The Scenic Route: Chapter Three

[isilienelenihin]

Title:  The Scenic Route

Rating:  R

Features: Rose Tyler, Malcom Reynolds, Inara Serra, Kaylee Fry, Simon Tam, River Tam, Jayne Cobb, Wash, Zoe

Pairings:  Established in canon for Firefly and my 'All Roads Lead Home' universe for Doctor Who

A/N:   Nothing you recognize belongs to me.  This is a prequel to 'The Long and Winding Road' and as such is set in  my 'All Roads Lead Home' universe.  Enjoy!
WARNING:  If you’ve read ‘The Long and Winding Road’ (and if you haven’t go do so) than you know that my take on Rose Tyler includes a period of torture/experimentation spanning roughly a year and followed by several decades of hiding.  This story deals with torture and its effects, including PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).  There may be graphic descriptions in flashbacks and dream sequences.  I will tag each chapter appropriately, but I wanted to give you all a head’s up first.

Chapter One

A/N:  This chapter is actually pretty tame, I don't forsee the need for a specific warning, but if you disagree feel free to let me know!]



Life on Serenity settled into a pattern: they would land on a planet and the crew would head out to do a job and Rose would head out to explore and search for her mysterious 'friend.' They didn't comment when she returned to the ship alone each time, although Kaylee frequently gave out hugs. As the days became weeks became a month she brought back little things from each marketplace she visited. They were small, trinkets or sometimes spices. On a rare trip to Ariel she picked up a bit of rich blue cloth to patch the tear in her jacket. She and Kaylee found a handful of pretty stones on Constance and brought them back for River, who was delighted. When they were traveling she spent most of the night cycle awake, occasionally keeping Wash company in the cabin or reading in the kitchen or common rooms.

Serenity had been grounded on Highgate for three days while Mal and Zoe negotiated a job with Nicolo Sharpeye. Inara had time to take a few clients, a rarity when Mal was in a traveling mood. It had been-stimulating, but she found that afterwards sleep would not come. It didn't help that she and Mal had fought on her return. She didn't know why but he had the ability to make her completely and absolutely furious. Well, she did know why-but she didn't want to admit it. Companions didn't fall in love, and if they did it wasn't with scruffy, smuggling ship captains with more 'honor' than brains.

She was still fuming when she tried to sleep and after hours of lying awake and staring at the ceiling Inara finally gave in. She rose, selected a few of her dresses that needed mending, found her sewing kit, and padded out of her shuttle. She could wait until they made port again and take the garments to a seamstress, of course she could-but she found that she liked sewing. All companions knew how, of course. Like playing a musical instrument it was considered a sign of sophistication and class, but beyond that Inara found sewing soothing. It occupied her hands while it left her mind free to wander. And-she could fix the dresses. She could patch them up and smooth them out and no one would have ever been able to tell they'd been torn. It was nice, sometimes, to deal with problems that could be solved and not left to fester in silence and confusion and hurt.

Inara paused. Light shone through the thick metal doorway that separated the kitchen from Serenity's passages, and if she wasn't mistaken, someone was singing. Was Kaylee awake so late? Perhaps she was having nightmares. After she'd been attacked on Persephone she'd confessed to them several nights running. Inara drew nearer.

Rose was sitting at the kitchen table, her blue jacket spread out over the smooth wood. She had a needle in one hand and the other was supporting part of the garment. It had been ripped, Inara remembered, when she went to Kaylee's aid. The image was strange, but it was the song that gave her pause. Companions studied music, classical and contemporary, as part of their training. Whatever Rose was singing, Inara had never heard it before-and that was saying something. It was sweet and plaintive and sounded like a hymn, but not the sort of hymn one would hear from a Shepherd.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" Rose asked, as the echoes of the chorus faded.

Inara started. She hadn't realized the other woman knew she was there. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked, ever polite.

