In case you missed the memo, The Christmas Star, this universe's version of The Runaway Bride is currently being worked on. You can find it with my other stories.
"Harpier cries: 'tis time! 'tis time!
Round about the caldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!" - Macbeth, Act 4 Scene 1
Even though he had apologized for suggesting it and admitted his fear of the strange events, Rose couldn't quite bring herself to look Shakespeare in the eye anymore.
The Doctor had calmed down, though he kept a wary eye on the Bard, as if expecting him to tear off and rouse a mob. And he could do it, the wordsmith, stirring up a mob with just a few well-chosen words. And then they'd have to fight their way back to the TARDIS and Lilith would be left with a clear path to whatever it is she was after.
Though Shakespeare seemed eager to prove himself loyal, using his way with words to get them access to Peter Street before the Doctor even had a chance to whip out the psychic paper.
A portly jailer led them through the stinking halls of Bedlam. Men and women alike gazed at them through the bars, some reaching out, shaking the bars of their cages, while others simply sat and stared; some begged and pleaded; some just screamed wordlessly. The smell of hundreds of unwashed bodies, bodily waste, illness, and decay mixed together to create a rotting odor that made the Doctor's hypersensitive nose wrinkle in revulsion.
Martha was completely and utterly disgusted, the doctor within her screaming in protest. These people were sick. They needed help; they needed care and medicine; they needed people willing to fight the madness to save them. They didn't need to be chucked into cells and left to rot. And as much as she had always abhorred those so-called "mercy killings," she realized that here and now for these people, death would be a mercy.
"Does my lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits?" The jailer inquired. "I'll whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya! Bandog and Bedlam!"
"No, I don't," the Doctor said in disgust.
"This is sick!" Rose told the jailer vehemently. "And you're sick for thinkin' it's funny!"
The man looked a bit uncomfortable. "My apologies, ma'am. Uh, wait here, my lords, while I…make him decent for the ladies."
He walked off to prepare Peter—whatever that meant,—and Rose rounded on Shakespeare, looking him right in the eyes. "You call this a hospital? This is a dungeon! It's sick!"
"She's right. What kind of hospital whips its patients to entertain the gentry?" Martha was utterly repulsed. "And you put your friend in here?"
"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia," he retorted.
"Actually, yeah," Rose snapped. "It is."
"Do you really think this place does any good?" Martha demanded.
"I've been mad. I've lost my mind," Shakespeare told her. "Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."
"Mad in what way?"
"You lost your son," the Doctor murmured.
"My only boy," Shakespeare said. "The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry," Martha apologized.
"It made me question everything." He went on as if he hadn't heard her. Maybe he hadn't. 'The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be… Oh," he put his hand near his chin. "That's quite good."
"You should write that down," the Doctor suggested.
"Hmm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?"
The Doctor shrugged.
"This way, m'lord!" the jailor called, and they were off again. He unlocked the cell for them. They filed in solemnly, gazing at the cell's single occupant, a skinny man with dirty hair shaking on the cot in the middle of the cell. "They can be a bit dangerous, m'lord. Don't know their own strength," he cautioned.
"I think it helps if you don't whip them!" the Doctor snapped. "Now get out."
If the phrase existed in this time, Rose thought the jailor would probably have said well, excuse me! 'Different cultures, different customs,' she knew. As far as he was concerned, beating the madmen was acceptable. That still didn't stop her from wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, but she restrained herself. They needed to hear Peter's story and they couldn't do that if she got them thrown out. He closed the door behind them, locked it, and went on his way.
The Doctor was slowly approaching the man on the floor. "Peter?" he called softly.
Martha and Shakespeare started to follow him, but Rose shook her head, motioning for them to keep back. Peter was…well, he wasn't…he wasn't wrong like Lilith, but he wasn't right like a normal human, either.
What are you trying to tell me? she thought, but the TARDIS didn't respond. Not even a flicker of emotion.
