Disclaimer: Pfft. I friggin' wish.
Spoilers: Nothing Torchwood-ish this time, but spoilers up to Doctor Who 3x03 (Gridlock).
As always, please REVIEW, and, uh, enjoy!
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Chapter 3
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Rose, Pete's World
:-: Acceptance :-:
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"Hello, I'm here to see the prime minister?"
Marco, the receptionist, quickly shuffled through the log. "Ah, yes. You're… Miss Tyler? Special ops?"
Rose sighed deeply. Go trust the government. Lucky they didn't just underline her name and write 'TOP SECRET!' next to it "You know, that's really not supposed to say that." Marco raised his eyebrows, amused. She had to laugh. "I know, I know. Very BBC3. Look, this is gonna sound daft, but would you mind erasing my name off there?"
He chuckled. "Are you serious?"
"m afraid so, yes."
Harriet Jones stepped out of her office, "It's alright, Marco, just put on that my sister stopped by." She shook Rose's hand, trying desperately to hide her excitement, "Miss Tyler, you're a bit early."
"Call me Rose, and I'm sorry. I can wait…"
"Of course not!" she almost screeched, motioning her to go inside, "It's not everyday I get asked to have a private meeting with To… uh, my sister."
They sat down, and for a moment, it was awkward. It always took Rose a second to separate people she knew from memories of their actions, but not from memories of their personalities. Harriet Jones, brave MP for Flydale North, Prime Minister of this world, has never been in the same room with a Slitheen, has never aided in destroying 10th Downing Street.
Just a moment of processing, and she was good to go. "I have your latest request on my desk," she said.
Harriet handed her a cup of tea, "At this point I'm mostly requesting as a lark, really."
Rose smiled weakly, tried to look friendlier than she felt. Forget everything she ever thought of this woman before. "I have to admit, Madam President, that I used to reject your applications with hardly a glance, and for the worst possible reasons."
This was clearly not what you'd want to hear from the second-in-command of special ops, the person with the power to blow away the entire world. And the head of the Ethics division on top of that! People like Rose were supposed to be above and beyond subjectivity. Nevertheless, Harriet Jones nodded for her to continue.
Rose weighed carefully every word that came out of her mouth. "I used to lead a very different life, you see. I used to think it was wrong to just hand over weapons to people who were likely to use them. I can't get into too many details-"
"Naturally," Harriet murmured under her breath, quite bitterly.
Rose shot her a glare that was meant to remind Harried just who was in charge of this conversation, but otherwise didn't react. "Let's just say I had the luxury to think that. But that's over. Torchwood now agrees unanimously that the British army should have limited access to Torchwood's alien weapons, seeing how the only known active rift in the world is situated over Cardiff."
Harriet stifled an urge to break into a jaunty musical number. "How limited?"
"Very, mind you. Pete's even more reluctant about this than I am. I'd suggest you'd take what you're given."
"I wasn't aware I had a choice?"
Rose remained steely, as she was trained to. "You don't. It's a one-time offer. Limited access, to be used only in the worst of emergencies, preferably after contacting us, alright?"
Throughout this ordeal, Rose's mind kept singing I'm sorry, Doctor, try to understand. You're not here. Earth is not, in any way, defended, we have to look after ourselves now. I'm sorry, Doctor. Giving Harriet Jones, the Doctor's favorite antagonist, access to powerful weapons, felt like the last goodbye to him. This must be what letting go felt like.
Until then, every time Earth was under some threat, she still expected the Doctor to swan in, save the day, and swan off. But he never did. Earth was not defended anymore. It was up to Earth to defend itself, and finally she understood what Harriet Jones must have felt like on that dark Christmas day.
Harriet nodded, "I accept your terms."
Rose shook her hand, completely hollow. She managed to smile at Harriet, and even at Marco the Receptionist, but the minute she closed her car's door, the smile was wiped off as if it never existed. You looked at Rose Tyler now, it was unlikely that she ever smiled.
Something crept into mind, uninvited. Memories of all those long nights, with hardly any sleep at all. The Doctor and Rose, sitting by the TARDIS console, or shacked in little shabby hotel rooms in 1873, with only one bed and sometimes even a campfire made with special fire that didn't burn the rugs. That's how awesome the Doctor was. He could make fire that didn't burn, show her seas frozen in time.
But those long nights; reminiscing, planning, laughing, cuddling, watching an old movie, deducting, and everything in between. Hardly ever sad, but sometimes, it was inevitable.
As long as they had each other for company, it didn't really matter. But now they didn't, and everything suddenly seemed less than it really was. She wondered how he adjusted. Probably well, and fairly quickly, though what was slow for a Time Lord, really? What were a couple of years for someone who had lived hundreds and seen billions?
