The One Adventure I'll Never Have
part ii
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"And she wasted years pining after him. Years of her life. 'Cause, while he was around, she never looked at anyone else."
"There's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close. Staring me right in the face and I can't see it. Rose would know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now she'd say exactly the right thing."
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"Where do you sleep?" Martha asks after we've visited Shakespeare and been threatened personally by the Queen of England. It is a perfectly acceptable question, one of little consequence but understandable all the same. As I open my mouth to respond, I catch that sneaky, familiar gleam in her eye that sparked the moment we met. It has a predatory edge to it now, as though Martha is seriously considering crawling across the main-frame of the TARDIS and smothering me with her mouth.
The thought encourages the sadness lying dormant inside both of my hearts to rise - because Rose couldn't just capture one, now could she? - and I close my mouth again. Disappointment flits across Martha's face and she smirks to cover it up, hunching her shoulders.
"Or are we putting that alongside your name in the category of things-the-Doctor-will never-reveal?" Martha jokes. Her smile is still a little too tight and I realize that I have, inadvertantly, hurt her. I often forget how delicate human feelings are when wrapped up in romantic intentions.
"Nah," I drawl, smiling at her in an effort to relieve the sudden tension. She smiles back. "I guess I just never thought of it as an important manner."
Martha crosses her arms half-playfully. "Well it is," she says. "Can't have you sleeping on any park benches, now can we?"
She really cares, Martha does, and it makes it all the more difficult to keep my distance. Sure, a little crush won't kill her, but the part of myself conditioned over hundreds of years to save people argues this point. But I can't. I kissed her in the hospital, partly because of the rush of joy I got realizing that I wasn't quite alone anymore. Partly, also, because ever since Wolf Bay, I've been dealing with an urge to hold, to claim, primal human needs whose origin I blame on Rose. Now my lips cannot seem to control themselves. I wanted to kiss her and I still do. I quite like this spunky, determined woman. But she needs someone who can grant her stability, someone who is capable of loving her beyond the point of reason. These are shoes I cannot fill.
"Doctor?" Martha interrupts worriedly.
I snap back into it. "Right. Well, not to worry, Martha Jones. I'm not sleepin' on any park benches." I flash a cheeky grin over my shoulder at her, my fingers still working to stabilize the landing coordinates of the TARDIS.
"So, where are you sleeping?" she pushes, stumbling into the main-frame as the TARDIS jerks through the time vortex.
"Oh, you know." I have to show her now. She'll keep asking if I stall and besides, there really isn't anything to hide. Martha deserves at least a fraction of my trust. "Give me a second 'ere." I press a few buttons and the coordinates lock. Then I reach underneath the main-frame, grasping a tiny lever that's hidden in the base. It's painted the same color and practically invisible. Wouldn't want anyone invading my privacy, now would I?
The moment I pull the lever, one of the panels midway between the mainframe and the side wall of the TARDIS slides open, revealing a shallow flight of stairs.
"That's brilliant," Martha breathes, stepping slowly toward the staircase. I follow, my smile widening as she glances up at me in wonder.
"Isn't it?"
"Oh, shut up." She smacks my arm and then heads down the staircase.
The room is pretty modest, according to Time Lord standards. One of my friend's fathers had been the bragging type. He'd constructed his spaceship inside of an orange, the rooms vast, adorned with his many trophies and accomplishments. The moment any new companions or fellow Time Lords entered his orange, they were greeted by a faceful of stinging juice and a "I told you it was bigger on the inside" comment from the owner.
So, in comparison, my room is tiny, decrepit. But oh, how I love it. I really do.
"This is really brilliant," Martha says again, taking in the various relics I'd accumulated during my travels scattered purposefully across the floor. She takes several steps forward, off the stairs and into the middle of the room. A window to Martha's left spills starlight across her face, dancing blue and purple.
"Is that glass?" she asks, pointing toward the window. When I nod, she adds, "How is it still intact? The pressure out here must be massive."