"Peter Street?"
"He's the same as he was," Shakespeare muttered. "You'll get nothing out of him."
The Doctor knelt down in front of Peter, his expression gentle and sympathetic. Rose knew what was coming; she'd seen it happen before. She didn't know exactly how it worked, but he'd told her once that telepathy was potentially a two-way street. What if Peter somehow got into the Doctor's mind?
"Doctor," she murmured. "Doctor, don't."
The Doctor glanced over Peter's head at her, arching his eyebrow.
"He's not…right," she tried to explain, gritting her teeth in frustration when she couldn't come up with anything better. But the Doctor understood and nodded once.
"We're in the madhouse, Miss Rose," Shakespeare said impatiently. "No one here is right."
"Peter," the Doctor said again, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, and Peter's head snapped up. He shook, his mouth moving like he wanted to speak, but something was stopping him.
Rose stiffened. It was happening again. This time it was Peter Street making the hairs on the back of her neck stick straight up and causing her stomach to flutter uneasily. Not all unlike the way Lilith had felt, yet completely different. He wasn't radiating it like she had. She forced herself not to react, not to let her discomfort show. Peter needed the Doctors undivided attention.
The Time Lord put his hands on either side of Peter's face. "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past, one year ago." His voice was low and hypnotic; it gave Rose shivers. "Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it; just let go." Peter's body slumped and the Doctor eased Peter down onto the cot.
The man gasped, swallowing, and trembled. The Doctor stood over him, powerful and commanding.
"What's he doing?" Martha whispered.
"It's…kind of like hypnosis," Rose explained softly. She half-expected Peter to start speaking in a raspy voice about being alone. If only.
"Tell me the story, Peter." The Time Lord commanded. "Tell me about the witches."
Peter twitched and spoke slowly, haltingly. "Witches…spoke to Peter… In the night, they whispered. They whispered." He raised his hand, his fingers wiggling and twitching near his ear, breathing quickly. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, firmer. "Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design."
The Doctor glanced up at Rose for a moment.
"The fourteen walls," he chuckled. "Always fourteen. When the work was done…" he laughed again, "they—they snapped poor Peter's wits."
"But where did Peter see the witches?" The Doctor asked. "Where in the city?"
Peter panted, swallowing with great difficulty, as if he wanted to say the word but couldn't.
"Peter," the Doctor crouched down, his voice gruff and intense. "Tell me. You've got to tell me. Where were they?"
Rose felt it building, the energy growing, and she sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth as the feeling of nausea rolled through her like a tidal wave.
Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth and with a great effort he told them.
"All Hallows Street."
Rose blinked. There was nothing behind the Doctor when her eyes had closed, but when they opened an ugly green-skinned hag with a long chin and nose and scraggly brown hair was in the spot that had been empty not a second before. She gasped just as the creature opened its mouth.
"Too many words," it said.
The Doctor whipped around, seeing the hag and immediately backing away from it and Peter. "What the hell!" Martha exclaimed.
Now Rose really felt sick to her stomach. The thing before them was hideous and wrong; so, so wrong. The TARDIS knew it and so did she.
"Just one touch of the heart." The hag declared, lifting her finger, and lowering it to Peter's chest.
"NO!" the Doctor shouted.
Rose choked, doubling over. The witch inhaled loudly as Peter screamed his final cry and died. The witch moaned.
"Witch!" Shakespeare pointed. "I'm seeing a witch!"
"Yeah, you are," Rose spat out, raising her head. "And she shouldn't exist!"
"Oh, dear, I should. I think it is you who will not exist much longer!" The witch pointed her finger at Rose. "Would you like to be first? Just one touch…oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic heart. Poor, fragile mortals."
"LET US OUT!" Martha backed away to the bars, turning to shake him. "LET US OUT!"
"That's not gonna work. The whole building's shouting that." The Doctor told her.
Martha turned away from the bars, gasping and seconds from crying.
