TLAWR Chapter 64: Deserts and Deserts
Rated: R (to be safe)
Features: The 10th Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Astrid Peth, the 5th Doctor, the Brigadier, UNIT, Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, Rhys Williams, Mickey Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, River Song, Jenny, Lee MacAvoy and others.
Pairings: Doctor/Rose, Jack/Ianto, Martha/Mickey
A/N: Third update in three weeks, how about that. As usual nothing you recognize belongs to me, some dialogue taken from Planet of the Dead. And cookies to whoever can tell me the relationship between the planet mentioned in chapter 63 and The Winter's Tale, by William Shakespeare. :D
(Earlier Entries) ( Chapter Sixty-One) ( Chapter Sixty-Two) ( Chapter Sixty-Three)
The lights were on in the kitchen when the Doctor opened the door. It was unusual; as the resident alien and being least in need of sleep he was used to being the first (and only) one awake. Occasionally Rose joined him for a late-night cuppa, if she was feeling restless or plagued by dreams, but it was Donna who sat at the table set off to the side of the homey room. A half-full mug of tea sat in front of her and her head rested on her hands. She didn't move when he entered and he approached her cautiously.
"All right, then?" the Doctor asked.
She shrugged but didn't raise her head. "Couldn't sleep. Wanted some tea."
He left her to it and went through the daily mechanics of making breakfast (not that he had much to do, really, tea and toast and a banana was not exactly a feat of culinary engineering). When the tea was steaming in his favorite mug and the toast was buttered and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and cut neatly into triangles on a plate he sat down across from Donna and started peeling his banana (they were low-time for another trip to Villengard).
"I could take you back to London, if you'd like," he offered after a moment. "You could stay for a bit longer, spend some time with your mum and Wilf, see Lee again."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, spaceman?" This time she did look up and cocked an eyebrow at him. "The two of you only picked me up yesterday. You can't have gotten bored of me already."
"No!" he replied. "No, no, no, no. I just-you look like you could use a break."
"Not all of us can look as good as you do after a night with no sleep." Donna ran a hand through her hair and yawned.
"You could take a bit of a kip." The Doctor closed his eyes, considering. "Rose should be asleep for, oh-thirty seven minutes."
Donna stared at him. "And that's not weird at all."
"Not if you're a Time Lord."
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The Doctor finished his banana and Donna sipped her tea. When she set the empty mug on the table she cleared her throat. "Lee and I have a date next week, next Earth week. D'you think you'll be able to take me for a visit then?"
"Are you impugning my piloting skills?" he asked.
She snorted. "Just a bit, Mr. Pompeii-not-Rome, and Rose told me all about 1869 and twelve-months-not-twelve-hours."
"Considering we're working with all of time and space I think a few slip-ups are completely understandable," he sniffed, and bite of his toast. "I'll land you on any day you like, Donna. I'll even keep the TARDIS parallel to Earth, temporally."
"You can do that?" For the first time in their travels, Donna sounded properly impressed.
"Well." He cleared his throat. "Rose can. She's got a calendar, helps her keep track, make sure we don't cross time lines or end up somewhere too early."
"Of course she does," Donna replied with a laugh. Her eyes dropped and she studied the dregs of her tea intently. "You're lucky to have her, spaceman. She keeps you grounded."
"Yeah," he agreed. "I know. And-I'm glad you found Lee again."
She smiled. "Thanks."
The kitchen door swung open and a disheveled Rose, clad in pyjamas decorated with lime green sheep and yawning profusely stumbled in. The Doctor pushed back his chair and moved to the sink while Donna hid a smile behind a yawn. Three years of traveling on a ship with essentially no set timeline and who knows how many years of traveling on her own and Rose was still definitely not a morning person. She slid into a seat across from Donna and rested her head on her arms, which were folded on the table.
"I'll just pop off to get ready," Donna said and withdrew, shutting the door gently as she left.
The Doctor produced more tea and two slices of toast spread with peanut butter. He set them down in front of Rose and refilled his own mug, carefully adding far too much sugar for anyone who wasn't a Time Lord with a sweet tooth. Rose perked up as the tea's warm, comforting scent broke through her sleepy haze. She lifted her head enough to take a sip and hummed appreciatively. By the time her mug was empty and the toast was eaten she appeared visibly more awake and aware. The Doctor remained as he was, tea untouched and rapidly cooling on the table in front of him. Rose touched his arm and he startled, his eyes returning to hers after a moment's hesitation.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He smiled widely. "Nothing at all, love, just contemplating our next trip. D'you think Donna would like Florizel? There's this brilliant market in Perdita-that's the capital-and I was thinking-"
"Doctor." She wasn't fooled, not for one minute. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I don't believe you."
He leaned back in his chair and looked away. "You aren't going to let this go, are you."
"Nope." She popped the 'p.' "Easier for everyone involved if you just tell me."
The corners of his mouth turned down and his lips pulled into a thin line as he turned his attention to his stone-cold tea. "Donna's leaving."
"What!" Rose sat up straight and frowned. "Now? Why?"
"Not now, as such," he admitted. "In a week. She has a date with Lee."
Rose rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Well, what did you say it like that for, then? It's just a visit; I thought you meant she was leaving for good!"
"She will," he said softly. "This is how it begins, just dates, but then it's long weekends and trips to Spain and then she'll be getting married and moving into a house that's the same size inside as out with carpets and doors and two-point-five children."
"Is that even possible?" Rose asked.
"You know what I mean." He refused to be baited. "Everyone leaves in the end."
Rose covered his hand with her own. "Not everyone. Not me."
"That's what Donna said." He shifted his hand so he could lace his fingers with hers but his voice was low and solemn and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Donna wanted that kind of life," Rose countered. "The first time you met her she was getting married, remember? And then she got trapped in that virtual world where she had exactly the life she always dreamed of. She deserves a life t hat makes her happy, a life that she chooses."
"What about you?" He studied their joined hands. "Don't you deserve those things too? I-I can't give you children, Rose. What if you wake up one day and realize youv'e wasted decades of your life?"
