"And the Valiant Child who shall die in battle, so very soon."
The Doctor ran along an endless white corridor, hand outstretched.
"Rose!"
His cries sounded like they came from underwater; the walls, floor, and ceiling were featureless and blinding bright. Rose was ahead of him, always just out of reach even though he was running flat out, breath burning in his chest. He was forced to watch as Rose, faceless and blank, died over and over. Rose, blown to bits, burnt to ash, encased in a screaming Cyber-body, lying broken at the feet of the Devil. Rose, disappearing into the Void.
He screamed his voice hoarse and then screamed some more, even though he knew that it wouldn't help him run any faster. But if he was never going to catch up to Rose then he might as well allow himself the release.
"No! Rose, hold on! Stay with me, love! Please!"
The dream changed. He was still running to catch up with Rose, but this time Rose was running from him. Running from the TARDIS, never travelling with him. Staying in the parallel world. Leaving him to stay with Jackie. Placing the dimension hopper over her neck and pressing the button herself.
"Stay with me!" The Doctor sobbed. It wasn't his right; he'd always known he wasn't worth her forever and it seemed Rose had finally realised it as well. He could hardly blame her for that, and yet he kept after her, unable to accept the decision he'd been waiting for her to make ever since she'd stepped into the TARDIS.
Just when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, there was suddenly a door in the wall to his right where none had been before. It was propped slightly ajar, and golden light was streaming out of it. The Doctor had a split second decision to make, and he ducked through the door after a moment's hesitation. He found himself surrounded by warmth and acceptance and love that was such a change from his fear and anguish of a moment before he couldn't take it all in and was startled into wakefulness with the quiet repetition of "My Doctor."
"Doctor! Doctor!" Rose was shaking him, as gently as she was able, but with growing concern when she wasn't able to wake him just by calling his name, which was usually sufficient. She'd been asleep, but his terrors had been unusually vocal and had woken her.
Her heart ached for him. Rose knew the Doctor slept less even than he needed to because of what waited for him in the dark, though she fancied that her presence had helped, some. His nightmares had been given more fodder as of late, however; they both had, but Rose guessed it was his turn now.
The Doctor's eyes shot open wildly, and Rose backed off slightly, watching his gaze flick around the room like a trapped animal. He'd obviously been putting off sleep for longer than Rose thought, if he'd been so deeply under.
After catching up with Jack, her friend had offered to help her pack up the flat, and the task had been completed much more quickly with the extra hands. Not that it had been a painless process by any means, but she'd managed to keep it together with the help of both men and had exchanged mobile numbers with Jack as they parted, promising to keep in touch.
That night, she and the Doctor had marathoned cartoons in the media room while bingeing on all of Rose's favourite snacks. She'd been grateful to the Doctor for giving them time to rest and recuperate after their traumatic experience, but now she realised that he hadn't been doing so himself.
"Doctor?" she said again, more quietly, and the Doctor's eyes locked on her with burning intensity. "Doctor, I'm here," she reassured him, having a pretty good idea of what his nightmares might have entailed, since she'd experienced the same.
"Rose." She couldn't parse the myriad emotions bound in the way the Doctor spoke her name; indeed there were some for which she suspected she didn't have a word. Rose went willingly into the Doctor's rough embrace, trying to soothe him as best she could.
"I'm still here, I promise, always here with you."
"Stay with me, Rose," the Doctor whispered, sounding as though he couldn't hear her. "At least for a little while? Please." The uncertainty in his request brought a lump to her throat.
"Doctor, it's the middle of the night, I'm not going anywhere, yeah? Not for a good long while. I promised you forever, Doctor. I promised you forever, and we did it, we beat the storm, we're still together."
Gradually, the Doctor's breathing calmed, but too slowly for Rose. She pressed her forehead to his, having learned early on that even without telepathy, the familiar gesture comforted him.
This time, however, the Doctor jerked back slightly, like her touch had burned him.
"Doctor? What's wrong?" Rose was very concerned by her Doctor's strange behaviour.
"Everything," the Doctor breathed. "No, maybe… nothing."
Rose gripped his shoulders. "You're not making any sense, Doctor," she said, a little more sharply now. "Which is it? Just tell me what's going on."
"Rose, I-" There was a strange, almost eager light in the Doctor's eyes. "I might be able to show you."
The significance he placed on the words left little doubt what he was talking about.
"How d'you mean, Doctor?" His abrupt mood shift had left her bewildered and unsure of what was happening. "That's impossible. Isn't it?"