Rose motioned for her to enter. She spread her first dress out on the table and carefully compared the color of the dress to her threads. Attention to detail was key in sewing. For a moment they worked in silence. As she carefully made neat, identical stitches Inara could feel the tension between her shoulders easing.

"I made tea," Rose said into the companionable silence. "Would you like some?"

"Oh," Inara replied with a smile. "Yes, please." Rose poured her a mug and Inara took a tentative sip. It was a darker blend than the pale green tea she usually served her clients and it lacked the fruity overtones characteristic of most currently popular teas. It was thicker, somehow, more earthy, but not bad. "Thank you," She said, "for the tea, of course, and for saving Kaylee. I don't believe I've had a chance to tell you yet." She paused, hesitant. "Are you in pain?"

Rose shrugged. "As pain goes, it isn't bad." She sipped her tea. "And you don't need to thank me. Kaylee is a good person; she's sweet and she's kind and the universe could use a few more like her."

"You two do seem to get along well," Inara noted

A smile curved Rose's lips. "She reminds me of myself when I was very young." The smile fell just a tad as Rose set her mug gently on the smooth wood of the table. "Miss Serra," she began. "You have questions. Please, just ask them. I may choose not to answer, but anything I tell you will be the truth."

Inara considered her for a moment, before also setting her mug on the table. "Are you a threat?" she said at last. "Everyone on Serenity, Mal, Shepherd Book, Kaylee, Simon, River, Zoe, Wash-even Jayne, they're my family. Will you bring harm to them?" Inara expected a swift denial, perhaps anger or indignation at her suggestion. She did not expect Rose to smile.

"You and your Captain are well paired," the other woman commented.

For a moment Inara was speechless, but her Companion training allowed her to cover her confusion with a sip from her mug. "I'm sorry," she said gently, "but Mal and I are not a couple." Rose's eyebrow shot toward her hairline but Inara refused to rise to her bait. Instead she took another drink of the strange, earthy tea.

"Oh," Rose said finally. "There's together, and then there's together. You and Captain Reynolds might not be official, but you're a pair." She ran her finger along the top of her own mug, and continued before Inara could interrupt. "My mum used to tell me 'never fall in love with a sailor or a man who's got principals, Rose.' 'Course I never listened-she had terrible taste in men-but I reckon she was right. A sailor's first love is always his ship, and a man who's got principals will put his honor first." She frowned. "Honor, that's a bit archaic. Integrity, maybe? No," Rose decided. "I like honor. Either way they're never just yours. They give themselves to something bigger, and when you've got both in one man it's-difficult, loving them." She wrapped her hands around her mug and let the heat seep through the ceramic and warm her. "But then, I think you know what I'm talking about." Inara tried to marshal an argument against what Rose had said, but her typical protestations deserted her. Rose smiled, drank the last of her tea, and tied off her thread. She held up the jacket and examined it critically. "There. Good as new." She gathered up her supplies and left her mug on the sideboard. "Goodnight," She called back to Inara as she left the kitchen in favor of her own sleeping quarters.

Inara watched her go until she was lost in the darkness of Serenity's night cycle. That encounter had been-less than satisfying. She came to ease her disquiet, but found it had been magnified. Rose saw too much for her liking. She didn't have Companion training, although she moved with a reserved sort of grace that spoke of a strong body awareness and she was too observant to be completely without training. Inara turned her attention back to her dresses. The only thing that could make this night worse would be for Mal to turn up and start their argument over.

Mal gave the barrel of his second best gun one last polish and laid it on the table with the others. They would be planetside tomorrow and he made it a point to make sure all of his weapons were cleaned and oiled before use. Letting weapons fall into disrepair was a good way to get yourself killed, and maybe it was left over from his days as a soldier, but he found that he judged a man by how he cared for his guns. Zoe had her own spread out at the other end of the table. Rose and Wash were washing and drying the dishes, respectively. Jayne had cleared a space on the table for a sheet of paper; he was laboriously writing a letter to his mother. Most of the money he earned from jobs on Serenity went to support his mother and his siblings. It would have been easy to hate Jayne after what he did with River, after he tried to sell her and Simon out to the Alliance, but Mal knew what that money would have meant to the man's family. There were no clear, cut and dry situations in the black.