"Never gonna happen." The certainty in her voice startled him into finally looking at her. A fierce determination burned in her eyes, a blazing focus usually reserved for people who tried to destroy a planet or separate them. "I found my way cross the Void, Doctor. I remade myself. I walked through hell on Earth for a year not because I missed the TARDIS or this life, as wonderful as they both are. I did all of those things because I love you. Because above everything else-I pick you. And I always will. What is it going to take for you to believe me?"
"I do believe you, Rose." He held her hand with both of his and turned to face her more fully. "I just-I want you to be happy."
"You daft man." She smiled at him and the fir subsided, buried in the force of her fond amusement. "I am happy. Maybe Donna needs those things-kids and a house and all of that-but I don't. I've only ever needed you."
"That, you can have." He kissed her then, because he had no idea what he did to deserve her, but if someone would tell him what it was he would happily do it for the rest of his life.
They went to Florizel because the Doctor wasn't lying; the hydrocatalizer could was due for a tune-up and Perdita, the capital city, had an excellent bazaar for those in search of technology at reasonable prices. This meant, of course, that Rose needed him to braid her hair again. He didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed the closeness of the moment. It was too easy to get lost in the madness and chaos of their life. When he lost her that was what he wanted: to bury himself in sound and sensation until he could breathe again. But she was back, and even though she'd been back for more than a year he found himself filing tiny, quiet moments away, a store against a time when she was gone again. Rose would live a very long time but he might live longer and he didn't want to forget a single moment. He braided Donna's hair as well in a different style; she didn't have quite the bearing of command that Rose could muster and this way they could pass through the city unrestricted.
Donna thought it was hilarious. "Are we going to paint our nails later, then?" she asked. "I've got a purpose that would go lovely with your eyes."
"Don't know if I could pull off purpose," he replied. "And it would clash with my suit."
"Could do pink," she offered with a wicked smile.
He frowned. "Definitely not. Rose wears enough pink for the both of us. Now hold still-this bit's tricky."
She ignored him, of course. Following instructions was not in Donna's nature. "Where did you even learn to braid hair?"
"I'm brilliant," the Doctor said. "Honestly, have you not been paying attention?"
Rose, who was lounging on the jump seat with a trashy magazine from 70th century Mars rolled her eyes and flipped the page. "You sure you're not siblings? Cos the two of you are worse than Shireen and her sister."
"Me?" Donna exclaimed. "Related to that skinny streak of nothing? You have got to be joking."
Stepping out of the TARIDS onto the surface of Florizel was like stepping into a furnace. Rose stripped off the light cardigan she'd grabbed just in case and Donna left the shawl that went with her pale green sundress. The Doctor, as always, appeared unaffected. Dunes of red sand stretched as far as Rose could see as she shielded her eyes with her hand. There were two suns in the sky. The first was small and pale yellow and the second was larger and more orange. Both were high in the sky.
The TARDIS stood just outside the city walls, which were at least forty foot tall and whitewashed until they gleamed.
"Why couldn't we park inside, again?" Donna asked as they waited in the slowly moving line that stretched out from the doors cut into the thick stone.
"Because that would be rude," The Doctor reminded her. "And Florians take rudeness very seriously. Also because there's an antimaterialization field that covers the entire city."
"What would happen if you tried?" Rose asked, curious.
"Remember that time we got caught in that plasma storm out by the horse head nebula?"
She shuddered. "Oh."
"Yeah." He nodded.
"That bad?" Donna was plainly skeptical.
"My bruises had bruises," Rose said and waved her hand in front of her face, desperate for a breeze.
Inside Perdita the streets were broad and shielded from the sun by brightly colored canopies that stretched from building to building. Beneath them the air was noticeably cooler and filled with the cries of vendors hawking food and merchandise from sturdy carts. Men and women alike wore loose, flowing robes that were stained with red dust where they dragged in the dirt. They were taller than the Doctor, even, with an orange cast to their skin, Space travel was obviously not unknown; off-worlders and outsiders, some in Florian garb and some in clothes similar to Rose and Donna's made up a decent percentage of the crowd.
They stopped at a café beneath a green awning and purchased chilled fruit skewers before separating, the Doctor to find his parts and Rose and Donna to wander through the rest of the market. Rose snapped a picture of Donna haggling with a wizened old man over a flimsy, nearly transparent purple scarf and smiled. Six thin, opalescent bracelets tinkled around her wrists from one of the first stalls.
"Fortunes told," a soft, musical voice said from just behind her. "Discover what the future holds for you." The speaker was a Florian woman with laughter lines at the corners of her lips and eyes and brown hair that hung, unbraided, to her waist.
Rose glanced back at Donna, who, judging by the sour look on the man's face, had gotten her preferred price and gestured at a dress behind him. "Yeah," Rose said and turned back to the woman. "I'll give it a go."
The fortune teller's booth was draped with layers of gauzy red fabric that rustled softly as they sat on draped stools opposite each other. A small table stood between them and the woman took Rose's hand and turned it gently so that it was resting palm-up on the smooth wood. She traced her fingertips over the lines and calluses of Rose's skin and Rose twitched. It tickled.
"So," she said with a crooked grin. "This is where you tell me you see a dark, handsome stranger, yeah?"
"I could," the woman allowed with an answering smile. "But that is for silly girls who want fairy tales. No, you have come here for something else. Children, perhaps? No-you would not believe me if I tried. Why are you here, then? They call you a flower, and you are beautiful, but there is something more about you-something of the wolf."
Rose stiffened. "What?" she asked, her eyes searching the woman's face. "What did you just say?" Goosebumps spread from the hackles on her neck down her arms and the woman's grip on her hand tightened.
"A warning then, for you, wolf-woman. Through fire and death it is returning." She tapped her finger against the center of Rose's palm. Tap tap tap tap.
Rose wrenched her hand away and stumbled to her feet. "That's over," she snapped. "He's gone."
"That is the warning." The woman's face was impassive.
"It's impossible."
"And that word means so much to you, does it?" the woman asked as she leaned closer. Rose shivered and her hands curled into fists.
"Rose?" Donna's voice from her shoulder broke the tension abruptly and Rose startled. "Everything all right?" The ginger woman carried a bag over her arm and looked back and forth between Rose and the fortune teller suspiciously.
