on the opposite sidewalk. A bus had smashed into the rear of the Golf, and the carnage continued beyond the bus.
Rose turned away and kept running, a part of her knowing that the driver of her car was dead. Perhaps even the poor driver of the Golf that had been caught in the middle.
After running away from the sounds of sirens and destruction, Rose finally stopped running to get her bearings. Where was she? Just off the Strand?
She leaned on an alleyway wall, breathing heavily, shaking the shattered glass out of her hair, the tiny pieces making tinkling sounds on the weathered cobbles. She unstrapped her other shoe, flexing her feet, avoiding the broken glass fragments.
What now? She had to find somewhere safe, and then figure out how to get to the Doctor and Jack. She nodded to herself, gulping for air, uncaring that she had no idea how to find them; that wasn't the point.
Amongst the sounds of London, the rushing home after a day's work, the cars queuing up and people craning out their windows, wondering at the accident ahead, Rose was sure she could hear running, and she jumped into action again, realising that someone was chasing her.
She dashed onto the Strand and through the stopped cars, too afraid to hesitate, even for a moment to look over her shoulder.
"Rose!"
The desperation in the call of her name was so not what she had expected that she stopped, in the middle of the street, amongst the idling and unmoving cars, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.
It couldn't be him. She'd seen them surrounded by guards, right before she'd been driven away. She turned.
It was them. Running toward her was Jack and the Doctor, both weaving through traffic. People were honking their horns and a couple of Londoners yelled out their windows at the approaching men. Jack had his gun held high, flicking glances over his shoulder back down the road, and the Doctor was running, straight for Rose, ignoring the obstacles – leaping onto bonnets and straight over the tops of cars, travelling the shortest path possible to her.
"Doctor?" she asked, in a near whisper.
Rose nearly collapsed where she stood, so relieved she was that they had gotten away. She ran back towards them, grinning madly.
The Doctor was the faster runner, and grabbed Rose's hand as he dashed past her, pulling her off balance for a moment as she stumbled to switch directions again.
He caught her around the waist and steadied her, before grabbing a hold of her hand and running at full pelt again in a quick, fluid movement.
"C'mon, we're not out of this yet!" he piped up hurriedly as he pulled her along.
Rose ignored the stabbing pain in her wrist, and the burning in her feet, turning back over her shoulder to look for signs of pursuit, but couldn't see anybody.
All she could see was Jack, a few strides behind her, running, dodging traffic. He was also flicking glances over his shoulder.
Rose ran, gripping the Doctor's hand, wondering again if this was real? The adrenalin surged through her in the panic, pushing her forward, in time with the fluttering of her heart triggered by the Doctor's firm grip on her hand. She told herself that she was, finally, no longer alone.
They ran.
It was raining heavily.
Jack slid open the heavy door to an abandoned warehouse, and the Doctor pushed through, Rose's hand still firmly in his.
"Jack, we need some food, and a computer or anything that'll give us information," the Doctor commanded. "And some bandages, she's hurt."
"I'm on it," Jack nodded, shifting his weight to push the door closed again after them.
"Be careful," Rose blinked, a lump rising in her throat at the thought of him leaving, for anything.
Jack gave her a winning grin, winking at her. "Hey, c'mon. What're they going to do to me?"
The door was slid shut, and the Doctor turned to Rose quickly, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug, enveloping her completely.
Rose squeaked at his suddenness, and at his contact. She felt him kiss the top of her head. As she moved to hug him back, he pulled away, a hand on each shoulder as he ducked down to look her in the eye.
His eyes were bright with tears, and there were red spots on his cheeks.
"You're so thin, and…and your hair…" he spoke in a quiet, choked voice that she'd never heard him use before. It made him sound very small, very afraid. One of his hands fingered a lock of hair by her eye, and then he tucked it behind her ear, trailing the full length. Yes, she supposed it had grown quite a bit.
She stared up at him, an odd, flipping feeling in Rose's stomach, and she wondered, absurdly, if she was in trouble. All she really wanted was another hug.
