Author's Note: I don't own The Doctor or Rose or Jackie or Pete. Or anyone or anything in the Whoniverse. More's the pity.
TK: You know, I don't think Rose would have been ready to meet the "new" Doctor before this point in her life. I suspect, when the TARDIS bothers to meddle, she makes sure she succeeds. She puts Jackie to shame in that regard. And Jackie just constantly amazes me. That moment in season two when she tells off Elton and insists she'll always protect Rose and the Doctor… I did a little cheer. She has her weaknesses, but at the end of the day she's a good mother, and she won't let Rose down. Stephanie Davids: Agreed, 10 is very fun and all, in a sort of manic-pixie pretty-boy kind of way, but nine was the best and his run was too short. Just here to amend that. :)
For all his regrets and good intentions, in the end, Mickey wasn't willing to risk his job to go nosing around Torchwood 3 in search of this new Doctor. Rose couldn't blame him, not with Julie and the kids to think of. Getting sacked would likely be the least of his worries if he interfered in Torchwood's machinations. Rose would never expect him to put his family through that. She could, on the other hand, blame him for taking her credentials and access card. Evidently, coldcocking a superior was frowned upon by management, even if he wasn't your direct supervisor. Rose begged him to hold off, just for a day, but to no avail.
Now, she found herself sitting on the edge of her bed alone in her darkened room. Her mind was racing, constantly fixated on the blue box stashed in her closet and the nearly three-hour drive west to where the Severn poured into the Bristol Channel. Without her credentials, and with the full force of the Torchwood Institute standing in her way instead of backing her up, she felt lost. She hadn't a clue how much time passed, sitting there in the dark, ignoring the chill that came to her as evening crept over the mansion. She was in a daze when Jackie opened the door.
"It's time for supper," Jackie informed, softly, "It's Indian. From that shop near Piccadilly you like so much."
"They don't deliver," Rose realized how inane the statement was as soon as she said it, and Jackie smiled.
"Your father went and picked it up. Everything deep fried they had, he got. Heart attack waitin' to happen, it is." Jackie sat on the bed next to her daughter. For a moment, they sat together in the stillness before Jackie spoke again, "So what's the plan, then?"
"I don't have a plan, mum."
"Better get started, then."
"What?" Rose asked, bemused.
"A plan. A proper plan. Can't go haring off to Cardiff without a plan."
"I can't go to Cardiff," Rose protested, "I haven't got my access card, my credentials; I don't even know where they're holdin' 'im. And why are you so keen all the sudden to rescue 'im. Mickey was right, we've no proof he's anything like our Doctor."
"Because you won't be able to live with yourself unless you find out, sweetheart. I'm not even sure I could, to be honest."
"Mum…"
"Now, hear me out. I know we've had our differences over that man, and frankly the idea that he might be the genuine article, that he might take you away terrifies me. But it also terrifies me, you givin' up so easy. Givin' up on the chance to do what you're meant." Rose looked at her mother, shocked.
"But, but Tom. And the barrister. And last year, the investment banker."
"Can't blame me for tryin'," Jackie dismissed, in an instant, all her meddling in Rose's personal life, "Remember, I was there for a lot of that nonsense back home, and I was there when you lost 'im. For two years we hardly saw your face, you spent so much time in that lab. I couldn't decide if I wanted you to succeed or not, but when it failed… Darling, I hate wonderin' all the time, worryin' about what trouble ya might get into, but I hated it more seein' you like that. I learned a long time ago who you are, and I was so proud when ye picked yerself up and found a way to realize all that you are while bein' stuck on Earth. But now he's here, love."
"He's not my Doctor," Rose reminded, and it was a certainty she knew in her bones, "Even if he's as good as 'im, as brave and selfless, it's not him."
"I know that, dear, but if there's a chance, just a chance this Doctor lives up to his name… Things might not be the same as before, but it's somethin'. All the barristers in the universe won't make you happy. I'd rather you had 'im than nothin'."
"Can I get a record of this?" Rose asked, "Do you think we can find a notary this time a night?"
"Shut it, you," Jackie laughed, bumping Rose with her shoulder, "Come on, to eat. You can't go breakin' into top secret government installations on an empty stomach."
The heater was out in Wilf's old Land Rover Defender, and Rose's fingers were chilled. Once plans had been made, the savvy estate manager had insisted she take the old off-roader, arguing that the vehicle, which was as old as Rose herself, would be untraceable compared to the newer "smart" vehicles the family owned, and that there was a very real possibility that notice would be out on all of the Tyler's vehicles, making Pete's old Jeep unusable. So, after giving Wilf a massive hug, Rose had driven off, struggling to hold the wheel steady with her cast-encumbered hand while shifting with her left.
Ten minutes outside Cardiff proper, she could see the lights of the city reflecting an amber glow off the overcast night sky. It was near on midnight, but she was wide awake, her hand aching fiercely from her refusal to take her pain medication. She needed to stay alert, clear-headed. Particularly since she suspected she'd be walking into a trap. She spared a glance at the passenger seat. There, sat a padded envelope that had arrived that afternoon while she was still asleep, addressed to her. Inside she'd found forged credentials featuring her photo and very specific instructions.
Roses' mum had had a fit, and her father had called in a handful of favors in an effort to determine the package's origin. There were no leads, and the timeline to execute the plan provided in the instructions was incredibly short. In the end, it was Rose's decision, and she elected to play ball. So, as per the instructions, Rose passed through much of Cardiff city, winding her way to a car park near mermaid quay. The third level was empty of any other vehicles, and she stashed the credentials in her pocket before getting out of the car and hurridly making her way down to street level. From there, Rose walked three blocks to a transit stop near a deserted intersection by the pier. A dark-haired woman was already seated on the bench, and Rose sat down next to her.
