You and me, we couldn't stand being normal
That's why we, make a good you and me
The Doctor's ways of making Rose not fraternize with actors are all very successful. So successful, in fact, that they get carried away there on the floor of the office. Only a thud somewhere beyond the closed door brings them back to reality.
Rose struggles to lean up on one elbow. "What was that?" she whispers.
The Doctor stops what he's doing and listens. "Nothing."
"I heard something," she insists.
"I didn't."
"Go!" She gives him a shove that knocks him off-balance.
He gets to his knees and stands up, slowly tucking his shirt back into his trousers. Stepping to the door, he opens it up and looks up and down the hall. The hallway is dark - most of the studio has gone home for the day. Tonight will be the last time anyone gets out at a normal time until the movie is finished.
"No one's here," he says over his shoulder.
Rose stands up and smoothes down her shirt. "What are we doing here?" she asks humorously. "We ought to be at home."
"Oh, absolutely," he agrees instantly. "Let's go. Now."
"Shouldn't we look for the noise?"
"Whatever it is, it's gone. And I want to go home. Now."
His intent is clear - he plans on finishing what they started. Rose is in agreement, so she lets him tug her along to the exit.
oOoOo
Jackie calls them at home later that night.
"Are you still mad at me?" she asks without saying hello.
Rose mentally runs down the list of things her mum's done lately. Ah, of course. Their last family dinner where she all but demanded that the Doctor make her an honest woman. And then the Doctor never mentioned it again.
Any other time, Rose would have remembered and still been angry with both of them. But time heals all wounds, as they say, and so does romance.
Still lying in bed, blankets pulled up to her chin, Rose lazily turns her head to look at the Doctor. He's lying in bed beside her, a satisfied grin on his face. He turns his head to smile at her.
Rose smiles back and smoothes her free hand against his hair.
"No, Mum," she answers. "I'm not mad."
"Oh, good. Listen, can you watch Tony for us next week? Your dad's got something planned for us."
"Sure. When?"
"Oh, he won't tell me yet. I'll let you know."
"Okay, Mum. Talk to you soon."
"Love you, sweetheart!"
"Love you, too. Bye." Rose hangs up her mobile and turns to face the Doctor.
"What are you thinking?" he asks her. "You have that look in your eye."
"What look?"
"The look that says you're up to something."
She smiles. "Maybe I am."
"What?" he demands. He gets his answer when she launches herself at him.
"It's still early," she tells him. "Dinner or something else?"
He thinks about it. "Something else, and then dinner."
"Sounds good," she agrees, and startles him by stripping the blankets off of them. Her laugh is cut short as he leans up to kiss her.
oOoOo
They're up and at the studio at an appallingly early time the next morning.
"It's still dark out," Rose complains. "And it's cold."
"They're on a schedule," the Doctor explains. "If anything is going to happen, if something is going to be sabotaged or interrupted, the prime time is now."
"Prime time is several hours from now," Rose corrects him. She's wishing that instead of a few hours in bed last night, followed by dinner and a movie, that she had just gone to sleep instead.
"You don't really mean that," the Doctor says as they reach the studio doors. Swiping their passes, they let themselves in to the main lobby. It's still too early for the receptionist to be there.
"What don't I mean?" Rose asks. "About prime time?"
"No." He glances at her. "About going to sleep last night instead of other things."
Her mouth opens in outrage. "Are you reading my mind? How dare you read my mind!" And then, as a thought occurs to her, "You can do that now?"
He shrugs. "Kind of. A bit. Only sometimes, and usually only you."
Rose frowns. "Well, don't, thanks."
"You were thinking rather hard back there," he points out. "Couldn't help it."
Sam had asked them to meet him first thing that morning. They've stopped in the hallway outside his office. The Doctor stands there, waiting for Rose to say something.
Rose simply stands and looks at him. Most of the time she manages to be herself, to be in charge of her emotions and function the way she should. A remnant of her time in this world looking for him. A survival mechanism. Even with him here with her, it hasn't been easy to completely let go of that. To surrender all the way would be leaving herself vulnerable, and she's not quite ready for that.
And yet, sometimes, when they're not bantering or fighting or running, she will look at him, and it will wash over her once again. He's here, with her. The Doctor stayed. He will never be a consolation prize - he is all she'd ever wanted. Right here, standing with her, holding her hand even now.
