A year after the Doctor had vanished for the last time, Rose was back at Dårlig Ulv Stranden, with Mickey, Jackie, Pete and baby Daisy in tow. Daisy was now six months old, and it had taken nearly as long for Jackie and Pete to name her. After many unhelpful suggestions from Mickey, which included 'Kitchen' and 'Bathroom' ("That way she'll grow up with a definite career," he'd pointed out, before Jackie hit him over the head and insisted no daughter of hers would grow up to be builder), they had finally continued on the flower theme and had settled on Daisy. Rose thought it suited her very well.
She wasn't entirely sure why she'd come back here after so long. Perhaps that tiny spark of hope left deep inside her had persuaded her that, after a year, the Doctor might have found another way back, a way to finish his goodbye to her. The rational part of her brain told her that wasn't the case, that he would never be coming back, but still … that tiny little voice in her head begged her to stay. Just a bit longer, it said. Just a few more minutes.
Mickey had said nothing when she'd asked to go back. He'd merely nodded and followed her wordlessly, still the proud man he always was. Jackie had, of course, spent most of the journey complaining. What if Daisy catches a cold? How do you know he'll turn up again? Why Norway, of all places? Why don't you just get over him and settle down with Mickey? Pete had driven them there again, a family on a pilgrimage. His only concern was how Torchwood would cope with both its Head and Deputy Head gone for the week. Rose had just smiled at him, a smile that she had often used on Jackie (and occasionally the Doctor) when she wanted to shut them up without explaining anything, and Pete had sighed and gone off to pack.
Just a few more minutes. Just a little bit longer.
Rose got out her Super Phone and stared at the screen. The nearby Norwegian service provider had picked up her phone and was informing her, in Norwegian, of all the special offers she could get in this area. She wasn't bothered about that. She wanted to find out how much signal she could get here, on this desolate beach. The screen told her there was full signal here. She pressed a button on the speed dial and tried to call the Doctor. One last time, she told herself. If she couldn't reach him here, in Bad Wolf Bay, she knew he was gone.
Just a little while longer. Just another minute.
She took a deep, steadying breath and pressed the button.
Calling TARDISShe held the phone up to her ear and waited.
One ring.
He was probably busy.
Three rings.
He was fixing the TARDIS and couldn't hear the phone.
Seven rings.
He was reading a book in the Library, which she knew he'd soundproofed years ago.
Twelve rings.
He was asleep in his bedroom, miles away from the phone in the Console Room
Fifteen rings.
He wasn't in the TARDIS. He was out saving the world somewhere.
"The person you are calling is unavailable. Please try again later."
Rose switched her phone off and walked back over to Mickey. Jackie and Pete had insisted on staying in the hotel, not wanting to intrude on Rose's privacy. Mickey had tagged along as Mickey always did, and right then Rose found that she didn't mind so much. It had been an odd few months after Mickey had asked her for another go at their relationship – Rose felt that she could never truly love him again as she had done before – but they were both working hard and were slowly regaining their playful intimacy they had once shared. They still had not yet rekindled their physical relationship together, but Mickey had promised Rose he would wait, and that made Rose love him just a little bit more.
She had initially been nervous about restarting a relationship with Mickey. Mickey had been nice, but the Doctor had shown her other worlds, other galaxies, other universes. Mickey could never compare. Mickey would always be that little bit more boring than the Doctor. Then again, the other offers she'd had had been less than thrilling.
"D'you fancy a drink at the pub after work?"
"How about a pizza? Friday night?"
"Can I buy you lunch?"
Mickey understood. Mickey knew she needed more than that. He took her skydiving when Rose recalled an adventure that had seen her and the Doctor jumping off a cliff onto the alien ground below, bouncing off the elastic floor and running away without a scratch. He took her to an Abba tribute concert when she said how the Doctor had taken her to see them live in 1979. He took her paintballing when she remembered how the Doctor had complained about guns, yet seemed perfectly happy to play shoot-em-ups on Mickey's games console.
And each time Mickey had done something to make her feel a little closer to the Doctor, Rose had felt a little tiny bit closer to him. She made the effort to see Mickey in the same light she had once seen the Doctor in, but it was no good. Mickey would always be safe. She didn't have to worry about Mickey in the way she'd had to worry about the Doctor. Mickey was as good as she was going to get now.
"Let's go," she said dully as she took his hand in hers and led him back to the seaside hotel they were staying in.
"Look, I've told you a thousand times before!" Rose yelled down the telephone, "Egerootian electronics are not compatible with Zipheenish technology!" She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration as she listened to the whining apology coming from the person on the end of the line. "I don't CARE what Jason-From-Mechanics said! I'M the boss here and I'M the one who says they're not compatible!" Slamming the handset back in its cradle, she leaned backwards in her chair and arched her back to stretch it. No sooner had she got up to walk to the kitchenette in her office than the intercom buzzed loudly at her. Rolling her eyes, she leaned over her desk and pressed the button.
"Yes?" she snapped irritably.
"There's a journalist here to see you," her secretary Angela drawled in a bored voice. "Someone from The Times. Scheduled an interview for half two a couple of weeks ago."
"What's her name?"
"Somebody Sullivan. Didn't catch the first name."
"Alright, send her in," Rose sighed, continuing over to her kettle. She filled it up to make enough tea for two people, and didn't look up from her bustling about when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said absently. The door opened and Somebody Sullivan came in.
"Can I offer you a cup of tea?" Rose asked, searching around for the tea bags.
"Thanks," said a breathy voice. "Milk, one sugar."
Rose stiffened immediately. She recognised that voice from her old life, but … surely it couldn't be … it just couldn't. She turned around slowly, trying to keep her face impassive as she turned around to face a woman she thought she'd never see again.