Either way, all she has now is the Earth, in the 21st century, and she has sworn to protect it, whether he would like it or not. He wasn't here, anyway. She was alone.
Goodbye, Doctor.
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The Doctor clicked his tongue with glee. "I am terribly sorry to say, Jack, that as of now, Cardiff is officially eliminated from the list." Mind you, he didn't much like London himself, and surely not in this particularly dull period of time, but the look on Jack's face was simply too priceless to let go.
Jack pouted, "Really? Are you sure? There's a very nice couple there, said I could come by again any time."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. Even by 51st century standards, Jack was more of a flirt than the world could handle, and since the Doctor wasn't the most patient person to begin with, he found that when with Jack, he often needed to count back from ten and stir away from any sharp objects. And yet he couldn't stop himself from teasing the man mercilessly.
Or, alternatively, he could –and would– always just ignore him and move on. "Right now, I think London's our best bet, of course."
"God, no," Jack sighed. "London's so played out."
This too, the Doctor ignored. "I wonder what this thing is," he mused, staring at the readings as if they might suddenly supply him with more answers than they already did. Race, age, shape, anything. "An entity traveling across dimensions, you know how hard to do that is? I'll tell you -very hard. Impossible, in fact. Not even I can do that."
"And you can do anything," Jack announced dramatically.
"It'd be much funnier if it weren't true," the Doctor murmured. "D'you know what else? It's like it's shielding itself! I should have a much more accurate location. A neighborhood, at least. But with this? Best I can do is a city, and barely even that! Whatever this thing is, it's brilliant!"
"Scrambler?" Jack asked, getting into a more professional mode.
The Doctor thanked the heavens above. At last, his daft of a Companion was willing to do some work. He was beginning to think he'd never see the day. "Possibly. Could be anything. I dunno, and I hate not knowing!"
"Well, if it's got the great Doctor worried, I'm thinking it's probably pretty serious."
"See, I knew there was a reason I kept you around. Those brilliant powers of deduction, always do the trick." He pulled a lever, and the TARDIS swirled and whirled, choking out Jack's surely witty response.
"Doctor!" he yelped, "I hate it when you power her up without telling me!"
The Doctor shrugged, not sorry in the least. "Sorry, I thought I turned on the Seatbelts On sign. My fault. Doesn't matter anyway, we're here. The beautiful city of London." He handed him a homing device, "I'll gp to the left, you go to the right, give us a call if you find it. Though with our luck, it'll probably be in the very last place we look."
True, his mouth was forming complaints, but it's been a while since his skin hummed with the excitement of a challenge he didn't quite know how to tackle, something that would require more than the usual calculate-and-solve he was so ridiculously good at.
Jack turned around suddenly, just at the door. "Doctor?" he said quietly. "Seriously now, this thing, is it dangerous?"
The Doctor didn't answer. He had no real way of assuring him about the morality of the strange entity. Strictly speaking, it could be anything. But something inside him, and this he had no way of explaining, even to himself, told him that whatever it was, it wouldn't be bad. Bad things usually did their best to make themselves known, but this- it was shy, hidden, much like the little planet Earth he was so fond of.
Little shy hidden things couldn't possibly be bad, could they?
Of course, evil sometimes hid itself as well, but he preferred not to think about that too much. He'd deal with it if it turned out to be evil, but for now, he was free to assume this mystery wouldn't be anything short of fantastic!
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The Tenth Doctor, His World
:-: Bargaining :-:
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Rose would know. Right now she'd say exactly the right thing.
She looked around the little shabby room, trying her best to look displeased, but really, he could tell she was secretly excited. Her eyes glowed in a way that couldn't be just because of the candlelight; all that was missing was an animated little bounce to completely break her façade.
"Blimey," she murmured, smiling slightly.
The Doctor looked around as well. "Not bad at all, considering."
Her head whipped around, "Considering what?"
"Considering this is the year 1599, and personal hygiene is a liiittle bit spotty," he admitted with a careless shrug. He watched her examine the curtains, seemingly fascinated, and couldn't resist smiling, even though it was beyond him in every possible way. What was so interesting about curtains, mind you? All they did was block out the sun. Humans.
She swirled, her laughter contagious. "I like it, actually."
"Could always go sleep in the TARDIS, though," he suggested, grinning broadly, mostly just to hear her refuse purposefully, as she usually did.
Never disappointing, she gasped, "Doctor! Where's your sense of adventure? Shakespeare is right next door, there are witches about, and you wanna go back to the TARDIS? Honestly, now.What if something happens late at night?" She looked left, looked right, her voice dropping to a whisper, "What if someone casts a spell, and we're tucked away safely in our little Blue Box?"
