They had to hike out into the woods on foot. The body had been found a few miles in, not far from the first one. It was a steep, rocky slope that was sparse of trees. The police were already there when they arrived, the whole area fenced off with yellow tape and swarming with officials. John had to flash his badge to get through, but no one seemed too bothered by the girl following him. One of them, the officer in charge of the case, saw John and waved him over. "Figured you'd want to hear about this," he told him when they were closer. "Same set-up as the last one." The man, Detective Reynolds he remembered, looked curiously at the girl.
John still had doubts about bringing the kid on a hunt, but she really wasn't giving him much choice. He'd just have to make sure she didn't get anywhere near the actual hunt. "Detective, this is my partner," he explained reluctantly.
He was about to introduce her, but before he could, the girl quickly pulled out a leather wallet, flipping it open to reveal an FBI badge. "Agent Jane Smith," she introduced herself with an easy smile. Detective Reynolds seemed appeased, but John narrowed his eyes. Why was this strangely well-adjusted civilian carrying a fake badge?
The detective nodded politely to her, then turned back to John. "Come on, I'll show you the body." He pushed through the throng of crime scene analysts, until they could see what they were crowding around.
A young man, maybe late teens, was sprawled across the rocks, looking pretty much the same as the first victim. Battered and bruised, back broken, one leg twisted in an awkward position, also broken he would bet.
One of the medical examiners gingerly turned over the man's arm for John to see. There were scrape marks along his forearm. "Just like the last one," the medical examiner sighed. "I can't say yet, but I'm willing to bet he was alive for a while after his spine broke. I think he tried to climb up the slope to get help."
John nodded grimly. "Same bones broken too, I bet?"
The medical examiner looked up in surprise. "Yes," she said warily. "How do you know?"
"Lucky guess," he said dismissively. The Hunter spared a quick glance over at the girl. He hadn't bothered to warn her how bad the scene might look; if she was stubborn enough to tag along, she'd have to deal. She was staring at the body, not with horror or fear, but a deep, quiet sympathy. He was surprised to see how much older she looked in that moment, more mature, sadder.
In an even voice, she asked, "Who was he?"
Detective Reynolds, who was on the other side of the body, supplied, "Josh Harrison, 18, college student, there's a couple colleges in the area. Hiking's big with the kids nearby. It was a group of hikers who found him."
The girl nodded quietly, but other than that she didn't react. She just asked quietly, "Has anyone told his family?"
The detective nodded. "Their number was in his cell, someone's calling them now."
John excused himself, then pulled the girl aside, taking them to an area of the crime scene less populated. He pulled out his EMF meter, which was buzzing and beeping insistently, the needle wavering wildly. The girl looked at it with interest. "What's that?" she asked curiously.
"EMF meter," he told her gruffly. "Senses ghost activity."
"So you really think a ghost did this?" she asked dubiously.
John just bit back a groan. He growled irritably, "Look, don't believe me if you don't want to, but quick bugging me about it."
The girl nodded agreeably. "Alright." After a moment, she asked more cheerfully, "So, Agent Howard then?" There was a teasing note in her voice; she clearly knew he wasn't a really agent.
He shrugged. "I need information from the cops, and they'll only talk to Feds."
She held up her hands. "Hey, no , I get it, believe me," she assured him.
John looked at her curiously. "You seem pretty comfortable lying to the cops," he commented. He noticed she still had her fake ID loosely in her hand. "Where'd you get that anyway?"
She grinned, handing it to him. "It's psychic paper," she told him. He flipped it open, expecting to see the FBI badge, but instead it displayed the words "psychic paper" in a hurried scrawl. "It can show people whatever I want it to. A friend of mine had some extra lying around, he gave it to me as a birthday gift."
John looked at it with growing interest. This girl seemed to have no end of surprises under her sleeve, and maybe not in a good way. He was beginning to suspect she knew more about the supernatural than she was letting on. "Is it magic?"
She snorted. "Nah, just advanced science." As she stuffed it back in her pocket, she asked curiously, "So wait, magic's real here too?"
John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, something's got to be keeping these spirits around," he remarked drily. "Yes, there's magic, and witches and others who can use it." He still wasn't convinced that the psychic paper wasn't magic, not was he convinced she wasn't playing him. She could be a witch, or a wiccan.
