Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter, but has been misbehaving for me over the past few days. Will be posting the rest over the course of the next three days.
Chapter 6: Detective Work
It would have to come back to Cardiff. Wasn't enough that he'd almost destroyed history by aiding the Gelth. Nope. He had to destroy it right and proper in some as of yet unknown manner. Saved the world and destroyed it at the same time. Must be a new record for him.
Though, it might not have been them. The Gelth had been rather noisy in announcing their presence. Blue wisps of smoke, taking over corpses, and walking the streets of Cardiff. Definitely couldn't be passed off as a bunch of students having a good time. Could've attracted some other time traveller.
Maybe.
But something told him that he couldn't pin the blame on anyone other than himself. Prerogative of the last Time Lord.
Enough. He had work to do. "Does it say what he died of?"
Rose shook her head. "No. Just says he died. That's it."
Of course it couldn't be that easy. Never was. He pushed away from the table and stood, leaving the debris of their search scattered about its surface. Easiest way to find out what had happened was to see the Cardiff constabulary. Early January1870 should do it.
"Only one thing for it," he told her with a faint humourless smile. "We're goin' back to Cardiff."
She looked about as enthusiastic as he felt, but she seemed to know that they didn't have a choice. They'd narrowed it down as far as they could through the books.
Now it was time for more detective work.
He led the way back to the console room and hurried to the main controls. After he set the coordinates, he activated the engines. The low groan of the temporal rotor filled the room as they slid into the vortex. However, something was wrong.
The pitch of the engines changed, increasing to an almost screeching noise. The vortex! Of course! Oh, what an idiot he'd been. Concerned about the changes to history, he hadn't even considered what it might do – had done – to the vortex itself. They'd been lucky their first go-around. Travelling to the altered 2009, and from London to UNIT HQ. Very, very lucky.
They hadn't been travelling through space and time. Now they were doing both. Now the TARDIS was being battered by the raging currents of a time storm.
"Hold on!" he shouted, gripping the console with all of his strength.
Rose did the same, stretching until she almost embraced the console.
The TARDIS shuddered, but there was nothing that he could do to ease the journey. They'd have to follow the time storm and pray that it let them arrive close to the day that he'd asked for. Pray that it wouldn't knock them off course to a different city, if not a different century or planet.
"What's happening?" Rose shouted, straining to be heard over the groaning protest of his poor ship.
"Time storm!" he replied, grimacing as the shuddering seemed to increase in tempo.
The engine pitch deepened to a low roar as the noise combined into a cacophony of sound that all but deafened him.
The TARDIS could withstand a lot of things, but she'd been torn apart before. Turned inside out, destroyed, dismantled, fractured and put back together again. It could happen again.
Might happen again.
No. It wouldn't. He wouldn't let it. He strained to reach for one of the switches. Maybe if he changed the...
The sudden silence was deafening.
The rotor had regained its normal pulse and the shuddering had stopped. It was almost as if it hadn't even happened.
"Rose? You all right?" he asked. That was when he realised that she was no longer gripping the console across from him. "Rose!"
"Yeah, 'm fine," she mumbled from the floor. "What the hell was that?"
He hurried to her side, grasping her hand. "Are you hurt?"
"Jus' my pride," she said with a wry smile, allowing him to help her to her feet. "So what was that?"
"Time storm. Rare, those, but they happen." He wouldn't tell her the truth – that the change, whatever it was, had caused it. Nor would he tell her how close they had been to being ripped apart in the vortex. There were some things that she shouldn't know, or suspect.
"Right." She shook her head. "So are we there? Cardiff?"
"January 1870 Cardiff. Should be," he replied. Hopefully, he added in his mind.
She looked at her outfit – t-shirt and jeans – and grinned. "Guess I'd better change. Be right back!"
While she was gone, he checked the scanner. Wouldn't do, after all, if they weren't in Cardiff 1870. Especially if, instead of Cardiff, they were in Melbourne or on the Eye of Orion. Thankfully, it looked like he'd got it right. Cardiff. 1870. Fantastic.
Now all he had to do was wait. What was it about humans, especially women, that made them take so long to...