River sat across from Jayne. She was playing with a handful of brightly colored stones, the same ones that Rose and Kaylee had given her. At first she liked them because they were pretty, but now she was ordering them carefully in pairs and groups. Her brows were pulled together in concentration and she muttered to herself as she rearranged them.

A bright laugh drifted in from the hall as Kaylee followed Simon back into the kitchen. He stood behind River and put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing, Mei mei?"

She didn't take her eyes off of her stones. "There's always order in a wolf pack. I'm trying to see where everyone fits."

"Wolves again?" Kaylee asked as she slid into the seat next to River. "I've never even seen a wolf, not even a picture."

River rolled her eyes. "You so have," she informed the other girl, and then returned her attention to the stones.

Mal enjoyed the quiet times. In his experience excitement meant trouble meant complications, and he liked simple, simple and easy and get in, get the goods, get paid. There were too many opportunities for things to go wrong when jobs got complicated.

Wash was drying the last of the dishes when River swept her stones into a pile, evidently done fiddling with them. She turned to Rose, who was wiping her hands on a towel. "Tell me a story about the man in your head," she asked.

Mal's eyebrows shot up. Simon looked disturbed-even Kaylee seemed a bit unnerved, but Rose calmly finished drying her hands. "It's rude to go poking around in someone's head without permission," she chided gently.

River pouted. "Can't help it. Besides, he's so loud."

Rose left the towel on hanging from its peg and sat down on River's other side. "I know, qīn'ài de rén(1)." She cocked her head to the side. "What kind of story are you looking for?"

"A true one," River answered almost immediately.

A wide smile curved Rose's lips. "Oh River, all stories are true." She leaned back in her chair and began to speak.

"Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a beautiful city on a beautiful planet. The grass was red and the sky was orange and the trees were silver, and the wind made a sound like music when it blew down the slopes of the snow-capped mountains through the sparkling forests. Every night he would look up at the stars shining through the crystal dome that protected the city and he would dream of seeing those stars up close, of seeing other planets-but all of his elders told him that no one left the beautiful world voluntarily. Everything he could ever need or ever want was right in front of him, but he didn't believe that. He didn't believe that nothing in the universe could compare to his home, even though it was very beautiful." She glanced at River. "What do you think he did?"

River grinned. "I think he ran away."

Rose laughed. "You'd be right. He stole a ship, or maybe she stole him, and he ran as far and fast as he could, away from rules and boundaries and stuffy old men and women telling him how to think and feel and act. He saw every star in that sky, and he never stopped running. He visited strange planets and met strange people, and by people I mean aliens, and he learned all about the universe-but he was lonely. It was a wonderful life, full of excitement, but when you're traveling the stars what you need more than a ship is a friend-so he found some. They came and they chased back the loneliness for a while, but they never stayed. Eventually they grew up or they moved on, or they discovered that they could be special on their own, and some of them died. But eventually," she pushed on. "Eventually he found someone who wanted to stay with him forever because she loved the stars almost as much as she loved him."

"Why did she leave?" River asked. "If she wanted to stay, why didn't she?"

"She fell," Rose replied gently. "They were in the thick of things, saving the universe from people who were arrogant and ignorant and cruel, who played with technology they couldn't hope to understand and refused to listen when he tried to warn them. There was a battle, and while he was saving everyone else on the planet-he lost her."

"Is that the end?" River demanded after a long moment of silence.

"Not all stories have happy endings," Kaylee told her.

"Not all stories have endings," Rose corrected. "They have places where the telling stops and starts."

"But she can't just give up!" River frowned, clearly displeased. "She can't let them win!"