"Yes, it ought to be." He'd never sounded so excited about that fact. "And yet I'm fairly certain I just felt you telepathically." A hint of a smile graced his face as he monitored her reaction carefully. "Could I… Would you allow me to go in and check?" She could tell he was holding himself back with difficulty.
Rose took the Doctor's hands from where they were resting (well, more clenching) on her waist and raised them to her temples. Her acceptance was clear, and the Doctor sucked in a breath.
"Well? Go on, then, Doctor," she said, smiling at him. Even if she hadn't been completely willing, his obvious eagerness would have convinced her. She knew her initial reaction to telepathy had scared him off even mentioning it around her, which she thought was a shame. It was the surprise of the sudden revelation, in addition to the meddling, that had been her main concern. And now that she'd learned that the Doctor had been in her head twice and she didn't even remember it, she found herself intensely curious as to what it would feel like.
The Doctor's fingers trembled on her temples as she gave her explicit permission and he held her eyes for a long moment before he closed his, and she followed his lead. Almost immediately, she felt a slight pressure at both her temples, like the Doctor was pressing harder against them, but he wasn't. It almost felt like knocking, and so Rose imagined opening a door.
Even as she did so, the most unique sensation suffused her mind. It was not unlike the feeling she got when eating fizz wiz, except inside her brain, traversing passages and connections that she hadn't even known were there, like rainwater bringing to life a dried-up stream. She was so caught up in the novelty of it that it took her a while to even parse what she was feeling.
Once she began to analyse the visitation, she discovered she would have known it anywhere for the Doctor, even if he wasn't the only person in the room with her. It was easy to distinguish the foreign emotions from her own, as they were simply so much… stronger, for lack of a better descriptor, which, although it was true, wasn't quite accurate. Although the initial sense she received was simply of power, she also knew that he was holding himself back; she could feel it, trying to push through, like she was a submarine and he was the ocean's surrounding depths.
She remembered from her French lessons that people who spoke different languages thought in different ways and experienced things through different cultural filters, and she supposed an alien would be the same, only more so. She could put a name to most of the feelings she was picking up, like curiosity or excitement, but they all had a slightly different tone to them that made her hesitate to call them such. Or maybe that was because they were all shot through with something so much bigger and more intense that she could tell was spilling through from the part of himself that he was holding back.
She also experienced a colour for which she had no name, which was odd since she knew her eyes were closed, but it was so beautiful she wasn't about to waste time trying to figure it out; a shimmery platinum-blue tone that matched the feeling running through her head completely.
Overall, Rose felt as though she'd just welcomed a sparkly, inquisitive otter into her head, or would do, except for the deeper emotions that lurked beyond the barrier that she could still feel, like an after-image. She found herself reminded of the way she felt when she was looking at exhibits in a museum: reverence for the age and history that had brought it to where it was, the inherent beauty and vast weight of experience that came with being such an ancient thing.
Awed, and more than a little overwhelmed, Rose became aware that she'd been holding her breath, and let it out in a big gust as her mind began to adjust to the sensation of having another mind sharing space within it.
Hello, Doctor, she thought. She wasn't sure how any of this was supposed to work and felt a little silly, but she felt the Doctor's delight and was reassured.
Hello, Rose, he replied, and Rose couldn't help her wince. It sounded like someone had put a vast echo chamber directly up to her ear.
Sorry, the Doctor said, more quietly this time, and Rose could feel the deeper contrition behind the apology. He was trying so hard to make this easier on her, but had very little he could use as a reference. She almost shook her head but remembered she didn't want to dislodge the Doctor's fingers.
'S alright, Doctor, she thought. It's just… wow.
I know, this is fascinating, Rose! The Doctor enthused, modulating slightly, and Rose would have felt like a science experiment if she hadn't been able to share the Doctor's genuine awe and wonder. The way a non-telepathic species responds to this level of connection, the way I look and feel to you…
Of course, Rose realised now, he was in her mind, he'd be able to tell what she was thinking. She couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at how her baby human mind must look to him but the Doctor hastened to disabuse her of that notion.
No, Rose, not at all. Your mind is… blimey, it's beautiful, he said, his presence in her mind brightening as his voice quieted and she knew it as the absolute truth. And I'm not reading your mind, not the way you humans think of it. I'm not looking at your memories at all, in fact. Think of this as a surface connection only… like I'm in the foyer of your mind, if you will.
Rose nearly giggled. My mind has a foyer?
The Doctor shared her amusement and passed it back. Not exactly. It would do, or something similar anyway, if you'd had any sort of training, or barriers in place.
