Chapter 8: Dawn
This was the worst headache he'd ever had – almost as if someone had taken a hard, driving, dance club track, turned up the amp to eleven, and funnelled it directly into his brain. Awareness had returned with the pain, but his memory was a little foggy. Last thing that he recalled he'd been pushed aside by...
The Doctor.
Shit! If he'd managed to stop Gwen before she could eliminate the vampire, they were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. No, wait, something was wrong. It couldn't've been more than a second or two since he was pushed by the Time Lord, but he couldn't see him.
The light was slightly different; it had less of the vibrant colours of the Vortex, but he ignored that in favour of searching for his friend. What if the Doctor had managed to use some sort of special Time Lord power to affect him, move, and... Yeah. Right. That made lots of sense.
Shaking his head, he began to push himself off of the floor and froze when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar pin-stripe suited figure collapsed some two metres away. "Doctor," he whispered.
What the hell happened?
He forced himself to his feet and looked for Gwen, spotting her as she moved over Rose to complete her original orders. That was when he spotted the movement. Just there. Behind the crate. Motion of one - no two, three? – figures in the semi-darkness. One detached itself from the others and moved toward her. If he wasn't mistaken, he could see the reflection off a set of fangs as it – no, he - moved into the light.
He shouted a warning. "Gwen! Behind you!"
However, he couldn't do more than see her spin in response before another vampire was on him. The force of the initial impact sent them both to the floor, causing his breath to escape his lungs at the instant of contact. There wasn't time to catch his breath. He had to get to the stake at his belt. Had to do something before the snarling creature could bite him.
And he couldn't muster up enough faith to block the vampire's movement because the Doctor was still unconscious. Well, shit. Curling his hand into a fist, he lashed out, catching the vampire across his cheek.
The vampire turned, his eyes full of a sudden rage, but it wasn't enough to dislodge him from his perch on top of his body. The snarling creature ducked his head toward his neck, intent to feed, but he would have nothing of it.
He fought harder, using every dirty trick he knew and some that he made up on the fly, to try and prevent the vampire from winning. He had to…oh, there. An opening. He jabbed the creature in the torso, just under his ribs, and the blow was enough to knock the vampire off him.
There wasn't enough time to think of his next actions, instinct took over. The stake slid smoothly from its sheath on his belt, its weight deceptively light. Only the slightest bit of resistance met the initial thrust, the vampire caught off guard by the speed of his movements.
The vampire looked at the stake sticking out of his chest with a shocked and surprised expression on his face. An instant and a scream later, the stake fell to the ground along with a pile of dust.
He got to his feet and picked up the stake in a quick movement, his prior combat training coming to the forefront of his mind.
Locate the enemy.
Gwen was just a few metres away, dusting ash from her clothes. She shot him a faint grin and he nodded in acknowledgement. Good. She was fine. But he'd seen at least three vampires skulking in the shadows before the attack. He'd removed one threat. Gwen another.
Which meant that at least one more vampire was on the loose.
The attack, when it came, was silent. One moment he was alone. The next, the vampire was standing in front of him. The rage that roiled in his eyes was almost physical in its intensity. When the vampire spoke, however, it was in a calm tone that did not reflect the obvious emotion in his expression. "Oh, look who's come to dinner. Never thought we'd end up having prey offer themselves to us like this – especially when said prey have watched too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We don't like it when someone like you tries to kill us, you know, but that's okay. We can sort it. My brethren are easily replaced, you know." The vampire grinned, showing the points of his canines. "You don't mind if I bite your neck, do you?"
The vampire's eyes were compelling and a dozen suggestions surged through his mind, each more forceful than the last. Give in, give up, drop the weapon, forever young, forever youthful, become one of us.
He smiled and tapped the side of his head. "Sorry, anti-hypnosis training. You'll just have to try harder."
"That can be arranged." The vampire gestured off to the right. "Go on, look. You have a momentary reprieve."
Still wary, he turned only half-way, just enough to keep an eye both on the vampire and on whatever it was that he was supposed to see.
He saw it all right. Gwen was struggling against the grip of another vampire, the vampire's hand muffling her mouth.
"Let her go," he said, and the words were a growl.
"Oh, now why would I do that?" The vampire was obviously amused and, even more obvious, indulging him.
That was when a very familiar voice responded. "Oh, I'd say because that'd make him angry. And you wouldn't like him when he's angry. No, wait, that's the Incredible Hulk. Sorry about that. Really it's because you're forgetting something very, very important. Incredibly important, really."
Oh, yes!
Mental note. Next time, avoid close and personal contact with major temporal disruptions. They tend to cause a nasty headache and several aches that had no possible label. Well, there were a few labels in Gallifreyan, however they were mostly associated with 'stupid', 'foolhardy', and 'cockiness'.