He's not perfect - he's messy and he has the attention span of a child sometimes, and he can be impossible to deal with.
But he stayed, and he's holding her hand even now.
"Rose?" he prompts her gently.
She still looks at him, a small smile on her lips. His hair is styled and tousled - it could do with a bit of a trim. He's wearing dark trousers and a blue shirt. She had thought her Doctor had no fashion quirks - he certainly doesn't go around in a brown pinstriped suit, or in black leather. But he used to wear blue shirts with that brown suit, and she doesn't think it's all a coincidence that most of his shirts are blue. Since he changes his clothes at least once a day she doesn't consider it worrisome.
And he looks rather nice in blue.
"Rose?" he asks once more.
She smiles at him. "Hello. You ready?"
He shakes his head. "Come on, you daft woman."
She laughs. "You like it."
"I love it," he corrects her, and knocks on Sam's door.
"There you are," Sam greets them, opening the door. "Come on. I have a meeting."
"You need us for that?" the Doctor asks.
"I need to make sure my production team knows what you want of them."
The Doctor looks quickly around the room. "You were all here yesterday."
"They were," Sam confirms. "They preferred to watch your style before agreeing to work with you."
Rose arches her eyebrows and looks at the Doctor. He glances at her and then looks back to Sam.
"I thought we'd already agreed? If you don't need Torchwood's help, we're glad to leave you to it." He takes Rose's hand and steps to the door. "Good luck with the people who want to kill you."
"No, no, no," Sam says impatiently. "We're doing all the main work here. Have a seat."
They sit, albeit cautiously.
"What do you know about movie making?" Clive asks them.
The Doctor thinks for a moment. "I saw the filming of Gone With The Wind. Clark Gable was a fantastic Rhett Butler."
Rose nods in agreement. "And we watch movies. At home, after work."
Various disapproving frowns are directed her way.
"At home?" one of the men asks. "Not at the cinema?"
"We make our money in the cinemas," Clive explains. "No problem, of course. You can't watch everything there." His expression says that they should, however.
At the end of the table, a blonde woman leans close to a man with dark brown hair. "What's Gone With the Wind?" she whispers. He shrugs back.
"Don't know, but it's a good title."
Hearing this, Rose hopes they haven't just mucked up the movie history of this world. It would be a shame if Margaret Mitchell tried to publish her book only to find out that it was a movie first.
"All right," Sam says. "Here's a crash course in the business. Listen up. This is my crew here. I'm the producer. I'm overseeing everything. I'm also directing this movie."
Rose and the Doctor nod agreeably.
"This is Geoffrey. He's the assistant director." Sam motions to a man across the table. He's in his forties, with dark hair and very pale eyes. Like everyone else there, he's dressed casually in a shirt and jeans.
"Hello," Rose says with a small wave,
"Are you from Nocklyn as well?" the Doctor asks. "So far it's been hard for me to tell you apart from the humans."
Rose winces. She was really hoping they could avoid the whole, the-Doctor-is-an-alien talk for a while.
Sam and Geoffrey both look at him curiously.
"Are you able to detect humans and aliens?" Sam asks.
"Well," the Doctor begins, but breaks off as Rose kicks him in the skin. "Ouch!"
"Special equipment," Rose puts in. "You know. So what do you do?" she asks Geoffrey.
He glances at Sam, who nods. Sighing heavily, as if he wishes he were somewhere else, he says, "I'm in charge of the shooting schedule. I decide what scenes we shoot."
"That's fascinating," Rose says politely.
"These people are all from my home," Sam says. "If you need to know who's related to who we can tell you, but it would take some time. We're all interconnected on several different family connections."
"That's fine," the Doctor says. "I just like to know who's here. You all have your security passes?" he adds casually.
A nod from Sam has security passes taken out and waved in the air.
"Lovely," the Doctor says. "Don't take them off."
"Danielle is the location manager," Sam continues. "We're shooting most of the movie here at the studio, but some scenes are set on location."
"I find the locations," Danielle says. She looks young for her age, but Rose has suspected for a while that these aliens are older than they look.
"Nice to meet you, Danielle." The Doctor turns to the man next to her. "And you?"
"I'm Greg. I'm the production designer."
"Really? What's that? Are you taking notes, Rose?"