He looked down, a few tears spilling over. He cleared his throat, and stood a little taller, wiping his eyes with both his hands. "How long has it been?" he asked quietly, a desperation, almost a groan, in his voice.
Rose shrugged. "A little while," she guessed, trying to laugh it off, shaking her head. "I dunno."
The Doctor looked away, running a hand through his hair.
"How...how did you get back here?" Rose began, as the Doctor's eyes snapped back to her. She bit her bottom lip.
He shook his head evasively. "It doesn't matter," he rubbed his neck, then reached forward. "Here, please, let me..." he took her wrist in one hand delicately, kneeling and buzzing the sonic screwdriver onto it with the other hand.
Rose's heart swelled at the sight of the Doctor, with the sonic screwdriver buzzing bluely; a sight she had thought she would never see again, except in her dreams. She leaned back against the wall, wiping away tears with her free, still good hand, breathing shakily.
"You can mend bones with it, now?" she asked, trying to mask the tears.
There was a pause in the buzzing, and Rose felt the Doctor's eyes looking up to her from his kneeling position. She couldn't bare to look down and let him see her crying.
Eventually, the buzzing resumed, and he mumbled, "No, I just need the light."
"It's broken?" Rose sniffed.
The Doctor shook his head, and stood, tucking the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. "Bruised, and cut in a few places, here," his fingers traced over a laceration running down Rose's forearm. "But you'll live," he smiled down at her.
Rose forced a smile, still trying to laugh it off despite the couple of tears running down her cheeks. "Not getting rid of me that easily!"
The Doctor's smile widened, and it was so genuine, so beautiful. "Wouldn't dream of it. C'mere, you!"
Rose didn't need to be asked twice, and wrapped her arms around his neck leaning on tip-toe to hug him as closely as possible. His arms encircled her waist, and he lifted her up a little.
She knew he'd want to know what had happened still. She hadn't answered anything for him. But right at this moment, she didn't want to think about the past, or about how they were going to stop the Master.
She closed her eyes, feeling safe, feeling loved, breathing in the smell of the Doctor's coat and hair, burying her nose into his neck.
This was home.
Rose startled awake, shocked by the cold breeze on her face, and sat up quickly, her eyes groggily exploding with stars masking everything. She put a hand to her head, and felt grime. It was dark, she noticed, wearily, and something was flickering, perhaps firelight, by her side.
"Hey, hey hey hey!" the Doctor was kneeling in front of her, a hand pushing the hair out of her face, then coming to a rest at the back of her neck. "It's all right Rose, you're safe."
She froze, then blinked, as the stars cleared. That had been real? She had really, honestly, gotten away?
She reached out a hand, slowly, and touched the Doctor's cheek, briefly, just to check he wouldn't disappear cruelly like mist after a dream.
He smiled up at her as her hand made contact, his eyes sparkling. "Hello!"
Rose breathed shakily, a grin winding its way through the initial fear and confusion, warming her whole body. "Hello," she laughed, her prodding hand cupping his cheek now.
"Where are we?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from his to survey the warehouse.
"Safe," the Doctor blinked slowly. "For the moment."
Another pair of legs came into Rose's field of vision, and a mass of crumpled paper was put under her nose.
Rose pulled back a little, as a glorious smell filled her nostrils and she looked up to a cheekily smiling Jack.
"Got chips," he shook the paper, his voice sing-song.
Rose laughed and took the parcel, tearing into it like a hungry dog.
"Wait, wait, wait," the Doctor laughed, trying to take the chips away, holding up a bandage. "Your arm."
"It can wait!" Rose pulled away, defending the chips. "You know how long it's been since I had chips?" Rose muttered, biting into the potato and closing her eyes to savour the taste. It was heaven.
When she opened her eyes, Jack was sitting down opposite her on an old chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped and expectant look in place. The Doctor was standing, arms crossed, oddly blank. He had his glasses on.
"What?" Rose's elation fled as a chip dropped from her hand back into the paper.
"How long has it been?" Jack asked in a serious voice.