"Yeah." Rose exhaled roughly. "Everything's fine." She left two silver coins on the table and smiled brightly at Donna. "Let's find the Doctor." As they walked away the sharp retort of the fortune teller's long nails against the surface of the table followed her: tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
Later, after they found the Doctor with a cloth-wrapped bundle under his arm and Donna vanished into her room with her phone, Rose sat on the jump seat with her latest find from the library. The Doctor was half-under the console, muttering softly to himself as he swapped out the new bits for the hydrocatalizers. An easy silence drifted between them, the sort that sprang up between two people who were eminently comfortable with each other. Rose turned her attention from the Doctor's sock-clad feet (they were labeled with the days of the week, bless) and to her book.
After three seconds she nearly threw it across the room in frustration. The fortune teller's words ran circles around her brain and she pushed them down but they kept coming back. The Master was dead. The Doctor burned his body. And even if he was alive, the Doctor would know, he would feel it.
"Rose?"
She lifted her head. The Doctor knelt before her, shirtsleeves around his elbows and grease smudged next to his nose. "Yeah?"
He studied her over the rims of his glasses. "Everything alright?"
She pushed the doubts away. Words, they were just words. "Yeah." She gave him the smile he loved, the one with a bit of her tongue caught between her teeth. "S'like you said-trouble's just the bits inbetween."
Eight days, six trips, three prison cells, and two near-executions later and Rose was ready for a breather. Donna's date with Lee would do nicely. They dropped her off in Cardiff next to the Hub and she waved goodbye as Lee materialized from the shadows.
"D'you think we should visit Jack?" Rose asked. "Or maybe Mickey or Martha? I bet they'd love to see you."
"Maybe later." He wandered around the console, running his hand over the switches and levers and bicycle pump. "I was thinking that today we could visit Sarah Jane."
She cocked her head to the side and stared at him. "Really?"
He ran a hand through his artfully disheveled hair. "The two of you get on disturbingly well, albeit at my expense." He shot her a stern look and she smiled back at him, completely unrepentant. "And I can change. I don't go back, yeah-but maybe I should."
"Can you say that again?" Rose asked as the corners of her mouth curled up. "And on camera?"
"Rose Tyler!" he exclaimed. "The cheek on you! Just for that-why don't you start the dematerialization sequence? And no help from the peanut gallery," he said with a glance at the TARDIS ceiling.
Rose bit her lip and mimicked him, running her hands over the buttons and levers. She has seen this dance a thousand times, even if she was moderately sure that half of his gyrations weren't actually necessary. The lights overhead flickered and she chuckled. "Pretty sure the TARDIS doesn't like being called the peanut gallery, Doctor."
"She knows what I mean." He leaned against the railing, arms crossed and feet planted. "Can't have her helping you."
Her hand hovered over brass button for a moment, and then Rose began. Halfway through the monitor started flashing and she frowned. "Don't think it's supposed to do that, is it, Doctor?"
He slipped his specs on and leaned forward, eyes intent. "Nope, definitely not." He studied the monitor and the longer he looked the higher his eyebrows climbed. His fingers danced across the keyboard beneath the monitor and the swirling circular characters of his native tongue flashed across the screen.
"Problem?" she asked as his eyes narrowed.
"Just a bit. She picked up a concentration of Rhodium particles bouncing around London." He tapped the screen and it zoomed in on a small, pulsing mauve signature. He straightened, frowning. "But that's a wormhole-in London!" He turned towards her, glasses perched firmly on his nose, his lips already forming the words and Rose held up her hand.
"Yeah," she said. "We can chase this wormhole and then go to Sarah Jane's."
When Rose agreed to go wormhole hunting she'd thought of something along the lines of a quick jaunt through London, led by one of the Doctor's brilliant devices. Well, there was a device, yeah, but his idea of a quick jaunt was apparently a series of long bus rides spent staring at a cobbled-together wormhole detector that refused to detect. They were on their sixth transfer courtesy of an oyster card he'd dug out from somewhere in his transdimensional pockets. She sat by the aisle as he insisted he need a window seat for 'very scientific reasons, Rose.' She believed none of it, of course, but she let him have the window seat anyway, as she'd refused to let him buy (and promptly eat) seven aero bars with the money he'd dug up with the oyster card.
An argument at the front of the bus caught her attention as the Doctor frowned and covertly sonicked the WDM (wormhole detection machine). There was some sort of problem with a woman dressed in black. She couldn't catch what the driver was saying, but the woman pulled off her earrings and thrust them at him before making her way down the aisle. The door closed and the bus pulled away and Rose's eyes narrowed. The woman was young, with blue eyes and dark brown hair. She had a bag slung over her shoulder that was full of strange bulges and a steady, appraising gaze that darted around as she slid into the seat across from theirs. Rose smiled at her and the woman nodded in acknowledgement before turning her attention back out the window. Yes-definitely something off about her.
A series of soft beeps pulled Rose's attention away and beside her the Doctor tensed. "We've got excitation," he told her with a grin. "Which is exactly what I was hoping for, and also very strange, and I swear, Rose, once this is sorted we'll go straight to Sarah Jane's."
"S'okay, Doctor," she assured him. "We've got a time machine and all; it would be a shame to never use it."
The bus turned into a tunnel and the WDM's lights blinked in time to the beeps. Sirens drifted faintly from behind them and out of the corner of her eye Rose saw the strange woman stiffen. "What is it doing, again?" she asked, nodding at the device cradled in his hands. One problem at a time, Tyler, she told herself firmly.
"It's detecting Rhondium particles," he reminded her. "They form in microscopic quantities as a byproduct of the wormhole interacting with Earth's atmosphere and attempting to stabilize. The little dish," he nodded to the top of the device, "should go 'round when we approach the edge."
As he spoke it began to rotate, and rotate, and rotate. The beeping grew louder and closer until it was nearly continuous. "Is it supposed to do that?" Rose asked.
The Doctor's eyes were wide. "The concentration just spiked!"
"Meaning?" she demanded.
"The wormhole got bigger."
Two rows behind the Doctor and Rose an older woman grabbed her husband's arm. She looked around wildly, brow furrowed.
"Carmen?" her husband asked softly.
"The voices, Lou!" she replied. "Can't you hear them? They're all around us!" She let go and covered her ears. "They're so loud!"
