The Doctor parked his ship outside London proper, concealing it behind a rather oversized hedge. He'd had to install a cloaking feature, and as this ship was more a personal cruiser than a fighter, it didn't take to the technology too well. It…flickered. So, hedge it was.
After that, it was as easy as catching a train into town. He looked forward to having that conversation with Rose. After much crying and laughing and hugging (and kissing?) she would look up at him with that tongue touched smile he loved so much and say, "How did you do it, Doctor? You said impossible!"
And he would shrug casually and brush it off with a, "Not a big fan of impossible. Besides, catching a train isn't that tough."
And she would scowl and laugh and not take him seriously until –
"LAST STOP AT WHITE CASTLE. EVERYONE PLEASE EXIT THROUGH THE NEAREST DOOR."
The Doctor jerked abruptly out of his fantasy and back to reality. He stood with the others and slowly shuffled out the doors, scowling the whole way. On future trips, he was not going to park so far away. Maybe he could find a way of enabling the TARDIS to access this world's Vortex. Or maybe he could simply fly her through space. She wouldn't have the energy drain associated with trying to access an incompatible Vortex then. He'd have to work on it when they got back.
The shove of the crowd pushed him away from the edge of the platform and towards the walls where he found himself plastered up against a television screen projecting the breaking news of a destroyed eighteen-wheeled tractor trailer on a major highway, burning merrily away and blocking all four lanes of traffic. Not something the Doctor cared to know about on his best day (who needs a traffic update when he could just disappear here and reappear there?") and today was certainly not his best day. He was in Pete's World in London and who-knew-how-many-minutes away from seeing Rose again. Everything else was secondary.
His excitement kept building as he got closer and closer. Where was she now? Was she at work? Did she get off soon? Maybe she was playing hookey and would be there when he arrived. Maybe she'd even answer the door! Scenarios and plans ran through his mind. First thing I'm doing when I see her again is give her a kiss, he decided. Even without words, that should make his position perfectly clear. He bound out of the taxi, shoved a wad of cash at the driver, and hurtled up the steps of the huge mansion Pete Tyler owned. Even if Rose no longer lived with her parents, she was a twenty-something year old woman after all, Jackie would undoubtedly know where she was.
He knocked on the door, rang the bell, then knocked again, bouncing uncontrollably on his heels, a grin splitting his face almost in half. Rose! RoseRoseRoseRose…
Jackie Tyler opened the door with puffy eyes, a runny nose, and a handkerchief pressed to the lower half of her face. When she saw who it was, she burst into tears.
"Jackie? Don't cry, Jackie. Look, it's me! The Doctor! I made it back!" his smile wilted a little under the force of her tears, but didn't vanish entirely.
When that only made her cry harder, the Doctor let himself in and closed the door.
"Jacks?" a male voice called from the other room. "Who is it? Tell 'em to just go away, love."
There was something wrong with that voice, something thick…the Doctor put one arm around the sobbing Jackie and led her into the room the male was in. Pete Tyler sat on one half of a loveseat, watching the same news program the Doctor had become so intimately acquainted with in the subway. At the sound of their entry, he turned to look, his eyes widening when he caught sight of the Doctor.
A frisson of fear ran down the Doctor's spine and the smile dropped off his face entirely. Pete was crying, too.
"What is it?" the Doctor asked, gently seating Jackie on the loveseat where she was instantly wrapped in her husband's arms. "What's happened?"
Pete shot a glance at the tv. "Rose…"
The world slowed to a crawl. Pete's eye blinks turned to minutes, the slow track of one tear down his face, an hour. When the Doctor realized what he was doing, he pulled on the threads of time even harder, slowing time further. Anything to keep out the drone of the television and its cruel reporter.
"…scene of a horrible accident. The tanker hit an obstruction in the road and flipped over, mowing down the cars in front of it as it tumbled end over end. We have reports of over twenty injuries and at least three fatalities, one of which is the famed Vitex heiress-"
The television switched off, cutting away before the words could be spoken. The Doctor's face felt stiff, and as he turned his head away from the now silent screen, he knew that he was moving like a robot.
"How long?" he asked woodenly. "How long has it been?"