"So who will die first, hmm?" the witch asked. "Perhaps the fair child? She seems to be in pain. Or perhaps the dark child who seems so distressed?"
"Well, if you're looking for volunteers." The Doctor walked towards the witch, placing himself between her and Rose.
"Doctor!"
"No! Don't!"
"Doctor, can you stop her?" Shakespeare queried.
"No mortal has power over me!" The hag declared.
"Oh, but there's power in words." The Doctor growled and her confidence dimmed a bit. "If I can find the right one—If I can just know you."
"None on Earth have knowledge of us." She hissed, pointing at him.
"Then it's a good thing I'm here." He leaned away from her probing finger. "Then it's a good thing I'm here. Now: think, think, think... Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy…"
"Shouldn't exist!" Rose snarled.
The hag called Doomfinger looked at the blonde girl—the one that Lilith was concerned about. She was not one of their sisters gone rogue, yet she could sense their work and warn others of it. She was something new, something unique. Her eyes were feral and dangerous and they seemed to gleam yellow as she glared.
"AH!" The Doctor yelled. THAT'S IT! You shouldn't exist; not anymore! And fourteen makes sense now! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you…Carrionite!"
The witch's eyes flipped wide. She screamed as she was enveloped in a bright light and vanished as quickly as she'd come. Rose breathed deeply as the feelings plaguing her disappeared along with the alien…witch…whatever. The Doctor stepped back, grinning viciously.
"What did you do?" Martha whispered.
"I named her. The power of a name—that's old magic."
Martha shook her head. "But…there's no such thing as magic. You said so."
"Well, it's just a different sort of science," the Doctor explained. "You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. The Carrionites use words instead."
"Use them for what?" Shakespeare demanded.
The Doctor swallowed and looked at the spot where the witch had vanished. "The end of the world."
There was silence in the cell, broken only by the loud wailing of a man in the distance as he felt the sting of a whip. Martha's exhaled sharply, wondering how the Doctor could sound so calm even though he practically radiated tension.
Beside her Rose snorted a laugh. "Again?"
"Rose, this is hardly the time for laughing." Shakespeare reprimanded. "If what he says is true, then this is a very serious matter."
"Yeah, I know it's serious, but the end of the world? It happened with me, Jack, Mickey, and now Martha. Doctor, have you ever had a companion who didn't end up facing the end of the world on their first go?"
The Doctor opened and closed his mouth. "Ah…uh…well…" He made a face. "Yeah, of course I have."
"Guess we're just lucky then," Martha muttered.
A few hours later back at the Elephant Inn, Shakespeare was preparing for the performance that evening while Rose and Martha lounged against the desk and shelf respectively. The Doctor paced, despite Martha admonishing that he'd wear a hole in the floor, and finally explained what the hell Carrionites were and why it had taken him so long to realize what they were up against.
"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe." He explained, running his hand through his hair. "Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."
"Well, I'm going for real." Shakespeare retorted.
"And it partially explains why you can feel them, Rose." He stopped in front of her. "Or rather why the Old Girl can. Carrionite powers are obsolete. She's old, but she was grown long after their banishment. She doesn't recognize them and this planet isn't used to them. Their magic must create odd readings to her scanners every time and it's not often we encounter something that she has no knowledge on. That's what you're feeling this way. But…but how? How can you feel it when I don't?"
"Maybe that's also to do with Bad—" Rose began to suggest, stopping at the look on the Doctor's face.)
"Never mind that now!" Martha interrupted. "What do the Carrionites want?"
A muscle in his jaw twitched and he leaned against the desk with Rose. "A new empire on Earth, I'd say. A world of…bones and blood and witchcraft."
"But how?"
He turned his head. "I'm looking at the man with the words."
Shakespeare lowered the towel from his face. "Me? But I've done nothing."
"Are you sure about that?" Rose asked quietly. "Because every time I've felt something it's been connected to you. You or the Globe and its your theatre. 'S all about you, Shakespeare—an' don't let that get to your head."