Sarah Jane Smith.
"Sarah Jane Sullivan," she said, in that cheerful voice Rose had come to know all those adventure ago. She held out her hand for Rose to shake. "I've come to interview you for an article in the Times." Rose blinked.
"Sarah Jane … Sullivan?" she clarified, not quite sure if she'd heard correctly.
"That's right," Sarah Jane confirmed, smiling once again. Her smile faltered as Rose kept on staring oddly at her. "Er … are you alright?" Rose blinked again and shook her head slightly, smiling widely and genuinely.
"I'm fine," she said. She finally took Sarah Jane's outstretched hand and shook it politely. "You just … you look like someone I once knew." Sarah Jane just smiled.
"Please, take a seat," Rose said, turning her attention once more to the tea. "Milk and one sugar, yeah?"
"Yes, that's right," she said, settling herself down in the comfortable chair opposite the desk and looking around. Clearly, here was a woman who had a past. Rose Tyler's office was dotted with various odd-looking artefacts, juxtaposed with a desk full of what she assumed to be family photographs. In a corner behind Rose's desk, Sarah Jane noticed an odd-looking circular object behind a glass casing.
"Have a guess what it is," Rose said from behind her. Sarah Jane started and turned around to look up at her. Rose offered her a mug of tea, smiling, before crossing over to behind her desk.
"No idea," she said.
"It's the mileometer from the Roswell spaceship," said Rose proudly. "Cost me a quarter of a million."
"I'm impressed," Sarah Jane said, and she sounded it too. She gave a small, slightly sad smile. "I had a friend who would have loved to have seen that," she said. "He was into all sorts of things." Rose gave her a searching look.
"What was his name?"
"Do you know," chuckled Sarah Jane, "I don't think I ever knew his name. He used to call himself John Smith whenever he needed to. He was a …" She trailed off as she tried to come up with the right word to describe him. "He was a very uncommon man. He was some sort of doctor, I think. I never found out what he was a doctor of, though."
"Life, probably," Rose said thoughtfully. "I had a friend like that. He was the most brilliant man in the whole world. He was a doctor too. Used to call himself John Smith as well." She took a sip of her tea. "He's dead now."
"I'm so sorry," Sarah Jane said. She gave a tiny sigh and looked out of the office window. "My friend's dead too, I think. I've not seen or spoken to him in years." Rose smiled comfortingly at Sarah Jane, recalling the Sarah Jane in her old life and the pain she had felt radiating off her after her brief reunion with the Doctor. Rose had long since guessed that there had been other versions of the Doctor in this world – he'd explained to her all about his regenerations and past lives before – and she'd assumed that the Doctor in this world must have been killed in the Time War. There was no evidence of either of the Doctors she'd known, and only brief, fleeting examples of other previous Doctors – like Sarah Jane's Doctor.
"So where d'you want to start with this interview?" Rose said, bringing the conversation back to its original topic. Sarah Jane looked thoughtful.
"Well, if it's alright with you," she said, "I thought I'd get a little bit of background information first." She delved into her handbag and pulled out a dictaphone, a notepad and a pen, setting them down on the desk in front of her neatly. "Then I'd like to talk about your work here at Torchwood, how you've helped to turn it around and make it into the institution it is today."
"Fair enough," Rose said. "Fire away."
The interview lasted twenty minutes before Rose was interrupted by the intercom again. Her life story so far (a fake one the Tylers had helped her concoct so as not to arouse too much suspicion – they agreed that, if anyone should ask, there had been a mix-up at the hospital she'd been born in and had been raised by another family for the first nineteen years of her life. Technically, this was half-true, but Pete's influence had meant he had been able to procure documents confirming this), as well as the beginning of her meteoric rise in the Torchwood Institute had been covered before Angela buzzed in.
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Tyler," she drawled (Rose doubted she was anything but sorry), "but there's some sort of emergency going on downstairs. Apparently some alien's turned up out of the blue and he's been taken for questioning. Mr Tyler has requested you join him and Mr Smith immediately."
"Mr Smith?" said Sarah Jane enquiringly.
"Mickey Smith," Rose hastily clarified. "My … boyfriend." Sarah Jane nodded. "Look, I'm sorry about this," she added apologetically, "but you know what it's like when these things happen."
"No, it's fine," Sarah Jane said understandingly. "Life with aliens is full of interruptions." Rose chuckled and nodded. She drained the last of her tea and stood up.
"You're welcome to wait here, if you like," she told Sarah Jane. "I shouldn't be more than about five minutes."
"Actually," Sarah Jane said, rather hopefully, "would you mind awfully if I accompanied you?" She smiled apologetically at Rose. "I don't often get a chance to do a breaking story. It would make my day." Rose smiled back. She hadn't expected anything less from a former companion of the Doctor. Her Doctor might not exist any more, but Sarah Jane's Doctor had been very real, and Rose knew she was capable of handling aliens. The boasting cat-fight they'd had so long ago still rang in Rose's ears.
"I had no problem with space stuff. I saw things you wouldn't believe!"
"Try me."
"Mummies."
"I've met ghosts."
"Robots. Lots of robots."
"Slitheen. In Downing Street."
"Daleks."
"Met the Emperor."
"Anti-matter monsters."
"Gas mask zombies!"
"Real living dinosaurs!"
"Real living werewolf!"
"THE Loch Ness Monster!"
"… seriously?"
"Course you can come," Rose said kindly. "Just be careful. I don't want to be held responsible if you get hurt." Sarah Jane nodded and swept out of the room behind Rose. She smiled to herself. Sharing a subdued but obviously enthusiastic glance with Rose, she knew that things were going to get very exciting, very quickly.
…TBC…