Rose found herself intensely curious. So what's it look like to you, then? He'd all but declared her mind unstructured, but there was nothing offensive about that - it was true, she'd had no instruction whatsoever.
Oh, Rose. Rather than words, she was treated to a series of images of nebulae forming. Rose wanted to demur, but here was no way to doubt his perfect sincerity. The Doctor paused as though to steady himself.
Well, at least we know you're definitely telepathic, Rose, he said, and almost before Rose could consider needing elaboration on that point, he continued. There's no way you could be holding this conversation with me if you weren't.
There was a slight pause, and a change in the swirling brightness as he considered how to explain. The way I normally use telepathy is the most basic possible: a one-way, temporary connection, usually while I'm looking for something. Exchanging actual words is a step or two above that. Behind the Doctor's actual words, Rose thought there might be several more stages beyond that, but also his current reluctance to discuss them.
So how'm I telepathic now? Rose wondered, and the Doctor's presence shifted again.
Well, he said, and for some reason Rose found it amusing that he retained the same behavioural tics even as a bright light in her mind. I have a theory. But I need to check something first. The bright light faded slightly, and even before the Doctor could say anything more, Rose knew he was preparing to back out of the connection.
Wait! Her protest surprised her almost as much as it did the Doctor. Er… not just yet? This feels… Amazing. Wonderful. Cool, she finally settled on, and felt the Doctor's chuckle.
All right, if you insist, he thought, and there was a great deal of happiness in the words but also a slight discomfort.
Sorry, if it's makin' you uncomfortable… Rose realised her untutored mind could be causing problems for the Doctor and felt bad for her selfish impulse.
No, no, no. Rose, not at all. The Doctor's presence brightened further in her mind until it might have hurt to look at it, if she were actually looking at it. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm worried I may never be able to leave.
Fine by me, she said, and the constantly swirling thoughts in her mind froze for a split second before starting up again. Rose got the impression she'd said something extremely significant but couldn't understand how, yet.
Why don't we try something else? The Doctor deliberately changed the subject and Rose let him. She already had enough to think about - literally. This is still just a one-way street. I want to see if… maybe, you might be able to initiate a connection.
His anticipation was infectious, and Rose found herself eager, rather than nervous. You mean, go into your mind?
Yup! The Doctor's giddiness at the prospect had a deeper undercurrent of something else but Rose couldn't get a read on it. He must have felt her willingness to try, because he said, Try to follow me back.
In the real world, Rose put her hands up to the Doctor's temples, distracting her for a second, but she was soon ready to follow the silvery-blue otter anywhere it led, just as she followed the Doctor's physical body.
The fizzy sensation began receding from her mind, and she found it easy enough to chase it, until she arrived at what seemed to her like a towering castle wall, complete with moat and drawbridge, which was already lowered for her as she approached.
Er… can I come in? She asked, daunted by the enormity of the construction.
Always. She felt a shiver of emotion from the Doctor, simultaneous with the feeling like a great portcullis being lifted to allow her entry. Rose could have laughed when she saw what was behind it.
Really, Doctor? She thought, remembering halfway that he was able to hear her. A portcullis in front of the TARDIS doors? Don't you think that's a little bit overkill?
He was a ball of energy before her, exuding vibrant curiosity and desire for her approval. Really? Is that what you see? Interesting.
Is that not what's there? Rose was confused.
Not exactly, the Doctor replied, and she could feel his eagerness for her to continue but also his love of explaining new things. Your mind and mine experience things fundamentally differently, as you brilliantly surmised, but aside from that your lack of experience affects things too. For example, my barriers are actually pretty pathetic and out of shape, so the way you perceive them is interesting. I'm not surprised about the TARDIS doors, though.
Rather than explain, he simply indicated his permission for her to open them, and she did so, feeling another shiver from the Doctor.
Oh Rose. The TARDIS doors will always open for you, key or no key.
Spurred on by his absolute acceptance, she followed him in and was immediately assaulted by sensory overload. Surrounded on all sides by babbling voices in every language, she felt as though she'd just been dropped in the middle of the busiest, most multicultural city imaginable. She barely had time to process anything before the noise abruptly ceased and she found herself standing in the TARDIS console room.
Sorry. The Doctor's voice was even more contrite than before. He stood next to the console, no longer the formless entity she'd perceived when he was in her mind, but he felt exactly the same. Let you get too far. That was my fault. Are you all right?