Pete answered while his wife curled further into his arms, "We'd only just got the call. She was on her way home from work. She-"
Jackie let out a sharp wail and suddenly pulled herself out of Pete's arms and hurled herself at the frozen Doctor. He tried to catch her, but his reaction time was shot. And she didn't want to be caught anyway.
"You!" she shrieked, latching onto his lapels. "You're a Time Lord! You've got a time machine! You can stop this!"
"I can't-"
"Yes, you can! Just jump in that box of yours and show up yesterday! She wouldn't have gone to work if you were here."
"Jackie, I can't-"
"You can! Just go! Go, go, GO!" she shoved him away from her and back towards the door. Her chest was heaving and her eyes held a mad glint.
The Doctor stood there, hands dangling uselessly at his sides, all his emotions drained out of him like someone had punched a hole in the base of his skull. "I can't," he repeated again calmly. Too calmly. "I'm part of events, now. I can't change something once I've already experienced it. I could wipe myself out of existence. Rose is beyond my reach."
"But you said getting here was impossible! And look where you are!"
"This isn't the same, Jackie. If I go back and try to save her, then I could cease to exist. And so could she. We both will never have existed. I CAN'T SAVE HER!" The helpless anger erupted from his chest, a burning maelstrom of grief and shock. His reaction stunned her silent.
"You don't understand, Jackie. You don't know. The things I've done, the things I've seen. Just-" he choked. "Just to see her again. I built a bridge. Built a bridge. I went a million, billion, trillion years into my people's past. Back to the point where this world diverged from my own, and I built a bridge from there to here. So I could see her. So you could see her. So she would never have to choose between us. I defied countless laws of time, risked catastrophic damage to the cosmos…all for the chance to say –" he closed his teeth around the phrase he would now never say. He took a shaky breath, forcing calm back into his tone "If I did all that, don't you think I would save her if I could? I can't. I dare not."
Jackie slowly slid to the floor as her knees crumpled, a look of wide-eyed shock settling over her features. "But…"
"Jacks," Pete said, moving to sit by his wife to once more take her into his arms. "He loves her just as much as we do. If he says he can't, he can't."
Jackie stared up at the Doctor for one long moment. Then she turned and buried her face in her husband's chest. Pete bowed his head over hers, sunk his fingers deep into her hair, and together the couple cried over their lost child.
ooOO00OOoo
The funeral was brutal.
Because of the unexplained scandal of her arrival, and her status as heiress to the Vitex Corporation, Rose Tyler's death was followed closely by the media. And because he'd never been seen before, yet was obviously so close to the family, the Doctor was carefully scrutinized. Rumors about his connections to them flew wildly about, each more painful than the last.
He was Jackie's illegitimate son. He was Pete's illegitimate son. He was Rose's secret boyfriend.
She was his secret wife.
He ignored all inquiries, brushed aside every microphone. Save for the one held by the little snot who'd had the balls to ask if he'd even cared about Rose. Since he'd only come out of the woodwork to attend the funeral. Mickey had decked that one without even thinking.
Probably saved his life.
The whole day was an exquisite agony, no bit more brutal than when the preacher had gotten up and delivered a tearful eulogy about a sweet, tender, gentle person that in no way resembled his Rose Tyler. Then it was over, the public ceremony concluded, and the paparazzi left.
Then the real ceremony began.
Strangers with grim faces and plain clothes who had looked so out of place amongst the high fashion of the public ceremony closed ranks around Jackie, Pete, and Mickey, their voices soft and their grief genuine. So. These were the people of Torchwood.
They all settled down in the front two pews, huddled together as they sought strength from each other. The Doctor stood against the wall and let his eyes roam over them, memorizing the faces of those who truly cared.
Mickey got up to speak. "Right. Well then, I'm sure you all know who I am. But in case you've forgotten, I'm Mickey, Rose's best mate. Me and her and Jackie all came over from a parallel world during that cyberman mess a few years back. We were all pretty lost, and none more than Rose.
"Rose Marion Tyler. Born August 18, 1986 to Peter Tyler and Jacqueline Tyler. Her first eighteen years of life were, as she put it, 'normal and boring to the point of tears.' But everything changed for her on the day that her job blew up."
