Kissing Rose Tyler II (7/7)
Summary: The Human Doctor and Rose embark on their first adventure together which naturally leads to a dangerous discovery and potential disaster for Pete's World.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wouldn't own 'em if I could. Too high maintenance.
Spoilers: Nothing's sacred. Watch the series (starting with the first Doctor in 1963) if you don't like surprises.
Characters: Doctor 10.5, Rose Tyler, Jackie Tyler, Pete Tyler, Jake Simmonds.
Rating: All ages.
Author's note: This is a post-Journey's End AU and the next part of a story that begins with Kissing Rose Tyler.
Previous Entries: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7
The Doctor sat alone in the semi-darkness of the alien cockpit staring out at the empty cave. The others had all gone. Jake and Rose with Wood and his companions to dump their unconscious bodies somewhere near the warehouse -- they'd been banged up and bruised, but not too much worse for wear. He didn't much care for the idea of taking their memories, but Rose insisted it was standard procedure and who was he to argue such a minor point as that? In truth, the Doctor had to admit, he didn't much care what happened to them. As long as they stayed out of his business he was willing to let their actions pass. Besides, to whom would they complain of the loss? The Americans? Torchwood? In all likelihood they'd probably only remember having gone on a late night coffee run -- which was how and why they'd come across Jackie -- and the rest would be chalked up to whatever explanation the authorities gave the public. Then again, perhaps they'd imagine Torchwood had raided the place, or one of their ill-gotten alien artifacts had inexplicably destroyed all the rest. It wouldn't really matter in the end, he reckoned. The handwriting was already on the wall -- or the galactic news feed as it were.
The Doctor scrubbed at his face, sighing deeply as he felt the first inkling of despair. Behind him he heard a step and quickly reached to switch the monitor to a less damning read out. Not that it would matter to Pete. The galactic feed was always delivered in Basic. He didn't even need the TARDIS to read the thing. And certainly no Human on Earth would be capable of deciphering it at present.
He forced a smile and turned to face the other man. "I've set the deflectors to well... deflect. Any scans the authorities do will simply register this place as filled with stone. If you can hold them off a little while longer I can create a couple of small rock falls to make it look as though all the entrances have caved in as well. A little longer and they won't even notice there was ever anything here. Especially if this place was never on any maps."
Pete waved away his concern. "Not necessary. They might try a few scans, but they won't come nosing around down here."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Gave 'em what for and a lot of grief about what they might have been doing that shook my house. Angry homeowner waves insurance claims at low wage government employees. Definitely not worth their jobs to argue."
"Not bad," the Doctor admitted, impressed. "The best defense is a good offense, eh?"
"Something like," Pete nodded. "Me, I've just got one of those faces. People think I'm not too bright, but very honest." He gave his trademark thumbs up. "You can trust me on this."
The Doctor laughed. "Pull up a chair," he offered then gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. Jathaa don't sit," he explained, patting the raised and rounded beam he was sitting on. "They perch."
Pete looked around and found a half-empty crate filled with crumpled crisp wrappers which he tossed on the floor before flipping it over and taking a seat.
"So," Pete began once he was settled. "Barely been here forty-eight hours and already you've saved the world -- again."
"Oh, hardly that I should think," the Doctor demurred.
"Still," Pete went on. "This lot's best kept out of the hands of the Americans. In a few days, once the furor's died down, I'll have Torchwood come round and cart it all away."
"You'll do no such thing." The Doctor crossed his arms, casually stretching out his legs.
"I beg your pardon?" Pete's anger was obvious -- as was the Doctor's adamant stance on the subject.
"How many times have I tried to tell you people," he growled in frustration. "You cannot have this kind of technology!"
"Oh, and I suppose you know best? You're forgetting something. It's not your world, Doctor!"
"And it won't be yours for very much longer, either!"
The Doctor rose, looming over Pete. "When I say you can't have it, I don't mean you shouldn't have it because you don't know how to use it. I bloody well mean you can't have it because just possessing this kind of technology at this stage in Earth's development is dangerous! Blimey!" He rubbed his head roughly and started to pace the small confines of the area. "Just once I'd like some Human -- well, some Human other than Albert Einstein -- to ask, 'Why Doctor? Please tell me why we can't?' But no, never that. Never a sensible question. You lot! You never think!"