Rose's shoulders slumped and she looked away, popping another chip into her mouth. What did it matter? "Can't we just forget about it?" she muttered, her mouth full.
She heard the Doctor's intake of breath, and saw Jack fidgeting in the corner of her eye.
"I'm sorry, Rose, if we're going to have any chance of stopping the Master, we need to know everything-" Jack started, urgency in his voice.
The Doctor cut in quietly. "It's all right. Here," he crouched in front of her, took the chips and put them down on a box behind him that was doubling as a dinner table.
Rose met his gaze, her eyes begging, pleading that he not make her talk about it. She just wanted to move on, now she was away. Onward and upward.
The Doctor said nothing, as his hands rested gently on both of her temples, his thumbs cupping her jaw, and he drew her face a little closer to his.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Doctor?" Jack called from his seat.
"Just relax," he whispered to Rose, then closed his eyes.
Rose was confused, for a moment, and then felt a wary, gentle pressure in her mind. She gasped, as she realised he was seeking entry to her memories.
"That's…" she shook her head slightly. "That's not fair."
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want me to know about," the Doctor assured her, his eyes still shut. "Just close it off."
The gentle prodding to her mind had transformed into a warm sort of mental blanket, and Rose couldn't help but close her eyes as well, as it covered her and reassured her that she was safe. She tried to stay blank. This really was the easiest way, she realised; she didn't have to say a word, as much as the thought of the Doctor in her mind scared her.
She felt and heard, and occasionally saw, glimpses of the past year and a half, flashes of emotions and images, jumbled together like a movie trailer. The Master taking her and the TARDIS away. The arguments with him. Rose, alone and crying in a cell. The Master telling her when they were in the cruellest way possible. Everything that had happened, gushing over her like a waterfall.
It was odd knowing that these memories were her own - she was re-witnessing them with the detachment of an observer.
Another layer of emotions filtered through the trailer, like an answer, a response, all at once sad, regretful, and powerfully angry; swelling in timbre as Rose's memories unfolded. Rose tried to calm them, somewhat embarrassed at being able to feel the Doctor's mind, as though she was invading him; quite similar to the feeling she got from reading John Smith's Journal of Impossible Things, when they'd been stuck in 1913;
"Sometimes I think how magical life would be if stories like this were true," I sighed.
Rose closed the book, handing it back to me. She looked sad, wistful, almost lost, and I fought the urge to reach out and un-crease her brow.
"If only," she whispered.
"Just a dream," I spoke quietly, shrugging on the surface, despite the palpable similarities between the young lady in front of me, and the companion from my wonderful dreams…indeed, if only…
Rose gasped, opening her eyes, as she realised had fallen so easily into his memories, and she flushed. All at once, she was back inside herself, and the flood of memories the Doctor was invoking cascaded over her, gushing past so quickly, she had little time to absorb them, and felt the memories as though they belonged to someone else. His eyes were still closed, and Rose wondered if he had noticed her accidental invasion.
In a moment, he opened his eyes, hands falling slowly from her temples, and Rose stared at him, breathing lightly, waiting for his reaction. His eyes were full of tears, again, which scared Rose even more.
He stood, raking a hand through his hair, as he took a couple of worried paces away from Rose.
"Doctor, what is it?" Jack called, an edge of frustration in his voice.
The Doctor paced back to Rose, not Jack, and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry," he shook his head.
"It's not your fault," Rose shrugged.
The Doctor shook his head again and resumed pacing. "I should have realised you were here, but he hid himself, he hid you," he stressed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand a couple of times. "And there must have been signs, but we were always so busy, rushing from one place to the next—"
"Doctor!" Jack demanded, cutting the Doctor off.
The Doctor stopped pacing, staring at Jack, as though seeing him for the first time. He flicked a glance at Rose, that she couldn't interpret, then asked him, "Jack, how long do you estimate it took us from the moment the TARDIS disappeared, to get back and see Rose at the press conference?"
Jack shrugged, "Half an hour? Most of that was you, sonicing this into submission," he pointed to his wrist-band.