All coherent thoughts fled his mind as she walked into the room.
"Didn't 'ave much of a selection this time, so don't you dare laugh." She grinned as she pointed her finger at him. The deep maroon dress was both proper and, to his mind, almost indecent. She'd wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and for that he was thankful. He couldn't be held responsible if she hadn't.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he told her. And he wouldn't. "Ready to play detective?" He crooked his elbow suggestively.
She grinned as she slid her arm through his. "Detective?"
"Sure. Best way to find out what happened. Ask the people who know. An' the constabulary kept a record of all deaths in their jurisdiction. But they wouldn't talk to just anyone, y' know." They started walking toward the door.
Rose laughed. "Never thought of you as wanting to play Sherlock Holmes."
He shook his head. "Nah. Sherlock was much better at that sort of thing. Right 'bout the correct time for him too, though he's yet to meet Watson."
"You're kidding, right? Sherlock Holmes was a real person?" Her expression wavered between shock and disbelief.
"Sure he was. Nice bloke. Bit of a know-it-all, but can't be perfect. Adds character, you know."
"Hmmm, explains a lot." A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she turned toward him. The very tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips as she grinned at him.
"What?"
"Your character."
He tried his best to look insulted, but the effect was marred by the smile that was threatened to escape his control. "What're you trying to say?"
"Nothing."
He laughed. "Right. Then let's get on our way, Watson. The game's afoot!" With those words, he opened the double doors of the TARDIS and stepped into 1870.
Her second view of Victorian era Cardiff was not quite as impressive as before. She'd seen the end of the world, fought off the Gelth, faced the Jagrafess, a Dalek, and plastic shop window dummies. But those adventures seemed distant now. Almost as if they'd happened to another Rose Tyler. Not her.
Now there was just the urgency that sped their footsteps through the streets of Cardiff. No screams punctuated the day, no Gelth invasion, no Charles Dickens. Just what seemed to be a normal afternoon. Only a few people and carriages dotted the roadway, but the Doctor steered them well clear of any possible delay.
He'd told her that the constabulary was near the centre of Cardiff, close to where the Sneed and Company building used to stand. They passed the street that had led to the morgue and she stole a glance at the burnt-out husk of a building. It seemed so long ago that it'd happened, but according to one of the papers the Doctor had grabbed it'd only been two weeks relative time.
Two weeks. And in those relative weeks she'd seen so much. Done so much. But what had it all been for? She'd seen the future that should be and the future – her present – that would be if they couldn't fix it. She was swiftly learning that travelling through time, even with the Doctor, had consequences.
She just wished that she knew whether it was her fault. If she'd done it. If she'd changed the world, saved her Dad, and killed the Doctor.
"Ah. Here we go. The constabulary." The Doctor pointed at the red-brick building just ahead of them, pulling her to the side as a carriage thundered past.
"An' they're jus' going to let you see their records?" she asked. He'd find a way, always did. But she felt the need to ask, to be included. Mostly because she was frightened that it was her fault.
"Sure they will," he grinned, holding out his psychic paper.
"Doctor John Smith, Inspector, Scotland Yard," she read.
"Yup. Works every time, that. 'Cept for when it doesn't."
"An' what about me?" she asked.
"Ah. Point." His brow furrowed in thought. "You can't be my assistant. Unheard of in this era. Companion, definitely not. Friend either."
"So I'll 'ave to be your wife or daughter. Only thing that'd make sense," she suggested, though she recoiled at the thought of being passed off as his daughter.
"Daughter? Definitely not." He appeared to share her instant dislike of that idea.
"Only thing for it. I'll have to be your wife, then, won't I?"
He opened his mouth and closed it again with a faint, but helpless-seeming, shrug. "Right."
The Doctor led her up the stairs and into the bustling constabulary.
The first thing she noticed was that she was the only woman in the office. The few constables that were inside immediately deferred to her, tipping their hats as they passed her by or standing to the side to let her and the Doctor pass them.
"Can I help you, sir? Miss?" an older officer asked as he leaned against the front counter.
