The TARDIS was charging electrifyingly fast through Time and Space. Inside, Rose was trying desperately to get the Doctor to calm down.
"Doctor! You're not.. You're not feeling well. Calm down. look, I don't think we can get to Gallifrey. You said so youreself –"
"Shut up, woman! This is my ship! I'm driving! Just leave me alone!"
"Doctor, I –"
"Go away!"
"But –"
"FUCK OFF, ROSE!"
Rose felt the tears well up in her eyes. She muttered 'fine' under her breath and strode off down the corridor to her room. She sat down on her bed and gave up on holding back. The tears flowed freely down her face as she thought about her situation.
Everything had been great. Fantastic, even. She allowed herself a smile at that. She'd had the Doctor, admittedly not as she wanted him, but friends were better than nothing. At least he was there. He'd taken her on so many adventures, taught her so many things, and this was how it was going to end. She saved his life, kissed him, for God's sake, and he'd just had to screw everything up. Damn Time Lords and their damn regenerations. She hated the 'new' Doctor. It wasn't right. He wasn't… she couldn't describe it.
She needed someone to talk to about the Doctor. She needed a shoulder to cry on.
She needed Jack.
Suddenly, the TARDIS shook violently, and Rose fell to the floor, hitting her head against the bedside table. She could feel the cut above her eye, the blood running down the side of her face, but she really couldn't care less at that moment. Rose ran to the console room, intending to find out what the hell had happened. The Doctor was nowhere in sight.
"DOCTOR!" she screamed, panicked. Surely he hadn't left. Not without her.
But then she remembered that he had changed.
Rose was almost going into cardiac arrest when she heard a near-inaudible groan to her left. She turned towards it, to see the 'new' Doctor, lying awkwardly facing the wall, his back to her. She ran over and shook him cautiously by the shoulder. He didn't move. She looked over at his face, and saw the blood on the floor around his head.
She nearly screamed.
Calming herself down and taking a deep, shaky breath, she rolled him delicately onto his back, giving his body the once-over. An obviously broken leg and wrist, and a fairly deep cut on his scalp. He must have been thrown across the Console Room when the TARDIS had… When the TARDIS had what, exactly?
She didn't have time to think about that; the Doctor was losing a lot of blood. She picked him up, lugging him somewhat gracelessly to the Healing Room. She x-rayed him, and some robot sorted out his wounds. It stitched his his head, and informed her that the leg would be a week to heal due to the minor fracture, almost a chip in the bone, but the wrist would be much, much longer. Fifteen weeks in a cast.
'Typical,' she thought wryly. Only the Doctor would create a robot to heal him. Only the Doctor would need one. She had a sudden flashback of the old Doctor, in this very room, when she's been whipped on the planet of Jinin, where humans were slaves.
Rose cried again, this time silently, and didn't stop in checking the Doctor's temperature. She placed him in one of the wheelchairs they'd raced down the hallways in once, and took him to his bedroom.
She put him on the bed, made sure he was okay, and turned to leave.
"Rose…"
She stopped short and whirled around, nearly falling over. She knew that voice. She checked his face, but he was still unconcious.
What the hell?
She had a small balloon of hope that it was the old Doctor pushing his way through. She had no idea how regenerations worked, but a reality check told her to forget the idea.
But… It had definitely been his voice…
Shaking herslef mentally, she hesitated a moment befor turning and leaving the room. She locked the door. She wouldn't be long.
Rose headed back to the Console Room. She hadn't realized she still had tears running smeared eyeliner-tracks down her face until she caught her reflection in one of the many dead screens. She still didn't bother to wipe them away, even though her face with going stiff from dried tears and blood.
She then came to grips with the situation. She had no idea what to do. She still had no idea what the hell had happened, for God's sake. Everything was dead. It looked like there was no power coming into the TARDIS, which she knew couldn't be possible: the Heart was the source of power, and as far as she knew, it was still there.
She turned towards the door. That was her best bet to know what was going on, and, more importantly, where she was. She stood in front of it, and visibly steeled herself. There could be anything out there.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
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A/N: I thought about leaving you guys there, and posting the next bit as a chapter three, but since I had half an hour of class left when I originally wrote this chapter, I decided to go on. Besides, I'm not as mean as that. I'm too nice to do cliffies. )
Anyway, here's the equivilent of chapter three. You guys are so lucky.
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Everything was perfect. The grass was a lush green, she cloudless sky a glorious blue. The air was fresh, the temperature was delightfully warm, and the view… The view was sensational.
All the way to the egde of the planet, it must have been. Mountains, lakes, fields, forests. It was so clear, so intense. But there was one thing wrong.
Daleks.
There were Daleks, everywhere.
They marched in military-style lines, thousands of them, millions, even, down the lane to her right. The fields were packed with them, completely stationary, arranged in perfect lines.
They didn't hear the scream, but they saw her fall.
€€€$$$£££€€€$$$£££ (to be different)
Rose woke up in a prison cell. She was lying on a hard stone floor, wet from the water dripping down the identical stone walls, below the identical stone ceiling. One wall was floor-to-ceiling rusty bars. She got up onto her knees and looked through the bars: there wasn't much to see. There was a cell opposite hers with someone lying on the floor like she had been. Rose leaned hard against the bars to try and see who it was when she realized how cold they were on her stomach. She then realized with a jolt that she was barely wearing anything. A pair of thin, long, grimy white shorts slung low and a matching tshirt that was revealing much more of her flesh than she would have liked.
She screamed until her throat was raw, tring to get the attention of the person in the cell opposite, but they didn't even flinch.
Ten minutes later, she slumped against the wall, slid down the the floor and burst into helpless tears.
&8&8&8&8&8&
A/N: Alright, it would have been a very short chapter three. I swear, it's two and a half pages by hand! Stoopid computer. Anyway, the next 'real' chapter three will be fairly soon, I guess. Maximum a week, as I'm currently working on about 5 fics at once (not something I would adivse). Hopefully it'll be quite long. Hope you like this one. I hate History and Geography in French & Maths. xD
Ciaooo xxx