Spring Green
A few evenings later, Corin and Rose were relaxing in the flat after a day spent puttering in the lab and hashing out the parameters and budget of Dottore Cappelini's new project, respectively. They'd been chattering away about their days, last Sunday's dinner, baby brother Tony, news on the telly, life. Old friends.
After a comfortable silence, Rose turned to Corin and asked, "Well? Have you had enough time to remember?"
"Sorry? Remember what?"
"Gallifreyan weddings."
"Ah. How did you know I was thinking about that today?" He gave her a strange look. "Are you reading my mind or something?"
She spluttered. "If I were, I wouldn't have to ask, would I?"
"I suppose not." He continued to eye her oddly for a moment, but then shrugged and went on. "Well, to begin with, there aren't any churches, or ministers, or anybody officiating. The two people leave their homes with their families and friends and walk through the town to where they planned to meet – some place that's special to them, some beautiful spot; perhaps in front of their house if they've built a new one. I told you about the garlands, yes? Flowers and leaves? She brings his and he brings hers, and the first thing is to crown each other with them.
"Then they each... say their piece. It's not as scripted as human-style weddings I've seen; there aren't any formal vows, though there is something of a formula they may or may not use. Except for the Danae-D'Herada. Somewhere it became Tradition for a couple to recite that together."
"The what?"
"The Danae-D'Herada. It's an old Gallifreyan poem that talks about opposites and how they combine to make a whole. I've tried to translate it to English before, but it just doesn't work. The best one could do would be just take the concept and start fresh."
"That sounds lovely. I'd really love to bring some of that into our wedding. We could easily write our own vows. What was that formula?"
"Well... it's really... it's not... oh, hell." He broke off with an uncharacteristic oath, and leaned forward on the edge of the couch, face in his hands, elbows on knees, radiating tension and sadness.
Rose, surprised, let him be. He was married before. Maybe this is bringing back too many memories. After a bit she put her hand on his shoulder, and whispered, "I'm sorry."
He shook his head, then, quietly: "No, I'm sorry. I'm... I'm lying. By omission."
Startled, she decided to skip the obvious and go for the important: "Why?"
Deep breath. "What else? Fear." She waited. "Fear of losing you, by wanting too much, asking for more than you can give."
"Because I'm not a Time Lord?"
"Yes."
She waited a bit, then: "Corin. Please talk to me. Let me in. At least let me know what it is that's missing for you, and let me be in on seeing if I can give it or not. Stop making decisions for me."
That got him. He leaned back again, slumping down so he was half-lying on the cushion, head propped on the low back of the couch. He stared at the fireplace, empty in the summer heat, and sighed. "What I've just described isn't a wedding in the human sense. It's not the official beginning of a marriage. It's the public announcement and celebration of what has already begun in private: a Time Lord life bond."
After a few beats she prompted, "A life bond?"
"It's a telepathic connection. Lifelong, unbreakable save by death or regeneration. Even if the two are in different time periods, there's still a ghost of a presence, because their personal timelines remain in sync."
"Can you still...?"
It took him a moment. "Feel her? No. She died a long long time ago both in universal time and in my personal timeline, in the First Dalek War."
Oh. So it's not that he's still in mourning. I think. She chose her words carefully. "What is it, exactly, that you think is too much for me? That I wouldn't be able to make the bond, because I'm not telepathic?"
"No, I'd be able to do that myself. It's... having me in your head. Please don't take this wrong, I'm not putting you down. It's just that most of the time, when someone who is telepathic links to someone who isn't, whose species isn't even, that person... freaks out."
"But you've been in my mind before. When you took the Vortex out."
"But do you remember it? Really remember how it felt?"
She thought. "Um, no."
He nodded. "Even if you did, it wouldn't be the same. The Vortex would have... helped."
"Well, it seems to me there's only one answer here: test it and see. Link to my mind – temporarily – and see if I freak out. I trust you."
He gave her a long, speculative look, considering. Then he took her hand again, and said "All right. But hold on. Table that for a bit. Because there's more."
More? She waited.
He turned back to his absent-minded study of the fireplace and took another deep breath. "The telepathic link is what comes after – what it settles down into. When the bond is first created... it's very intense. It's called the LifeDreaming. They almost literally dream each other's lives. For several hours in the real world, they have full access to each other's memories. You'd see everything. And so would I. We'd know each other completely, from the inside, everything we'd ever done or thought or dreamed, good or ugly, fantastic or... evil.