Yeah, she answered, already soothed by the familiar surroundings. It made sense now why the Doctor hadn't been surprised by the TARDIS doors. So this is your mind's foyer?
Yup! He rocked back on his heels just like he would in the physical world and she couldn't suppress a grin. The pressure that she'd felt before was stronger here, since she was in his mind this time instead of the other way around. She was also dimly aware of how he effortlessly accepted her entire presence, which made sense, given that there was considerably less of it, all told, and lucky, since she had no way of holding herself back like he did.
He watched quietly as she familiarised herself with the differing sensations she was receiving, looking around the console room that was so familiar and yet not. While she was completely unsurprised to find the console to be an exact replica of the real one (at least, so far as she could tell), she'd never found the room in which it was housed to feel so… cavernous. It was a large room, certainly, but it always hummed with the sound of the time rotor and the TARDIS' presence. Even without the Doctor, the few times she'd ventured there alone, she'd never felt as though the room was empty.
She did here. It was a pervasive, hollow ache that permeated everything she could feel. The echo-y vastness of the room accepted all she was like it was a drop in a bucket and she got the distinct feeling it was because this particular room was intended to house much more than just the essence of Rose Tyler, twenty year old human.
Unbidden, a memory surfaced (one of her own) from a basement in Utah. 'I'd feel them, in here.' Suddenly, the emptiness of the room made awful sense. She'd had no idea that what he'd meant was that he was supposed to sense them all the time. The time rotor here was still and silent because there were no Time Lord consciousnesses to monitor; the foyer was Time Lord sized, dwarfing her. Oh, Doctor…
He stared at her. You can feel that? How can you… You shouldn't be able to feel that!
How can I not? Rose asked, fighting back against the sensation that threatened to pull her under. She knew she could hardly make a difference but it made her feel better to try. The other impressions she'd gotten from him when he was in her mind were stronger here too: the juxtaposition of age-old wisdom with his vibrant curiosity, the otherworldly beauty, and she tried to focus on those. If she'd been awed, feeling his presence in her mind, it was as nothing compared to how she felt now, closer to the source.
Rose… He was looking at her with all the wonder she felt, but she couldn't remember to feel embarrassed. All she could think about was how beautiful his mind was. Despite the sadness and the loneliness (or even, she admitted to herself, including them, since they were just as much a part of the Doctor as all the rest) it was the most wonderful place she'd ever been.
Impulsively, unable to find a better outlet for these unaccustomed emotions, she grabbed the Doctor around the waist in a hug. He hugged her back instinctively and she grinned in triumph, having been unsure that it would work that way here. Rose had intended for it to be a chaste hug, but it heated up more quickly than she could have imagined; the Doctor stroking her lower back in a way designed to have her tilt her head up for a kiss, which he claimed eagerly. The pressure intensified as if the Doctor was having to try harder to hold himself back.
It wasn't that this was anything they hadn't done before, but the swirling emotions were so much more intense than Rose was used to; she felt as though she might spontaneously combust. The Doctor groaned and broke their contact, and through her miasma of lust Rose could sense the superhuman effort it took for him to do so.
Rose, he said, his voice almost back to the volume it had been earlier, helping to cut through more of her desire, I'm going to break our telepathic contact now. She agreed, too dazed and confused to argue, and subsequently felt him gently easing their minds apart, like blowing a bubble in reverse.
They were both breathing heavily as they slowly returned to awareness of reality, lying in bed, and the fog surrounding Rose's mind resolved itself into a pounding headache not unlike the kind she'd have waking up after a night of drinking. She moaned and held her head, and instantly the Doctor was there, running his fingers through her hair to rest at the base of her skull, rubbing soothing circles. Rose sighed as she felt the pain recede slightly.
"Side effect of stretching muscles you've never used before," the Doctor murmured apologetically. "I've got something I can give you for that."
"'M alright, Doctor," Rose replied. "This is nice for now."
The Doctor hummed, and his fingers trembled on her skin. Rose had regained enough awareness by this point to remember that the Doctor had very nearly kicked her out of his mind and her insides squirmed a little, going cold.
"Did I-?" she asked, at the same time as the Doctor said, "Well, that-" Their eyes met in the darkness of their bedroom. The Doctor smiled; Rose did not.
"You first, Rose," he said firmly, expression sobering, and Rose gratefully took the opportunity not to be distracted.
"Did I do something wrong, Doctor?" she asked, her voice quiet. The Doctor's hands stilled briefly before starting up again, and her stomach dropped, her worries confirmed. "Are we not supposed to touch in there, or something? I wasn't even sure we'd be able to, I just needed…" She closed her eyes, unable to look at him, shame at her randy human hormones sweeping through her.