"Time Lord technology," I remind her, rapping the glass twice.
"It's incredible," Martha says. She looks up at me, eyes fogged with amazement quickly bleeding away into something else. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and Martha quickly jerks her eyes up before she thinks I'll notice. If I were human, I might've missed it. "You can see entire galaxies from here." Two pink circles dot her cheeks, the blush more out of excitement more than anything.
I still take a step back, offering her a distant smile before heading over to the alcove in which my bed is stored. The covers have been thrown off and lay crumpled at the foot of the mattress. Pressing my fingers into the bed, I frown. The mattress restrains the clouds making up the majority of it, but they still move, bumping gently against my fingertips.
"You have a bed."
"Do I? I hadn't noticed."
"Real funny," Martha says. I can hear the amusement in her tone and figure that she's rolling her eyes. "I didn't think Time Lords needed to sleep."
"We don't need to sleep as much as humans," I tell her, skimming my hand over the edge of my pillow and stirring the scent that lies there. It climbs in the air, rosy, fresh. "A couple times a century is usually sufficient."
"You have your own hidden world down here. One more place for you to be lonely."
"It's inevitable, really. Every companion I've ever had thought they'd last forever, but they don't."
"Did you ever consider finding a companion who isn't human? Seems like they'd last much longer."
"Trust me, love, I've tried. But they just don't have the same spark humans do."
"We have a spark, do we?" A cheeky smile.
"You especially."
"Don't sweet talk me, Doctor." She laughs, despite herself, pressing her head into his shoulder. He lowers them onto the bed, side by side.
"No, I mean it. Rose Tyler, you are quite extrordinary."
His fingers curl around her cheek and she beams at him.
"Is the bed moving?" Martha asks as she comes to a stop by my side.
"It's made up of clouds from the moon in the Siarot universe. They're dormant. Harmless, really." I pat the bed before pulling my hand back to rest against my side.
"Wait, the clouds are alive?" Martha is giving me the I-travel-with-a-madman look.
"Of course."
The conversation dies after that. Martha studies the bed carefully, eyes pausing on a shirt bunched up against the wall. "That's not yours," she points out tightly, the excitement in her eyes dimming. I'd like to whisper reassurances in her ear but Martha really should've known better than to develop feelings for a Time Lord. The hypocrisy of the idea nearly makes me laugh.
"No, it isn't," I concede, reaching out for the wrinkled purple fabric and smoothing it in my grasp. It still smells faintly like its owner.
"It's hers."
I turn, fixing Martha with a sharp look. The indignation on her face fades, replaced with shock. "Yes, this is Rose's shirt." I press my thumb into the material. "When we were separated, all of her luggage was left here." With my head, I gesture toward the back of the room where several multi-colored bags sit, gathering dust.
"Right," Martha says, shaking her head as though trying to ground herself. Her jealousy is obvious and makes me sick. Every time I see it on her face I cringe; she's pining away, and all I can see is an echo of Rose in the back of her eyes. "Did she ever stay down here with you?"
I look at her for a long moment, my smile fading completely, then turn my attention back to the bed.
He tickles her sides, hands sliding across her white, cotton shirt. She giggles.
"Stop it! That's not fair!"
"Why isn't it fair?" It feels like his smile will burst right off his face. His cheeks hurt.
"I don't know h-how to get you back." She's laughing so hard that her face is turning red.
He rolls, pinning her underneath him. She tips her head back, gasping as he growls, breath spilling across her neck.
"I'm sure you'll find a way."
I blink, the sense of Rose fading away a little. Martha is looking at me like I might lash out or something equally preposterous.
"No," I croak, turning and heading for the stairs. "She never stayed down here."
I catch the way that Martha's face falls.
"That's what I thought," she says softly, following me up.
This time, when I find myself steering the TARDIS toward the direction of Rose's voice, I realize that I'm not actually moving my ship anywhere. It's a figment of my imagination designed to make this experience less jarring, I determine immediately after. I'm not really going anywhere, at least not physically. There must be some kind of mental tie binding Rose and I.