"I don't know if I'm prepared to have you know everything I've done. I don't know... You might never be able to even look at me again. But we'd be stuck then. It's unbreakable, like I said. People – others that Time Lords have tried to bond with – have gone mad from it." Like Lucy Saxon. Then again, though, her bondmate wasn't too sane to begin with.
"Ooooooh. That... doesn't sound like a lot of fun."
"Ah, no." He turned to look at her finally, and brought her hand up to kiss it. "Not everyone has, though. There have been successful life bonds between Time Lords and others. Even humans, if I remember right."
Rose slumped down sideways to put her head on his shoulder, and together they turned back to the fireplace. "Well, I'm glad my species isn't a total loss."
He smiled. "Far from it, Rose Tyler."
After some consideration, she asked, "Is that all of what's bothering you? Or is there more that you're not telling me?"
"No, that's all."
Silence for a time, then, "Hold on. You're over nine hundred years old! Reliving all that, even at dream speed, would take more years than I've got left!"
He laughed. "Well, it's not like reliving every second. Think back on your own life. Can you remember every second? Or just... the highlight reel?"
"The highlight reel, of course. But even that has a lot of moments." A beat. "Isn't there any way to control it? A way for you to just show me what you want me to see, or for me to choose what I want to see?"
"I don't know, Rose. I... just don't know."
They sat for several minutes, contemplating. Then Rose sat up again and turned to face him, tucking one leg under herself and stretching the other across his lap. "One thing at a time. I'd still like to try a temporary link, to see what that's like. 'Cause.. I don't know why, but I really think I'd like it." She thought a moment. "Maybe if only because I know you want it, so it must be... wonderful. When it works." She smiled.
He pulled himself up, grabbing her leg and keeping it on his lap, caressing it, then reaching with the other hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Oh, it is. The closeness is …. the sweetest thing I can think of."
"Well, then..."
He looked at her a moment longer, then put his hands on either side of her face, cupping it gently. Beginning to reach out, he stopped and told her, as he had Reinette, "If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door, and close it. I'll do the same. And I promise you this: as long as I'm in control of myself, I will never open a door that you've closed." Thinking of Reinette, he hurriedly closed that door, too. "Let's keep this to... the times we shared, traveling together. No ancient history – for either of us."
"Agreed. OK."
And suddenly, there he was, a presence in her mind, warm and somehow sparkling. It was like being immersed in champagne; each tiny bubble a picture, or a sound, or a flavor – and she knew they were scraps of memories, his or hers she wasn't sure. Then scenes from her own life were flipping past, too fast to catch fully, as though he were flipping through her mental rolodex, looking for a particular memory. And then he found it, and, laughing – both physically under her hands resting on his chest, and in her mind, a flow of cool, pepperminty sparkles – brought it out.
She was a passive, captive onlooker in her own mind, her own body; Cassandra in control. 'They' walked out of the lift, and found the Doctor standing by a curtained alcove. Rose couldn't keep up with the banter, she was struggling to retake control, when suddenly Cassandra grabbed the Doctor – and snogged him! The longest five seconds of Rose's life, she was embarrassed, humiliated – and extremely turned on. *So that's what I've been missing...*
Somehow managing to stop the mental playback, Rose reacted swiftly. *OK, you, two can play this game.* Without knowing how she did it, or how she knew which one it was – perhaps simply by proximity – she reached for his matching memory and pulled.
He turned and saw Rose walk out of the lift, and then did a double-take. Where had that sexy prowl come from? Only part of his mind on what he was telling her about the patients, he couldn't keep the rest off her pronounced curves, until suddenly she turned – and snogged him! *This isn't Rose. This isn't Rose! Oh, who cares?* And he snogged her back, enthusiastically. As she broke and stepped back, he muttered to himself, *Yup. Still got it.*
This time, he stopped it, and they grinned at each other with delight for their remembered reactions. *I did like that walk* he thought at her, and she made a mental note to try something out later.
He laughed again and reached for another memory, this time of her dancing in midair over wartime London with Captain Jack Harkness, and she retaliated with him refusing to let Jack cut in on their dancing when they snatched him from his ship moments before it exploded. Thoroughly enjoying the experience, they both relaxed into the couch and skipped from memory to happy memory, revealing their previously-hidden thoughts and reactions.
Another narrow escape. Utterly exhausted, she fell into her bunk on the TARDIS, and he leaned over to tuck her in – rather farther than necessary for the job. A LOT farther. *He's going to kiss me!* And then...
Without warning, another memory came flashing out from deep within her, burning across his senses. On her back, head jammed painfully into the crack by the car door. Dead weight on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs. Stinking garlicky alcohol breath in her face. Blind unthinking panic and outrage as her legs were wrenched apart.