Shakespeare shook his head. "But…I don't…I haven't…"
"Rose, you felt something last night, yeah? Will, what were you doing last night before Dolly died?" Martha asked.
"Finishing the play." He replied, desperate to prove he hadn't been doing anything odd.
The Doctor raised his head. "What happens on the last page?"
"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual." He looked up, eyes wide as something occurred to him. "Except those last few lines. Funny thing is… I don't actually remember writing them."
"That's it," the Doctor realized, walking slowly towards him. "They used you. That's what Rose felt. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. Love's Labours Won—it's a weapon! The right combination of words," he held up his hand, his fingers curled like he was holding a ball, "spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes," he added, "You can have that."
"Alright." Rose stood up. "So we know who, how, and why. Now what do we do?"
"We find them and we stop the play. All Hallows Street… Anyone know where that is?" They shook their heads. "Figures. Will, have you got any street maps in here?"
"Ah… Yes!" He walked over to the shelf and pulled open a drawer. Martha moved out of the way as he rummaged through the contents and pulled out a stack of papers. "Should be in here, somewhere." He set them on the desk and the Doctor whipped out his glasses, stepping around the desk to look.
William Shakespeare stepped away from the desk, folding his arms. He looked at Rose and nodded to her hand. "I've been meaning to ask. What is that?"
She held up her arm. "What, this? It's a brace. I broke my arm not too long ago. This helps it heal."
"And the writings on it? So strange…what languages are they?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Oh, I think I might. After today, I think I might just believe anything."
Rose smiled. "Feelin' inspired?"
"A bit."
"Oh, by the way, do you think you could sign it?" she asked. "That's what these writings are: people's names."
"Um, why?"
"It's a hobby. Hey, Doctor, can I have the marker pen?"
He didn't even pause his search. "Rose, we're in the middle of saving the world."
"Oh, right. Later then."
The Doctor cried out triumphantly. "Ah! Here we go… now where… All Hallows Street! There it is. Martha, Rose, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."
"I'll do it," Shakespeare said, reaching to shake the Doctor's hand. "All these years, I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing."
"Oh, God, don't tell him that. His ego's big enough." Rose groaned.
"But it's marvelous! Good luck, Doctor."
"Good luck, Shakespeare." He replied, running around the desk and grabbing his coat. "Once more unto the breach!"
"I like that!" Shakespeare said as the three of them hurried out of the move. And then he realized, "Wait a minute. That's one of mine!"
The Doctor leaned around the doorframe. "Oh, just shift!"
It didn't take long for them to reach All Hallows Street. Martha was starting to get used to the running, lucky for her. Rose was likewise becoming accustomed to her own problem, though that didn't make it bother her any less. There was a brief flash, a small, swift bit of Carrionite magic that lasted little more than a tick, and it only made her stride falter. But the closer they got to All Hallows, the more the air thickened with their energy.
The Doctor announced when they arrived at the proper street. It felt like the exterior of the Globe to Rose, full of residual energy that came from being exposed to the Carrionite's powers for an extended period of time. Rose closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations she was feeling, trying to pinpoint where the readings that were bugging the TARDIS were originating from.
Meanwhile, Martha voiced something that had been nagging at her for a few hours. "The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me—I'm living proof."
"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of infinite temporal flux?" he murmured. "Oh, I know! Back to the Future. It's like Back to the Future."
"The film?"
"No, the novelization. Yes, the film! Marty McFly goes back and changes history."
"And he starts fading away. …Oh my God, am I gonna fade?"
"You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now unless—"
"That house," Rose said suddenly, opening her eyes. She lifted her arm and pointed to the one directly in front of them. As if on cue, the door slowly opened. "Okay, that was spooky."
"Neat trick," the Doctor joked, holding out his hand for her to take, wiggling his fingers. "You'll have to teach me sometime. Could do for opening the TARDIS quickly during a chase."
