Chapter 2
Impossible. It was really about time that he stopped using that word. It never used to bother him that much when he had blue eyes and a grin full of joy and madness.
Rose snorted. With all they'd seen, impossible was nothing. She had given up on that word once she ran back into the TARDIS, eyes filled with the stars and with him. All of time and space, and it never stopped humbling her. There she was, just a London shop girl, and she'd seen more of the universe than almost anyone else on the planet—and it was all due to that marvelous, frustrating, magnificent alien and his sentient time ship.
She was more than just a London shop girl now, though. With him, she'd become more: stronger, faster, smarter, happier than she'd ever been before. With him, she looked past the over-dyed blonde chav from the council estate and saw what she could be, and she became herself.
No matter what her family had wished she could be, she wasn't Mickey's Rose any longer—hadn't been for some time. She wasn't Jackie's Rose anymore, either. The hardest lesson she had to learn once she fell from that lever was how to become more than the Doctor's Rose. No matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she knew he loved her, she couldn't be just a companion anymore, waiting for the Doctor to save the day. If she ever wanted to get back to him, she'd have to do it herself.
Her lips quirked and faint golden sparks drifted in her eyes. With what Pete and Mickey had found out, she really did belong nowhere but at his side. Wither and die my arse, she thought with a grim smile. He wasn't going to be able to use that excuse to keep her at arm's length anymore, despite what they both wanted.
Honestly, the Doctor really was too fond of his own drama sometimes. Somewhere along the line he'd forgotten that the universe had tricks that even he hadn't seen yet. I'm so going to smack him as soon as I find him again. She stilled, staring out the window at the dusty cityscape outside and seeing nothing but ancient brown eyes in a youthful, freckled face. No, first thing I'm going to do is snog 'im till his head spins as much as the Earth. THEN I'll smack 'im.
A plate clattering in front of her brought her back to the present, her focus moving from the hopes of the future to the busy waitress in front of her.
The woman smiled distractedly, her brown hair tucked messily under a small cap. "That be all, love?"
"Yeah, thanks. Say, I've just been travelling for a while, and I'm looking to find transport off-planet. D'you know where I should go to find some?"
The waitress refilled Rose's empty mug and gave her a considering look. "You travellin' alone, then?" At Rose's nod, she jerked her head briskly. "Eavesdown Docks is where you'll want to be goin'. Good prices, and the port authority keeps an eye out for trouble."
Rose thanked her and she bustled off to scold some other customers while the blonde sipped the vile excuse for tea and surveyed the bar. The place reminded Rose forcefully of some of the old-time saloons she and the Doctor had visited when they had explored the Old West, but with enough odd details to remind her that she was in the future. Holovids played news and advertisements from across the planets, sending a pang through her as she remembered Satellite Five. The clientele was an eclectic mix of cultures, but all with the worn, faded look of people used to just barely surviving.
This wasn't an easy time or place to live, and Rose, a youthful, single female, had kept herself armed from the moment she landed in this timeline. The Doctor may very well hate guns, but sorry, principles weren't enough to keep her safe in a dangerous situation.
There wasn't much else she could do there, really. A quick chug of the remaining tea-like substance (it didn't really deserve the moniker of tea, and oh lord, she was beginning to think like him now), and Rose hoisted her bag and left after a friendly wave and smile to the frazzled waitress.
The busy streets were packed with humanity, but despite it being centuries from her time, there were no aliens to be seen. Well, no obvious aliens, at least, she amended, remembering a certain suit-and-sneakers wearing Time Lord. The sheer variety of the people in the streets was astonishing—there were people from every culture on the globe and countless others, besides. The rainbow colors of the clothes around her left Rose feeling like she was walking in a very dingy jewelry box, and the noisy street vendors filled the air with a collage of scents. A hunched old man next to her was offering roasted rats on a spit, his crooked smile wide.
Shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sunlight, Rose tucked her back closer to her side as she pushed her way through the crowds towards the ships offering passage.
"Well, hello, there," came from behind her, the oily voice revealing itself as belonging to a similarly oily shipman with overly-fitted trousers. Rose winced and kept her focus as high as possible. "A fine-looking lady such as yourself deserves a fine ride, and my ship's one of the best." He grinned at her, apparently laboring under the misapprehension that he was charming.
Rose rolled her eyes and tried to pass him. "Not interested."
The crewman's grin hardly faltered. "Oh, but that's 'cause you haven't seen my ship yet. May not seem like much on the surface, but she'll blow you away."
She glared at him, again attempting to pass him, and again was blocked by the greasy shipman. "Still not interested."
"Now, why do you have to be so contrary? Come see the ship—she's like nothin' you've ever seen before, darlin'."
"She's like nothin' I'll ever see, period. Seriously, I'm not interested, mate. Now shove off." She lowered her hand to her side, letting it hover above the holster tucked underneath her leather jacket.
"Why do you have to be so cold, honey? I'm sure you'll like us..." The oily man stopped, his eyes latched onto something behind Rose's shoulder as his throat worked nervously.