The girl nodded, looking thoughtful, like she was absorbing the new information. After a moment, she was grinning again. John found her cheerfulness disconcerting, especially for someone who'd been sobbing their heart out mere minutes ago. "So, do I get a real name, or do I have to call you Howard?" she teased.
He hesitated, then shrugged. "John." She may be in the supernatural world now, but that didn't mean he was trusting her with his full name.
"John who?" she pressed, smirking slightly at her own question. He didn't elaborate, so after a few moments she shrugged. "Alright then, John. That'll do for now I guess."
The girl had mentioned her name before, John remembered, but he couldn't recall what it was. "What's your name again?"
The girl smiled, warm and friendly, and just a bit knowing. "Rose Tyler," she told him.
SCENEBREAK
After they left the crime scene, John reluctantly told Rose, "You did good back there. Most throw up after their first body."
"How do you know that was my first body?" the companion asked teasingly. She was feeling better, happier now that she had something to focus on, a new adventure, but that sense of loss still lingered. She was doing her best not to think of the Doctor, or the rest of her family. She kept smiling, kept joking, acting as much like herself as possible, forcing herself to act like everything was okay. Maybe if she acted like she was okay, if she ignored the grief clawing at her insides long enough, she'd actually convince herself it was true.
It helped having John around. Not only had she lost her family, but she was now stranded in an entirely different universe. She had no ID, no home, nobody at all who knew she even existed. No one and nothing. And most importantly, no one who would ever believe what had happened to her, or understand.
John definitely wasn't the sympathetic type, but at least he might believe her. How lucky she'd been, to find someone who believed in the strange right away. Though her definition of "lucky" might've skewered, she mused, if she considered herself lucky after being threatened at knifepoint.
The man was suspicious, and gruff, and ruthless, if his threats to flay the skin from her bones were anything to go by. He was dangerous, there was no doubt of that. Nor was he entirely pleasant to be around. But his life definitely seemed interesting, and even under that pain, the itch for adventure was still well and alive. She had no reason not to keep tagging along with him.
John stiffened at her mysterious words. "You're unusually comfortable with all this for a civilian," he said in a low voice. There was that suspicion again, something Rose wasn't used to. The Doctor (don't think about him, not now, too soon) might have been gruff when he'd first met her, but he was never suspicious. He was always so open and welcoming, even with his enemies, he never closed anything off from them. He was always so undeniably him. It had taken Rose a while to figure out the pain he was hiding underneath, to know him fully, but he was still a very open person.
John was different. He was completely closed off, almost emotionless except for sarcasm. The only real look she'd gotten into his head was when she was tied in that chair, when he'd thought she was Yellow Eyes. That was when she'd gotten to see the rage, and the hate. She wasn't sure what his whole story was, or what this Yellow Eyes had done to him, but she could see that his gruffness was just armour to hide that rage, just like the Doctor used his cheerfulness to mask his guilt and loneliness. She could see the similarities between the two, but they were still so different, and it was strange having someone so suspicious and untrusting. She was usually so open about her travels in the TARDIS.
Before she could explain herself, his hand shifted, slowly pulling out his gun. She stiffened as he pulled it out and held it down. He didn't point it at her, but it was held at his side, ready and threatening. "I do believe you haven't been telling me everything," he said in a low voice.
Rose kept an eye on the gun, keeping her voice casual. "Maybe not," she admitted. It wasn't the first time she'd been threatened with a gun, not by a long shot, but usually she had some form of backup, or a certain Time Lord right next to her cracking jokes and keeping things light. She supposed if she was murdered out here in the woods, no one in any universe would ever know. "Would you believe me if I said, you wouldn't believe me if I told you?"
John scoffed. "I think we've made it pretty clear I'm not the one with the issue with believing," he said drily. He clicked off the safety, his gun hand tensing as he said, "I don't know who the hell you are or what you're doing here, but there's no way you're a civilian. So what are you? A witch? A wiccan? A psychic?"