She shot him a look but slid her hand into his. The three of them proceeded carefully into the house and Rose, feeling like a mouse walking towards a cat, gripped his hand tightly and her nails dug into the material of her brace. She looked up at the ceiling. "She's up there."
They found the stairs near the back of the house and climbed to the upper floor. She could practically smell their magic now, and that wasn't the only thing that smelled. The Doctor pushed a curtain aside and they entered the room. The shelves and walls were lined and stacked with all manner of plants, candles, masks, beads, dead animals, and other things she couldn't even name. A black cauldron (God, could it get any more cliché?) sat bubbling near the middle of the room—and Lilith, cloaked in black, stood beside it, waiting. Gone was the meek servant girl and in her place was a leering, confident woman.
"I take it we're expected," the Doctor deduced.
"Oh, I think death has been waiting for you for a long time." Lilith said, looking up and down.
"Right then," Martha tapped the Doctor's chest with the back of her hand. "It's my turn." She swaggered forward, confident in her ability to deal with Lilith. "I know how to do this." She pointed straight at her heart. "I name thee…Carrionite!"
Lilith gasped, seemingly shocked, but it faded almost immediately, replaced by a smug giggle.
"What did I do wrong?" Martha asked the Doctor. "Was it the finger?"
"The power of a name works only once," Lilith explained. "Observe."
She lifted her finger and pointed it directly at Martha's chest. "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones!"
Martha gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head, and her legs gave out. The Doctor tried to catch her, but only managed to ease her fall to the floor. "What have you done?!" he demanded.
Lilith looked at her finger. "Hmm. Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time." She frowned for a moment, completely stumped, then dropped forward, pointing at him. "As for you, Sir Doctor—" she stopped, a curious look crossing her face. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? …But there is still one with a name that can cause you pain."
"Don't you dare!"
She looked at Rose. "Your fragile life draws to a close as I name thee Dame Rose!"
"NO!" the Doctor shouted.
It felt like something slamming into her with the force of a moving truck and stabbing her with a thousand knives all at once. The TARDIS cried out in alarm. She fell back, gasping and clutching at her front, but she didn't lose consciousness. The Doctor caught her, holding her close, and glared at the Carrionite with all the fury of The Oncoming Storm.
Lilith herself was looking between Rose and her finger in bewilderment. "Impossible!"
"I am gettin' really sick of all this bloody magic!" Rose hissed through the pain.
Lilith's lip curled and she peered at Rose closely. "Ah…" She said after a moment. "You have two names. But your other name is scattered throughout all of time and space…two words…a message and a warning…you are the Bad—"
"Do you know why I'm called that?" Rose interrupted, pushing herself to her feet, but the Doctor kept her firmly in his embrace. "You name me, and you might jus' find out."
Lilith's teeth were bared in frustration. "Or I may kill you."
Rose could hear the singing in her mind, quiet but definitely there—the TARDIS waiting to defend her humans and her Time Lord with the best weapon they had. Her eyes were dangerous and ancient, almost shining golden in the light. She arched one eyebrow, daring Lilith to try.
The Carrionite took a step away from them—a man with no name, a girl with the name. Whatever they were, they were dangerous and they needed to be disposed of—but carefully, carefully. "Very well, Rose Tyler, I will spare you."
"Leave her alone," the Doctor growled, stepping towards her. "Your people vanished eons ago. Where did you go?"
Lilith spun around, returning to her original spot beside the bubbling cauldron. "The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."
"And how did you escape?"
"New words—new and glittering," she practically purred. "From a mind like no other."
"Shakespeare."
She nodded once. Her eyes flicked down to the cauldron where an image of Shakespeare grieving was visible in the blue liquid. "The grief of a genius—grief without measure—madness enough to allow us entrance."
"How many of you?"
"Just the three," she said, walking towards the window. She turned again. "Then the human race will be purged, as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic."