Pete crossed his arms, echoing the Doctor's earlier pose. "Okay. So tell me why. Come on, Doctor. Why can't we have all this technology?"
The Doctor stood absolutely still and took a deep breath. There was no choice. Not really. Not anymore.
"Because you've changed Earth's planetary designation."
There was a long considered pause before Pete spoke again. "What does that mean exactly?"
"Exactly?" The Doctor huffed a laugh and leaned back against the bulkhead, hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted back so that he stared at nothing in particular. "Earth's currently a level five planet. What that means exactly is that you aren't technically a member of the galactic community. You're exempt from certain laws and have jurisdictional independence. In a word, you're free to develop at your own pace without interference from other species. A level five designation also affords you a measure of protection from races like the Sycorax and Sontarans. The only problem with that is if you'd actually contacted the Shadow Proclamation for assistance your designation would automatically change from a five to a four. And you don't ever want your planet to be given a level four designation."
"Why not?"
"Because you'd be ripe pickings. Level four is... Well, it's not what you want. Believe me. You want to go from a five to a three and avoid the benevolent guidance of the galactic community a four would impose. You'd get Judoon peacekeepers enforcing galactic law -- not Earth law -- across the planet. Judoon advisors determining what technology was safe for you to have and which species would be allowed to supply it. And trust me when I say you do not want Judoon anywhere on Earth. And certainly not any species they deemed acceptable as trading partners. They're scrupulously honest Judoon, but thick. No subtlety. No nuance. No mercy. Just plain thick."
"But you said we'd already changed our designation," Pete quietly responded.
The Doctor rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It's in the works. I checked the galactic news feed. There's a petition in the Senate to have Earth's status changed to a Level Four B. B for belligerent," he added.
"Belligerent?"
"Yes, belligerent. As in hostile. A danger to yourselves and other species."
"But why?" Pete asked in all sincerity. "We haven't done anything to anyone that didn't come here looking for trouble."
"Not as such," the Doctor admitted. "At least from your point of view."
"And the other point of view?"
"Now that's where it gets complicated. I'm assuming your Torchwood like the one back in our universe also shot down a Jathaa ship subsequently recovered from Mount Snowdon?" Pete nodded. "Rose implied as much, but I had to be sure," he went on. "That was the first really big mistake Torchwood made."
"How's that?"
"The Jathaa are peaceful traders. There's plenty of black market off world trade going on here, Pete -- always has been. But that's mostly just aliens buying from clueless Humans and selling to other aliens. Art, food, fashion, popular entertainment -- that sort of thing. Earth culture is a bit of a cult phenomena in certain quarters. Not many planets have as much variety as your world. Something for everybody. A veritable smorgasbord of creativity," the Doctor added with obvious delight. "But," he continued more seriously. "Jathaa traders always travel in pairs for safety. Peaceful, not stupid, see? When Torchwood brought down the first ship, the second pilot," he gestured at the control panel, "landed to recover her partner and their goods if possible. There's not much in the ship's log, but I'm guessing she found her associate and was either captured or killed in the process."
"I couldn't say," Pete admitted. "The battle to take Torchwood Tower destroyed a lot of the old records."
"Doesn't matter," the Doctor shrugged. "Well it does, but there's nothing to be done now. Let's just hope the Jathaa never find out about it or they'll be after compensation from you lot. And with a level four designation they'd get whatever they asked for."
"So it's not the Jathaa we need to worry about," Pete stated.
"Not yet. With any luck and a timely apology, maybe never."
"The Sycorax?"
"Nah," the Doctor shook his head. "Fair fight that was. Even warning shots were legitimate under the circumstances. Of course," he added ruefully. "On my side of the void it didn't turn out to be quite so easy. Could've led to a Level Four B designation, but I got ahead of the transmission and dispersed the signal. The armada never received it. Never saw me beat their champion or the ship destroyed. Best of all, Sycorax tend to wander pretty far afield with little contact unless they're sharing war stories. Probably be years before the fleet even notices they've got a missing ship. Never tie it to that Earth."
"Well if it wasn't the Sycorax," Pete asked, clearly frustrated. "What the hell was it?"
The Doctor exhaled slowly. It made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense. "You shot down an unarmed passenger liner killing more than two thousand innocent civilians without provocation."
