(AN) Another chapter! Thanks again to anyone who is supporting the story :)
As soon as Mickey had left the house, Rose dashed upstairs, the dream of the night before still burning in her mind. She threw open her closet door and reached into the back most corner. There, she had tucked the items that man had given her in the pocket of a disused sweatshirt.
As her hand clenched around the metal tube and the folded wallet, she paused for a moment, contemplating what she was doing. She was following the instructions of a completely random stranger who had been creepily watching her when she was alone in the basement. He had only vaguely told her that these items would help her 'when the time was right', and yet she was blindly doing what he said on the basis of a dream she had the night before.
"Don't you want to know about the dreams?"
His voice still taunted her, and Rose couldn't resist. Refusing to let herself hesitate a moment longer, she yanked the objects out of her closet. For a moment, she stared at them sitting in her palm, not quite sure what to do. But then, she remembered that the man told her that she had to open up the wallet at the right time to get instructions. Looking back, the words seemed ridiculous, and completely unfounded. But so did a good majority of Rose's life at that point.
She flipped open the wallet, half expecting it to still say 'Trust Me', like it had that fateful night. However, much to her surprise, the paper was completely blank, and she felt her heart sink. She had half expected that it was a scam from the beginning, but there was a certain disappointment in having her thoughts confirmed.
But just as she was about to close it, she almost dropped it to the floor when a flash of black on the paper became visible out of the corner of her eye. She frantically flipped the wallet open once more, her heartbeat quickening when she saw new words scrawled across the paper.
Take the sonic screwdriver. Flip the silver switch to put it on blue setting.
Incredulity flooded her brain. The words written on the paper were complete gibberish, and she had no idea how they were supposed to help her. However, upon further consideration, she realized that the words 'sonic screwdriver' most likely were referring to the strange tube that the man had handed her. In a weird, alien way, it did resemble a screwdriver to some extent. Rose scrutinized it further, turning it around in her palm. After a moment, she found a silver switch, near the base of the device. She flicked the switch, and much to her alarm, the device started glowing at the tip and emitting a shrill buzzing sound.
The screwdriver clattered to the floor, still buzzing, and Rose picked up the wallet again, flipping it open as her hands shook. She hoped there would be some explanation for what she was supposed to do with the thing.
Press the button in the middle, and point it at your face.
Rose groaned, and then stared helplessly at the sonic screwdriver, still buzzing on the floor. She had positively no idea what it's purpose was, and the idea of pointing it at her face was a little terrifying. It could zap her, or explode, or harm her in some other bodily way.
She had positively no idea why she was doing this. She had no idea why that tiny part of her mind was still screaming at her to continue, even though the rest of her wanted to stop. About to put the items back, she glanced at the paper again.
Trust me, Rose Tyler.
Those words struck her for some reason with a great intensity, and with a sign of resignation, Rose picked up the screwdriver and pointed it at her face, pressing the button.
0000
The screwdriver changed her face. And her hair color. Out of all things it could have done, this was what she was least expecting, and she was rather startled when she caught her reflection in the mirror after a few moments of a tingling sensation on her flesh.
Rose now had dark, stringy brown hair, a significantly more beaky nose, and thin pale lips. Upon realizing this, she proceeded to stare at her reflection for at least twenty minutes, completely overwhelmed. It had been enough to convince her that this situation was somewhat real when the paper had started changing, but this was the icing on the cake. What was the purpose of this? And beyond that, a most prominent concern: Would she look like this forever?
After finally getting somewhat accustomed to the fact that this was reality and somehow the device had changed her face, the paper told Rose that she needed to go into the back of Mickey's closet. When she went back there, there was a woman's suit, exactly her size. When she touched it, an unexplainable jolt went through her body, and she was hesitant to put it on. She wondered why Mickey had the suit in the first place, and the unanswered questions in her head only made her more suspicious.
When she got downstairs and opened the wallet again, she wasn't surprised in the slightest when the paper told her to drive to Mickey's work place.
0000
When she opened the car door in front of Vitex headquarters, the air felt surprisingly harsh and cold on her body. It snapped her out of her bubble of surreality and for the first time Rose truly realized the extent of what was occurring. She was just and ordinary shop girl, who happened to meet a stranger the night after work. Because of this occurrence, she now had a different face and hair color, and she was approaching her father's business; most likely breaking in. She had no idea why the hell she was doing it, other than the weird sensation in the back of her head that was telling her that this was absolutely right. She knew that she should be terrified, but instead, she was exhilarated.
Rose was at the door a moment later, which for some reason was locked, even though she was arriving during work hours. Glancing down, she saw that the paper was telling her to zap it with the sonic screwdriver. When she did so, a little box by the door sparked dangerously, followed immediately by the door unlocking with a click.
Rose blinked, shielding her eyes. The lighting in the building was brighter than the sun outside, and unnaturally white. It took her a moment to get accustomed to it, and when she did, she realized that something was...off. The building was nearly silent, and the lobby was empty except for a security guard posted at the door ahead. Panic filled her head as she approached hm, her feet acting of their own accord. She had absolutely no clue what she was supposed to do when she reached him.
