Author's Note: This chapter is a little bit shorter than I like, but the next should be longer.
Standard Disclaimer: I own no rights to Doctor Who.
Chapter Five
Rose took a moment to admire her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed down the dress, grateful for the futuristic material. The black dress stopped a few inches above her knees, flaring slightly when she turned. On her feet she wore boots, having decided putting on high heels would be pressing her luck. A large gold belt completed the outfit, and her makeup was heavier than she'd worn in years.
Feeling prepared for her night out with the Doctor, she left the room and returned to the library, where he was waiting while talking to Jack.
"In terms of full power, theoretically, the spherical edition is going to be more effective than the cylindrical in this partic…" the Doctor stopped mid-explanation as he saw his wife step into the small library. He took in her appearance, slowly raking his gaze along her body, eyes darkening as he returned them to her face.
Jack, meanwhile, whistled at his friend's appearance.
"Wow, Rosie," said the man, earning him a sharp look from the Doctor, who rose from his seat to join his wife at the door.
Rose laughed.
"Thanks, Jack. We should be back before Lily wakes up," she told him as they started toward the console room. "And we'll call if anything happens to delay us."
"Take your time," he called after their retreating forms.
In the console room, the Doctor took one last look at the readings for the planet they'd landed on an hour earlier. They'd wanted to give Rose time to get ready and Lily time to fall back to sleep if the woke during the trip. Lily, however, had slept right through the change from Theropp in her specially-designed cradle.
"We are officially on the planet Gabble in the Hytraxician galaxy in the year fourteen thousand and eighty-four, by local reckoning," he said, then moved to where Rose waited next the exit. Instead of offering his arm or his hand as Rose expected, he swept her into a hug and spun them in a circle, making her laugh and her dress flare out. He set her down and kissed her quite thoroughly, pulling back and asking in a low voice that was almost a growl, "Are we sure we want to go out instead of stay in?"
"Come on, Doctor," she said, smiling and taking hold of his tie and leading him through the door. "New place to see, yeah?"
Rose took in her surroundings quickly, seeing a painting gallery of some sort, nearly empty, and turned to look at the TARDIS, this time eager to see the form she'd chosen.
Their ship was disguised as a tall painting of a scolding Jackie Tyler. The Doctor frowned at the unexpected sight of his mother-in-law.
"I think she's telling us to be careful, Doctor," said Rose, consulting briefly with the TARDIS to confirm.
"It's not like we get into trouble on purpose," said the Doctor, rubbing his neck. "Well, sort of. Anyway, if she didn't want us to go at all, the TARDIS would have locked the doors. Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "Allons-y."
They left the gallery, and Rose blinked as they stepped outside the doors.
"It's the middle of the day, Doctor," she said, surprised.
"Well, of course! What were we going to explore in the middle of the night? Just because it's Lily's night doesn't mean it has to be ours. Time machine," he reminded her with a sniff as they resumed walking. "So, anyway, here we are on the planet Gabble. It's nothing to do with the word it sounds like, of course, though wouldn't that be something? Can you imagine a planet where people have to jabber all day? That could be fantastic! Anyway, since you chose the planet, I chose the time, and we're here during one of this planet's equivalents to a Renaissance. The cultural focus right now is on a shifting of ideas, an explosion-figurative, not literal, of course-of art, music, literature. Since all of these things fit so closely with a given society's accepted norms, the society itself is changing, too, and it's fascinating to see. In fact, even the medical profession has had recent advances and changes, and the lifespan has recently lengthened again for Gabblers."
Rose listened while she watched around her, absorbing the sights and sounds and not-unpleasant smells. The people here were human, Rose remembered reading in the encyclopedia from earlier in the evening. They were genetically evolved enough by this point in time, though, that Cassandra, at least, would no longer consider them human. Rose shook off the memory of the woman who'd possessed her.
Up ahead, she saw a queue of people trying to get into what looked like a rather posh museum.
"What do you reckon's in there?" she asked the Doctor, curious.
"Let's find out, shall we?" he asked, changing their direction slightly to reflect the new destination.
"How are we going to get in?" she wondered aloud.
"I may or may not have a surprise that might help," replied the Doctor happily as they scaled the few steps to the door, bypassing the people waiting to the side. He reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a small wallet, and Rose contained her gasp of surprise.
"The Doctor and Rose Tyler," he said, holding out what appeared to be psychic paper. "We have VIP tickets."
The person at the door glanced briefly at the paper and gestured for the couple to enter. The Doctor looked proudly at Rose, taking in her smile.
"I finally managed to get ahold of what I needed to replace this," he told her when they were out of earshot and inside the building. "I wanted to save it until we needed it so I could surprise you."
"It worked," she said with a smile. Then she gasped as they stepped out of a short, uninteresting hallway and into a wide, open gallery filled with some of the most vivid artwork Rose had ever seen. Even the Doctor looked impressed.
They stopped at each painting, discussing them at length. As they stood in front of an entrancing picture of what appeared to be a couple's first, blushing kiss, they were approached by a man dressed in a fine suit. Rose thought he was probably a few years older than she was.
"The artist is magnificent, is he not?" the man asked.
"There are all the same artist?" asked Rose, indicating the size of the room.