"Hmm." He walked towards her, scratching at his sideburn. Rose followed, her eyes still glinting dangerously. "Busy schedule. But first…you have to get past me."
"Oh, that should be a pleasure," she purred seductively at him, lifting her hand to trace one side of his face. The Doctor didn't even flinch. "Considering my enemy has such a…handsome shape."
"Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not gonna work on me," the Doctor warned her.
"And you can back off now, you slag." Rose reached forward, grabbing Lilith's hand that was holding a pair of small scissors near his hair and dug her nails in the skin. Lilith hissed sharply, jerking away.
The Doctor wisely stepped back but Rose had had enough. She lifted her hand, pointing at the Carrionite. "We already used up 'Carrionite,' but what about your name? I heard it earlier. I name you Lilith!"
Lilith's face showed shock before she cried out in pain, her form glowing more vibrantly than the other witch's had as she disappeared, and her scream faded away into nothing.
Rose's jaw was clenched as she lowered her hand. She glared at the spot where Lilith had vanished. "Did I kill her?"
"No, I don't think so," he murmured. "You probably just banished her to somewhere else in this world. She'll be back, though."
Then she rounded on the Doctor. "What were you thinkin', lettin' her get that close? You're completely hopeless, I swear!"
The Doctor looked sheepish. "Sorry?"
"You better be," she growled.
On the ground where she'd fallen, Martha stirred. They rushed to her side as she moaned, holding her head, and sat up. "Oh, blimey. Did anyone get the number of that bus? What'd I miss? Where'd she go?"
"I named her," Rose explained.
"What? Hey, how come it worked for you an' not me?"
"I used her real name, not her species."
"Oh. Well then." Martha grunted once as she pushed herself to her feet and straightened her skirt. "I feel like an idiot."
"Oh, don't worry, you're still a novice." The Doctor smiled at her before smacking his forehead. "World could be ending any second now and we're having a chat! Come on! The Globe!" He grabbed Rose's hand, and the three of them were off again into the night.
Not even two minutes after they left the house, Rose cried out, her face screwing up in pain. The Doctor caught her as she fell. Ahead of them, people were starting to scream in terror and there was a sound like thunder and rushing wind. He looked up, torn.
There was a hole between realities not two miles away. If Carrionite power had been uncomfortable, this was absolutely excruciating. It was like someone was cutting her open inch by inch, pulling skin from muscle and muscle from bone to reach her heart, and all the while her stomach was doing somersaults and cartwheels and backflips. If he saw how much it hurt then he would never leave her and he had to go, he had to stop this.
"We're too late!" Rose gasped. "The portal's open—oh, God. I can't…"
Her face twisted again. She only managed to turn away from him before she threw up. Coughing and gagging, she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the street. The Doctor rubbed her back soothingly, his attention solely on her for the moment. Pain stabbed at her and she heaved again. Coughing, tears leaking down her face, she reached up to wipe her mouth.
"Can you walk?" he asked urgently.
She shook her head immediately. "No. I-I can't. You've gotta—agh!" She let out another cry of pain. "Just—just go, Doctor. You've gotta stop this!"
"Hang on," he said. "I can carry you."
She shook her head, forcing her eyes open. "I can't…get any closer," she panted, "or I swear I'm gonna black out, or worse. You gotta—ah—take Martha and g-go! No, don't argue!" she snapped, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. "Last time you stayed for me, Dolly died. If you don't go, then everyone dies. GO!"
The Doctor swallowed, his hands tightening on her.
"Martha…make him go!"
Martha put her hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "She's right, we have to hurry."
The Doctor swallowed and picked Rose up, but only to carry her out of the road so she wouldn't be trampled and set her down near a house. She squeezed his hand, giving him a smile, and only after he and Martha were gone did she give into the pain. Her body shook with sobs and spasms as she dry heaved. Tears rolled down her cheeks. An invisible force continued to rip her open, no doubt going for her heart.