Rose looks at the Doctor, surprised, and then looks around for something to write with. Clive slides a notebook and a pen across the table. Rose thanks him with a smile, turns to a blank page, and carefully writes out Greg, production manager in her nicest handwriting.
"I create the props for the set. Along with Bill."
The Doctor turns and zeroes in on Bill. "Bill?"
"I'm Bill," the man concurs. "I'm the art director. My people build the sets and the props."
"And we've met all of them as well?"
"Yeah, you did that yesterday."
"Excellent. Rose, make a note of that, too."
Rose writes down met art dept yesterday.
"Clive is the production manager. He manages the budget and the schedule."
Clive makes a face. Sam sees this and grimaces. "Clive hates this job, but it involves meeting with the studio executives, and he's better at that than I am."
"He's better at ingratiating himself with the higher-ups," someone mutters.
"I heard that, Anthony!" Clive snaps.
Sam lays a hand on Clive's shoulder. "I wouldn't have gotten this far without Clive," he tells Rose and the Doctor.
"But I thought you were in charge?" Rose asks, pen hovering in the air.
"This is my studio. But we're an offshoot of another. My boss's name is Mason Tate. If my films don't make money, he doesn't continue to back us with his money." Sam pauses to let this fact sink in around the table. A few failures and they'll all be heading back to their own planet.
"This is Emily, my director of photography." It's the blonde woman who asked about Gone with the Wind.
"Hi," she says cheerfully to Rose and the Doctor. "I'm in charge of the cameras and lighting. I'm actually a cinematographer, but Sam is a bit old-school, aren't you?"
"Call if what you like. You've met Cindy, I think, the costume designer."
"I designed the costumes," Cindy says. "Humans and aliens. I work with Doris and Cleo."
Rose nods. "We met the yesterday."
Cindy nods. "Yes, they were there. We have one of your men on board with us, I think."
"Simon," the Doctor supplies. "He, ah, coming along?"
"Not really," Cindy says bluntly. "But we'll break him in the end."
"Yes, well," Sam interrupts. "Hair and makeup aren't here right now, but you won't have missed much. Curtis is my sound mixer. He's in charge of the audio. Makes sure when we shoot that we can hear the dialogue as the actors say it.
"Anthony is in charge of special effects. You won't be seeing much of them. They stay in their studio and work."
Sam stands up. "I have a movie to shoot. Any questions?"
oOoOo
Multiple things are happening simultaneously at the studio. People are being fitted out with various costumes from humans to exotic aliens.
A small meeting is being held in Clive's office. Clive and three women stare at a board with pictures of hairstyles tacked to it.
Travis is checking IDs and security badges on the lot behind the studio.
On the backlot, a stuntman is falling from a three-story building. He lands on a great inflatable mattress, bounces up and to the ground, and heads up to the roof to fall again.
Rose and the Doctor receive various welcomes as they walk by. Obviously everyone there knows who they are.
"I'd hate to be that guy," the Doctor observes, watching the stuntman fall for the third time.
"He seems to enjoy it," Rose comments.
"Cheating death is not an enjoyable past time," he says.
"It is if you're Jack," Rose says without thinking.
He glances at her. "Is it?"
She sighs. "It's good for getting Daleks off your back."
He puts an arm around her and hugs her gently. "He told you no hard feelings about that."
"Maybe he did," she says lightly. "Doesn't mean I have to feel glad that I made him immortal."
"You couldn't help it. And he's had lots of time to come to terms with it. Lots and lots of time."
"Why did you want me to take notes?" Rose asks.
"They were all watching you as you wrote. Sometimes you can detect something if a person isn't paying attention to you."
"Did you detect something?"
He sighs. "No. But it was worth a try, eh?"
oOoOo
Anna drops by at lunchtime. She's brought lunch for Ian, and she admits to a desire to see the inner workings of a movie studio.
"I thought you were above all of this," Travis says as he prints out her security pass.
"Above all what?" Anna examines her picture critically. "Were your eyes open when you took this? It looks like I have antenna."
"It's those things on top of your head," Travis says. "Sign it and go. We're very busy here."
The security office is deserted, but the cameras are bustling with people. Anna rolls her eyes. "I can see that. And they're not 'things' on my head. They're called knitting needles."
"Whatever," he says dismissively.
"If I weren't in a hurry," she says threateningly, "I would show you what a needle is for."
"I'm shaking in fear," he assures her. "Excuse me." He leans over and picks up a phone that's not ringing.
