Byzantine Pyrrhichios: .. and Rescue
Shell-shocked, Rose wandered about the strange city for hours, finding a few similarities to her own London, but even more differences. Everywhere she looked, favorite shops had been replaced, schools and parks were misplaced and misnamed, and every one of the houses and flats she'd lived in during her life were utterly missing. And most confusing were the churches. Every house of worship which in her world had been graced by the traditional onion domes and clean white marble lines splashed with vivid, vibrant colors was in this world changed to an astonishing array of – to her eyes – ugly grey square boxes with exposed ribs serrating the edges, tall sharply-pointed spires stabbing the sky, and with the awkward descriptor "Anglican" after the name, rather than the softer, familiar "Orthodox".
It was altogether an alien world. The bits of similarity only made the differences more dramatic, and infinitely worse.
Now, it was drawing towards dusk, and people were hurrying home. She found herself in the middle of yet another conglomeration of flats; huge concrete blocks scattered this way and that. Nearby was a sign proclaiming the grandiose title of "Powell Estates" for the obviously run-down public housing. With nowhere to go and no way to get there, Rose sank down on a high curb, wrapping her arms around her torso and trying to hold the desolation at bay.
Suddenly the air was split with an ecstatic shout – which startled her down to her toes, because it was her very own name!
"ROSE!"
She jerked her head up and stared at the young, handsome black man who thundered towards her, grabbing her hands and scooping her up into a tremendous hug before she could draw breath to protest. Frozen solid with shock, she stared over his shoulder at the pretty black woman who ran up as well, mirroring his wide, happy grin.
"Oh my god! How did you get here? When? Why didn't you call us?" The man interrupted his pelting questions with a darted kiss on her cheek – which further shock suddenly jarred loose her limbs and and mouth.
She swiftly brought her hands up and pushed him violently away. "Get off me!"
Their grins melted instantly away, his into wounded outrage, hers into surprise. "Well, there's a nice hello!" he replied. "What's the matter with you? After all we've been through?"
"I don't know who you are! I've never seen you before!"
"What?" the strange woman turned bewildered eyes on her mate's – which suddenly widened as inspiration struck.
"You're not my Rose! You're a duplicate, aren't you? From a parallel world?"
Miserable, Rose nodded. "Well, this is certainly not my world."
Martha, for of course it was she, instantly became sympathetic, and laid a friendly hand on the visitor's shoulder, introducing herself and her husband. "I'm Martha Smith, and this is Mickey. He knew your... twin... from way back."
Mickey nodded. "We grew up together, Rose and me. But now she's stuck in a parallel world herself. Look... I'm sorry for manhandling you like that, then."
Rose tried to smile, but only managed a quivering grimace, tears threatening. Martha saw, of course, and instantly took charge, shushing her, then taking her hand and leading her quickly up the stairs to their flat. Then she settled the still-trembling blonde firmly into a shabby-but-comfortable couch and puttered around the kitchen making tea and starting a simple supper while Mickey disappeared into the bedroom to change clothes.
A short time later found the trio around the dining table sharing soup and bread. Rose discovered she instinctively liked the couple – although there seemed to be a bit of more romantic personal history between Mickey and her "twin" than Martha seemed quite comfortable with, but Rose defused the situation with a wildly-grabbed question about the local school system and the awkward moment passed.
"All right, then," Mickey returned to the subject at hand at last. "How did you get to this world?" And Rose told them about her kidnapping, snatched out of the blue and taken across the Void to this world by direction of the chilling stranger, Paul Corvantes; meeting the six other Roses; getting rescued by Jack and Jared – both the Smiths' faces lit up at those names – and finally, the only way Jared could think of to get them each home again. She brushed by the other two previous "adventures" and told them of her own proposed role at the siege of Constantinople (neither of them knew a thing about it). With Jack.
"Oi! Then that's what we've got to do!" Mickey reached a long arm for the phone. "Just call Jack up in Cardiff – he should be there now – and he'll get you back to the right time!"
"I wonder if he's already done it?" Martha mused, bewildering Rose yet again, and she smiled, waving a vaguely dismissive hand in the air. "Time travel. You'll get used to it."
Rose shuddered. "I sincerely hope not. I don't want to get used to it. I just want to get home!"
Martha clucked consolingly, hiding her surprise at this departure from "their" Rose's adventuresome spirit. She'd never been such a homebody.
Mickey was frowning as he listened to the lonely ringing. "No answer at the Hub. I'll try his mobile."
"No need," came a masculine voice from the front door. None of them had heard it open. Captain Jack Harkness was leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, smirking. Of course. "I'm already here."