"Closure"
Chapter 2: Rediscovery
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He comes haltingly through the door of the TARDIS into the sticky night of a nameless planet in an unguessable time, and he starts to walk, covering ground with long, impatient strides. He's just been to hell and back. He hardly knows where he is, let alone where he's going. It's the first time in days, or is it weeks, that he's even stepped outside the TARDIS. The War has destroyed his world, destroyed thousands of worlds. It's reshaped and remapped the entire universe, and nothing is certain anymore. How can he travel now, with the shadow of such destruction always hanging just out of sight, just around the corner? How can he travel with the threat that at any time he could land just round that corner, and see some ravaged galaxy as it was never meant to be?
But how can he stay put, cowering in the safety of a machine, when he is now the Last of the Time Lords? All his life he's been a renegade, a rebel, a black sheep. And now it's on his shoulders to be the last scion of a race. The pressure of that role is almost worse than the pain of the war. His shoulders slump against the responsibility and the guilt. Maybe if he hadn't been such a rebel, maybe he could've done something more. He should have seen the signs. He should have tried harder. He should have been able to protect them all. But he'd been too damn cocky. Too preoccupied with his missions of exploration, and of mercy. He should've listened when they told him not to interfere. Damn!
He's walking the dark streets with angry steps, hardly aware of where he's going. The TARDIS had sought somewhere that suited his mood, and it had done well. The city is grimy and dim and teeming with a million kinds of life. He looks up as he reaches a dead end, and sees the doorway ahead. The quadri-lingual sign which lights the alley tells him that on the other side of the door are at least eighteen species getting thoroughly pissed on inferior liquor.
Fantastic.
He pushes through to the bar past a half-dead humanoid female on a stool. Apparently she looks worse than she feels, because she wakes and mutters something rude, trying to shove him away.
"Sorry, but it's a bit crowded!" He looks at her again. Human. She's no humanoid, she's from Earth. Has it written all over her. How in the world did she get to a place like this? She turns and looks at him with huge, startled eyes. And collapses into his arms.
"Bollocks!" It's brilliant, his luck. The absolute last thing he needs is some inebriated human falling on him. He feels a momentary rage against this stupid ape woman. She's so naive, so clueless about everything that's happened in a universe that's obviously too big for her. How can she even stand to live, not understanding anything?
"Couldn't have just stayed at home, could you?" he asks her, as compassion takes over from the anger, and he hauls her outside into the cooler air. He deposits her onto the pavement and begins trying to get her to come round.
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She wakes up to see him leaning over her. Without thinking she puts her hand to his face. He's real. He can't be real. But he's real.
"Friendly, aren't we?" he asks, pulling back. His tone is derisive. The same tone he'd used when they'd first met. When he'd taken her hand, saved her from the Autons. When he'd told her to run along home like a good girl, forget she'd ever seen him. It hurts her to hear the scorn in his voice. He doesn't remember her. He'd meant everything to her, and he doesn't remember. She frowns, as she tries to sit up.
"Fucking hell!" it feels like her head is on fire. What had she been drinking? She hadn't had much, she remembers. Her vision swims again, and she turns to retch into the gutter beside her.
"There you go," he stands, brushing off his coat, "you'll be right again in no time. That blue tralthi you were drinking would've knocked out a rhino. Don't know what you thought you were doing with it." She sees him turn away. He's leaving her, lying in a gutter sick as a dog. He's leaving her.
"Doctor!" she tries to shout but it comes out as a croak.
His whole body stiffens. "How do you know who I am?" he asks with a voice like rusted nails.
It's then that it hits her. This is her Doctor, but their timelines have crossed at the wrong place. This man has never met her. Has never saved the Earth from the Nestene Consciousness. Has never held her hand as they leapt across the mud flats of Womrath, racing madly for the safety of the TARDIS.
Not yet.
How could she have forgotten, when she'd lived with it every day? Time's not a straight line for the Doctor. While Rose Tyler, hitchhiking across the galaxy, lives her life from one day to the next, the Doctor is appearing and disappearing from hundreds of places. Hundreds of times. 'Ten years ago' means nothing to him. The only time for him is 'right now'. Right now. Right now she's about to lose him again. She can't afford that. She has too many things left unsaid, too many emotions that she's kept bottled for too long. She's got another chance now, and damned if she'll let him get away again that easily.
"I- I recognized you," she stumbles over the words, trying to think of a way to keep him here without telling him the truth. She's not sure why, but she doesn't want that secret out just yet. His eyes are staring holes through her, just as she'd remembered. Her mouth goes dry.
With a sigh he kneels again beside her, "You've no idea what you're getting yourself into, human. What's your name, by the way, since you're obviously so familiar with me?"
"Rose."
"Right then, Rose. Let's get you out of the middle of the street."
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