But it'd worked. He knew it had. And it was brilliant! Except, of course, for the part where it seemed that by turning back time five days to the early hours of the morning of their second day, their current location had once again become the centre of vampire activity in Cardiff. Complete with the Bela Lugosi worshipper that was currently facing Jack and one other in a Damn you, Joss Whedon t-shirt that was holding Gwen.
Never rained, but it poured.
"I'm forgetting something?" Bela Legosi – as labels went, it worked. He wore dark clothing, sinister expression, and what amounted to a cape was carelessly flipped back over the vampire's shoulders. At least, he thought the label worked – asked as he moved so he could keep an eye on both Jack and himself.
"Oh, yes," he replied, slipping his hand into his pocket. It only took a specific twist of his fingers to change the setting on the sonic screwdriver. If his calculations were correct – and, being as brilliant as he was, they obviously were – the timing should be just about right. Counting on lack of cloud cover, the speed of the Earth's rotation, and a good measure of luck, of course.
Pulling out the sonic screwdriver, he aimed it toward one of the warehouse windows – or, to be specific, one of the matte black cloths that covered them. It was, admittedly, just at the edge of the device's normal range, but he couldn't risk taking another step closer. "Haven't you thought to check the time?"
Bela Lugosi's eyes widened in understanding.
He triggered the sonic screwdriver and the fabric fell from the window, revealing the break of dawn. "One of the benefits of an eastward facing window, you know. Lovely view of the sunrise."
In his haste to back away from the window, the t-shirted vampire dropped Gwen and darted into the shadows. Bela Lugosi was more dignified, but just as intent, as he receded into the darkness of the warehouse, hissing in reaction to the slowly brightening sky outside.
Perhaps he should have some measure of mercy for them, but his capacity for that particular trait was exhausted – especially considering what their kind had done. To Victoria Smythe. To Rose.
He stepped closer to the windows, turning the sonic screwdriver onto each. One by one, the curtains fell, letting in the light of day. In the background, he could hear what sounded like a manhole cover being slid to the side. They were escaping. And he'd let them. For now. But their days of terrorising Cardiff were over. He'd make certain of that.
Turning back toward his companions, he offered them a faint smile. He couldn't grin in success, because it wasn't that by any means of the word. It was a faint victory, but one that would become a full triumph in time. "I think they saw the light, don't you Jack?"
"You still have the knack of bad puns," Jack replied, shaking his head.
"Oh, I wouldn't call it a knack," he began.
"It's a gift," a very weak voice concluded.
Later, he could've sworn that time had stopped once more. Or the world had suddenly gained a new intensity of sight and sound that was unheard of – at least on this particular planet.
He turned and there she was. Rose Tyler – a very human Rose Tyler – smiled wearily at him from her position on the floor.
"Rose." Her name was a benediction and a prayer of thankfulness. She was back. She was here. But sight wasn't enough. Couldn't be enough. He needed to be sure.
It took less than a second to reach her side and another to gather her into his arms. The sudden surge of pain from his injured shoulder caused him to wince, but he didn't care. He could feel her heartbeat, her warm breath as it caused the small hairs at the nape of his neck to flutter, and her echoing desperation as she clutched him to her. Oh, how he rejoiced in those simple reactions and in three little words.
She was alive.
She was alive!
"Thought I'd lost you." His confession was whispered into her hair.
"You had," Rose said, her voice carrying an underlying understanding and sorrow that he'd never heard before. She sounded, he realised, like him.
His hearts clenched within his chest as he tightened his hold on her. She was here. She was human. And, thank Rassilon, she was his.
Exhaustion warred with pain warred with guilt for domination of her mind. The memories of her experience were fading – which was both a blessing and a curse.
We are not meant to know the future.
The words had drifted into her mind, full of sorrow and regret. She knew it to be true, but she couldn't help but realise that something terrible was coming. She'd caught the faintest glimpse of it while she was manipulating the Vortex. It would be horrible and traumatic, but it didn't matter. That was the future.
It would come when it was good and ready. She couldn't spend her life in fear of a nebulous 'something' that might or might not come. Besides, she couldn't see a future in which she wasn't by the Doctor's side – or, perhaps, she refused to. It'd be fine.
She didn't let concerns about the future plague her. Instead, it was her actions over the past day – days? In many ways, it seemed like years. – that bothered her.
She'd been a vampire. She'd threatened the men that she loved with death and something far worse than death. The cravings were gone now, but she could still remember what it was like – her dream made reality. She knew that she wasn't to blame for her actions. The vampire virus had caused her to act that way.
Guilt pooled within her, a constant companion that fought for dominance against the pain. She hurt, she realised. She hurt in places she didn't know could hurt, but it was a good sort of pain. It meant that she was alive. Meant that she was herself and no longer some strange mixture of Bad Wolf-vampire-Rose.
She was Rose. Just Rose. Something that she thought she'd never be again.