The WDM shrieked once and then the lights flickered and faded, the dish stopped turning, and a thin column of smoke drifted from the center. The Doctor swore and dropped it.
"Overloaded," he bit out and then he stood. "Hold on tight!" he shouted. The other passengers stared at him and he demonstrated, bracing himself against seat in front of him. Rose followed suit, she'd long ago stopped asking, and just in time.
The world went dark around them and the bus rattled and shook. Moments later the light was back and much brighter than before. The impact was bone rattling and Rose's head hit the seat in front of her with enough force to jar her teeth. They slid for a time as metal groaned and people screamed until the momentum slowed and the bus stopped. Rose stood on legs made shaky by adrenaline and the Doctor held out a hand to steady her. She waved him away and took a deep breath. "Go on, then," she said and nodded to the outside. He flashed a grin at her and bounded out. The woman in black followed after she uncurled from her position between two seats. Her hair was out of place, but otherwise she seemed fine. Rose turned her attention to the other passengers.
The older couple were Carmen and Lou, a West Indian couple who had relocated to London when they were first married. Carmen was nervous and kept glancing about but she seemed unharmed. Lou had some nasty bruises on his arm where he'd hit the side of the seat in front of them but Rose couldn't feel any broken bones. The most serious injury belonged to Angela, who had been sitting in front of the Doctor and Rose. She had a nasty cut above her eye that Rose set to work cleaning, inspecting it for broken glass as she went. Several of the windows shattered during the trip and tiny splinters of glass littered the floor.
Outside the Doctor shielded his eyes and stared out over the rolling sand dunes that vanished into the horizon. It wasn't Earth, no, the sand was too orange, and three suns were high in a sky overhead that was a bit greener than the atmosphere on Earth. They were somewhere else entirely, somewhere that did not look remotely familiar (or possibly too familiar to name, he wasn't sure). It was far away, though-the TARDIS was just a glimmer in the back of his mind, a vague sensation of worry and irritation and the press of an alien consciousness against his.
The sound of footsteps in the sand behind him pulled the Doctor away from his communion with the TARDIS. "Bit further than Brixton," he said casually and inhaled deeply. There was something-off about the atmosphere. Something that made his brain itch-something he should recognize. The woman didn't notice, but then she was human so he didn't hold it against her. She pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the black bag slung over her shoulder; unusual, as it had been raining in London-for the past week, in fact. He cocked an eyebrow at her and the corner of her lip tilted up in a smug grin.
"Prepared for every occasion," she said and joined him, looking out over the desolate landscape.
It was the work of a moment to sonic the lenses of his glasses dark and she watched with obvious interest. He slid them home and dropped into a crouch, running his fingers through the sand. It was there too, the strangeness, and he dropped a pinch of sand on his tongue. He had excellent taste buds this time around, practically bursting with relevant information but the only thing they told him was wrong, the sand was wrong. Also disgusting and he spit it out, making a face as he did. "Eugh. Definitely not good."
"What's your name, then?" the woman in black asked.
He popped back up, running a hand through his hair as he turned in a circle, taking in the dilapidated bus and its position (wheels buried deep in the sand). "I'm the Doctor."
She crossed her arms. "I said name, not rank."
He tilted his head to the side, studying the air just behind the bus. There was a faint waver indicating the position of the wormhole, which appeared to be fixed, at least on this end. "I told you-the Doctor."
"Let me guess," she replied as she rolled her eyes. "Your surname, also the Doctor?"
He grinned at her. "Now you're catching on. And since we're introducing ourselves, what's yours?"
"Christina," she replied with a bit of a smile.
"And your rank and surname?"
"Lady," she told him, "and de Souza."
"Are you a doctor?" Angela asked as Rose finished cleaning the cut above her eye and pulled a tube of superglue out of her pocket. One positive of living with a Time Lord, the stupidly small pockets on women's clothing were finally useful.
"No," Rose said as she unscrewed the cap and carefully applied the glue to the cut. "I just know a bit of first aid."
Barclay, a young black man in a red t-shirt, was standing at the top of the stairs to the second story, scanning the landscape for any sign of help. Nathan, the last passenger, spoke with the driver in hushed voices. Behind them Lou was trying to get Carmen to leave the bus but she refused.
"They're everywhere, Lou," she said with tears standing in her eyes. "Voices-the voices of the dead."
"Turn your head for me, Angela," Rose instructed, careful to keep her voice calm. The last thing they needed was hysterics. "I need to reach the other side.
The woman did and she flinched, nearly falling out of the seat. "There's three sun!" she exclaimed.
"We're not on Earth," Barclay confirmed. "We can't be!"
"It's like when the planets showed up in the sky," Nathan said from the front of the bus.
"Yeah," Barclay agreed, "but that time it was the Earth moved. Where are we?"
The Doctor chose that moment to enter, of course, followed by the woman in black. The others watched him warily as he strode to where Rose and Angela were seated.
"You had that machine!" Barclay said and pointed at the Doctor. "I saw you! Did you do this?"
"Me?" the Doctor asked, clearly surprised. "Nah, I was just tracking a wormhole-never thought I'd end up going through one! Thing is," he knelt by Rose and studied Angela's cut. "The hole I was tracking was tiny, not dangerous to anything larger than a sparrow-until it suddenly got big and we went right through it. The amount of energy it would take to generate a dimensional portal of that size is, well, astronomical."
"Where are we?" Rose asked.
He straightened. "Working on it."
"Nowhere you recognize?"
He shook his head. "There are thousands of desert planets and millions of planets with deserts on them. Narrowing it down is going to take a while."
"But how did we get here?" the driver wanted to know.
The Doctor led everyone besides Carmen and Lou out of the bus. They blinked as their eyes watered and adjusted to the bright light. "You'll want sunscreen," he informed them, "if you have it. Three suns means three times as much radiation-try not to stay in direct sun too long unless you're looking to burn."
"What about you?" Christina asked.
"I'm fine," he told her and gestured to the space just behind the bus. "Here it is-the edge of the portal." He scooped up a handful of sand and threw it. As the sand impacted the air shimmered and shook in a ragged circle just larger than the bus.
"If it's still here we can still go back," the driver reasoned, and started towards it. "I can get help."