Our little Blue Box. He should be bothered. Really, he should. But ever since the battle of Canary Wharf, the Doctor found that it was very hard to be annoyed at Rose. He chalked it up to gratitude, most of the time. Pretty soon she'll start getting on his nerves again, surely. "You do know there's no such thing as witchcraft, don't you?"
She sat on the bed, arms crossed stubbornly, "I'm not listening."
He chuckled, taking a seat on the other side of the bed as Rose started to take off her shoes.
"It's so weird, though," she suddenly said, in that chatty Rose-way of hers. "Drowning without water, you don't see something just a little witch-y about that? And did you see that maiden hugging him just before? I saw her through the window! What would she do that for? I thought everyone was supposed to be all proper 'round here! Not to mention, he was a total git, and to Shakespeare, no else!"
He supposed she could go on like this for a while. Silly humans, all they ever did was gossip. He didn't mind, really. Not when it was Rose, anyway. He could just lie back and let it flow, even add a little input every now and then. Jackie, on the other hand, could drive him into madness within seconds.
And then something clicked. "Hang on, what about this person, now?"
Rose looked at him with sheer disbelief, "The maiden girl! Didn't you see her? She was standing in the corner. And then she just left after that bloke. I saw her through the window, I did! She was all over him! Blimey, Doctor." The exasperation quickly turned into a wicked grin, "I guess you were too busy drooling over Shakespeare to notice."
He pouted, "Quit it. He's a genius!"
She winked, "And not too bad to look at, eh?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes affectionately. "Not my type, really. I happen to like personal hygiene. But what were you saying about that maiden girl?"
Rose bit her lip, eyes narrowed, "Did I just discover… a clue?"
He smiled proudly, returning her wink. "Might just have. I knew there was a reason I kept you around for so long."
"You mean, other than to save your ungrateful bum from trouble, time and time again?"
"Other than that, yeah," he admitted cheekily. "But no, it's mostly that famous Domestic Approach." He slid across the bed until he was sitting right beside her, as if they were sharing a precious, delicate secret. His voice was lowered accordingly, "So, Rose Tyler, in your professional opinion, if she wasn't after his good looks or his charming personality, what do you suppose she wanted with him?"
Rose shrugged conspiratorially, giggling, "Maybe she's the witch!"
Again, he rolled his eyes. "Keeping in mind that there is no such thing, whoever she is, she must have needed to get rid of him for some reason. What could it be?"
He stared into air, pensive and frowning. Rose shook her head, assuming that her work was done. She pointed him in the right direction, and that was all he really needed from her most of the time, she figured. Absently leaning back, she wondered aloud, mostly to herself, "Wonder what this Lost Play's all about, then. I mean, he's written about everything already! Be interesting to see it, even if the women are all men."
The Doctor bounced excitedly, "The play! The Lost Play!" He planted a feverish kiss on her forehead, and hopped up from the bed, beaming with mad rush, "Rose Tyler, You are a Genius!"
She laughed, blushing slightly. "Well, someone has to be around here!"
He wasn't listening anymore, anxiously pacing back and forth. "He was trying to prevent the play from opening tomorrow, and suddenly he's dead? How did I miss it? But what's so special about this play, anyway? Looked innocent enough to me. I should have known. We should try looking for that girl, get her to say what she was doing…"
From the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed Rose lying back on the bed, and halted instantly, his rant of actions thrown away as an afterthought. She opened her eyes, shaken awake by the silence. "What? What's wrong?"
He tilted his head, softened almost to the point of becoming a piece of cotton candy, and asked, "You tired?"
She shrugged apologetically, "Mystery hardly sleeps, sadly."
Sometimes he forgot she had different physical needs than him, and she let him forget. He knew that if he said he wanted to go investigating now, she'd comply without complaints, forever eager to prove herself. But he swore he would never make her feel that she needed to, or that she was expected to.
So instead, The Doctor chuckled playfully, "It's alright, no real hurry. Play's going up tomorrow night. We can put up camp for a few hours. Great minds like yours need rest a-plenty. Meanwhile I can… think some… more… about, uh, something. Go on, scoot over." She did, and he plopped on the bed next to her.
Clearly not listening, she murmured, "Yeah, you… do that. Wake me up when it's sunrise."
He counted to three. It usually didn't take more than that. And as predicted, by the time he looked back at her, Rose had already fallen fast asleep, breathing evenly, so far away from him. Didn't even have the presence of mind to cover herself with a blanket, he realized, shaking his head. She must have really overworked herself today, he thought, quickly wrapping her with the blanket that covered his side of the bed.