"It's just a story, River," Simon pointed out and laid a calming hand on her arm.

"It's not!" she snapped back.

"Did I ever say she was?" Rose asked, eyebrow raised. "Of course she doesn't!"

"Then does she make it back? Does she find him again?" River's eyes were wide and expectant.

Rose shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps she does, perhaps she doesn't, but even if she never sees him again, even if she never finds out whether or not he loves her as much as she loves him, she won't stop trying."

River settled back in her chair and stroked one of her stones. It was clear, with flecks of gold that caught the light. "Good," she said firmly. "Wolves shouldn't be alone."

Wash was used to being the last one awake on Serenity. It came with the job, really. As a pilot he spent most of his time in the cockpit, monitoring their path and communications channels. He liked it, really. He could see the stars sparkling in the black. He missed the stars when he was planetside, not that he had anything against planets, not exactly, but there's nothing like the black to make a man feel free. He realized that he was babbling and there was no one around to hear him, not that anyone could anyway, as he was babbling in his head.

He was nervous. They were touching down tomorrow to finish a job and he was always nervous when Mal and Zoe and Jayne went out. They were big boys and girls, they could take care of themselves, and his wife was a warrior. He didn't call her an Amazon for nothing, after all. Still-he worried, especially now that he knew what could be waiting for them. Niska's attentions left him with vicious scars and a host of nightmares. What if something went south? What if they were outgunned and outnumbered? What if she was hurt? Wash took a deep breath and forced himself to stop. The best way for him to help Zoe and Mal was to stay with the ship. He'd been jealous of them, of their camaraderie and the way she obeyed Mal to a fault. He was a damn fine pilot, and that was where he belonged-with Serenity, waiting to swoop in and rescue them if need be.

A knock on the doorframe startled him. He glanced up. Rose was standing the in doorway. "Mind if I come in?" she asked with a tight-lipped smile.

Wash nodded. He should have known, really. She was the only one who bothered to knock. Zoe knew she didn't need to, Mal figured the whole gorram ship was his so why bother, and no one else seemed to think of it. He found he liked the courtesy. She stepped inside the cockpit and slouched down into the copilot's chair. Wash didn't mind her company in the quiet hours of the night cycle. He liked to talk and he found her easy to talk to. She didn't always respond but she did listen, and when she answered him he found she was surprisingly funny. Rose came almost every cycle; she'd stop by, spend a few hours watching the stars and listening to him regale her with stories of his escapades (most of which he fabricated on the spot), and then bid him a good night and withdraw as silently as she came.

He thought that maybe she missed the stars. He could sympathize. It wasn't good to keep a starcreature planetbound. It did something to them, broke something inside. She had been walking in the dust for too long, he thought. There was something sad about her, something a little bit lost.

Wash cleared his throat. Rose glanced at him, a question plane on her face. "Have I introduced you to everyone yet?" he asked, and motioned to the scattering of plastic dinosaurs on the console.

A real, tongue-touched grin lit up her face and suddenly she was beautiful. "No," Rose answered. "I don't think you have."

"I should rectify that," he decided. "Do you have time? It's a long and complicated list."

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I've got time. Who's first?"

Rose dropped her bag on the compact bunk of her sleeping quarters and rested her head against the smooth, cool wall of the bulkhead. She was tired. She was dirty. She'd been traveling with Serenity for three months and she hadn't seen a single sign of a Time Agent. Despair bubbled up inside her, threatened to choke her with its bitter tang. She knew this trip was going to be a bust the minute she found out where they were going. Aberdeen was the 13th planet orbiting the star Kalidasa and the destination of whatever shady job Mal had managed to procure.

Even now it made her want to laugh, and she wondered for a moment about Sarah Jane. How was she doing? Had she seen the Doctor again? Did she know about Canary Wharf? When (if a treacherous part of her brain whispered) she got back to her proper time she would make the Doctor stop by for a visit. If he still wants you, that treacherous whisper continued, and she was too tired to squash it. If he hasn't found someone else. If you're not just someone who used to travel with him. Who knows, maybe this time you'll get to be the ex.