"Don't!" the Doctor yelled but it was too late. As the driver reached the edge of the wormhole fire sprang up around and over him. For a moment he hovered, desperately trying to turn but his momentum was too great. He hung in the air as the flesh dissolved, leaving only charred bones to fall back to London. Angela screamed, Christina took a step back, Nathan looked ill and shaky. Rose's lips pulled into a thin line as the scent of burning flesh hit her and closed her eyes in revulsion.
"What the hell?" Barclay shouted, eyes wide and scared. "He was just bones!"
The Doctor sagged beside her. "We survived because the bus came through," he explained in a flat, toneless voice. "It protected us from the electric field the wormhole generated, a great big metal box."
"Like a Faraday cage." Christina, at least, seemed to have recovered her composure.
"Like a car in a thunderstorm," Nathan agreed. "Safest place to be, all that metal conducts the lightning right through." He was pale still, and plainly shocked, but he was thinking.
"A Faraday cage needs to be closed," Christina pointed out as she gestured to the top of the bus. It was in tatters, clearly damaged by its passage through the wormhole. "This one is wide open."
"How are we going to get back if we can't travel in the bus?" Angela asked. Her voice shook.
"We'll figure something out," Rose said firmly.
The Doctor stared at the bus, eyes narrowed in thought. "There should be enough metal left to shield us," he mused. "Hopefully, anyway."
"No TARDIS and no dimension cannon," Rose reminded him. "There has to be enough metal, 'cause it looks like our on
ly way back."
Features: The 10th Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Astrid Peth, the 5th Doctor, the Brigadier, UNIT, Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, Rhys Williams, Mickey Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, River Song, Jenny, Lee MacAvoy and others.
Pairings: Doctor/Rose, Jack/Ianto, Martha/Mickey
A/N: Third update in three weeks, how about that. As usual nothing you recognize belongs to me, some dialogue taken from Planet of the Dead. And cookies to whoever can tell me the relationship between the planet mentioned in chapter 63 and The Winter's Tale, by William Shakespeare. :D
(Earlier Entries) ( Chapter Sixty-One) ( Chapter Sixty-Two) ( Chapter Sixty-Three)
The lights were on in the kitchen when the Doctor opened the door. It was unusual; as the resident alien and being least in need of sleep he was used to being the first (and only) one awake. Occasionally Rose joined him for a late-night cuppa, if she was feeling restless or plagued by dreams, but it was Donna who sat at the table set off to the side of the homey room. A half-full mug of tea sat in front of her and her head rested on her hands. She didn't move when he entered and he approached her cautiously.
"All right, then?" the Doctor asked.
She shrugged but didn't raise her head. "Couldn't sleep. Wanted some tea."
He left her to it and went through the daily mechanics of making breakfast (not that he had much to do, really, tea and toast and a banana was not exactly a feat of culinary engineering). When the tea was steaming in his favorite mug and the toast was buttered and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and cut neatly into triangles on a plate he sat down across from Donna and started peeling his banana (they were low-time for another trip to Villengard).
"I could take you back to London, if you'd like," he offered after a moment. "You could stay for a bit longer, spend some time with your mum and Wilf, see Lee again."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, spaceman?" This time she did look up and cocked an eyebrow at him. "The two of you only picked me up yesterday. You can't have gotten bored of me already."
"No!" he replied. "No, no, no, no. I just-you look like you could use a break."
"Not all of us can look as good as you do after a night with no sleep." Donna ran a hand through her hair and yawned.
"You could take a bit of a kip." The Doctor closed his eyes, considering. "Rose should be asleep for, oh-thirty seven minutes."
Donna stared at him. "And that's not weird at all."
"Not if you're a Time Lord."
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The Doctor finished his banana and Donna sipped her tea. When she set the empty mug on the table she cleared her throat. "Lee and I have a date next week, next Earth week. D'you think you'll be able to take me for a visit then?"
"Are you impugning my piloting skills?" he asked.
She snorted. "Just a bit, Mr. Pompeii-not-Rome, and Rose told me all about 1869 and twelve-months-not-twelve-hours."
"Considering we're working with all of time and space I think a few slip-ups are completely understandable," he sniffed, and bite of his toast. "I'll land you on any day you like, Donna. I'll even keep the TARDIS parallel to Earth, temporally."
"You can do that?" For the first time in their travels, Donna sounded properly impressed.
"Well." He cleared his throat. "Rose can. She's got a calendar, helps her keep track, make sure we don't cross time lines or end up somewhere too early."
"Of course she does," Donna replied with a laugh. Her eyes dropped and she studied the dregs of her tea intently. "You're lucky to have her, spaceman. She keeps you grounded."
"Yeah," he agreed. "I know. And-I'm glad you found Lee again."
She smiled. "Thanks."
The kitchen door swung open and a disheveled Rose, clad in pyjamas decorated with lime green sheep and yawning profusely stumbled in. The Doctor pushed back his chair and moved to the sink while Donna hid a smile behind a yawn. Three years of traveling on a ship with essentially no set timeline and who knows how many years of traveling on her own and Rose was still definitely not a morning person. She slid into a seat across from Donna and rested her head on her arms, which were folded on the table.
"I'll just pop off to get ready," Donna said and withdrew, shutting the door gently as she left.
The Doctor produced more tea and two slices of toast spread with peanut butter. He set them down in front of Rose and refilled his own mug, carefully adding far too much sugar for anyone who wasn't a Time Lord with a sweet tooth. Rose perked up as the tea's warm, comforting scent broke through her sleepy haze. She lifted her head enough to take a sip and hummed appreciatively. By the time her mug was empty and the toast was eaten she appeared visibly more awake and aware. The Doctor remained as he was, tea untouched and rapidly cooling on the table in front of him. Rose touched his arm and he startled, his eyes returning to hers after a moment's hesitation.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He smiled widely. "Nothing at all, love, just contemplating our next trip. D'you think Donna would like Florizel? There's this brilliant market in Perdita-that's the capital-and I was thinking-"
"Doctor." She wasn't fooled, not for one minute. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I don't believe you."
He leaned back in his chair and looked away. "You aren't going to let this go, are you."
"Nope." She popped the 'p.' "Easier for everyone involved if you just tell me."