The Doctor flipped open his psychic paper. "Hope so. Doctor John Smith, Scotland Yard. This is my wife, Rose. Now that the introductions are over, I need to see your reports from Christmas Eve. I'm investigatin' the death of Frederic Harrison. Family's started harrassin' the Yard for details, droppin' hints of conspiracy an' the like, though the report said accident, so to appease 'em they sent me."
"Pleasure, sir. I'm Sergeant James Conway. So, Frederic Harrison?" the officer repeated thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. I think I know just where to look. Can I get you or your wife something to drink? And a chair for your wife? We can bring out one of the chairs from the Chief's office."
"No thanks, we're fine. Jus' need those papers." The Doctor smiled disarmingly and Jones nodded. The Sergeant moved deeper into the office, hopefully in search of the reports.
A few minutes later, Conway returned with a few sheets of paper. "This should be everything. We can lend you one of our interrogation rooms to look through the files. We get a bit busy in here during the later hours, and I wouldn't want your wife to see some of the people we bring in. Wouldn't be proper."
The Doctor nodded, though she burned with anger. Wouldn't be proper? What did he think she was? Some delicate...oh. Oh. Victorian era. Different time entirely. Of course they'd consider her to be delicate. Frail.
The Sergeant led them into one of the interrogation rooms. It didn't look much different from the ones that she'd seen on the telly. A table and chairs in an otherwise featureless room. Only thing missing was a two-way mirror and harsh electric lighting. "Feel free to set up in here, sir. I can get your wife a more comfortable chair if you like." Conway pulled out one of the chairs and held it for her.
"No, this is fine, Sergeant," she replied and sat down, allowing him to push her in.
"Right, then. Sir, please let us know if we can get you or your wife anything." With those words, Conway left the room and closed the door carefully behind him.
"Am I invisible or something?" she asked in aggravation. "He didn't even talk to me. 'S like I wasn't even there or somethin'."
The Doctor's expression was pained as he reached across the table to touch her hand. "I know, Rose. An' it wasn't that. 'S just the way they were these days. Women were still seen as the property of the men in their family."
"'S not right, Doctor." She shook her head as she turned her hand underneath his to grasp it. "I jus'…I don't like bein' treated like I'm invisible. I can talk for myself."
"I know. Just a little bit longer, then we'll get the timeline sorted. An' then we can go to Nestreal IV. Best known for its spas, mineral springs, an' no megalomaniacs."
That teased a smile from her lips. "No megalomaniacs? Promise?"
He grinned. "Would I lie? No, don't answer that." With his free hand, he split the papers and slid a few toward her. "'Ere, see if you can find where Harrison was when he died."
"'Kay," she said. She let him go and turned her attention to the papers. She scanned the pages and paused when she saw something that might be useful. "Says here he died in a carriage accident. Driver lost control of his 'orse at seven twenty."
"Some sort of small animal darted in front of the carriage, startling the horse." He read out loud as he, too, scanned his pages. "Ah! Here we go. Corner of Brynau Avenue and Beechwood Road. Beechwood Road, why's that familiar?" The Doctor suddenly paled. "Oh. Oh. That's where we landed the TARDIS."
"What time did we get here?" she asked. Maybe it wasn't related to them. Maybe, but she suspected that it was. And that somehow, some way, it was her fault.
He shook his head. "Easiest way to tell is to go back there. Find out first hand. But, Rose, your past self and the past me can't see you. Can't see either of us. Anything happens, they see us or we change something,' could have devastating effects on the web of time. More than there already is, I mean."
She nodded grimly. "'Kay." She'd never seen him quite that intent, if not scared. Something about this, she suspected, was hitting a nerve. A man lived when he should've died. Her Dad had lived. But the Doctor had died. This universe's Doctor was dead and the Sontarans had invaded. That was no future. Not a future worth fighting to keep.
The Doctor gathered the papers together and stood, gesturing for her to do the same. "We'll jus' return these to Sergeant Conway an' be on our way."
"Doctor, this will fix it, right? Change things back to the way they were? Once we find out what 'appened?"
He smiled faintly. "Should do." He seemed to want to add something, but refrained.
She sighed as she followed him out of the interrogation room.
Fix the timeline. Kill her dad. Save the Doctor. Save the world. Simple, right?
