The Longest Farewell - Chapter Five [5/?]
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AN: Bit of a more domestic tone, this chapter. Oh well, can’t all be action stuff. Also, once again we have a bit of Rose feeling insignificant, but we are still in early days, so that’s par for the course. Insecurity doesn’t just disappear in a day, and she’s with the Doctor a long time before that kind of thing is really going to disappear…
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‘I got the flight a bit wrong…’
DISCLAIMER & OTHER WARNINGS
‘Oi! Mind the paint!’ the Doctor called through the door, moments after shutting it in the face of several rather annoyed Roman guards and their less-than-welcoming spears. Beside him, Rose’s shoulder shook and her face flushed, both from laughter and the exertion of their impromptu getaway through the Roman forum.
‘Looks like things are the same in the past anyway,’ she said after she caught her breath.
‘Like what?’ he glanced up, his annoyed glare morphing into curiosity.
‘You know how they say “don’t talk at the movies”?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, here it’s “don’t talk at the fancy Roman trial”,’ she chuckled. ‘Only instead of just being asked to leave, here you get chased out by men with spears.’
‘To be fair, they didn’t chase us until you told their leader to cram his helmet up his -’
‘He was the one getting handsy! And called me a barbarian!’
‘You are a barbarian to him,’ the Doctor snorted, trooping up the ramp. ‘So am I. Anyone not Roman is a barbarian, and it’s not as if either of us took pains to blend in. Maybe they figured we were slaves lurking about where we shouldn’t be.’
‘Still doesn’t excuse the wandering hands,’ Rose sniffed, crossing her arms.
‘No, it doesn’t,’ the Doctor agreed.
‘Tell you what, though, he’s lucky it was me and not my mum,’ Rose went on. ‘Oh, speaking of - can we make a trip home? I want to check in on her. And Mickey. We did sort of leave them right after an alien invasion…’
‘Know how I mentioned the TARDIS travels in time? There was a point to that - the point being that we can be gone for years and have it only be ten seconds since we leave!’
‘Oh, that’s great, so I can show up back home older than I am now? Think Mum would notice if I walked in the door with wrinkles and grey hair…’
Not that she was unappreciative of the implications of time travel. It was what convinced her to go with him after all. She could travel throughout the galaxy for weeks or even months on end and come back with no one knowing the difference. It meant she wouldn’t be skiving off her responsibilities.
The Doctor snorted. ‘Still don’t see how it’s a problem, except for your bit of human vanity.’
Rose shook her head. ‘You are such an alien.’
‘Yeah, I am - and so are you, from my perspective, so the point still stands,’ the Doctor grumbled as he flicked the requisite switches and buttons. Despite his obvious unwillingness, the TARDIS began to shake and shift.
‘Alien or not, my mum’s not exactly an angry Roman soldier, so I don’t get what you’re so worried about.’
‘Clearly you’ve never had some alien in velour try to pull you three seconds after meeting you.’
‘She never did!’
‘You can ask her once we get there. Might want to ask after her eyesight, too.’
Before she could decipher what he meant by that, he started in on a long, complaining lecture correlating age and physical beauty as it varied by species throughout the cosmos.
She let the words wash over her, not terribly interested in his roundabout way of saying he didn’t want to go back to London. It occurred to her that this might be the Doctor’s version of pouting - and she held back a chuckle at the idea.
She wasn’t sure if it was unique to his personality or his species, but the Doctor didn’t strike her as the type to sulk. If he didn’t like the way something was happening, he said or did something about it. It was a refreshing change from what she was used to.
Every day of her life had been filled with people complaining about things but not doing anything to change it. Her mother complained about people cancelling hair appointments or the untrustworthiness of some of her clientele, but never tried to make her hairdressing business larger than a home operation. Mickey moaned and groaned about the leaky plumbing and dampness of the flat, but never moved to a new place because it was all he knew. Shareen and Keisha often nattered on about their no-good boyfriends, but even after their relationships ended, they would pull the same blokes with the same qualities. It was as if they understood they didn’t deserve better.