The corners of his mouth turned down and his lips pulled into a thin line as he turned his attention to his stone-cold tea. "Donna's leaving."
"What!" Rose sat up straight and frowned. "Now? Why?"
"Not now, as such," he admitted. "In a week. She has a date with Lee."
Rose rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Well, what did you say it like that for, then? It's just a visit; I thought you meant she was leaving for good!"
"She will," he said softly. "This is how it begins, just dates, but then it's long weekends and trips to Spain and then she'll be getting married and moving into a house that's the same size inside as out with carpets and doors and two-point-five children."
"Is that even possible?" Rose asked.
"You know what I mean." He refused to be baited. "Everyone leaves in the end."
Rose covered his hand with her own. "Not everyone. Not me."
"That's what Donna said." He shifted his hand so he could lace his fingers with hers but his voice was low and solemn and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Donna wanted that kind of life," Rose countered. "The first time you met her she was getting married, remember? And then she got trapped in that virtual world where she had exactly the life she always dreamed of. She deserves a life t hat makes her happy, a life that she chooses."
"What about you?" He studied their joined hands. "Don't you deserve those things too? I-I can't give you children, Rose. What if you wake up one day and realize youv'e wasted decades of your life?"
"Never gonna happen." The certainty in her voice startled him into finally looking at her. A fierce determination burned in her eyes, a blazing focus usually reserved for people who tried to destroy a planet or separate them. "I found my way cross the Void, Doctor. I remade myself. I walked through hell on Earth for a year not because I missed the TARDIS or this life, as wonderful as they both are. I did all of those things because I love you. Because above everything else-I pick you. And I always will. What is it going to take for you to believe me?"
"I do believe you, Rose." He held her hand with both of his and turned to face her more fully. "I just-I want you to be happy."
"You daft man." She smiled at him and the fir subsided, buried in the force of her fond amusement. "I am happy. Maybe Donna needs those things-kids and a house and all of that-but I don't. I've only ever needed you."
"That, you can have." He kissed her then, because he had no idea what he did to deserve her, but if someone would tell him what it was he would happily do it for the rest of his life.
They went to Florizel because the Doctor wasn't lying; the hydrocatalizer could was due for a tune-up and Perdita, the capital city, had an excellent bazaar for those in search of technology at reasonable prices. This meant, of course, that Rose needed him to braid her hair again. He didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed the closeness of the moment. It was too easy to get lost in the madness and chaos of their life. When he lost her that was what he wanted: to bury himself in sound and sensation until he could breathe again. But she was back, and even though she'd been back for more than a year he found himself filing tiny, quiet moments away, a store against a time when she was gone again. Rose would live a very long time but he might live longer and he didn't want to forget a single moment. He braided Donna's hair as well in a different style; she didn't have quite the bearing of command that Rose could muster and this way they could pass through the city unrestricted.
Donna thought it was hilarious. "Are we going to paint our nails later, then?" she asked. "I've got a purpose that would go lovely with your eyes."
"Don't know if I could pull off purpose," he replied. "And it would clash with my suit."
"Could do pink," she offered with a wicked smile.
He frowned. "Definitely not. Rose wears enough pink for the both of us. Now hold still-this bit's tricky."
She ignored him, of course. Following instructions was not in Donna's nature. "Where did you even learn to braid hair?"
"I'm brilliant," the Doctor said. "Honestly, have you not been paying attention?"
Rose, who was lounging on the jump seat with a trashy magazine from 70th century Mars rolled her eyes and flipped the page. "You sure you're not siblings? Cos the two of you are worse than Shireen and her sister."
"Me?" Donna exclaimed. "Related to that skinny streak of nothing? You have got to be joking."
Stepping out of the TARIDS onto the surface of Florizel was like stepping into a furnace. Rose stripped off the light cardigan she'd grabbed just in case and Donna left the shawl that went with her pale green sundress. The Doctor, as always, appeared unaffected. Dunes of red sand stretched as far as Rose could see as she shielded her eyes with her hand. There were two suns in the sky. The first was small and pale yellow and the second was larger and more orange. Both were high in the sky.
The TARDIS stood just outside the city walls, which were at least forty foot tall and whitewashed until they gleamed.
"Why couldn't we park inside, again?" Donna asked as they waited in the slowly moving line that stretched out from the doors cut into the thick stone.
"Because that would be rude," The Doctor reminded her. "And Florians take rudeness very seriously. Also because there's an antimaterialization field that covers the entire city."
"What would happen if you tried?" Rose asked, curious.
"Remember that time we got caught in that plasma storm out by the horse head nebula?"
She shuddered. "Oh."
"Yeah." He nodded.
"That bad?" Donna was plainly skeptical.
"My bruises had bruises," Rose said and waved her hand in front of her face, desperate for a breeze.
Inside Perdita the streets were broad and shielded from the sun by brightly colored canopies that stretched from building to building. Beneath them the air was noticeably cooler and filled with the cries of vendors hawking food and merchandise from sturdy carts. Men and women alike wore loose, flowing robes that were stained with red dust where they dragged in the dirt. They were taller than the Doctor, even, with an orange cast to their skin, Space travel was obviously not unknown; off-worlders and outsiders, some in Florian garb and some in clothes similar to Rose and Donna's made up a decent percentage of the crowd.
They stopped at a café beneath a green awning and purchased chilled fruit skewers before separating, the Doctor to find his parts and Rose and Donna to wander through the rest of the market. Rose snapped a picture of Donna haggling with a wizened old man over a flimsy, nearly transparent purple scarf and smiled. Six thin, opalescent bracelets tinkled around her wrists from one of the first stalls.
"Fortunes told," a soft, musical voice said from just behind her. "Discover what the future holds for you." The speaker was a Florian woman with laughter lines at the corners of her lips and eyes and brown hair that hung, unbraided, to her waist.
Rose glanced back at Donna, who, judging by the sour look on the man's face, had gotten her preferred price and gestured at a dress behind him. "Yeah," Rose said and turned back to the woman. "I'll give it a go."
The fortune teller's booth was draped with layers of gauzy red fabric that rustled softly as they sat on draped stools opposite each other. A small table stood between them and the woman took Rose's hand and turned it gently so that it was resting palm-up on the smooth wood. She traced her fingertips over the lines and calluses of Rose's skin and Rose twitched. It tickled.