"Without provocation? But that was self-defense!"
"I know that!" the Doctor retorted.
He pointed to the console. "But they don't! There's no record of foul play. No proof that Max Capricorn was behind the destruction of the Titanic. No distress signal ever got out."
"But there's witnesses." Pete got to his feet.
"Who saw what exactly?" the Doctor demanded, standing almost nose to nose with the other man. "Were those meteors or missiles heading for that ship? Could be disputed, sure. But that energy weapon of yours, Pete. It left a signature the insurance investigators were bound to discover. And it's not like Torchwood took the trouble to hide what they'd done. It's a first class cock up, that's what it is," he muttered in disgust.
"But you can fix it, right?"
"Yes. No! Maybe. I don't--" The Doctor growled in frustration. "If I had my TARDIS I could. Yeah. Easy. No problem. But with only this junk to work with!" He kicked an innocuous bit of bulkhead. "I'd be lucky to make it to Andromeda and back in less than a week."
"So you contact that Shadow Proclamation of yours," Pete suggested. "Give 'em a statement. Tell 'em what happened."
"And they'd believe me?" the Doctor scoffed. "Not on the passenger manifest, remember? And not a Time Lord either. One heart." He slapped his chest. "No magic blue box."
Pete nodded slowly and sank back down to sit on the crate once again. "And even if you were, you've got no standing in this universe. No Time Lords, no historic authority, no reason for them to listen."
"About sums it up," the Doctor agreed, sliding down to sit cross-legged on the floor.
They were silent for awhile. "I'll have to inform the government," Pete spoke at last.
"Are you mad?" the Doctor asked, astonished at the sheer stupidity of the idea. "They'll just make things worse. Arming the planet to the teeth is the last thing you want to do. Belligerent. Bad. Get it?"
"But if you can't help..."
"I didn't say that," the Doctor calmly pointed out.
"Then you do have a plan." Pete heaved a sigh of relief.
The Doctor smiled brightly. "Of course I've got a plan. It'll take a bit of work, but..."
"Doctor?"
The two men stared guiltily at the hatchway.
"Don't tell Rose," the Doctor whispered as they both got to their feet. "Don't tell anyone!"
Pete gave him a long assessing look. "How long before this galactic Senate of yours makes a decision?"
"Six months, maybe a bit more. Certainly within the year. Lots of red tape and reports. Typical bureaucracy."
"Okay." Pete responded. "You have a week to come up with a viable strategy that will convince me to keep silent. Otherwise..." He let the threat hang in the air.
The Doctor nodded in agreement. Don't really have much choice, he thought bitterly, plastering an eager smile on his face as Rose popped her head in the door.
"There you are! Come look what I've found!" He took her hand, leading her out of the cockpit.
"A week," Pete repeated quietly as the Doctor passed.
"A week for what?" Rose asked the Doctor.
"To clean up this mess. Tidy my room. Make sure his very nice house doesn't fall down," he lied sweetly.
Rose laughed. "No worries," she told her father. "I'll help him put his toys away. Utterly useless with a broom though. Maybe we can run the electric down and hoover the rest."
"Brilliant plan! Now where did I see that generator..."
Pete watched the pair of them leave, frowning at the Doctor's back. In general, he wasn't averse to keeping secrets. Yet, even if he did attempt to inform the government of the danger he also knew that, just like the Doctor, he wouldn't be able to prove a word of it.
***
It was not quite daybreak when the Doctor rose to stand in the tall windows of Rose's bedroom. Dawn was slowly creeping over the horizon and he could sense the whole of this side of the planet lazily awakening. Behind him, Rose was still asleep. Her quiet snoring a sign of just how exhausted she'd been after their little escapade. He smiled to himself, remembering the indefatigable nineteen year old who could race from adventure to adventure on a few hours sleep and a seemingly endless supply of adrenaline. At twenty-seven, no matter what she believed, those days were gone for good. Just as his days of running were limited by the margins imposed on him by a Human life span. Still, he mused, life was about compromise. Not so much when it came to ideals and principles, but in the way one lived one's very existence.
