Somewhere along the way, he begins to enjoy her company, and isn't that a scary thought?
Occasionally having lunch turns into a weekly…thing. He's not quite sure what the "thing" is exactly, because it's Rose, and she's an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a battered leather jacket. But, it's a thing where they sit together and share a plate of chips—she steals most of the ketchup, but lets him have the first chip—and they talk.
He talks about his cases—not active ones, because that would be serious violations of protocol that he won't make, even for her. He tells her about his ex-wife and the reason they got divorced, and his daughter. For whatever reason, he tells Rose Tyler things he's never told anyone else, and he has no idea why.
She talks about aliens and her travels, and Torchwood (on both sides, "Torchwood on this side is much better, less 'if it's alien, it's ours.'"). She tells him about the Doctor and Captain Jack ("He swears he's a real captain, because he moved up through the ranks." "I'm sure the ranks were very grateful."), and their life running about the stars. She even tells him about her life before all that.
Rose is one hell of a woman, even if she is a little crazy. Hardy has never met anyone like her before, and sometimes he gets flashbacks to the days when he was younger and would have jumped at the chance for a life like hers. Rose is all excitement and adventures and running; even when she's sitting still, she radiates energy.
There's no arguing that Rose does whatever she wants, whether that means flirting with Reverend Coates (Hardy feels a little sick when he remembers how Coates flirted back) or crashing on the couch in the police break room in the middle of the day. She disappears for days on end with no word, and then pops back into his life as if nothing happened.
No matter what Miller says, it's completely platonic, and don't think he doesn't know about the office pool on how long it'll be before they shag. He knows, he just doesn't care. Nope, definitely not. After all, she's more than ten years his junior and he's pretty sure she's dating that Welsh researcher—something Jones, and no, Hardy isn't jealous.
If he holds the door open, it's only because he's a gentleman and she likes it when he's a little old fashioned.
If she clings to his arm when they walk, it's only because she craves contact—needs it to prove to herself that she's not dead.
If their touches linger just a moment too long, and if her hugs are just a little too tight, it's only because they're friends and she's a very touchy person.
And if they sit a little too close, it's because she doesn't want just anyone to hear her stories and he's quite fond of the professional reputation he has left; the reputation gets a major boost once she starts waltzing in and out of the police station whenever she pleases. It's rather hard for his coworkers to call him delusional when his delusion is chatting up the copy boy and swiping cookies.
He's become rather accustomed to this thing he has with Rose and enjoys her company; she's a colleague, like a second partner, even though her partner is some bloke with bleached, spiked hair and a weird protective streak.
So, he just meets her at the same table in the Traveler's restaurant at the same time every Friday, and they have fish and chips, and talk about their days. They grab an ice cream and take a walk, and she smiles with her tongue between her teeth and he actually laughs.
They have a good time, and he's glad that she decided let him in, and if he misses her more than just a friend when he's at work, he brushes it off. He's very good at that.
Until the day she doesn't show up.
He waits for almost an hour at their table before he resigns himself to the knowledge that she isn't coming. He sends her a text and waits another half hour with no response before calling.
He gets her voicemail immediately, and that's when he starts to panic.
He does everything he can think of, everything they taught him about missing persons. He puts up posters with her picture and his phone number, he asks everyone he can think of, and he searches everywhere he thought she could have been. And then he realizes how little he really knows about Rose Tyler, if that's really her name.
He doesn't know where she lives or where Torchwood is located; he doesn't know if she has a car or some sort of transportation, or if she walks everywhere. He doesn't even know her partner's name, and when he asks around, no one else does either. He knows everything that made Rose Tyler who she is, but he doesn't know anything about her. He never took any notice of that before.
Now, it's driving him insane.
Almost two weeks later, and her partner—the guy with the spiked hair—shows up at the police station. Jake—that's his name, Jake Simmonds—is somber and stone-faced, and gives him a letter from Rose. Then he tells Hardy, "She's gone, mate." And Jake doesn't elaborate, because he's Torchwood, after all, and Hardy is used to Torchwood being some huge secret. He delivers the message, gives Hardy a long look that's a cross between pity and anger, and leaves.
Hardy never sees him again. Some days he's angry that that's all Jake gave him. Other days, he's glad, because Jake is another reminder of her.
It's several days before he gathers up the courage to read her letter, and when he does, he can't stop.
When he gets to the end, he wipes away the tear that he'll deny to the end of time, fold up her letter carefully, and put it in the top drawer of his desk.
And then, he does just what she asked of him. He remembers her.
He remembers Rose Tyler.
oOoOoOo
I'm uploading the last two chapters today. This has been an interesting story; maybe I'll write a sequel later.
Hope you enjoy, please review and let me know. Since it's un-beta'd, please let me know if you see any errors.
~Nagi