Just as suddenly, the images were gone – and so was she, out of his mind and out of his arms, as she tore herself free of both and flung herself back into the corner of the couch, gasping for breath. Heads spinning, senses whirling, they each fought to bring themselves back under control. Corin was staring wildly at Rose huddled in the corner, face buried in her hands. She managed to speak first.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know how that slipped out. I never ever meant for you to see that."
He boggled at her, utterly stunned. All he could manage was a hoarse whisper. "Rose... you were raped?"
She looked at him, then, taking a deep breath and dropping her hands to her lap, much more calmly than he would have credited. "No. I was almost raped. He didn't... he was stopped. Some guy came by and stopped it in time."
Corin found his fists were clenched, rage flooding through him. "Who was it?" Somebody at Torchwood? Some creep here in London? Vague splinters of impulse flashed through his mind, of finding said creep and inflicting major bodily damage.
But Rose, not needing telepathy to read his face, was shaking her head. "No, no, no. Corin, it happened years ago, long before we ever even met. I was sixteen. It's OK. I'm OK. I've been OK for a long time." She reached over and took his hand, wrapping it in both of hers, trying to warm and unclench it. "It's ancient history." She grimaced. "I guess I've got a lot to learn about controlling my thoughts."
Corin shook his head. "You may be OK, but I'm not." His head continued shaking. "What happened? Please tell me. Or else I'm going to just be obsessing over it."
She took a deep breath. "OK." She moved back closer to him, cuddling up against his side, making him relax back into the couch again. "His name was Ronald. A guy I knew from the neighborhood, older than me by a couple of years. We'd been out a couple of times, nothing special. I wasn't that interested, just hanging out – it was long before Mickey and I started dating. Anyway, we'd gone out to catch a movie and dinner, and he'd had a couple of beers. He'd borrowed his Mum's car, and on the way back, he made a sudden turn into an alleyway and parked. He wanted to make out. I didn't want to, and told him so, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. And then he really wasn't taking no for an answer. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.
"All of a sudden, the car door was just ripped open behind him, and a man reached in and dragged him out, and …." She stopped cold, staring into space for several seconds, as she focused on the memory she'd locked away so long ago. "Oh. My. God. Oh, my god. OH MY GOD!"
"WHAT?"
She turned to him, face full of disbelief, half whispering in astonishment. "It was Jack."
A beat, then it hit him. "Harkness?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Oh, my god. Jack Harkness rescued me. He hauled Ronald out of the car, threw him up against the wall, and..." Her mouth twitched amusedly "... he beat the living crap out of him. Broke his arm and some ribs, I heard later."
Mind reeling, Corin flashed back to Jack, standing in the radiation-flooded chamber on Malcassairo, connecting the power couplings, telling the Doctor about reliving the twentieth century. "I went back to her estate, in the 90s, just once or twice. Watched her growing up. Never said hello, timelines and all that." His eyes dropped. He was lying, but I didn't catch it. Well, I was a bit preoccupied.
Rose was still bemused. "Jack Harkness saved me from being raped. I'll be damned. And I never got the chance to thank him. I never saw him again after that night, until we met him, and I didn't recognize him."
Corin, finally able to settle back again, pulled her close. "I think that was his way of thanking you, love. After all, it happened the other way around, for him."
They were silent for a long time, each mulling over the curious twists of fate, will, and time travel that kept pulling them back together with so many others. Finally, Corin, hating himself but compelled, hesitantly said, "Rose, I have a request. I'd... I'd very much like to know what happened on the Dalek Crucible before I came out of the TARDIS. If it's too painful, I understand, and I'll never bring it up again. But... something happened there, something that changed everything, and I'd like to know what it was. If you're willing..."
Rose nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd like to know, too. I just don't understand how he could have changed so quickly." They were circling again around the awful wound in her heart, but she had to know, to understand, in order to be able to move on.
They moved apart slightly on the couch again, turning toward each other. Corin placed his hands on her cheeks, but before he reached out with his mind, he leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss. "I love you, so very much. Don't ever forget that. And I don't ever want to cause you any pain. Please let me know if you want to stop."
She nodded gratefully. "I will."
Then he did reach out, and slid into her mind again. He didn't need to look for the memory, she had it ready. They each closed their eyes, reliving those crucial minutes, beginning with the aborted regeneration.
-Falling into the Doctor's arms, finally together after three long, tormented years of separation.-
-Riding in the TARDIS to the Dalek Crucible, trying to figure out what was going on.-
-Walking out the door, Donna lagging behind.-
-Watching the TARDIS, with Donna, disappear, seemingly destroyed.-
-Jack dying.-
-Taken to the Vault, meeting Davros, and Dalek Caan.-
Corin frowned, concentrating. The answer was here somewhere.