"So," she said with a crooked grin. "This is where you tell me you see a dark, handsome stranger, yeah?"
"I could," the woman allowed with an answering smile. "But that is for silly girls who want fairy tales. No, you have come here for something else. Children, perhaps? No-you would not believe me if I tried. Why are you here, then? They call you a flower, and you are beautiful, but there is something more about you-something of the wolf."
Rose stiffened. "What?" she asked, her eyes searching the woman's face. "What did you just say?" Goosebumps spread from the hackles on her neck down her arms and the woman's grip on her hand tightened.
"A warning then, for you, wolf-woman. Through fire and death it is returning." She tapped her finger against the center of Rose's palm. Tap tap tap tap.
Rose wrenched her hand away and stumbled to her feet. "That's over," she snapped. "He's gone."
"That is the warning." The woman's face was impassive.
"It's impossible."
"And that word means so much to you, does it?" the woman asked as she leaned closer. Rose shivered and her hands curled into fists.
"Rose?" Donna's voice from her shoulder broke the tension abruptly and Rose startled. "Everything all right?" The ginger woman carried a bag over her arm and looked back and forth between Rose and the fortune teller suspiciously.
"Yeah." Rose exhaled roughly. "Everything's fine." She left two silver coins on the table and smiled brightly at Donna. "Let's find the Doctor." As they walked away the sharp retort of the fortune teller's long nails against the surface of the table followed her: tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
Later, after they found the Doctor with a cloth-wrapped bundle under his arm and Donna vanished into her room with her phone, Rose sat on the jump seat with her latest find from the library. The Doctor was half-under the console, muttering softly to himself as he swapped out the new bits for the hydrocatalizers. An easy silence drifted between them, the sort that sprang up between two people who were eminently comfortable with each other. Rose turned her attention from the Doctor's sock-clad feet (they were labeled with the days of the week, bless) and to her book.
After three seconds she nearly threw it across the room in frustration. The fortune teller's words ran circles around her brain and she pushed them down but they kept coming back. The Master was dead. The Doctor burned his body. And even if he was alive, the Doctor would know, he would feel it.
"Rose?"
She lifted her head. The Doctor knelt before her, shirtsleeves around his elbows and grease smudged next to his nose. "Yeah?"
He studied her over the rims of his glasses. "Everything alright?"
She pushed the doubts away. Words, they were just words. "Yeah." She gave him the smile he loved, the one with a bit of her tongue caught between her teeth. "S'like you said-trouble's just the bits inbetween."
Eight days, six trips, three prison cells, and two near-executions later and Rose was ready for a breather. Donna's date with Lee would do nicely. They dropped her off in Cardiff next to the Hub and she waved goodbye as Lee materialized from the shadows.
"D'you think we should visit Jack?" Rose asked. "Or maybe Mickey or Martha? I bet they'd love to see you."
"Maybe later." He wandered around the console, running his hand over the switches and levers and bicycle pump. "I was thinking that today we could visit Sarah Jane."
She cocked her head to the side and stared at him. "Really?"
He ran a hand through his artfully disheveled hair. "The two of you get on disturbingly well, albeit at my expense." He shot her a stern look and she smiled back at him, completely unrepentant. "And I can change. I don't go back, yeah-but maybe I should."
"Can you say that again?" Rose asked as the corners of her mouth curled up. "And on camera?"
"Rose Tyler!" he exclaimed. "The cheek on you! Just for that-why don't you start the dematerialization sequence? And no help from the peanut gallery," he said with a glance at the TARDIS ceiling.
Rose bit her lip and mimicked him, running her hands over the buttons and levers. She has seen this dance a thousand times, even if she was moderately sure that half of his gyrations weren't actually necessary. The lights overhead flickered and she chuckled. "Pretty sure the TARDIS doesn't like being called the peanut gallery, Doctor."
"She knows what I mean." He leaned against the railing, arms crossed and feet planted. "Can't have her helping you."
Her hand hovered over brass button for a moment, and then Rose began. Halfway through the monitor started flashing and she frowned. "Don't think it's supposed to do that, is it, Doctor?"
He slipped his specs on and leaned forward, eyes intent. "Nope, definitely not." He studied the monitor and the longer he looked the higher his eyebrows climbed. His fingers danced across the keyboard beneath the monitor and the swirling circular characters of his native tongue flashed across the screen.
"Problem?" she asked as his eyes narrowed.
"Just a bit. She picked up a concentration of Rhodium particles bouncing around London." He tapped the screen and it zoomed in on a small, pulsing mauve signature. He straightened, frowning. "But that's a wormhole-in London!" He turned towards her, glasses perched firmly on his nose, his lips already forming the words and Rose held up her hand.
"Yeah," she said. "We can chase this wormhole and then go to Sarah Jane's."
When Rose agreed to go wormhole hunting she'd thought of something along the lines of a quick jaunt through London, led by one of the Doctor's brilliant devices. Well, there was a device, yeah, but his idea of a quick jaunt was apparently a series of long bus rides spent staring at a cobbled-together wormhole detector that refused to detect. They were on their sixth transfer courtesy of an oyster card he'd dug out from somewhere in his transdimensional pockets. She sat by the aisle as he insisted he need a window seat for 'very scientific reasons, Rose.' She believed none of it, of course, but she let him have the window seat anyway, as she'd refused to let him buy (and promptly eat) seven aero bars with the money he'd dug up with the oyster card.
An argument at the front of the bus caught her attention as the Doctor frowned and covertly sonicked the WDM (wormhole detection machine). There was some sort of problem with a woman dressed in black. She couldn't catch what the driver was saying, but the woman pulled off her earrings and thrust them at him before making her way down the aisle. The door closed and the bus pulled away and Rose's eyes narrowed. The woman was young, with blue eyes and dark brown hair. She had a bag slung over her shoulder that was full of strange bulges and a steady, appraising gaze that darted around as she slid into the seat across from theirs. Rose smiled at her and the woman nodded in acknowledgement before turning her attention back out the window. Yes-definitely something off about her.