That doesn't make it any less real, though.
When I step out of the TARDIS, I'm not in Bristol. Rather, it appears to be Canary Wharf. In my universe, Canary Wharf had been completely obliterated. Here, tall stacks of rubble reach toward the skies. Among the piles of cement and structural bones is Rose.
My breath catches in my chest at the sight of her. She looks a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw her, clothed in jeans and a purple, long-sleeved shirt with buttons down the front. Other than a bit of mascara and lipgloss, Rose isn't wearing make-up, but she pulls it off fantastically. The wind's whipping her hair about, flinging it across her face and around the edges of her collar until she gathers it up in a loose bun.
I hurry toward her, the smile growing on my face until it feels about to burst again. How I've missed this feeling. I took it for granted when I had Rose by my side, alive and well.
By the time I reach her side, Rose has ducked down into the rubble and is sifting through it with gloved hands. What she is looking for, I have no clue. Little bits of machinery are lying here and there, scuttling along the ground like crabs as the wind pushes them; everything else has been crushed into the foundation. Regardless, I crowd closer until I'm only several feet away, crouched down at Rose's level. She's breathing evenly, her lips pursed in a familiar smile as she works. Again, it is as if she can feel my presence.
Several minutes later, Rose digs something out between two cement blocks and holds it close to her face. It's green, glowing faintly.
"Mickey!" Rose calls out, her face lighting up. She scrambles to her feet, looking around for her companion. A moment later, Mickey pops up in the middle of a tangled wire web. "Look, I found another one!"
Mickey rushes to her side. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's in fantastic condition." Rose shows off her prize, glancing up at Mickey as if for his approval.
"Are you sure this is even going to work?" Mickey asks her, taking the piece and dropping it into one of the side pouches on his backpack.
Rose shrugs. "I have to believe that it will."
"Why are you even doing this?" Mickey's tone is general now. He grabs Rose by the hand and starts tugging her in the direction I'd come from. "Is it some kind of revenge plot, or-"
Rose pulls her hand away. "Do you really think I'd be out here planning petty revenge schemes involving chips that may or may not work?" Bowing her head, she studies the ground under her feet, eyelashes fluttering. When Rose looks back up, her eyes are wearier, streaked through with grief. I suck in a breath at the sight, one I'd hoped never to see on her face. "Even if I wanted to, I haven't seen a Dalek or a Cyberman since...you know."
"Rose," Mickey begins, reaching out to comfort her. My own hands itch with the desire to do the same. I'd give anything to hold her close, just once, feel her soft hair pressing into the bottom of my jaw.
To my surprise, Rose shrinks away from Mickey's touch. "Torchwood is gone," she says, voice the tiniest bit shaky, "and the people in this world have nothing to protect them from what's out there." She doesn't specify what, but I can read her expression and know that hundreds of species and worlds are flitting through her mind, quick as the brush of a hand. "If I've got to stay here then I might as well be useful. I can't do ordinary anymore, Mick."
With a last brave smile, Rose turns away from Mickey and heads back toward the rubble. I don't follow, but from this position I can see the way that her face folds in on itself, unable to cling to the mask Rose has created. The ancient, exhausted look is back in her brown eyes and in the tight set of her jaw. God, Rose is so fantastic. So incredibly fantastic. The way that she holds it all in, burying it thoroughly and focusing on protecting the people in a universe she feels she doesn't belong to...it's a burden Rose shouldn't have to carry alone but one she isn't ready to share just yet.
"You're so strong," I murmer, my voice carried away in the breeze along with the rest of my body.
When I open my eyes, I'm lying on the bed in the alcove. Rose's shirt is clutched in my fingers and her scent drifts over me, familiar, comforting.
to be continued
a/n: So sorry I didn't update sooner. I was catching up on the series. Just got through watching the Doctor and Rose separated yet again and needed to write something nostalgic.