In a lot of ways, it wasn’t in the average estate dweller to change their lot.
Rose herself had been that way before Jimmy. She’d wanted the expensive clothing, the better education, the beautiful travel destinations, but hadn’t wanted to do anything about it. It was reflex to blame the rich kids at school, the pompous teachers, the mismanaged council and ignorant government for her problems. To expect it all to change magically one day.
While for Rose, it really had magically changed one day, she knew that those problems would still exist whether she was on the planet or not. They weren’t going away, and she would need to figure out a way to sort them. Especially if the Doctor decided that he didn’t want to bother with her any longer. He could drop her back in her life without a backwards glance, disappear into time and space and leave her to pick up the pieces of her life.
There was a shuddering sensation, and the TARDIS’s shaking cut off.
The Doctor blinked, then frowned. ‘That’s not supposed to happen.’
Hm. I guess getting dropped off at home won’t be a problem after all, Rose mused, venturing forward to hover near the Doctor. ‘What happened?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? We’ve stopped.’
‘I thought we’d just, er, entered the Vortex,’ Rose answered. In her short tenure on-board, she’d noted TARDIS didn’t shake constantly; it was only noticeable when it disappeared and reappeared, or if they encountered a sudden bout of trouble in-flight.
‘We have - but we’re not moving. Sort of floating,’ the Doctor pointed at the cylinder in the middle of the console. ‘See that? That’s the Time Rotor. If it’s moving up and down, we’re moving. If not, we’re dead in the Vortex.’
‘Which is bad.’
‘Well it’s not good.’ He went rummaging in one of the console compartments for something.
‘So what, d’you need some kind of battery or jump to get us going again?’
‘Hope not, as I’m fresh out - it’s probably just a circuit problem. Still, gotta check it out.’ He straightened up, holding on to a funny-looking visor in one hand, and the sonic screwdriver in the other.
‘Right…well…guess I’ll let you get on with it,’ Rose replied, uncertain. She wasn’t sure what she should do while he fixed the ship. Luckily, or unluckily, at that moment she noticed a more pressing need. ‘Actually - is there anywhere…is there a loo somewhere?’
‘More’n one,’ the Doctor grunted. ‘Huge, multi-dimensional ship, course it’s got a toilet. What is it with apes and always asking such useless questions? “Where’s the toilet?” and “Are we there yet?” and “Does this make me look fat?” It’s like you lot are incapable of thinkin’ before you -’
‘Yeah, right, back to the humans are stupid rant,’ Rose rolled her eyes. ‘Can you shut up a mo’ and tell me where the toilet is?’
‘Closest one’s next to the sick bay. Remember the way?’
‘Not really.’
‘Third corridor on the left, down two flights of stairs, door on the right. The red one, not the blue one.’
‘Ta.’
Rose was careful to stick exactly to the Doctor’s directions, fearing she might get lost if she tried to deviate in any way. Eventually she stumbled upon the facilities in question.
The washroom was a posh room with marble floors and porcelain sinks, and a gorgeous wall-length mirror she examined after washing up. She considered her reflection, trying to figure out if she had outwardly changed as much in the past few days as she thought she had.
She supposed that was as pointless a question as wondering if a person looked different after losing their virginity. Still, she felt as if she had lived so much in such a short time she ought to look different.
She didn’t, though. Whether that was good or bad she couldn’t tell.
There were dark circles under her eyes, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since her days forcing herself to stay up and party with Jimmy. The sight of them made her realise how tired she actually was. She couldn’t remember the last night’s sleep she had gotten.
Might be an idea to try for some while the Doctor’s busy, she decided. Maybe he can tell me where to find a room or something to kip in…
And so she returned to control room where she found the Doctor climbing out from beneath the grating with a smug smile on his face.
‘Fixed the problem,’ he declared. ‘Only need to flip the switch and we’ll be moving again.’
So much for that kip, she thought tiredly. Guess I’ll have to wait until later.
‘Great,’ she said out loud. ‘So, we’re actually going home, or are we - oh. That doesn’t look right.’ She pointed at the view screen he used to figure out their locations. It showed nothing but static.