It felt like a stone had been dropped into her belly, and Rose huffed. Half an hour. She'd only been missing for half an hour, to them. And she'd done eighteen months, alone.
"It's been a little longer for Rose," the Doctor started delicately.
"Yeah, I kinda figured that," Jack cut in sarcastically. "And I'm sorry," he looked to Rose, his eyes serious. "But we can't change it," he turned back to the Doctor.
"Now, Doctor, get to the point, we've got a lot of work ahead of us."
Rose stayed quiet, reaching forward and grabbing her chips again, putting her feet up on her chair and the Doctor sat by Jack, explaining what he'd learned from Rose's mind. Rose tried to stay out of it, finishing her chips, pulling the laptop in front of Jack toward her and trying to find something useful to do. There were a number of web browsers open, with articles on Harold Saxon, news reports and video footage. She read the news reports idly, as something to take her attention off the Doctor's explanation to Jack.
She was in the middle of an article about Harold Saxon's university days, which she knew were a complete load of rubbish, when a new window opened, almost filling the entire screen; black, with the white T of the Torchwood Institute blazing up at her.
She crossed her brows at it, an anger swelling inside her. They were the last thing she needed. "What, Torchwood's hacking us now?" she pressed a couple of keys but the window didn't go away, prompting her for authorisation to continue.
Jack jumped out of his seat, hurrying to her, turning the laptop toward him, then pressing some buttons on his wrist-band. The Doctor moved to his other side, his arms crossed again as he looked down over his glasses at the screen.
Rose watched Jack, as his eyes flicked from the screen, back to his wrist-band, and he typed something on the keypad.
The Doctor spoke to Jack flatly. "You work for Torchwood." More a statement, than a question.
"What?" Rose fired, shaking her head at the Doctor, but he was glaring down at Jack, waiting for a response.
Jack didn't speak for a moment. "I swear to you," he looked between them. "It's different. It's changed. There's only half a dozen of us-"
"Everything Torchwood did, and you're part of it!" the Doctor cut him off in a growling voice.
Rose sat back again, shaking her head at Jack now, trying to remain calm. "But…we stopped them. How can you be part of something that doesn't exist?"
"The old regime was destroyed at Canary Wharf. I rebuilt it, I changed it," he said quickly, "and when I did that, I did it in your honour," his head flicked between the two of them.
The Doctor didn't say a word. He just stared at Jack. Rose rubbed her forehead, trying to focus on what Jack had said, and not her past encounters with Torchwood, and what they'd done, all they'd been responsible for destroying.
Jack pressed another key on the laptop and Rose heard a new, recorded voice of a woman speaking. The Doctor shifted his position, to look at the screen, but she stayed where she was, falling back into the chair. Her head ached. So much information, so many bombs dropped, and something told her, almost laughing at her, that it wasn't over yet.
"If I haven't returned to my desk by twenty-two hundred, this file will be emailed to Torchwood, which means if you're watching this, then I'm…" the woman paused.
Rose stood during the pause, moving to Jack's side, remembering what they were supposed to be doing. He was right. They couldn't change what had happened. They had to get on with it.
Jack couldn't change his past, as much as she couldn't alter what had happened in hers. And, it could be worse. The woman, speaking on screen, had recorded a message for Jack, for Torchwood, knowing that she might not make it, but wanting to make a difference.
Jack put a hand on her shoulder and she sat beside him, frowning at the screen as the woman continued.
She was blonde, perhaps in her late forties, sitting in an office full of books and papers and clutter.
"Anyway, the Saxon files are attached," the woman resumed. "But take a look at the Archangel documents. That's when it all started. When Harry Saxon became minister in charge of launching the Archangel network."
Archangel…why was that word familiar? Hadn't Lucy said she was someone from Archangel?
"What's the Archangel network?" the Doctor asked quickly as the recording ended.
"It's a mobile phone network," Jack muttered, opening one of the attachments and pointing at the screen, "It's gone worldwide, they've got fifteen satellites in orbit, even the other networks, they're all carried by Archangel," Jack handed his own mobile back to the Doctor, who took it and started buzzing it immediately with his sonic screwdriver.