"Identification," the guard stated when she approached. Rose stared at him, having positively no idea what to say. But then, for some reason that was unknown to even her, she held up the wallet and flashed the paper at him. It just felt like the right thing to do. The guard glanced at it for a moment, and then visibly flinched.
"I-I apologize, Madam," he said quickly. He stepped aside, gesturing to the hall behind the door. "Go right on through, you have executive access."
Rose blinked, part confused about what she had just done, part startled that she had actually been allowed though. "Thank you," she said hesitantly.
It didn't occur to her until she was through the door how odd it was that they had this type of security check at a juice company of all things.
When Rose entered, the first thing she noticed was that the room had a very prominent sterilized scent, like a hospital. She glanced around the room, which was a large, wide hall of sorts. People in pristine lab coats scuttled around the room, carrying laptops and clipboards and all the like.
That feeling of urgency, the sensation that something was off in the place only became more sure in her mind when Rose swore she heard the sound of a muffled scream a few doors down within taking two steps into the room. This was confirmed when the sound repeated, only to be cut off abruptly. One moment later, two employees marched out of the room, a stretcher balanced between them. An oddly purple arm flopped out from under the side of a blanket.
Rose had no idea what to think. There had been definite screaming, a horrible, screeching sound that carried nothing but pain and terror. Her breath came in harsh gasps, and she stumbled backwards, eyes wide. The whole room spun around her. There was something horrible in this place. Something sinister and wrong, and for some reason she was here to witness it.
Her boyfriend worked here. Her father owned this place. And no words could convince her that it was the facilities for a juice company.
"Ma'm? Ma'm, are you ok?" A voice cut into her ears. Looking to her right, Rose saw a woman clad in a lab coat tentatively nudging her arm.
"Yes...I am fine," she whispered vaguely. At her words, a suspicious look came onto the woman's face.
"Can I see your identification?" she inquired.
Rose dazedly fished the paper out of her pocket, flashing it at her like she had with the security guard. The woman looked at it for a moment, and then her eyes became wide.
"Madam!" she exclaimed. "My apologies, come right this way!" She walked off briskly, and Rose followed her, her whole body trembling. Obviously the paper had indicated that she was some figure of authority, giving her further access to this place. However, she had no idea why.
"We didn't expect for you to come in to scrutinize the project," the woman said, breaking through her reverie. "It is really such an honor, and I can assure you that it will be worth your time...Oh Mr. Smith will be pleased!"
Mickey. Oh god, Mickey. She hadn't even taken the time to consider it, to truly consider it, but whatever this insanity was, Mickey was involved in it. And from the sound of what this woman was saying, it would appear that he was in charge of it. Where that left her father, Rose had no idea. Either way, it took all her self-control to not break down sobbing, or throttle this woman for answers.
They turned a corner, and the hall suddenly became very dim, especially in comparison to the last room. Rose swallowed thickly, trying to conjure up something to say. If she was posing as some important business woman, surely it would seem odd if she was entirely silent.
More than anything though, she just wished she could run home, away from all this madness, forget all she had seen.
"This is our most important project," the woman said proudly as they made one last turn into a short little corridor. "Torchwood snagged him fairly easily, but he has provided enough data to last us centuries." Rose nodded, her mind in another place.
Torchwood. For some reason, that word struck a familiar chord in her head, and with it came a sinking feeling of dread. Suddenly, her surroundings felt very familiar, and it was horribly disconcerting. She felt like she had been there in that hallway many times before, and something was wrong. There were little wisps of memory, little prodding bits from the back of her head hinting at it, but there were no images accompanied with the feelings.
Rolling table. Sweaty hands. Screaming, always screaming.
"We're here," the woman pronounced.
Rose shook her head. They had arrived at solid looking door with a blackened window. As the woman bent over a keypad, typing something it, Rose felt a jabbing pain in her forehead. Words went through her head in an incoherent string, but there was one word missing, one vital word tha needed to be there. She clutched her head. Everything was blurry, there was a roaring sound in her ears, and so many words. Words and names. Words she didn't even recognize, words that she never should be able to recognize. Names that she's only seen in textbooks. And images too, very vague images that were of unimaginable things that still made sense. This puzzle was coming together.
"Welcome-"
TARDIS raxocalifalipotorious alien time and space run Dalek end of the world Victorian time lord New York London parallel-
"to-"
fantastic cybermen allonsy ood screwdriver psychic dimensions Jack Sarah Jane Smith 900 years Adam Living plastic-
"the-"
bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf bad wolf-
"Time Lord Project." The door swung open, and Rose couldn't breathe, and the room was full of people, but Rose didn't see any of them. Just the man, that man, laid out on a table, only clad in jeans, his whole body raw and bleeding. His once vibrant eyes, dull and gray. His face, swollen and bruised. His chest, rising and falling in an uneven pattern. His arm, bent at a wrong angle.
His lips, mouthing her name.
Tears, sudden, unwarranted tears rolled down her cheeks, and as his eyes met hers every scratch on his body felt like her own personal wound. She gave a rattling, heavy sob, and suddenly the word was there, in her mouth, filling her body with light, with revelation.
"Doctor," she gasped.