The Doctor swore. ‘Must’ve unplugged the connector on accident. Won’t be a minute -’
He started to climb back down again.
‘Can you set it to English?’ Rose asked. ‘Might be nice if I can double-check when we land places so I don’t walk onto an alien planet by mistake and get my memories erased. Again.’
‘S’ppose I could do,’ he answered, sounding a bit uncomfortable.
She hadn’t meant the jibe to be an accusation, and so tried to change the subject. ‘Need any help down there?’
‘Nah, you’d be useless,’ he informed her cheerfully. ‘Have to re-configure the entire language matrix, which will take a few hours. Go have a kip, you’re dead on your feet.’ Rose blinked, having not expected that. ‘There’s a decent couch in the library.’
‘Er…okay?’
‘Down the hall on the right.’
‘What, really? You mean I don’t have to crawl through tunnels or climb walls to get there?’ Rose teased.
‘Why, d’you want to?’
‘Mm, no thanks. Tired, remember?’
The Doctor looked for a moment like he was considering something and then decided against it. ‘Right. Well, go waste valuable hours of your life with sleep. Got work to do.’
And he disappeared once more beneath the grating.
Rose stared at the spot where he had been, and opened her mouth to ask if there wasn’t somewhere more comfortable like perhaps a bedroom. Then she shut it again.
It seemed too forward to ask.
She turned on her heel and left the control room again, deliberately keeping herself from looking back in spite of her whirlwind thoughts.
Obviously if there were a bedroom for her he’d have told her, wouldn’t he? What if this was his way of telling her she wouldn’t be here permanently? What if he just wanted to travel with her a few times before plonking her back home? He might decide she was just good fun to have occasional trips with and might just pick her up every now and again.
Or he’d swan off and never come get her again.
She might just have misunderstood everything after all. It wouldn’t be the first time. Like how she had immediately seen herself as Jimmy’s girlfriend before he officially asked her out. Or how she had already nearly moved in with him even before she and her mother rowed about it. She hadn’t waited to find out, she had simply assumed - and in that case, that had turned into a mess.
If there was a bedroom for her on the TARDIS, she would wait until the Doctor invited her to use it before asking about it. She didn’t want to badger him with her “human” needs, which he already had enough cause to complain about -
Wait.
What if he didn’t sleep?
Perhaps the reason he hadn’t offered was because he hadn’t thought about it?
She remembered watching nature shows about animals that didn’t have to sleep. What if the Doctor was like a dolphin or a bullfrog and just didn’t need to bother? Surely some aliens didn’t need to bother with it.
‘Yeah, well, that’s gonna be the next conversation we have,’ she decided as she turned into the room he had designated the library. ‘As soon as I…’
She trailed off as she looked around the vast, cavernous room she stepped into. She hadn’t expected there to be a room larger than the wardrobe on the ship, but it seemed she had found it.
At first glance, she thought she had walked into a private study, like in the period dramas on the telly. Only this one had to be bigger than the British Library and filled with bookshelves that towered far beyond her view. She saw balconies and arched doorways leading to different wings, and near the entrance was place that looked to be a fireplace that was taller than even the Doctor.
There were several squishy looking couches arranged nearby as well as a lone easy chair beside a small end table covered with a stack of books. The topmost upside down as though the reader had just put it down and intended to return to read it at a moment’s notice.
The Doctor’s spot, I guess, she decided as she crept closer to the warmth of the fireplace and the comfortable looking couches. Alright, so possibly not having a bedroom wouldn’t be so bad…
Eventually, she did end up kipping on the leather sofa nearest the fire. There was a thick quilt hanging over the back of it, and it made for a decent cover as she settled into the thirsty cushions. Rose set her phone alarm to go off in three hours - she suspected the Doctor might forget she was on the ship if he got distracted - and settled in. It wasn’t long before the soothing crackle of the fire lull her to sleep.