"It's in the phones, ohh, I said he was a hypnotist," the Doctor grated, pressing a couple of buttons. "Wait…"
Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep, bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep…
The dial tone sounded.
"There it is. That rhythm," he mused. "It's everywhere. Ticking away in the subconscious."
"A code?" Jack looked up from the files on the screen.
The Doctor shook his head, "Layers of code, vote Saxon, believe in me…" he muttered.
Rose raised her eyebrows. "All that from four beeps?"
Jack shrugged. "Could be how he hid from you all this time?"
"Yes!" the Doctor pointed at Jack. "Because yes, I should have sensed there was another Time Lord on Earth, I should have known, way back. The signal cancelled him out."
Rose stared at him, unimpressed. "The phone dial tone cancelled him out?" she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Something so simple, so subtle," the Doctor handed Jack back his phone, crossing his arms. "That wave was intended for me, as much as it was the rest of the world," he nodded to the phone in Jack's hand, but spoke to Rose.
"Any way we can stop it?" Jack tore his eyes from his phone.
"Not from down here," the Doctor quipped, dusting his hands off.
"What about from the Valiant?" Rose spoke up, as much as she didn't want to return to her prison. "He sort of ran things from up there."
The Doctor pursed his lips and his eyes betrayed a concerned, stubborn look that Rose interpreted as him getting ready to tell her she was right, but that she was staying behind.
She didn't let him say it. "You got a teleport on super-watch, Jack?" she nodded to him, chewing her thumbnail.
Jack flicked a look to his wrist-band. "We can't just teleport to the Valiant, it's full of UNIT personnel. We need a plan of attack."
"All right, you said the dial tone cancelled the Master out, right? So rewrite it, to hide us," she waved her hand at him, shrugging.
"It's not that simple a code, and it would take longer than we have." Jack started.
"It's four beeps, how hard can it be?" Rose butted in, and was also cut off.
"I'm not taking you back to the Valiant," the Doctor said calmly, standing in front of her, hands in his pockets.
Her hand fell from her mouth, into her lap. "Why not?"
"You know why," he blinked patiently.
"No, I don't," she stood, staring at him, frustration bubbling to the surface as he looked away. "You'd better explain it to me."
"Cut it out, you two," Jack called over his shoulder to them. "Doctor, I don't think leaving Rose on her own anywhere will be an option, we're safer if we're together. Now," he pointed to his mobile on the table, next to the laptop and amongst the chip packets. "Maybe we could re-write the code if we had the time, but it wouldn't do us any good, we have nothing to transmit it with, and this is just a receiver."
Rose was still staring up at the Doctor, a challenge in her eyes, but he said nothing, sighing, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning them both back to focus on Jack.
"What we could really do with is a perception filter," Jack looked over his shoulder at the two of them, "but we don't have one without the TARDIS, and God knows where he's hidden her."
Rose noticed the Doctor's whole body stiffen at this, and she felt a wave of regret and sorrow for the reminder. She wrapped her arm back around his waist to try and reassure him, despite any level of frustration she was feeling.
"Perception filter won't work, not on him," the Doctor spoke hurriedly, clearing his throat. "His mind will get past it."
"So Jack and I go," Rose started, but was cut off immediately.
"Trust me, it won't work," the Doctor grated.
"He'll be expecting to see all of us," Jack shrugged in apologetic explanation to Rose.
"Torchwood, then," Rose spat, closing her eyes, unable to believe she was voicing them as an option. "You said you have people—?"
"He already thought of that," Jack sat back, crossing his arms. "Tried calling them, before we caught up with you. Somebody sent them on a wild goose chase to Tibet."
"Three guesses who somebody is," Rose muttered.
"Exactly. No, we need somebody who has a reason to be there," Jack mused. "Someone who won't seem out of place…"
The answer came to Rose and she gasped, her chest fluttering as all the pieces of puzzle slid together.