The same could be said for relationships. Despite what some of his companions might have thought, he'd understood this fact long before he'd begun his mad travels through time and space. His life back on Gallifrey, when he'd had a family to consider, had been one long compromise. Of course, he hadn't minded so much then, not having truly experienced life out in the universe. He'd only had the vaguest inkling that there was something more; something better than an endless parade of tedious meetings, meaningless decisions and pompous ceremony. But Gallifrey had been static. A society trapped in an illusion of profound self-importance. Not that they hadn't been entitled to feel self-satisfied considering all they'd achieved. But too much resting on the laurels of the past had left them inherently weak and open to catastrophe.
His own complacency, the Doctor knew, had led to many foolish decisions as well. Had he the right to commit genocide? In fulfilling the prophecy of Dalek Caan he'd believed he was correcting a mistake made long ago. And no matter what the Doctor Prime might wish to believe, it was a decision he'd made as a Time Lord -- not an angry, bloodthirsty, vengeful man. He'd been in full possession of his faculties then. Just as he was now.
Sacrificing the Daleks for the sake of all Creation had been an easy choice for a man who'd destroyed his own civilization when faced with the same conundrum. Still, the Doctor felt it more than a bit hypocritical to be cast out for doing the equivalent in similar circumstances. But, unlike the Doctor Prime, he could see that Martha and Jack had understood the danger the Daleks represented all too well. Sacrificing the Earth or destroying twenty-seven planets along with the Daleks still seemed to him a fair, if terrible, exchange when it came to preserving the rest.
And therein lay his own paradox. The contradiction of being a Time Lord who wasn't really a Time Lord making a decision for a planet the wasn't his own, but was now the only home he was ever likely to have. The rational choice would be to let events play out as they were meant in this universe -- even if he was having trouble clearly perceiving what those events might be.
He quickly discarded the idea as being more of the same complacency that had led to the downfall of Gallifrey in the first place. Humans were meant to be the driving force in the universe. For good or ill they brought an incredible amount of energy to every endeavor. Energy that galvanized other races and other worlds to exceed whatever they believed they could accomplish and to push the boundaries of their achievements. Humans, stretching out their curious minds, would revitalize dying civilizations. Which would in turn give rise to new arts and sciences. Dizzying heights would be attained by some, though others might burn brightly and briefly only to be consumed by the bland banality that Humans would also bring to the stars. Even so, too many great and wonderful things would be lost to the future if he chose not to act.
Behind him, Rose mumbled in her sleep. He moved to her side, gently touching her temple to remove the offending dream. She'd be angry if she knew he'd interfered, but Rose needed her rest and he was not above making certain his one link to this tiny planet remained safe and sane -- even if it cost him something.
Compromise. It was the reason he'd chosen to send Rose away in the first place. He'd needed her, but she'd needed her family more. No matter how capable she might think herself, he'd known exactly what that loss would eventually do to her. She'd become just as cold and hard as he was inside. Had, in fact, started down that path already. She'd become inured to the danger and violence of his existence, much more so than most of his companions. And, like him, she'd reveled in the joy of experiencing new people, places, planets and eras that offset the darkness they'd so often found. Her life on this Earth had been no safer or easier from what he could determine. Materially better, perhaps, but working for Torchwood had toughened her. An older, wiser Rose had come back to him -- armed, dangerous and in possession of a particle gun.
He didn't like it. Not at all. Although, he admitted somewhat ruefully, and again unlike the Doctor Prime, he found the mature Rose infinitely more attractive than the girl he'd once known.
The Doctor let himself out of the room and into the garden beyond. He inhaled deeply, turning his face to catch the first feeble rays of sunlight peeking over the edge of the world. The grass beneath his bare feet felt soft and cool. The morning dew felt clean, and the fresh air was crisp against his skin. What a wonder this world was, in all its many variations throughout time. And the truth, if he cared to acknowledge it, was that he did not wish to live under the omnipresent heel of the Shadow Proclamation or the Judoon. He liked Earth just the way it was. Sure, the people were a bit barmy. Well, a lot barmy he grinned. Yet, it was in that hint of insanity where the best of Human genius lay -- and he wasn't about to see it stifled. So he would be selfish and save them yet again -- whether they approved of his methods or not.
But first things first he determined, turning back to stare at the room he'd just left. If he was to proceed as quickly as he would like, he'd have to peel Rose away from Torchwood -- immediately.