She woke to the sound of her alarm, breaking her out of a nightmare she couldn’t quite remember. She thought it had something to do with a black eyed woman in a corset, some sort of reptilian bat and her father. The first two puzzled her - probably her mind still trying to wrap itself around time travel and aliens - but her father’s presence in her dreams wasn’t new.
Rose hauled herself out of the warm cocoon of the quilt and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
She didn’t remember Peter Tyler - didn’t know what he looked like, outside of the many pictures her mother had of him and her stories. But his face always appeared in her dreams on nights she was overly insecure or uncertain. The idea of him and his presence acted as a balm, a reassurance that despite how she was feeling, everything would turn out.
Her short, fitful nap, however, had furnished her with images of vases breaking and the sound of a car hitting a body.
Rose shivered and tried to ignore the jumping in her stomach.
Unlike what Gwyneth the maid had implied during their sojourn in Cardiff, Rose hadn’t told the Doctor what had happened to her father. Being an observant man - alien - he would no doubt have realised even on short acquaintance that it was only Rose and her mother living in their flat. For whatever reason, he hasn’t remarked on it; either he didn’t care - which is entirely likely - or he was familiar enough with loss that he knew not to pry.
She thought it was a bit of both.
Rose huffed out a breath and shook her head, trying to put the uncomfortable thoughts out of reach for now. Her grief for her father - that grasping, empty ache for something she didn’t even know what she was looking for. Or the Doctor’s grief for the war that had robbed him of his people. Mass extinction was one of those things that people shied away from, tried to distance themselves from.
It was too uncomfortable, too large a thought to have so early in the morning.
Or night, she amended as she got up and stretched. Or…whenever we are. Well, I just woke up, so morning it is.
She took another quick trip to the toilet to make sure she hadn’t smudged her make-up too much in her sleep. Luckily she had a spare lippy and some mascara in her pockets, and her fingers did for a brush in a pinch. Unluckily, she accidentally turned the tap on too forcefully and ended up sending up a vicious spray of water that soaked her hoodie.
‘Brilliant,’ she muttered darkly, taking it off and wringing it out as well as possible. Her grey shirt was dampened as well, but not completely soaked through. She tied the sleeves of her hoodie around her waist, wet-side facing outward to dry.
‘I swear, if he makes any more ape comments or asks if I dribbled on my shirt, I’m gonna slap him,’ she vowed.
On her way back to the console, she passed what had to be a kitchen and decided to see if she could find some coffee. She didn’t actually really like it - the aroma was fine, but the taste bothered her - however it did the job to keep her awake after a sleepless night. She needed a cup to make sure she didn’t nod off in the middle or one of the Doctor’s lectures, of course. Or worse, an adventure.
Considering the odds of the next stop actually being home or another wrong landing, the latter was the most likely.
The kitchen itself was like no such room that she had ever seen, not even on the cooking shows that her mother sometimes watched. It was also untouched, almost as if it hadn’t been entered in months. Possibly years.
It was easily the size of her entire flat, full of steel cupboards and appliances she didn’t recognise the use of, and thankfully one or two she did. A kettle was a kettle for aliens too, it seemed. After opening several odd metal doors she also found the refrigerator, a stove that didn’t seem to have any buttons and a dodgy looking solid metal box.
‘Food Machine?’ she read, pushing a few of the dials and panels on it. Nothing happened. ‘Must be broken. Just as well, I bet the food would be like cardboard.’
At last she found the cupboards, and inside were a few tins of instant drink mixes, many which she couldn’t pronounce, and an old package of coffee.
Sell-by-dates probably don’t mean anything on a time-travelling space ship, she thought with a sigh. She decided to take a chance that it would still be good and boiled the water.
The rather strong cup she brewed did its job, and so she decided to head back to the console room. She paused as she passed the wardrobe and noticed that on a rack nearest the door hung a pink hoodie in a style similar to her own. She could at least borrow that long enough for her own to dry.
‘Definitely need to bring some clothes with me when we finally do get home,’ she decided, making the switch. ‘And a toothbrush…’
She continued to make a mental list as she headed back to the console room to see if the Doctor had finished his repairs.
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