A cold voice spoke from behind her. "Or you could leave her alone."
The crewman gulped and left hurriedly, his muttered curses escaping around his shoulders.
Rose's training at Torchwood kept her hand discreetly near her gun as she turned around, only to be see an Amazon of a woman in body armor who was already strolling off.
With a shrug, Rose called her thanks after the woman. The woman's exuberant curls tossed as she glanced over her shoulder, a smile breaking its way through her calm. "Not a problem."
There weren't many ships that interested Rose as she wandered her way through the docks. Bulky, clunky, heavily armed—there wasn't much variation in the design or the purpose, it seemed. The crews weren't much better; most had a miniature armory strapped to themselves, and Rose had to wonder exactly what kind of trouble the port authority was used to dealing with.
The sun was settling in the horizon when Rose finally saw a ship that caught her attention. Not too large or too small, this ship reminded Rose of an alien bird. Despite the somewhat patchwork appearance, there was a grace built into it that she couldn't help but respond to. A cheerful brunette noticed her looking and bounded up to her, smiling fit to rival the sun.
"You like ships. You'll love Serenity." She settled back on her heels, her argument made, the powerful certainty of her expression bringing a smile to Rose's face.
"And what if I'm not goin' where Serenity's goin'?"
The girl grinned. "Oh, no worries 'bout that—we can go almost anywhere in the 'verse. 'Course, if it's too far away, if might take a while, but we'll get there eventually."
Rose smiled at that, caught up in the girl's good mood enough to be honest.
"Well, that's alright. I don't much care where the end destination is—I'm just travellin' right now."
The girl cocked her head to the side, hair getting caught on the smear of engine grease on her cheek. "You sounded just like the Shepherd, there. You a missionary, by any chance?"
A startled laugh bubbled out of Rose's mouth. "Can't say I've gotten that reaction before. Nope, I'm just a wanderer, hoping to find a trail."
"Well, we're sure good at wandering." She paused and frowned a little, her nose crinkling. "Not always at the finding a trail part, though. Oh, where're my manners? I'm Kaylee Fry, mechanic to this beautiful ship." She extended a hand, and Rose had to stifle a giggle as she hurriedly pulled it back to wipe the oil off on her overalls (patched, oddly enough, with a fuzzy teddy bear at the knee).
Rose grinned and clasped her hand, ignoring the leftover bits of oil that stained her skin. "Rose Tyler. 'S a pleasure to meet you."
"Aw, Rose is such a pretty name." Kaylee leaned closer, a conspiratorial smile on her face. "Can I ask why you're wandering? The Cap'll say I'm bein' nosy, but I love meetin' new people—there are just so many stories out there!"
A tawny-haired man walked up the ramp and tweaked Kaylee's ear, grinning at her in fond exasperation. "You're right about that, little Kaylee. You are bein' nosy. Remember, business before pleasure." He turned to Rose with a charming smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Captain Malcolm Reynolds, miss. Has Kaylee told you about our rates yet?"
Kaylee blushed, and Rose smiled easily at her. "Not yet, but we'd have gotten there eventually. What sort of a price are you chargin'?"
"Depends on where you're getting off. We're headed off to deliver some goods to Messaline, should get there in a few weeks' time. Trip like that'll run about 1500 credits, give or take. Any longer than that, the price'll go up."
"Won't be a problem, Captain Reynolds. And I guess my passage depends on what I find on Messaline."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Looking for somethin', Miss?"
"Please, just Rose—an' it's more someone. Length of my trip'll depend on what I find." She glanced up at him and tucked her hair behind her ears. "That be alright?"
He nodded brusquely. "Long as you can pay. Kaylee! Help get our new passenger get set up, tour an' all. We're headed into the black within the hour." With that, the Captain hurried off, cursing angrily at the muscular man that was currently dropping crates off the trolley a badly-dressed blonde man was driving.
Kaylee watched, wincing, as the bruiser dropped a crate on his toes, his extraordinarily creative swearing echoing around the cargo bay.
"The big guy—that's Jayne. He's kind of our muscle, which is good, 'cause that's what he's best at. The blonde in the colorful shirt over there's Wash, our pilot—you won't find a better pilot in the 'verse. His wife's around here somewhere. She's Zoe, and she's the Cap's second-in-command. They were old army buddies, way back when. We've got a few other crew in the back. D'you have any other bags with you?" Rose shook her head, trying to take in the quick flow of introductions, but followed Kaylee as she made her way through the bay and down a rickety flight of stairs to the passenger dorms. Small rooms were set off a narrow corridor, some with the distinct look of being lived in while others were bare as bones. Kaylee led her to a room near the back, opening the door with a flourish.
"Here you go! Engine's quiet, around this end—should be easier to sleep, if you've been planetside for a while."
Rose bit her lip. "It looks lovely—but is there a room closer to the engines? I'm used to travelling on a ship, an' I've found I can't sleep when it's too quiet."
Kaylee positively beamed. "Looks like you're a girl after my own heart. C'mon, there's another one open closer to the engine room."