11 Reasons He had Lied to Himself
Chapter One: She Cared – Maybe too Much
His eyes lock on hers, and for the first time he sees the truth behind her. She is huddled against the TARDIS, that boy she had been so concerned about cowering beside her, looking down at him as she comes to understand what is going on. She takes in the fire and the screams and him, held struggling by two Auton dummies, and it all seems to click. And what he sees scares him – truly, absolutely terrifies him.
He can see the depths of her heart, her true strength solidifying behind those brown eyes. He can see who she really is – what she is really capable of – and he is in awe. And scared – so very scared – because he sees her taking in her surroundings, searching for a way out. But it isn't a way out she is looking for, and he knows it.
He knows what she will do even before she stands. He knows – even when the boy shouts at her to leave him, that she can't do anything to help. He knows her every plan when she walks over to the chain and looses it from the wall. He knows she will swing down, freeing him as she knocks the Autons and antiplastic into the Consciousness.
But he brushes it off as he grabs her, stopping her fall. He just smiles, wiping away the fear as he looks at the screaming vat before them.
"Now we're in trouble!" he says, and then they are off, running again towards the TARDIS and the boy clinging so desperately to it, as if it is his only means of salvation. It is, but he is still a bit disgusted at how pathetic the act looks. He ushers him inside, and in another moment she follows, the doors lock, and he is sending the TARDIS away from the exploding factory behind them. They land, and he is glad to see the boy race out the doors. He watches her follow, and almost without thinking he goes after her, stopping in the doorway. He listens as she calls her mother and grins when she chides the boy for his inaction. She turns back to him, and his grin grows.
"Nestene Consciousness?" he asks, snapping his fingers. "Easy."
"You were useless in there – you'd be dead if it wasn't for me," she says, jabbing her thumb towards her chest, and he pauses just a moment.
Again he sees her eyes, staring down at him with a look so resolved it still sends chills down his spine. She had cared if he lived or died. He is a total stranger – one that had told her quite plainly just hours before to go on with her life and forget him. But there she had stood, watching him with eyes someone like him didn't deserve to stand under. She doesn't know him, but she cares – and it still terrifies him.
"Yes, I would," he says, nodding as he looks down. He wants to ask why – why him, of all people? – but he can't. He's going to leave, and then she'll be gone – just another memory in a long line of faces. She'll move on, and he'll become someone lurking at the edges of her mind – a shadow of a dream caused by a bad bit of soup or trauma from her job exploding. She'll forget him, just like he had asked that morning. He resigns them to their fates, and he looks back to her. "Thank you."
Because it's the last chance he'll have to say it, and he means every word. But he can't quite shake the sight of her eyes, and suddenly he's not so sure he wants it to be the last chance.
"Right then – I'll be off. Unless…ah, I dunno…" he looks away, almost scared to ask – almost scared that she'll say no – before glancing back, "…you could come with me."
And he sees it again – that flicker and spark in her eyes, and he knows she wants to say yes. She wants to follow him, but she needs something more – just a tiny push.
"This box isn't just a London op, you know, it goes anywhere in the universe – free of charge," he says, smiling, and he can see her come just that bit closer to yes. And he doesn't know why, other than those eyes burning so intensely for the life of someone she doesn't even know, but he wants her to say it. He wants it so bad it hurts, though he refuses to let her see. All smiles and reassurances – no desperation on his part, not at all.
"Don't," the boy at her feet says, and he bites back his distaste. "He's an alien – he's a…a thing!"
"He's not invited," he says quickly, and he sees her step back. "What d'you think?"
'Say yes. Please, say yes.'
"You could stay here – fill your life with work and food and sleep – or you could go, ah…anywhere," he says with a shrug, and he sees her shift.
"Is it always this dangerous?" she asks, and he gives her a grin – a smile born of excitement and thrills and truth.
"Yeah," he says, hiding his grimace when the boy jumps up, clinging to her legs. He wants to shout at him to grow a spine, but he remains silent. She shrugs when she feels him grab her, and she waves him off to the side.
"Yeah, I can't," she says. "I've…um…I've gotta go and find my mum, and someone's gotta look after this stupid lump."
He looks down, and he can't hide the disappointment as her refusal echoes in his ears. He wants to fight it, to convince her she's making a mistake. He wants her to come along. He doesn't want to leave her here, letting that big-as-the-universe heart get wasted on the 'stupid lump' clinging to her.
"Ok," he says, and he sees her suck in a breath. "See you around."
And he hopes he will. She keeps watching him, even as he steps back into the TARDIS, and again those eyes are locked on him. He shakes off the look she's giving him, not wanting to think on it – not wanting to ask again. He never does – one chance to say yes, and that's that. What difference will second thoughts make?
He gives her a nod and closes the door, trying to press her out of his mind. But as he walks to the controls and sends the TARDIS into the vortex, he can't. He sees her again in that factory, looking down at him like he was so important – like it mattered if he died there. He sees her watching him walk away, leaving her for good, looking at him like she can't believe it. Her voice said no, but everything else said yes. Her eyes, her face – her entire spirit had screamed at him to take her.
And again he is terrified, mystified at how a human girl – and a teenager, at that – can care so much for him, a man she doesn't even know. He knows she would put her life in his hands without a second thought, trusting him with everything she has, knowing he'll get her out of any situation. Is it always this dangerous? Yes, and it doesn't matter – she knows he won't let it harm her.
She doesn't know him.
He tells himself that over and over and over again, but it doesn't matter. Each time he says it it gets weaker, until finally he can't see why it ever made sense in the first place.
She cares, when no one else does. And isn't that worth a second chance?
The TARDIS lands with a gentle bump, and he runs to the doors. He opens one and pokes his head out, grinning at her like she wasn't driving him crazy.
"By the way," he says, loving the confusion in her glance, "did I mention…it also travels in time?"
She smiles, and he knows her answer all over again – and he knows she'll stick with it this time. He leaves the door open for her, grinning as he falls back into the ship and walks towards the controls. He'll let her say goodbye – even to an idiot like…what had she said his name was, anyway? Ricky?
He's standing there, leaning against the console and tossing a gadget in his hand, when she runs back in, her face split with a smile. And though he gives her a grin, he forces himself to be the living definition of calm, denying the urge to whoop and holler and cheer.
She scares him, with her heart that cares too much for a stranger so undeserving. But maybe, he thinks with a smile, that's half the fun of it. Maybe that's what will make it worth it in the end, because he can tell – even now, when all he knows of her is heart and courage and a soul that can be described as nothing short of passionate – that asking her twice will have been the best thing he ever could have done. And in a way, that scares him, too – but he knows she's still worth it.
"Right then, Rose Tyler, you tell me: where do you wanna go?"
A.n.: This was a beast to write. Seriously – I had this great big burst of brain surge for the prologue and the whole thing, really, but then I sit down to write ch1 and it all kinda deflates. I think I've started and rewritten this a good six or seven times before getting this. And the real ballser? The minute the plunny finally comes back and I know what I want to put, my stomach reminds me that it's been a good long while since my last meal and hey, wouldn't breakfast be grand? (Not even going into how I then found "The Body" on FX and was further distracted…)
But all in all, I'm still relatively happy with it. And before I forget: theme for this chapter is "Passionate" from table two.