"Idiot," Anna says crisply, and heads outside. She's wearing a denim skirt that hits above her knees. Her blouse is crisp, white and rather expensive. She still can't help feeling underdressed. All around are actors dressed in very nice clothing. She wonders if they're costumes, or if even actors in weird science-fiction movies are able to afford nicer clothing than she is.
"Oh, it's that they can afford nicer clothing than you," the Doctor says, popping up out of nowhere. It's a testament to the fact that Anna has gotten used to him that she doesn't jump. She shades her eyes with a hand and stares at him.
"Excuse me?"
"The actors," he explains. "They make more money than you."
It's not the first time that he has surprised her by speaking something that she was thinking about, but this time they're not at work.
"How did you do that?" she demands.
The Doctor realizes what he's done. "Oh, you know," he says vaguely. "You were looking at that pretty pink dress and I know that's what Rose thinks when she sees something she'd like."
Anna continues to look at him suspiciously. "Rose has all the money in the world," she says slowly.
"So she does, so she does. What are you doing away from Torchwood?"
Anna gives up and lets him change the subject. Someday she'll be able to strap him to a table and examine that head of his.
"Are you having fun?" she asks.
He grins. "Yeah, I am. Don't tell Pete."
"Where's Ian?"
"Oh, he's around somewhere."
"Thanks, you've been very helpful."
Anna finds Ian sitting in the commissary. Rose and Simon are at the same table.
"Hi!" he says, jumping up and giving her a kiss.
"I brought lunch." Anna holds up the paper bag.
"Excellent. The food's not bad," he admits, clearing a place for her, "but what'd you bring?"
"Just Indian takeaway."
Simon and Rose perk up at that, but they've already eaten cheeseburgers and chips.
"What's going on at home?" Rose asks, finishing up her chips and moving to Simon's plate.
"Nothing much, really. There was some concern that we might be understaffed with so many agents here, but luckily the aliens are holding back for now."
"Good to know," Simon grunts and stands. "See you later."
"What's wrong with him?" Anna asks.
Ian smirks. "He's in costume. Helping dress a lot of extras and weird alien types for a dress rehearsal."
"That's an odd place for him."
"Not really," Rose disagrees. "He sees all of the actors and can size them up. Plus Sam thought we should have someone like Simon here."
"Like Simon? You mean male and straight?"
"Handy with a weapon," Ian explains. "Just in case."
"Show me around?" Anna asks after lunch. "The least you can do."
Ian holds her hand as they walk around the studio.
"This is a big place," Anna observes.
Ian looks at her, pretty as a picture in her skirt and blouse. Her dark hair is back in braid that's she's knotted at the back of her neck. Her knitting needles are stuck inside the braid.
Something comes over Ian, something that he will later blame on an undue alien influence. She turns her head to smile at him, and he's no longer in control of his mouth.
"Anna. Let's get married."
She blinks. "What?"
"We've been dating long enough. Let's make your parents and my parents happy. Will you marry me?"
She shakes her head, not to say no but to clear it. "Are you proposing to me?"
"Maybe."
"In a hallway?"
"Wherever. Marry me, Anna."
She nods. "Yes. Thank you."
He laughs and hugs her.
Later Anna will blame undue alien influence, as well, but she'll be smiling as she says it.
oOoOo
Rose is sitting in Donna's office when her mobile rings.
"It's Sally!" Sally's voice says. "I have a lovely place to show you. Tonight night, round six?"
Rose sighs. That's the last thing she wants to do, but she may as well get it over with.
"That sounds fine, Sally."
"I'm sending the address to your phone right now."
"It's the yellow copy!" Donna says in exasperation.
"I have to go, Sally," Rose says hastily. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." She switches off her mobile and looks at Donna.
"Yellow copy of what?"
"We need a rewrite," Donna says, flipping through several binders. "One of the girls who plays a victim of one of the spaceship attacks - don't asks, 'cos I don't understand it, either - just turned up pregnant. She doesn't want to keep working, so we need to rework the scene for someone else."
Every rewrite of a screenplay, Donna had explained to Rose earlier, is done in a different color, leading to the rainbow of colors spread out on the desk in front of her.
"Yellow, yellow, yellow. Ah!" Donna finds it and waves it triumphantly. "Got it."
"Who is it?" Rose asks. "That's having a baby?"
