Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing, except for the Depp-lookalike receptionist who, if he's anything like the one I saw in Italy, is bloody gorgeous! And I also own Rose's blue shirt. Except...mine's stripey.
A/N: Well, here you are. More. Couldn't help myself, really. I now have an interesting idea for where this is going, but I'd like reviews for this chapter first, 'cause if it goes down badly...well...meh. Sorry about the angst, but Rose has never...well, you'll see, but it strikes a nerve for her, poor girl, and she is still mourning for the Doctor. I think we can all understand that. It's a little slow-moving but I promise there is action to come. I think. Anyway, read, review and hopefully enjoy.
Replies: To all who reviewed, merci beaucoup, and hopefully his will satisfy all. Jessa, thanks for reading it, and I'm glad you'll read this part. Hopefully I'll have you to read the next part too! ShrinkingViolet, yes! Okay! I haff, and I will! Thanks for the enthusiasm! And Miko, thanks for the review...so sorry about more angst rubbish in this, but...this is ONE of the last major bits of angst...I think...anyway, our dear Rose can deal with it. Poor girl. I like bananas too! Funnily enough, when I was younger, I used to hate 'em, but after seeing our darling Tenth stuffing himself with bananas, I felt that I had to try one...and realised what I'd been missing! I like apples too, though. :) Yes, and poor Rose is resigned. Well, don't we all, in the end? Pity...still, this is no time for my own angst. So enjoy. :)
Dedication: This one's dedicated to my parents, who are always there for me and who could never quite understand my obsession with the Johnny-Depp-lookalike receptionist. Well, come on...either stare at modern art or an Italian Depp. What would you pick!
Moving On
Coffee and Tears
It was already warming up fast when Rose stepped outside: it looked like it was going to be another very hot day. Rose didn't mind though, but simply rolled up her shirt sleeves and tossed her hair back behind her shoulders so it wouldn't get in her way. The good thing about working at Torchwood was that, although there was office work and paperwork to be done, most of it was moving about, handling objects, going out to investigate, and some of it was working outside. Although Rose was never keen on working outside in the rain – and the first Christmas had been tough, especially without the Doctor there to help her – she enjoyed working on sunny days and was now hoping that there'd be something for her to sort out that wouldn't involve being stuck inside.
The Doctor had taught her a great deal of very useful things during their travels together, and Rose had remembered these and now applied them to her job in Torchwood. She'd needed guidance, of course, with technology that she'd never seen before, but she'd been able to teach those at the company a good deal, too. Of course, they all respected her – Rose, the one who had actually been with the Doctor, the one who had seen what the Doctor had seen, the one who had been trusted by him – and, it was rumoured, the one who the Doctor had loved. There were tales of some terrible tragedy which had befallen her, although it was never actually known what had happened. There were those who avoided her, unsure of what to say if the subject of the Doctor was ever brought up, who Rose longed to slap and force to look at her, and those who were overly comforting and protective, who Rose also wanted to hit – but force away from her.
Still, Rose thought to herself as she approached the tall buildings of what the public knew as Canary Wharf, the subject of the Doctor hardly came up, not when she was around anyway – and, if it did, she'd learned to deal with it, and learned to share what she knew about him – within reason, of course. Rose would always be proud of the fact that she knew things about the Doctor which others would never know – and she would keep those to herself until the grave.
Sidestepping an American Flag which someone seemed to have left on the steps, Rose approached the entrance to the headquarters of Torchwood, swiping her electric-blue security card to allow her to enter. There was a small beep and a click as her identity was recognised, and the glass doors swung open to allow her into a spacious lobby with polished floors and a large, white reception desk. It reminded Rose of the hospital in New York which would be built years into the future – and there was even that same smell of cleanliness about the place. She nodded to the receptionist as she passed; a tall, handsome man who she had always thought bore resemblance to Johnny Depp. A blush rose in her cheeks as he nodded back to her, his eyes never leaving her face, but she hid it quickly with a toss of her head and moved on before she could make a fool of herself. She felt slightly angry with herself for feeling this way about someone, but inside, she knew it was just a childish crush that would pass as easily as the wind changed direction.
She was just stepping into the lift when there was a shout from the desk, and she stepped out of the small box, allowing the doors to close behind her, before approaching the Depp lookalike once again. "Hmm?"
"Ms Tyler, there's a message here for you. You're due to have a visitor today at two in the afternoon, sharp."
Rose stopped and tilted her head to one side. "A...visitor? No details, I suppose?"
"None," alter-Johnny replied. "Just the initials 'ZH'. Mean anything to you?"
"Nope," Rose replied, shaking her head while wondering who this mysterious stranger could be. "Nothing. S'pose I'll find out later then."
"Yes..." the receptionist replied, "I guess you will."
Rose was just turning to go when the man cleared his throat and she turned, curious. "Sorry, was there something else?"
"Yeah...um...Rose...I wondered – d'you fancy meeting for a coffee during a break? It'd be nice to...er...get to know you better."
Rose stopped in her tracks. Was he asking her out? This gorgeous human being, with cheekbones like...She shook her head. What was she doing? What the hell was she doing, looking at someone like this? Had she dropped her guard so much that a receptionist could get to her? She turned slowly back to face him, shaking her head.
"No."
Ah. That sounded a bit harsh.
"I mean...well...I'm kinda busy at the moment, and...I'm sorry, Joh- er...I mean, I...I'm not really ready for this. You probably heard...me...and the Doctor...but...I'm sorry. I-"
The man looked a little glum, but tried to smile and smooth things over. "No matter, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry I asked. Good luck with your work, Ms Tyler."
That struck a nerve. "No, it's Rose. Don't do this – I really am sorry, you deserve better. But I...sort of...he...I can't let him...I love..."
Rose shook her head. She was confusing herself, and was once again thinking of the Doctor, her Doctor, or the Doctor who would never be hers. There was a lump in her throat and she could feel her eyes filling with tears. What was happening? She'd recovered so well...she'd pushed everything out of her mind, and now she struggled desperately to regain control. She nodded at the receptionist, who was now looking rather startled, and raced back towards the lift where she stepped inside, into the protection of the small room.
Once inside, Rose leant on the handrail, refusing to let herself command the lift to go to her office until she'd regained her composure. She couldn't believe she'd just lost it like that, but, she supposed, it was inevitable that it'd happen one day. Still, at least she'd learned this time. She'd be more fair next time, firm but fair.
Stepping out of the lift, Rose headed around the corner and into her office, where Mickey was already sitting waiting for her.
"You alright?" Mickey always said this; it was the standard greeting, and Rose's reply was always the same.
"Right as rain," she grinned, and motioned to him to get out of her chair. "What've they got planned for me today then?"
"Nothin' much," Mickey replied. "Same ol' stuff, you know, random checks an' all that."
"Mmhmm, I know," Rose replied. "I've got to work on this new hydrogen-powered particle gun – just oversee the project, check on the chemical balances in the bullets, that sort of thing. And then I've supposedly got a visitor this afternoon."
Mickey shrugged. "Dunno anything about that. But should be interestin', yeah. Well, I'll leave you to get on with that, then. See you around, Rose."
The door closed behind him with a gentle click, and Rose organised herself at her desk, scooping up papers and filing them in the correct trays before drawing her laptop closer to her. "Right," she muttered. "Chemical compounds."