The Doctor's arms were tight around her, and she could feel the frantic beat of his hearts against her chest. He'd been scared, she realised. Frightened that he'd lost her. And, for what had seemed like an eternity, he had.
God, what had this done to him? He might be a new new Doctor, but he still harboured the same guilt that she'd seen in his previous incarnation. The same despair. The same inclination to carry the weight of the world – or the universe – upon his shoulders. He was just better at hiding behind masks.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, lifting one hand to cradle his head while the other was still wrapped around his body. "So, so sorry."
"No," he said softly. "You've got nothing to apologise for."
She barked a laugh and she was startled by how bitter it sounded. "Yeah, I do. I tried to destroy the universe. You and Jack right along with it…" That was when she realised that there was one person who should be there, with them, yet wasn't.
Lifting her head from the Doctor's shoulder, she held out a hand as she met the former Time Agent's gaze. "Jack..." she said, beckoning him toward her by waggling her fingers.
His expression was disbelieving but full of hopeful yearning, but she could tell that he still needed to be convinced. The woman at his side – Gwen? – looked even more sceptical as her hand clenched and unclenched around a stake.
"How do we know you're not playing a trick on us?" Gwen asked, moving to stand in front of Jack in a protective gesture. "You might've convinced the Doctor, but you can't convince me that easily."
She couldn't help the stab of hurt that shot through her at the accusation. That she'd pretend... No. She could understand why Gwen didn't believe her. The last thing that she probably remembered was her trying to kill them as a vampire. And it wouldn't be out of character for the vampire she used to be to try something like that.
But she wasn't. Not anymore. She lived. She breathed. And her heart beat in her chest. How could she convince Gwen? Something told her that despite the Doctor's belief, that wouldn't be enough for the other woman. There had to be something simple...
The Doctor helped her to stand and, once he released his desperate grip on her, he turned toward Gwen. He made certain to place himself in front of her. Though she couldn't see his expression, she knew it must be thunderous. "She's Rose. She's alive. Her heart beats, she's breathing, and..." He pointed at the light that was coming through the windows. The first rays had already touched her skin. "She's not a vampire. Not anymore."
"She wasn't just a vampire before," Gwen replied and she reflexively winced. "Conventional means of destroying vampires wouldn't necessarily work on her."
That was true or, rather, had been true. She hadn't just been a vampire. She'd been something more. Something far, far more dangerous. What if Gwen was right not to be convinced? What if the vampire wasn't truly gone?
Her hand drifted up to her neck where she fingered the flesh that had once been puckered from two bite marks. Her skin was smooth now, with no indication that anything had ever marred it. She didn't feel a craving for blood – not anymore. She didn't have the sudden urge to take over the world or the universe. She just felt like herself, only with a few extra memories.
She was about to protest that she wasn't a vampire, but Jack beat her to it. "Gwen, it's okay. If the Doctor's convinced, so am I."
Gwen looked like she would object, but something in Jack's expression seemed to persuade her otherwise. With a resigned sigh, the other woman stepped to the side, leaving her with her first clear view of Jack Harkness as herself.
He looked tired, she realised. Worn out. As if the concerns that continually burdened the Doctor's shoulders had been transferred to him if only for a day. However, the worry lines on his face were erased the instant that he smiled. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw that familiar carefree grin, and she couldn't help but smile back.
No words were necessary as he walked toward her and she toward him. They came to a stop inches away from each other and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Rose," he said, lifting a trembling hand to touch her cheek.
"Hi, Jack," she replied in the same tone and, as if her words were the catalyst, he released a loud whoop of joy and pulled her into his arms.
He swung them around, only his arms wrapped around her back and hers around his neck kept her aloft, but she didn't care. He was just as alive as she. They were here. They were together. And that was more than enough for her.
As the swinging slowed, she smiled up at Jack, realising that she could drown in his eyes. There was something different about them. He was older than before, both in years and in experience. He'd seen even more pain since he'd left them last – or, rather, they'd left him. If only she'd remembered that he was still alive, but she hadn't. So much pain might've been spared – both on his side and on hers.
She'd mourned him. But he was alive. He was here, in her arms, and he was looking at her in a particularly intent way. She'd never seen that particular expression directed at her before, and she felt queasy and joyful all at once.
Never dropping his gaze from hers, he ducked his head and kissed her. As kisses went, it didn't change the world. She didn't feel any different, she didn't feel like her knees were going to buckle or time had stopped. It wasn't perfect, though it was skilled. It was tender, loving, and an affirmation.
In the background, she heard the Doctor gasp in what sounded like shock. And she and Jack jumped away from each other almost as if they were burned.
To be continued...
Tomorrow I will not be posting Chapter 9 like usual. I won't be around for most of the evening, so I'm going to take a day's break, but Burns will be back on Wednesday.