"One of the extras we like to use. She's human, so that's one less worry for Sam, I guess."
"That's nice for her, having a baby," Rose says. Her voice might be wistful, or it might just be her imagination.
"Yeah," Donna says in the same tone of voice. "A baby."
They both look up as the door to Donna's office opens.
"Dress rehearsals are going well," the Doctor reports, sitting down beside Rose's desk and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Catering is having a hard time keeping those little jelly donuts on the table. No problems with security, and Riley has found a new signature lip color."
"Has she? What shade?"
"Something about mulled wine. Which can't be right, that just doesn't sound possible."
"Oh, it is," Donna assures him. "The makeup department has their own line of makeup. All named for foods." She pauses a moment and looks up into space. "You put on a lipstick and then you're hungry for a snack. Must be an alien thing. But they're nice."
Rose peers at Donna. "Is that what are you wearing? One of those colors?"
"Yeah - it's Peach Tea."
"It's lovely. Wrong for my complexion, though."
"No, you'd something like Melon Ball, or maybe Strawberry Cream Pie."
"Mm, that sounds nice."
"What'd you find out?" the Doctor says. "Sorry to interrupt."
"Here."
Rose tosses him a file folder. "Read this for me. Then we can run that program you wrote and see if there's any correlations between Sam's missions."
They've been looking through Sam's old mission reports for the Time Agency. He's not supposed to have them, but he does anyway.
She holds her fingers over the computer keyboard. The Doctor starts to read and she tries to keep up with the data as she types it in. The Doctor reads much faster than she can type. Finally he hands her the folder.
"Move over."
"What? Why?" Rose moves, and he takes her seat. Reading the file, he starts to type.
Donna sees what he's doing and slowly walks over.
"How fast are you typing?" she demands.
He doesn't look up. "100 words a minute."
"But that's what I can type!" she exclaims.
"Amazing," Rose murmurs.
"There." He finishes up with a flourish and starts the program. They wait to see the results, and all three visibly deflate.
"Nothing," the Doctor says with disappointment "That was a waste of five hours' programming."
"Rose, you get out there and look around," Donna urges. "There's no reason to have you hanging around inside all day."
"I'm fine," Rose says. "I'll do whatever needs doing."
"Well, we don't need to run this program, anymore, that's obvious."
"You can help me out, then," the Doctor says. Ian and Anna walk in before he can tell Rose what he needs. "Hello again."
"Hi!" Anna is beaming.
"What's up?" Donna asks. "You look pretty happy. Are you a movie buff?"
"What? No!" Anna looks horrified at the suggestion that she might enjoy sci-fi movies. "Goodness, no. Ian just proposed!" she says to Rose.
"What?"
"We're getting married," Ian confirms. "Just asked her, just now in the hallway."
Donna winces. "How romantic," she murmurs. "Congratulations."
"Congratulations," Rose adds mechanically.
"Lovely news," the Doctor agrees, smiling at Anna.
He and Rose do not look at one another. A rather awkward silence ensues.
"Rose, I have a little bit before I need to get back," Anna says. "You were having trouble with your row of knitting last time - do you want me to help you?"
Ordinarily Rose would not accept such an offer ever. But she jumps at the chance to leave the suddenly stifling room.
"Yes! Absolutely! My bag's in the car. Let's go get it."
"Oh, we don't have to-" Rose grabs Anna's arm and pushes her out of the office.
"See you later!" Anna calls over her shoulder.
Ian and Donna stare after them, puzzled.
"What's that all about?" Ian asks. "I know Anna's been wanting to help Rose, but honestly, I thought Rose wasn't too keen on the whole thing."
The Doctor stares at the door, apparently unconcerned. "Rose is learning to knit," is all he'll say.
oOoOo
Rose makes it twenty minutes before she thinks she'll go mad if she has to keep knitting. Luckily, that's about the time that Anna looks at her watch and gasps.
"I have to get back." She shoves Rose's yarn back into the bag. "Oh. Do you want to keep-"
"No," Rose says hastily. "No, no, that's okay." She finishes rolling up her row of incredibly crooked pink yarn. Without thinking she sticks the knitting needles into her hair.
As Anna starts to leave, Rose stops her.
"I'm really happy for you," she says sincerely.
Anna smiles. "Thanks. I'm going to get back to work and call my mum."
Rose sighs.