"Martha," Rose turned to the Doctor, excited, trying to get all of the words out at once. "Martha's sister works for him. I saw her, you know," she nodded, "the ambitious one we met at Lazarus' party who called you a science geek - Martha could go up there and shut it down. The signal," she spluttered in a hurry.
The Doctor's eyes were wide, and a grin broke out when Rose stopped babbling. He kissed her, quickly, then ducked down and grabbed both of her shoulders. "Rose Tyler, you're a genius!" he gave her a squeeze.
"That meant something to you?" Jack laughed at the Doctor. Rose pushed his shoulder, and Jack's laughter died down. "So, I gather Martha is one of the good guys. Who is she exactly?"
It was very late at night, or very early in the morning, and the streets were shrouded in darkness, deserted. The threesome stuck to the shadows, hurrying to Martha Jones' apartment; Jack had found her address, using his 'connections', which Rose interpreted as 'stalking software'. Though both Rose and the Doctor had been to Martha's apartment once before, they had materialised the TARDIS inside, when the Doctor had dropped her off.
Rose's feet kept moving as though they had a mind of their own, a cold, dark weariness seeping into her, despite the Doctor's firm grip on her hand again. Would Martha help them? Of course she would, Rose told herself. Her sister was in danger, working where she was. Martha would act on that, if nothing else.
After an hour or so, Jack leading the way, they stepped up to a front door, and Jack knocked sharply. They had arrived at a set of terrace houses, set slightly back from the road. The sky was a very dark shade of grey.
When Rose turned back to the door, she faced a bleary-eyed, gaping Martha Jones, in trackpants and a singlet top; obviously, they'd woken her.
Jack flipped an official looking piece of psychic paper at her and started talking, but Rose pushed past him, flinging her arms around Martha's neck.
"It's so good to see you," Rose managed.
"What the hell has happened to you?" Martha pulled Rose back, her eyes roving over Rose's sorry state, widening, then flashing to the Doctor. Rose was suddenly very aware of the torn clothes, lack of shoes, the blood, and the soot on her body, all marks of the earlier car accident. The Doctor had mentioned a bandage at one point but they had just gotten carried away, and hadn't gotten around to cleaning her up, in the warehouse.
"You call yourself a Doctor?" Martha accused the Doctor. "Look at her!"
"Yee-ah, doorway's not a great place for a chat," the Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, before pushing past Martha and Rose into the entry. Jack stepped in behind them and closed the door.
"Captain Jack Harkness, and you must be Martha Jones?" Jack grinned at her, holding out his hand.
"Stop it," Rose and the Doctor said in unison.
Jack held up his hands. "What, you're ganging up on me now?"
Martha gave Jack a somewhat amused look, then turned back to Rose, inspecting a bump on her forehead. "C'mon, let's get you fixed up," she led Rose upstairs.
A shower and fresh set of clothes later, and Rose felt like a new person. Martha sat her down on her bed, and started dabbing something acrid on the laceration running down her arm.
Jack held a cup of tea under Martha's nose. "Here."
"Thanks, just put it on the table there," she got out a bandage from her med-kit.
Jack stayed where he was, raising an eyebrow to Rose. "We need to keep on task-," he started.
"And it can wait, thank you," Martha huffed up at him.
Rose bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh from Martha telling Jack off. Jack looked somewhat lost, putting two mugs of tea down on the table Martha had pointed to, then walking back to the Doctor, who was sitting by the window, at the laptop, fiddling with something Rose couldn't see, and sonicing occasionally.
Martha shook her head at Rose, smiling up at her. "I know they didn't tell me the whole truth, while you were in the shower, something about another Time Lord. What's really going on?" she asked, deftly wrapping the bandage around Rose's bruised wrist.
Rose watched the criss-crossing bandage, her amusement sobering, wondering why the Doctor and Jack had left it to her to explain.
"Martha, it's your sister, Tish. She's working for the new PM, Saxon, isn't she?"
Martha's bandage-winding faltered, as she slowly drew her eyes from Rose's wrist, to her face. "That's right. Is...is she in trouble again?"