A shower made Rose feel much better. It always did, being clean. She could collect all of her anger and fear and frustration and pain and let the water wash it all away. When she was dry and presentable she went to one of the common rooms near the surgery. Most of the crew of Serenity preferred to congregate around the table in the kitchen and she could use a bit of hush at the moment. She settled down onto the surprisingly comfortable couch and closed her eyes. Out of habit more than anything Rose stretched out her mind for the sound of the TARDIS. Ever since Satellite Five she'd been able to hear the ship singing in her head. At first she simply thought that the temperamental time ship was growing more fond of her, but after her time in Torchwood's dungeon she knew the truth. She was different now, not quite human, and the TARDIS knew. Her mind had changed and the ship called out to her, wrapped Rose in her song and let her know that she was not alone. It was confirmation that she was in the right universe and that she would find the Doctor again.

A soft scuffing alerted her to River's presence. Rose could feel the girl on the edges of her consciousness. She was bright, so bright, and completely open. Rose's stomach clenched in revulsion. Human beings weren't supposed to be telepathic. The Doctor had explained once, back when he still wore leather. Every species had the potential for telepathy but most never developed it; only a handful of races ever had a need for it. There were individuals who were exceptions, but they were rare and frequently rather weak. River was enormously powerful-and her gifts were artificial. Someone had cut into her brain with all the precision of a chainsaw until they managed to damage the right parts in order to trigger telepathy. It was trauma induced and it fractured her. If the Doctor had been there, he would have tracked down whoever had perpetrated this monstrosity and personally shut them down.

Rose opened her eyes. River was sitting next to her. She was playing with the stones again, rearranging them. "Still having trouble with your pack?" Rose asked.

River shrugged. "Dynamics are fluid." One stone was off to the side. Rose picked it up. It was smooth like it had come from a river, and the gold flecks lodged in the clear quartz crystal sparkled in the light. "Pyrite," River noted. "Fool's gold. It's deceptive."

"Why isn't it with the others?" Rose wanted to know.

River looked at her like she'd dribbled on her shirt. "A pack can only have one Alpha pair, Wolf."

Rose jumped as Simon and Mal strode into the room. They were arguing, as usual. "Ladies," Mal said tersely as he tried to duck through the door to the cargo bay.

"We should hit more Core planets!" Simon insisted. "The last job that got us any real money was on Ariel. We could try another hospital."

"They'll be wise to us now, Doc," Mal snapped back.

River ignored the squabble happening next to them; her attention was fixed on Rose. "I can hear her," she said, eyes wide with wonder. She reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over Rose's temple. "She sings to the universe inside her head, and I can hear."

Rose caught her wrist and pulled her hand away gently. "That isn't a good idea, River. There are things in my head that you don't need to see."

River's eyes drifted shut and her face set in lines of extreme concentration. She began to hum, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. The argument besides them slowed and then stopped.

Mal turned to look at the women on the sofa. "What's your sister doing now?" he demanded.

Simon frowned. "I don't know."

"River," Rose began, her face pale. "River, you need to stop."

River ignored her. The humming grew louder, stronger, more insistent. The melody sent chills up Mal's spine. It was haunting, lovely, really, but strange. Alien, his mind supplied, but he shied away from the word. Rose had told a fairy tale about aliens, but that's all it was-a story. The song was like something he'd heard in a dream, once, a memory that hovered just outside of conscious thought. River began to sway gently in time to the song.

Rose flinched. She was shaking, Mal realized. A sheen of sweat covered her skin, made her almost look to glow in Serenity's artificial light. "River. Stop it, please!" Her voice was strange, almost as if another voice was layered over it. Her accent was gone and she sounded anguished.