"None of the above," Rose told him carefully. She hesitated – saying the wrong thing and pissing him off could get her shot – but in the end, she figured she might as well try. He wasn't going to let her go without an explanation of some sort, and he believed in the supernatural, he might believe in aliens too. "All right. What do you know about parallel universes?"
This made him pause. "What do I know about what?" he repeated dubiously.
"Parallel universes," she repeated. The companion held up her hands in two parallel lines for emphasis. "There's not just the one universe, there's tons, one for every decision made, some with litle differences, some with bigger. They're all interconnected, but it's nearly impossible to jump from one universe to the next."
John looked skeptical, but he seemed willing to go along with it for a bit. "Alright. Say that's true. What does that have to do with you in the forest?"
She let out a slow breath. "Because that's where I'm from," she told him sadly. "When you saw me in the woods, I'd just crossed over from a different universe." He looked skeptical, so she reluctantly continued. "There were these... things that were killing people, and they'd crossed over from a different dimension, so my friend and I cracked open the walls between the universes so we could send them back. We sent them into the Void between the universes, but I fell in, and ended up... here, for some reason."
That was worrying too – she'd fallen into the Void, so why was she in this universe instead of floating around in the dark? Based on what John had said, it had to do with the Bad Wolf, which was a major problem. The Bad Wolf was supposed to be gone. The Doctor had pulled the Time Vortex out of her. He'd died doing it. So why had the Bad Wolf been able to pull her out of the Void?
She was pulled out of her worried thoughts by John's voice. "You're saying you just magically popped in another dimension?" There was a heavy layer of sarcasm in his voice.
Rose couldn't help but smirk with amusement. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're the one saying ghosts are killing people. How's what I'm saying any stranger?" she challenged.
"Because I know ghosts are real," he said firmly. "I've seen 'em with my own eyes – hell, I've killed more of the supernatural than you've probably ever heard of. I've never seen any proof of any differen universes."
Rose lifted her chin stubbornly. "And I've never seen a ghost before, so why should I trust what you're saying?" she retorted. "It could be aliens for all I know."
That actually got a laugh from John. "Aliens aren't real," he informed her. "Any Hunter worth his salt knows that."
"And any time traveler worth their salt knows that ghosts and werewolves are just aliens mistaken for being supernatural."
John was looking increasingly amused. "Time travel? Aliens? You really think they exist?" It was clear he thought she was just some crazy conspiracy theorist. Rose felt a flash of irritation.
"I know they do," she told him stubbornly. "I don't have to prove anything to you." She waved her psychic paper, reminding him, "I had to have gotten this somewhere, right?" When he still looked unconvinced, she sighed. "Look, believe me or don't, but my answer's not going to change. I'm not a witch, I'm not a threat to you, I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep or anything. I'm human, I promise. And I'm just trying to help."
John's face closed off, expressionless once again. "I don't need help," he told her gruffly. "And I certainly don't need to be looking after you while I'm trying to do my job."
Rose glared at him. "I told you already, I can look after myself," she said a little testily. "I've met aliens tougher than any ghost. I'm not asking you to look after me, I'm asking for a chance to help. I helped people back in my universe, I wanna do that here too. Besides, I don't..." she hesitated, then admitted, "I don't know anyone in this universe, alright? I haven't got any money or anything, and I don't have anywhere to go. You're the only person who's got any chance of believing me, so I might as well stick with you."
The Hunter looked her up and down, considering. Then he gave a weary sigh. "Fine," he finally said. "I guess I still need to figure out what really put you in that forest, so you might as well stay close. But if I'm not dragging you out of trouble every time you stub your toe. You say you can look after yourself, you better be able to." He started off again, not bothering to look back to see if she was following.
Rose watched him walk away for a few moments, fighting back a sigh. She had a partner for now, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to end well. He clearly didn't believe her, or particularly care what happened to her. She might have someone to work with for a while, but it still felt like she was on her own.
Here's more of The Hunting Rose! I really hope I got John right, Rose felt better to write this time. And yes, I gave Rose some psychic paper to make her stay in this 'verse a little easier, since she'll need fake ID a lot. Oh, and yes, the name Jane Smith was very much her copying the Doctor's usual John Smith.
BloodLily16: What, my story? On YouTube? How would that work?