She jolted slightly, upset with a clandestine nightmare that he was excluded from. The Doctor had always wondered what she dreamt of, where she went in those few hours. And if he ever appeared in her dreams, what face he wore for the occasion. Human dreams always seemed so remarkable to him, a true miracle. How they carried inside a person's entire soul and then were just forgotten come morning like they never were.
He ran his fingers through her hair softly, hoping that would help, but it only increased her trembling. She whimpered, and he felt it, because he could feel everything. The wind and the darkness and Rose's breathing. A thought crossed his mind, a mental note to be more attentive to Rose's needs from then on. Wouldn't want to lose her to another universe again, after all.
Wait, what?
He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Little tendrils of confusion consumed every trace of happiness they could find. He didn't lose her, did he? Surely he was just being stupid. She held on, she survived, she was lying right next to him. He remembered it as if it happened yesterday.
Will I ever see you again?
You can't.
For a moment, everything was as it was supposed to have been. Time stopped for just a second, just enough for him to have a clear view of what he was missing. The Doctor and Rose, chipper and beautiful, looking forward to the next day, the next adventure. One last breath, and everything was sucked inside and gone forever.
-
Martha's voice had cut through his hallucination. "Doctor?" she asked tentatively, edging towards him.
The Doctor let go of the Transducer with a start, fully disconnected. Separate illusion from reality, he told himself. Remember where you are, remember the world. He was sorry to admit that he was developing a skill for shaking off the painful alternative futures he created for himself and shifting back to his regular state of being.
"Doctor?" Martha tried again.
He quickly stuffed the Transducer under the console, away from Martha's view. The last thing he needed was for her to become as addicted to it as he was. He secretly hoped the TARDIS would just destroy it and save him from having to. This… this was beyond unbearable.
If he started comparing everything that happened to him in reality to the idealized version his mind created –with Rose beside him– he would never be able to move on.
"What?" he asked, trying to even his heartbeats.
She shifted shyly. "Now that we've established I'm staying, d'you think we could maybe go see a good world next time?"
He shook his head, plastering a huge grin on his face, "What d'you mean?"
Martha shrugged, bashful, "You know, without witches or rhinos or Macra… and not in the slums, mind you! Or the moon! Just… somewhere nice?"
"Define nice."
"Not life threatening," she blurted without hesitation.
The Doctor sighed. "This might come as a shock to you, Martha, but none of the places we've been so far were supposed to be life threatening." He frowned, feeling a rant on the way, "'sides, haven't you ever heard of Murphy's Law? You're just asking for more trouble."
He knew it was his fault for taking the fun out of the danger. He's been treating everything with a coldness that was sometimes startling even to him. No wonder Martha was wary, and it wasn't fair to do this to her. He was clouded in grief, and still she stayed with him. She deserved better; he would try harder.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly, "Are you telling me there's not one point in time and space where nothing bad happened?"
Not where I'm concerned, he almost said. Every day that started good, always ended bad. And aside from a few rare cases, it seemed that lately, every day that started bad, ended bad as well. Still, no sense in depressing the poor girl so early in the relationship. He hopped up from his seat, rubbing his palms together, "I think I can manage something. Tell me, Martha Jones, how d'you feel about amusement parks?"
A smile split her face, "I love 'em!"
There was something refreshing about her innocence, especially after being alone for so long, with nothing but the bitterness in his head to keep him company. "Brilliant! And if I were to tell you that the cotton candy was made out of clouds?"
She frowned, "Aren't clouds made of water, basically?"
"Oh, Martha Jones, not these clouds."
Martha looked positively delighted at this new concept of alien funfairs and cloudy candy. "Just tell me you didn't…" she stopped herself, quite wisely. "Just tell me it'll be your first time there, and I'll be good to go."
He knew what she was really asking, and he hoped she wasn't developing a complex because of him. There were plenty of places that weren't fortuned enough to be touched by Rose. "Well, first time there in the year 30,000, anyway," he answered without answering. Martha tensed, but he quickly added, "I used to go there all the time when I was little."
She tried to hide her sigh of relief, but really. "Well, come on, then. What are we waiting around here for? Let's go!"
As he was maneuvering through the various levers, the Transducer caught his eye again. It was lying by the console where he shoved it, sinisterly. Tempting. It was easy to see how people lost their lives over it. Hopefully the TARDIS was waiting for him to leave before fusing the thing. Maybe he'll come back in a few hours and it won't be there anymore.
Oh, if wishes were fishes.
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Sorry it took so long, but it really did take long to write (and let's thank The Shakespeare Code for practically shoving a potentially 10\Rose shipper-y scene in my face). Next chapter's already half done, thank God. Anyway, I hope you liked this, and if you did, please REVIEW If you don't, then my heart'll break and I'll only have one heart working, and how will I cope? (Sorry, have to stop watching that episode while writing this…)