River continued to ignore her. Something in the song shifted. It had been welcoming, joyful even. It became something darker, almost menacing. Fear gripped him, made the palms of Mal's hands sweaty and his heart pound. He fought the feeling. There was nothing to be afraid of here. He was on his ship with his crew. There was nothing that could hurt him.

"River!" Simon yelled. He grabbed her shoulders but she didn't seem to hear. She was lost in the music.

Rose screamed.

River's eyes flew open and the humming ceased. Simon pulled her gently towards him and off of the couch, but as soon as she could stand she sprang away from him. Her face was wild as she stared around the room, looking for all the world like a caged animal. "Get out, get out!" she yelled. "Thoughts like lock-picks in your head; crack you open little watch and see what makes you tick!" An edge of hysteria crept into her voice. "They put you in a cage with a muzzle over your mouth, make you howl when they want you to. You blow down those houses of sticks and straw and rebuild in brick!" She laughed. It was terrifying. "They woke up the big bad wolf and are surprised when she devours them!" She stared at the wall but her eyes were glazed and far, far away. "I can see everything, but why does it hurt?" she asked plaintively. She covered her ears and her face contorted in pain. "They're screaming! Why won't they stop screaming? Get out, get out of my head!"

Simon grabbed her by the shoulders. "River, it's me, it's Simon," he said soothingly. "I need you to calm down, please."

She blinked at him. "Simon?" she asked in a small voice. Her eyes were wide in her pale face, making her look even younger than she was. "I think I did a bad thing."

They tied her wrists behind her back and bound her ankles to the chair. The unyielding metal pressed into her skin and she knew there would be bruises later. The telepath they'd hired to break into her head looked like a velociraptor with feathers. There was an interesting thought-would dinosaurs have been the dominant life form if mammals hadn't come around? She was rambling and she knew it, even in her head, but panic was making it hard to focus. She tried to call up her barriers, the ones the Doctor made for her. She tried to fight. The feathered velociraptor stretched out a surprisingly dexterous claw.

It felt like dying. It felt like fire in her skull, like everything that was Rose was being stripped down, ripped out. She screamed and screamed and screamed (in her head, out loud, she couldn't tell anymore).

And then, abruptly, it stopped. Golden warmth suffused her, soothed the burning ache. The universe expanded around her, endlessly complex, stunningly vast.

I can see the whole of time and space, every atom of your existence-and I divide them.

An entire Dalek fleet turned to dust. The telepath's screams fail to penetrate the golden fog that surrounds her.

All things, everything dies.

She was more than Rose Tyler. She had chosen this because she would not be parted from him and now-now she could not be. Timelines ran around her, circled her, strangled her and she brushed them aside. She was the Bad Wolf and Time bent to her will. She spoke with the voice of the universe and she said No.

Rose was curled into a ball on the floor. Her arms were wrapped around her head, protecting her neck and her knees were tucked under her chin. She looked like a child being beaten, frantically trying to make herself a smaller target. Mal knelt beside her. "What in the qī bīngdòng dìyù(2) did your sister do, boy!" he demanded.

"River?" Simon asked.

She shook her head, eyes closed. Tears dripped down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to! I just wanted to hear the singing!"

Mal reached out a hand but Rose jerked before he could touch her. He pulled back, startled, as she slowly unfolded. She moved with a fluid grace that was not her own until she was standing, eyes still closed, the back of her legs flush against the couch.

"Rose?" Simon called gently. "Rose, can you hear me?"

For a long moment she was still, and then her eyes opened. Mal echoed Simon's quick intake of breath. Golden fire blazed where soft brown had been. She turned her head, regarded the three of them. "Prophet," she said, looking at River and then turning her attention to Simon and Mal. "Healer, and hero. The rage-it burns. They all lie down. Make them get up. Make them get up!" Her hands came up and she clutched her head as in pain or perhaps fear. "Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down! Oh god!" she sobbed in that strange, choral voice. "Oh god, make me a stone!" Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.

1. Dear one

2. seven frozen hells