Rose shook her head helplessly. "Everyone's in trouble, Saxon's the other Time Lord, and he's mental. We need your help."
Rose explained, in as few words as possible,where she, Jack and the Doctor had been, and how they'd been separated, and why they couldn't get near the Valiant now. Martha blankly continued wrapping Rose's arm and wrist, then checked her other grazes and bruises, while Rose talked.
"You're all set," Martha pulled her med-kit toward her, zipping it shut.
"Martha?"
Martha shot Rose a scared look, as Jack returned to their side.
"You won't be expected," he started explaining to her. "But you shouldn't seem out of place, either, if you're with Tish. Everyone will think you're with her. Get onto the Valiant and shut down the signal," he explained. "Then the world will see Harold Saxon for who he really is."
"Easy as that, hey?" she shook her head. "And then what?" Martha stood, putting her med-kit back into an alcove by her bookshelf, not looking at Jack. "Hijack a plane and fly everyone to safety, escaping the wrath of an angry Time Lord?" she tried to laugh it off, an edgy waver in her voice.
Jack handed her his wrist-band, as though she hadn't had her outburst, and continued as the Doctor stepped up beside him.
"Once you've shut the signal down, press this," he indicated a button on the wrist-band. "Teleport. It'll bring you straight back to us."
Martha stared at the wristband sadly, then sighed.
"And…" the Doctor started, also holding out his hand.
Martha turned up to look at the Doctor, and Rose could see a mixture of annoyance and fear in her eyes. Clearly, Rose thought, Martha hadn't gotten over the Doctor dropping her off after the one trip, that felt like so long ago. She reminded herself it had been a matter of days, weeks perhaps, for Martha.
A key was dangling from a length of string, clutched in the Doctor's hand. "You'll have this. It's not much-"
"A key?" Martha asked blankly, taking it. "How's a key going to help?"
The Doctor looked uncomfortable, and flicked Rose a quick look. "It's my TARDIS key. Has a low level perception filter on it, that should hide you from them, once we're on the Valiant."
"Whoaaa, once we're on the Valiant?" Jack turned to him incredulously, before Rose had realised what the Doctor had said. "The Master will be expecting you, we've discussed this already—"
"I am not sending her in there alone," the Doctor pointed to Martha, no room for compromise in his voice, though he spoke calmly. "He's my responsibility," the Doctor nodded to Jack. "If Martha can get me in, I can save him."
"What?!" Jack screamed.
"He's the last of my people, I have to try!"
Rose shook her head, feeling light-headed. Her voice wavered; "You're going up there?"
The Doctor nodded sharply, not meeting Rose's gaze.
Rose stood and stepped in front of him, a hand on his chin, turning him back to look at her. "To talk to him? You'll die," she huffed, her hand faltering, then falling, to his arm. "He'll kill you."
The Doctor stared down at her, his mouth a straight line, his eyes slightly red. "I can regenerate," he said through clenched teeth.
"And I can't die," Jack grated. "If anyone should be going with Martha, it's me."
"No Jack," the Doctor ducked down, wincing as though he really didn't want to have this conversation. "He's not your responsibility."
"You can't die?" Martha asked Jack, but nobody seemed to hear her.
"But you're ours," Rose stressed desperately.
"So, what, you go up there and responsibly die on us?" Jack fired over the top of Rose's plea.
"Hiya guys," Martha ducked in next to Rose, waving up at the Doctor sarcastically to get his attention. "Yeah, sorry," she scrunched up her nose. "What do you need me for again, if you're going up there yourself?"
The Doctor cleared his throat, looking annoyed. "You need to shut down the signal being transmitted through the Archangel satellites, or at least find out where he's transmitting them from. I'll deal with the Master. C'mon, you can call your sister on the way."
He turned and Rose gaped, searching for words. What could she say to stop him? She didn't know the details of the Master and the Doctor's relationship, just that the Master…well, wanted to hurt the Doctor. The months of being tormented by the Master pushed and pulled at her, and a vivid picture formed in her mind; the Doctor, in her old cell; sad, alone, being laughed at by a crazy man behind a glass door. Forever.