-Dalek Caan, gloating insanely. "I have seen. At the time of ending. The Doctor's soul will be revealed."-
-The testing of the Reality Bomb. Davros gloating. "This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!"-
-The incoming calls from Martha and Jack. The thrill, now bitter, of Martha's recognition. "Oh my god. He found you!"-
-Davros again, gloating. "The man who abhors violence. Never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor! You take ordinary people and fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time, transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this."-
-The Doctor, silent. Still. Exposed.-
Corin gasped, a long, slow, hiss. He backed out of Rose's mind, not needing to see any more, and dropped his hands. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, bleakly. "That was it, wasn't it."
He nodded, staring into the distance above her head. In the lowest, most intense voice Rose had ever heard him use, he said, "That burned him to the bone."
He swiveled and slumped back, once more staring at the fireplace, and continued morosely. "And then I came out, full of fury and murder, and wiped out the Daleks." He shook his head, slowly, and fell silent.
Rose waited, then: "I'm sorry. I.. I still don't really understand. Why...?" She trailed off, not really sure what she was asking.
Corin sighed. "I can sum up 'why' in one word. One name. The name he used... I used, during the First Dalek War. The name I wouldn't give you before." He suddenly got up, unable to sit still. He took the two steps over to the fireplace, then stopped, stretching his arms wide before placing them on the chest-high mantel, leaning against it. Staring at something far, far beyond the photos arranged there, he started slowly. "I fought in the War – everyone did. It was going badly. The Daleks had brought it to us, breaking through our defenses, attacking parts of Gallifrey itself." Long pause. "My squadron was decimated. We broke, and fled back to our homes. I ran for the house, hoping... I was too late. My wife..." He stopped, and the silence told Rose all she ever needed to know.
Finally, he went on, even more intense than before. "I went back to my ship. And I took it to them. I went hunting Daleks. I hunted them across the stars and rained fire from the skies upon them. I scorched them out of the Porterion nebula and through the Eye of Cassalon and right back to Skaro's surface – and everywhere I screamed my name into every mind that could hear it, wanting them to know who it was that was coming for them. And that name.. was -"
As before, when he had given her his true name, he didn't say it aloud, but put it directly into Rose's mind. He heard her slow gasp of horror and didn't turn, not wanting to see his fate in her eyes. Well, that went well, came the sarcastic little voice inside. The one thing you're most terrified of her finding out, the one memory you never wanted her to see – that's the one you up and tell her first. Weary and heartsick beyond responding, he closed his eyes at last, head sagging, and waited for the ax to fall.
Rose, huddled in the corner of the couch, had drawn her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly and dropping her own head down on them, a tight little protective ball of cowering human. She heard – felt – the syllables of his warrior's name echoing through her mind again and again, bringing wave after wave of terror. Annihilation. Utter Devastation. Fury as cold as the deepest reaches of space. Smoke and blood and bleak despair. Death Incarnate.
She didn't know how long she sat there, waiting till the echoes at last died away, and her frozen brain began to move again. And she started pushing back. Pushing that name, that image, back into the deepest past, where it belonged; far, far removed from any Doctor – any Corin – she'd ever known. She began to shake her head, whispering "No... No..."
She raised her head at last, and suddenly uncurled from the couch and went to him, placing her hand on his arm. "Corin, no. He misjudged you. You're not that man, and you haven't been that man for a very very long time. People change. And you've had far, far longer than anyone else I ever heard of to do that changing." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I know you destroyed the Daleks at the Crucible. But you did it to save the universe. To save all of reality. Because you were right – if even one had survived, they would have continued the plan, and sooner or later, we would have been right back there, with the stars winking out." She shook her head. "Maybe this is simplistic; maybe I'm just a simple human being, a stupid ape. But I am sure of one thing. Some times, when evil threatens everything good, a good man – a good man, Corin – has to take an evil action to protect what's right. That doesn't make him an evil man." She took another deep breath, and said again. "He misjudged you. You're not evil. You're not.." Unable to say the Gallifreyan syllables, unwilling to try, she settled for the Dalek's name for him. "You're not the Oncoming Storm."
Hardly daring to believe his ears, he turned at last to look at her, and found his redemption in her eyes. Sweet relief swept through him. She hadn't turned from him in disgust. She'd stayed at his side, believed in him, trusted him. Loved him.
He dropped his head to her shoulder and wept.