"Of course ye had to show up lookin' like a burgler," the woman commented.
"Right, what's your name, then?" Rose asked, ignoring the slight.
"Gwen. My boss sent me. Says I need to get you inside and take you to the prisoner. Going to be a trick, you lookin' like you want trouble."
"I didn't realize there was a dress code."
"You're impersonating a high-level operative from Torchwood 1. A suit."
"Are you backing out?" Rose asked, growing ever more suspicious.
"Afraid I can't. I'll escort you inside, try to bluff our way past the guards. You don't look the part, so try to act it. Go for humorless, maybe a little condescending. I'll get you to the cell. After that, you're on your own. If they figure us out, I've no choice but to deny all knowledge of this operation and help apprehend you."
"Fair enough," Rose allowed, grudgingly, "Who's your boss, though? Why you doin' this?" The woman looked at her, face hard but honest.
"I can't tell you," she respond, "Not sure why. Then again, I'm not sure why he went to all this trouble to acquire the…" Gwen gave her an assessing look.
"Alien," Rose supplied, "'S'Okay, I already know."
"Right, then. All this trouble to acquire the alien only to let some girl attempt a jailbreak."
"This have anything to do with Ricky Smith?"
"I don't know who that is. If my superior does, he didn't say. Come on, then, the guards won't get any more gullible with us sittin' here." Gwen stated, standing up. Rose followed suit, and Gwen shot a questioning glance at the broken hand. "You sure this is such a good idea?"
"Absolutely not," Rose answered with a broad grin.
"Are you sure you're not taking me here to kill me and dump my body in the Channel?" Rose asked as Gwen lead her down to a questionable-looking part of the pier.
"Our skyscraper is on backorder. Sorry to disappoint." Gwen opened a rusted, nondescript metal door and the two women stepped into what looked like the lobby of an incredibly shady marine tour business. A dark-haired man stood behind the counter, his suit and tie more than a little incongruous given his surroundings. With a nod, he reached under the counter and a panel in the wall to their left shifted open. Gwen led the way through, and Rose followed into a rather rustic-looking stone corridor illuminated at broad intervals by harsh halogen lights.
"Off to the right is the lift that leads down to Torchwood 3's main headquarters. Under no circumstances are you to enter."
"Plausible deniability."
"Precisely. None of our agents are to witness you coming or going save myself and Ianto."
"The bloke at the counter?"
"Yes. Now, to the left, here," Gwen began walking the direction indicated and Rose followed, keeping a keen eye on her guide, "lies a series of corridors leading to the high security detention block. Pay attention on the way down. This branch isn't normally so – crowded – but main office wouldn't permit the transfer without a little insurance. Now, as soon as we reach the cell, slip me the credentials so that I can have them destroyed. After that, you're on your own."
Rose didn't respond. Instead, she followed the woman through the corridor and down a lift that seemed to take them a dozen stories underground. From there, they bypassed the first pair of guards with Rose's counterfeit credentials with no problem. They wound their way through a network of hallways, Rose paying strict attention to each turn, passed another pair of guards without incident, and finally arrived at a long, sterile corridor lined in antiquated white tile. Two men stood guard at a steel door at the very end of the corridor. Rose heaved a deep sigh and straightened her posture.
"Gwen Cooper," Rose's guide introduced, holding up her credentials, "Escorting Ms. Fletcher from London. She's here to debrief the prisoner." Rose quickly flashed her "credentials" and fixed her face into as stern an expression as she could muster. She stifled a sigh of relief when the man on the right turned and unbolted the door, pulling it open. Rose nodded at him perfunctorily and surreptitiously handed the forged item off to Gwen behind her back. Then, her heart in her throat, she stepped into the cell and the door slammed behind her.
Gwen Cooper passed by Jack's desk on her way to incinerator. She didn't address him.
"Mission accomplished?" he asked, rising from his seat and following her. Gwen trotted down a short flight of stairs to the steel door set into the tiled wall about three feet off the ground. Gwen slid on a padded leather glove, turned the handle, and swung the incinerator door open. Both of them cringed at the blast of heat as she quickly threw the credentials inside and shut the door. Having one's own incinerator was handy. Usually they only used it to warm up leftover pizza.
"Yeah, I suppose. No guarantee it'll succeed. Please explain how this won't get us all sacked. Or arrested."
"Numbers. It's all in the numbers. Six guards fooled by falsified credentials versus one of my agents. The main office won't have room to criticize."
"Can they really be called forgeries when they were produced off the Torchwood mainframe?"
"Toshiko scrubbed the data, and I made sure the materials used could be found in any office supply store."
"So I didn't need take them and burn them?" she asked, incredulous, "What if she needs them to get back out?"
"There was still enough proprietary tech in the smart chip to make someone suspicious. Besides, you chewed me up one side and down the other when I gave you this mission," Jack grinned, "Why do you care whether the girl succeeds or not?"
"I don't know. She seemed – all right."
"She does, doesn't she?" there was a wistful smile on his face, and Gwen suddenly wondered how her boss knew the mysterious 'burgler.' Before she could begin to pry, Jack regained his irreverent demeanor and continued, "Anyway, it's not as bad as it all looks. In about ten minutes, the breaker leading to the CCTV and automated door locks is going to fail."
"Really?" Gwen prodded, skeptical.
"Just a little unscrupulous tinkering." Jack smiled wide.
"I do expect you to explain this all someday."
"Tell me, have you ever listened to CCR?"
Footnote: Credence Clearwater Revival (CCR) sang "Someday Never Comes."