She surged forward. "You're not facing him alone, I won't let you," she pleaded, saying the first thing that came to mind, putting a hand on the Doctor's arm to stop him walking out.
He stared at her hand, for a moment, then met her gaze, swallowing.
"If I don't come back with Martha," he started. "I need you and Jack to keep fighting," he looked up to Jack. "Save the world. Don't worry about me," he whispered, shaking his head, and moved to leave again.
Rose tugged on his arm, pulling him back stubbornly. "No. This is not goodbye, stop acting like its goodbye." She looked to Jack and Martha for support, but they were staying quiet. "Not when I've just got you back."
Rose pushed the desperation down, whispering. "Please. I want to help."
The Doctor removed her hand from his arm, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb for a moment. He replied simply, "Then trust me."
Then he walked out the door, and Rose's hands fell to her side.
Martha gave Rose and Jack a wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression, then stepped after the Doctor into the entry, calling, "I'll see you both soon, promise."
"Good luck," Jack called out hurriedly, his voice gravely.
Rose closed her eyes as she heard the door shut quietly, and she felt Jack move around the room, heard him sit down on the bed and sigh. Tears wavered in her eyes, tears of anger and frustration; she had just gotten him back. And he was going again.
And Martha. Why had she mentioned Martha? It should have been her, Rose, his companion, not Martha, going up there with him. But he was always doing this; always trying to get her to stay behind, trying to protect her and at the same time, making her feel useless. He'd done it on Satellite Five, and he'd done it at Canary Wharf. Every time he'd tried it, she'd fought back. It was the choices she'd made that had brought Jack back to life, forever, and ended the Time War, stopped the Doctor from killing himself to rid the world of Daleks. It was her decision, to never leave him, that had pulled her mother into Hell.
No. Her eyes snapped open. The danger, the deaths, the many months of imprisonment, the stupid decisions and the crying; it was worth it. She couldn't let him go up there to face the Master alone.
"Wait!" she cried, running out into the entry and down the stairs. She flung open the front door, scouring the shadowed, early-morning street.
But they were gone.
When she returned upstairs, Rose fell into Jack's arms, and he held her tightly. A part of Rose wanted to break down in tears, but her year and a half's conditioning to suppress her anger and sadness, and stay alert to opportunities, had her feeling almost dull as she sighed into Jack's hug.
"So," Jack sighed as well, resting his chin on the top of Rose's head, "do you think Martha can shut the signal down?"
Rose could hear the hurt in his voice. Jack was obviously just as affected as she was by the Doctor's order that they stay behind. Rose was reprimanding herself now, for not acting quickly enough, and letting him leave.
She left Jack's question unanswered, and hugged him tighter.
"As soon as Martha's back, I'm taking your teleporter, Jack, and going after him," she vowed.
He pulled back a little. "Despite his order that we stay behind?"
Rose shrugged. "If I listened to all his orders, you'd be dead."
Jack pulled back fully now, holding her shoulders, squaring her with a hard look. "Rose, you go up there, you'll die. The Master only kept you alive to use as bait; do you think he'll let you run around once he has the Doctor?"
Rose closed her eyes, pushing away the small part of her mind that told her Jack spoke the truth.
"I don't care, I'm not leaving him up there on his own."
And at precisely 8:02 A.M., GMT, a rift in time and space tore open the skies and a Toclafane plague rained down on the Earth.
The world saw the Master order one tenth of the population be wiped out. They saw world leaders disintegrated. They saw a tall, skinny man in a brown suit, standing at the back of the room suddenly hurry forward, as all hell broke loose.
Then the live feed to the television stations was cut. The sound of panic was replaced by the sound of drums, the world over; four-beats, hammering away gleefully, for a couple of seconds. Then that sound was cut off as well, and for a moment, there was silence.
Nobody saw what really happened on the Valiant that morning.
…to be concluded in The Last of the Time Lords…