"No, no, no, no, no, my Rose." The Doctor pulled her close, stroking her cheek with his other hand. "No, I'm sorry, that was my fault and I didn't prepare you the way I should have. There are things I need to explain to you about telepathy. Things that I never imagined I would need to explain to anyone. And I should have done so beforehand but I let things go too far, as usual."
He kept his voice even but Rose fancied she could sense his emotions, his frustration, the way she'd been able to when they were connected. Not being able to felt empty, and wrong, despite only just having discovered how it felt, and she ached anew for the Doctor, having to feel that way all the time.
"No," the Doctor repeated. "Remember, I could feel everything you felt. Having you there was…" His hands stilled again as he searched for a word. Apparently unable to find one, he shook his head. "It was wonderful, Rose. English doesn't have a word for how it felt. That's why I had to pull back - it was nothing you did."
"Okay." Reassured, Rose twisted to look at him again. "So, can you explain, Doctor? I want to know…" She was interrupted by a large yawn, a reminder of the fact that it was still the middle of the night. The Doctor ruffled her hair fondly.
"I will, Rose. I promise. But I think that's a discussion we can have tomorrow. Go back to sleep, love."
Worn out from her mental exertion, Rose didn't argue, though she wanted to. "Love you," she murmured sleepily.
"I love you too," the Doctor whispered. "Oh, my Rose. I love you so much."
But Rose was already asleep.
The Doctor lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. His whirring mind belied his calm exterior as he worked to fit all the pieces together. The telepathic encounter with Rose had been impossible. Unexpected. Utterly addictive. The golden light interrupting his nightmare had been one thing - I want you safe, my Doctor - but when Rose had touched her forehead to his and he'd felt a glimmer, like a crack of light peeking through a closed door, he'd known he was lost.
He'd fallen completely for Rose Tyler while he'd thought she hated telepathy, much less believed that such connection would even be an option. He'd fallen, knowing all along that it meant he would be cut off from the larger part of the way his body was wired to accept intimacy. It was a choice he'd made willingly; so gladly it almost couldn't be called a choice. There could only ever be Rose Tyler for him, and she already fit into his mad life more perfectly than anyone he'd ever met. To wish for more that he couldn't have would have been beyond arrogance. But now…
Even his impressive mental capacity nearly hurt itself with all the directions it tried to go in at once. He would have to explain how telepathic bonds worked, first. Rose needed to know absolutely everything she was getting into before they attempted any further forays into each others' minds. It would have been better to start any experiments after such explanation in any case, but he'd been greedy, and still coming down from the fear of his nightmare. He hadn't even tried to wait.
That assumed she even wanted more. The Doctor attempted to rein in his racing thoughts. She'd been so eager, so receptive… it was more than he had ever dreamed. But she was still so inexperienced when it came to telepathy. Just because she had responded positively to what they'd done tonight didn't mean that she would want anything deeper, or more permanent. He would have to make it clear in his explanation that he in no way expected her to.
A cold twist of regret filled the space between his hearts. He'd wanted to do something to show Rose how much she meant to him, and before he'd even really been aware of it he'd been going over what he knew of human marriage customs. Due to his impulsiveness, that window had closed now.
He briefly considered trying to sneak something in with Rose's breakfast in the morning before immediately dismissing the notion. He wanted to do things properly. But the fact remained that Rose was going to want to hear his explanation in the morning. And he knew that once he explained, he wouldn't be able to hide his desire to share a bond with her.
The Doctor frowned. He now saw that the better course of action would have been to propose to Rose first. He wanted, no, he needed Rose to understand that he wanted her with him, in whatever way she felt most comfortable. Before the discovery of her telepathy, he would have considered himself the luckiest being in the universe to be able to marry Rose Tyler and call her his wife. He burned with frustration that he hadn't thought of it in time - marriage certainly didn't come naturally to him but he'd been around humans long enough to know it would be what Rose would expect.
Rose sighed and turned in her sleep, snuggling closer against him, and his train of thought scattered immediately, like chaff on the wind. His hearts burned so intensely it was almost uncomfortable, thinking about how much he loved her, and how close he'd come to losing her, and he realised none of the rest of it mattered. This was Rose, his precious girl, who had defied time and space itself to stay with him.
He pulled her closer still against his body, closing his eyes as he savoured the simple fact that he was able to do so. She'd given them this; a future. It was up to him to make sure it was a fantastic one.