Yeah.
Right.
What was it with humans and their paperwork? Sign this form. Sign that form. Blah, blah, blah. Conway had forgotten to mention the inevitable paperwork associated with his borrowing the accident report. It was surprising that these bumbling apes got through the nineteenth century, let alone the twentieth. Paperwork couldn't be abolished soon enough, though he knew that humanity would always retain its particular fondness for 'red-tape.'
He signed one last form in an almost shapeless scrawl. "There. All done. Now, might be back later. Might not. Should 'ave enough to make the family happy. Thanks for your help, Sergeant."
"Certainly sir," Conway replied with a smile. "My pleasure. I'll put these in with the accident report. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
"Nope. Thanks, but time's a-wastin'." He grinned brightly and headed for the door with Rose at his side. "Remind me why we didn't take the back entrance?" he asked her in a soft aside.
"To be different? Can't end every official visit with running, y'know," Rose teased as they stepped out into the chilled air.
"Where's the fun in that?"
She didn't respond as they retraced their steps back to the TARDIS. What they were about to do was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. Oh, he'd met himself before. Several times, actually, during special circumstances. But he'd never met himself in his current incarnation before. That was something to be avoided at all costs – even the TARDIS had fail-safes to prevent that sort of thing. In case he decided, on a whim, to be in the exact same place and time.
When they stepped inside the time ship, they both headed for the controls. "'Fore we can go, I've got to change some of the defaults. Do some jiggery-pokery. That sort of thing." He dropped to his knees and lifted one of the hatches that covered some of the internal workings of the TARDIS. Just a few relays to alter, change some of the logic programming, and that should do it.
Of course he'd have to fix it later, but it'd do for now. The TARDIS sparked as he began his tinkering. "Hush. Gotta fix the timeline, you understand."
The sparks died. "That's a girl," he murmured as he flipped on the sonic screwdriver.
"Doctor? D'you need any help?" Rose asked.
"Nah. Almost done. Then it'll be back to Christmas Eve, 1869." He finished quickly and closed the hatch.
He stood and began to set the coordinates – the TARDIS groaned a little in protest, but she let him finish. "Should get there 'bout fifteen minutes before our previous selves. Just remember, Rose, this is just to see what happened. Nothing more. Can't change anything right now and we can't let our previous selves see us. We'll be landing around the corner from Beechwood Road. We can hide ourselves across the street and keep an eye on the corner. See what happened and then fix it."
"An' that'll be it, right? All sorted, everything back to the way it was?" When he heard the slight tremor in her voice, he looked intently at her.
Of course. She was still hurting. She'd just seen her Dad. He was alive and she was losing him all over again. "Yeah. Back to the way it was."
"So my Dad'll be dead. Again." She sighed as she leaned against one of the pillars. "I'd asked for it, y'know. Asked about my Dad an' what happened? He was alive. A different man from the one I knew 'bout, but him. My Dad. An' now he's gonna die. We're gonna kill him. An' you know what? That's the hardest thing of all 'cause I know it's the right thing to do."
"Rose." Her name was a sigh upon his lips and he abandoned the console to cross the short distance between them. As he pulled her into a comforting hug, he realised that this was what he'd been trying to prevent before. He'd wanted to shield her from the harsh realities of time travel, the possible consequences, but he couldn't. Not this time. Now she knew what it was like. And, in a very small way, she knew what it was like to be him.
There'd been times that he wished he could've prevented Gallifrey's destruction – gone back in time, warned his previous self, something. But he couldn't. There were some responsibilities that he couldn't shirk for the sake of his own desires. Though he wished that he could do something to spare Rose that pain. "I'm sorry."
She sniffled a little but smiled up at him. She was brave, his Rose. And she knew what would happen if they didn't do something. "I'll be okay, Doctor. Enough wastin' time. We've got to save the world."
"Yup. Same old, same old." He paused for a moment before releasing her as he added, "Not a bad life?"
Her lips stretched into a genuine smile. "Still better with two."
"Yeah." He grinned as he returned to the console.
With a flip of the switch, he turned back toward her. "1869, Cardiff. Christmas Eve, redux."
To be continued...