A preacher ran up the street. "I told thee so! I told thee so! The world is ending in a mighty storm! This earth shall descend into the pits and the saved shall ascend! It's not too late! Repent! Repent and be saved!"
Hurry, Doctor, she thought as she cried.
She heard someone settle down beside her. She peeked open her eyes, blinking away the tears, and saw a man kneeling in front of her. He had a narrow face, short brown hair, green eyes, and he was wearing what looked like clothes from her era—a t-shirt, hoodie, and trainers. He seemed to recognize her, but she was sure she'd never seen him before in her life. She whimpered in pain. He put his hand on her arm and stared at her, silently demanding that she endure.
Minutes passed. The wind roared, thunder boomed, and people screamed. Hundreds of voices laughed in the distance: the Carrionites entering the world through time and space. Rose wasn't fading, though. That meant it wasn't over yet. Whatever the Doctor was doing she hoped he'd hurry.
The man was her anchor through the storm and the agony of having reality torn apart so close to her. He didn't touch her except for the hand on her arm, which moved to her back when she started to dry heave again, but it was as comforting as a hug from the Doctor would have been at that moment. Gradually, the wind began to slow, the thunder diminished, and the screams faded and died, along with the pain.
Rose closed her eyes and sighed in relief, slumping forward. The man caught her and held her while she gathered her wits. She felt better than she had since emerging from the TARDIS. A weight she didn't know she'd been under was lifted from her shoulders. It was over. They were gone. And now she was going to go find the Doctor and Martha, drag them back to the TARDIS, and sleep for about a year.
"Are you alright, Rose?" the man asked. His voice was gentle, soothing.
"Yeah," she said, leaning away. "'m fine. Thank you."
"That was weird, eh?"
"Believe it or not, I've seen stranger. Like a bloke wearing 21st century clothes in 1599 London." She frowned. "Hang on a minute… You called me Rose."
"It's your name."
"Yeah, but how did you know that?"
"Because you told it to me." He said as if was the most obvious thing in the world, smiling a bit. "You know, it's fun getting to be the cryptic one for once. …God, you're so young. I almost can't believe it."
"Who are you?" she asked softly.
His smile deepened with fond familiarity. "A friend."
"You're not… Oh, God, you're not the Doctor, are you?" she asked quietly, staring into his eyes for any sign of her Time Lord.
The man shook his head. "No, actually, I'm a nurse. Come on, Rose, get up. I have to get back and you have to get to him." He got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. "Or else he'll come along, and he can't see me yet."
Eyeing him warily, Rose accepted his hand and he helped her to her feet. He hesitated for a moment only to pull her into a hug that she reciprocated. He stepped away quickly, though, and stared at her again. There was something…odd about him. It was his eyes, she decided. They spoke of countless years of pain and strife, much like the Doctor's did when he was in a mood. Whoever he was, he'd been around a long, long time. Rose reached forward and pressed her hands to his chest, almost surprised when she didn't find two hearts beating beneath.
He smiled. "Nope. Go on. Get to the Globe."
Rose let her hands drop to her sides. "You're from my future," she realized.
He nodded.
"What's your name?"
"Can't tell you that. I was expressly forbidden to, actually. And I'm supposed to tell you to not mention any of this to him at all for about, eh, four or five years. Something about timelines snapping, the future crumbling, and the universe imploding." He shrugged. "I don't really see how but you know how he is. Be seein' you!" With another smile, the man turned and loped away.
Rose watched him go for a moment. She exhaled a laugh and headed for the Globe. Yeah, she knew damn well how the Doctor could be. But how did he?
She spun around, wildly looking for the man. She spotted him down the street, rounding the corner with a red-haired girl. She stared after them and realized, a slow smile spreading across her face, that she may have just met a future companion, and if his behavior was anything to go by, one that knew her quite well.
The thought settled well with her.
So, who noticed our special guest? Lemme know ;)