The Doctor remembered that time. He'd spent almost a year trying to come to terms with what he'd done to end the Time War. He'd just about decided to get a house in some quiet corner of the Earth and live out the remainder of that life in quiet contemplation when the TARDIS had run across the signal from the Autons. And the rest, as they say, was history. She'd been so young, then. So innocent. But, if he was being honest with himself, she'd never been innocent. Even then, she'd had the reality of life's frailty shoved upon her. But still, she managed that genuine smile he loved so much. The smile that she would now never...
The Doctor wrenched his thoughts away from that train of thought and viciously focused his attention on Mickey again. Though that wasn't exactly a good distraction from his grief.
...if she could – " Mickey broke off and cleared his throat, trying to speak even as he fought off tears. "If she could, I know that Rose would thank you all for the support you gave her. You accepted her into your ranks. You helped her find her feet. You…loved her." Tears flowed down his face now, but Mickey kept talking, his voice getting thicker with every word. "We all loved her. Everyone in this room." A few people shot glances at the Doctor, but he ignored them all as Mickey continued. "And she loved all of us. She taught us about not giving in. About doing the right thing – especially if it's not easy. About standing up and saying no. And about…never giving up…on your dreams…" Mickey made a futile effort at wiping the tears away, and took a deep, shaky breath. "Most of us have heard her talk about the Doctor. In fact, I think some of you got sick of hearing about him. 'A man,' she would say. 'The best man I've ever known.' And then she would go on to say that he was the reason she worked so hard to go back to the other world. Well. He was trying to get back here, too. And he made it. Just, one day too late. Doctor?"
Mickey gestured at the Doctor where he was using a wall to hold himself up. What did Mickey want from him? Apparently to go up there and speak. The Doctor pulled himself away from the wall and passed by Mickey to the podium on a small stand. He ignored the podium entirely and instead went straight to the coffin behind it. Until now, he'd managed to avoid the ornate box. But now….
He stared down at the closed lid for a long time. She was too blackened and burnt for it to be open. He placed one softly shaking hand upon the polished wood and rubbed his fingers over it, feeling its smooth texture. Then he leaned down and placed a lingering kiss upon it. He straightened up and refused to cry. He turned away from the coffin, looked out over the grieving faces and wondered what they expected him to say. He cast about for something, and settled on a poem by the human author W. H. Auden. He wondered fleetingly if Auden had even existed in this world, even as he began to speak.
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone." He reached out and grabbed the podium with one hand, swaying slightly where he stood. "Silence the pianos and with muffled drum…" he turned back to the coffin, "bring out the coffin, let the mourners come."
He turned away from the box that did not contain Rose, no matter what they said. She was bigger than six slabs of wood and some pretty paint. He paced to the edge of the platform, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead scribbling on the sky the message 'she is dead'." He choked up then, his eyes burning from unshed tears. He breathed deep, holding on until he could speak clearly again. "Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves, let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves." He bunched his hands into tight fists and paced up and down the platform. He'd disdained the typical black for the funeral and chosen a dark blue suit instead. Blue – for mourning. "She was my North, my South, my East, my West. My…" he choked a laugh, "my Sunday rest. My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. I thought that love would last – " he cut off abruptly and stared blankly out at the crowd. Then his shoulders slumped, the fight went out of him, and the tears streamed down his face. "I thought it would last forever." He whispered, despair evident in every line of his body. "I was wrong."
He stood motionless for a long time, silent sobs wracking his frame. Eventually, Jackie got up and went to him. But when she touched his shoulder, his head snapped up and it was like a sheet of ice had slid over his features and she was chilled by the coldness in his eyes. This was a powerful man who had nothing left to lose. He took two precise steps away from her and braced his feet, folding his arms across his chest. No one there had any doubt that if he was to face a hurricane right now, the storm would lose.
He stared down the aisle, out the open back doors of the church and spoke the last few lines of the poem in a powerful voice, the tears incongruent with his body language. "The stars are not wanted now, put out every one. Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. Pour away the ocean and sweep away the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good."
He jumped down off the platform and stalked down the aisle, disappearing through the doors; leaving a distraught Jackie Tyler to cry alone.
ooOO00OOoo
Author's Note: I'm sorry.
The poem the Doctor speaks is indeed written by Audin, I just changed the "he's" to "she's" to match gender to object. Next chapter on Tuesday. Just hold on till then.