"Well, of course," he replied, sounding slightly superior. "When it comes to capturing moments on canvas, Todd Lankerfrey is the most talented and prolific artist of our time. It is said none can look at one of his images without feeling at least a hint of the emotions conveyed by his brush. The honor to be chosen as a subject is amazing."
"How does he choose who and what to paint?" asked Rose. "Some of these he can't have painted from life. The one from inside a burning building is stunning."
"The selection process is extensive. You must have seen the line of people waiting outside, correct? Most of them were awaiting admission to Todd's interviewer."
"Do these interviews take place in the building?" asked the Doctor.
"Of course," said the man again. "Where else? The great Todd does not leave this building for painting, so why would be leave for something so mundane as an interview?" Seeming to decide he was finished educating the Tylers, the man nodded and walked away.
"Shall we see whether we can catch the master at work?" asked the Doctor, indicating a hall nearby that seemed the most likely direction since the building extended the further that way than it did at other exits from the main gallery.
"Sure," said Rose with a shrug. "Why not?"
The two made their way down the hallway. There was little in the way or decor, and few people were present.
When they came to the end of the hallway, they turned left just in time to see a woman walking slowly out of a room. She looked dazed, her long, dark hair partially blocking her face as she walked in their general direction. She walked without seeming to actually look at anything, and Rose stepped into her path.
"Are you alright?" she asked the woman.
The stranger stopped and looked up. Rose fought a shiver as the woman looked straight through her.
"I lost it," the dark haired woman said, sounding heartbroken.
"Lost what?" asked Rose. "My husband and I, we're good at finding things, yeah?"
"I lost it," was all she got in reply.
"What's your name?" tried Rose.
"I'm Sandy. I lost it," she said, almost looking Rose in the eye.
"Alright, Sandy," said Rose. "What did you lose?"
"I don't remember. I can't find it. It's mine, but it isn't there," she said, moving her eyes back to the floor and walking around Rose and toward the exit.
Rose watched her leave, concerned.
"Should we follow her, Doctor?" asked Rose.
"She was in the queue to get in here," he said, not quite answering her question. Before Rose could ask again, another woman came out of the room, this one carrying a painting and wearing a uniform. Rose and the Doctor looked at each other and then moved to talk to the apparent employee.
"Hello, there," said the Doctor, retrieving his psychic paper. "I'm the Doctor, and this is my partner, Rose. We're here from the inspection department, and we need to take a look at this image."
"Of course," replied the woman, whose name tag read "Janet," sounding a bit startled, but Rose was happy to note that she didn't seemed to be dazed as Sandy had.
The image was definitely created by the same artist as the ones in the gallery, thought Rose. In the painting was a woman kneeling at a fresh grave, sobbing, a fresh gash along the arm closer to the viewer.
"That's Sandy," said Rose silently, her gut telling her it might be time for caution.
"More than that," said the Doctor, "That's Sandy at some point in her past. That cut, it's a scar now. I saw it while you were talking. This is far too accurate to be done based on a verbal description."
"Thank you," said the Doctor out loud to Janet. "That is all we need for now."
He nodded dismissively, and Rose was glad to see the woman leave without arguing. Rose and the Doctor slipped into the room she'd exited. It appeared to be a waiting room of some sort, though nobody was currently present.
There were several chairs around the square room, and there was one other door. The Doctor moved to check it while Rose looked around the room, coming to a stop in front of a painting hung on the wall. Rose heard him try the knob and then heard the sonic screwdriver.
"Deadlocked," he muttered as he came to join her.
The painting was of a woman who appeared to be looking at her newborn child for the first time.
"I just can't shake the feeling that something's not right here," said Rose quietly.
"I agree," said the Doctor. "Besides, who needs a deadlock on a room for interviews? And how did he paint that portrait so quickly? Unless, of course, he had already painted it and this was a final viewing, but in that case, why would she need to wait in line?"
He retrieved his sonic screwdriver again, this time directing it at the painting. He squinted at the tool, put on his glasses, and went through the motions again.
"That can't be right," he said. "Well, I mean, it can be right, but if it's right, we've got a possible problem."
"Why's that, Doctor?" she asked, moving her attention from the emotional painting to her husband.
"Well, because based on these readings," the Doctor said, "if I'm right-and you know I'm very clever, so that chances of my being right are very high-there is a memory transfer happening here. These aren't paintings; they are actual memories. That explains how they can be so well-detailed when there wasn't an image to paint from for some of the more unusual situations."
"You mean like he can copy the memories somehow?" asked Rose, not entirely sure why the Doctor was looking angry as he gazed at the picture on the wall. "I mean, I guess that's maybe an invasion of privacy, depending on whether he's getting permission, yeah, but…Oh." She stopped for a moment. "'I lost it,' that's what Sandy kept saying. That means… I'm right, aren't I?" she continued, watching the Doctor as she spoke. "All of these emotional paintings, life-changing moments, firsts, lasts, hellos, goodbyes...they're not being copied, are they? The people who they belong to don't have them any more; they're being stolen."
Lost in her thoughts, imagining how it would feel to no longer have some of her most important memories, Rose almost failed to hear the locked door knob turn.
Reviews!
britgirlatheart: More for you! Sorry it's a short chapter, but the next should be longer!
jacks marie: So glad you loved it! I hope you continue to!