A series of soft beeps pulled Rose's attention away and beside her the Doctor tensed. "We've got excitation," he told her with a grin. "Which is exactly what I was hoping for, and also very strange, and I swear, Rose, once this is sorted we'll go straight to Sarah Jane's."
"S'okay, Doctor," she assured him. "We've got a time machine and all; it would be a shame to never use it."
The bus turned into a tunnel and the WDM's lights blinked in time to the beeps. Sirens drifted faintly from behind them and out of the corner of her eye Rose saw the strange woman stiffen. "What is it doing, again?" she asked, nodding at the device cradled in his hands. One problem at a time, Tyler, she told herself firmly.
"It's detecting Rhondium particles," he reminded her. "They form in microscopic quantities as a byproduct of the wormhole interacting with Earth's atmosphere and attempting to stabilize. The little dish," he nodded to the top of the device, "should go 'round when we approach the edge."
As he spoke it began to rotate, and rotate, and rotate. The beeping grew louder and closer until it was nearly continuous. "Is it supposed to do that?" Rose asked.
The Doctor's eyes were wide. "The concentration just spiked!"
"Meaning?" she demanded.
"The wormhole got bigger."
Two rows behind the Doctor and Rose an older woman grabbed her husband's arm. She looked around wildly, brow furrowed.
"Carmen?" her husband asked softly.
"The voices, Lou!" she replied. "Can't you hear them? They're all around us!" She let go and covered her ears. "They're so loud!"
The WDM shrieked once and then the lights flickered and faded, the dish stopped turning, and a thin column of smoke drifted from the center. The Doctor swore and dropped it.
"Overloaded," he bit out and then he stood. "Hold on tight!" he shouted. The other passengers stared at him and he demonstrated, bracing himself against seat in front of him. Rose followed suit, she'd long ago stopped asking, and just in time.
The world went dark around them and the bus rattled and shook. Moments later the light was back and much brighter than before. The impact was bone rattling and Rose's head hit the seat in front of her with enough force to jar her teeth. They slid for a time as metal groaned and people screamed until the momentum slowed and the bus stopped. Rose stood on legs made shaky by adrenaline and the Doctor held out a hand to steady her. She waved him away and took a deep breath. "Go on, then," she said and nodded to the outside. He flashed a grin at her and bounded out. The woman in black followed after she uncurled from her position between two seats. Her hair was out of place, but otherwise she seemed fine. Rose turned her attention to the other passengers.
The older couple were Carmen and Lou, a West Indian couple who had relocated to London when they were first married. Carmen was nervous and kept glancing about but she seemed unharmed. Lou had some nasty bruises on his arm where he'd hit the side of the seat in front of them but Rose couldn't feel any broken bones. The most serious injury belonged to Angela, who had been sitting in front of the Doctor and Rose. She had a nasty cut above her eye that Rose set to work cleaning, inspecting it for broken glass as she went. Several of the windows shattered during the trip and tiny splinters of glass littered the floor.
Outside the Doctor shielded his eyes and stared out over the rolling sand dunes that vanished into the horizon. It wasn't Earth, no, the sand was too orange, and three suns were high in a sky overhead that was a bit greener than the atmosphere on Earth. They were somewhere else entirely, somewhere that did not look remotely familiar (or possibly too familiar to name, he wasn't sure). It was far away, though-the TARDIS was just a glimmer in the back of his mind, a vague sensation of worry and irritation and the press of an alien consciousness against his.
The sound of footsteps in the sand behind him pulled the Doctor away from his communion with the TARDIS. "Bit further than Brixton," he said casually and inhaled deeply. There was something-off about the atmosphere. Something that made his brain itch-something he should recognize. The woman didn't notice, but then she was human so he didn't hold it against her. She pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the black bag slung over her shoulder; unusual, as it had been raining in London-for the past week, in fact. He cocked an eyebrow at her and the corner of her lip tilted up in a smug grin.
"Prepared for every occasion," she said and joined him, looking out over the desolate landscape.
It was the work of a moment to sonic the lenses of his glasses dark and she watched with obvious interest. He slid them home and dropped into a crouch, running his fingers through the sand. It was there too, the strangeness, and he dropped a pinch of sand on his tongue. He had excellent taste buds this time around, practically bursting with relevant information but the only thing they told him was wrong, the sand was wrong. Also disgusting and he spit it out, making a face as he did. "Eugh. Definitely not good."
"What's your name, then?" the woman in black asked.
He popped back up, running a hand through his hair as he turned in a circle, taking in the dilapidated bus and its position (wheels buried deep in the sand). "I'm the Doctor."
She crossed her arms. "I said name, not rank."
He tilted his head to the side, studying the air just behind the bus. There was a faint waver indicating the position of the wormhole, which appeared to be fixed, at least on this end. "I told you-the Doctor."
"Let me guess," she replied as she rolled her eyes. "Your surname, also the Doctor?"
He grinned at her. "Now you're catching on. And since we're introducing ourselves, what's yours?"
"Christina," she replied with a bit of a smile.
"And your rank and surname?"
"Lady," she told him, "and de Souza."
"Are you a doctor?" Angela asked as Rose finished cleaning the cut above her eye and pulled a tube of superglue out of her pocket. One positive of living with a Time Lord, the stupidly small pockets on women's clothing were finally useful.
"No," Rose said as she unscrewed the cap and carefully applied the glue to the cut. "I just know a bit of first aid."
Barclay, a young black man in a red t-shirt, was standing at the top of the stairs to the second story, scanning the landscape for any sign of help. Nathan, the last passenger, spoke with the driver in hushed voices. Behind them Lou was trying to get Carmen to leave the bus but she refused.
"They're everywhere, Lou," she said with tears standing in her eyes. "Voices-the voices of the dead."
"Turn your head for me, Angela," Rose instructed, careful to keep her voice calm. The last thing they needed was hysterics. "I need to reach the other side.
The woman did and she flinched, nearly falling out of the seat. "There's three sun!" she exclaimed.
"We're not on Earth," Barclay confirmed. "We can't be!"
"It's like when the planets showed up in the sky," Nathan said from the front of the bus.
"Yeah," Barclay agreed, "but that time it was the Earth moved. Where are we?"
The Doctor chose that moment to enter, of course, followed by the woman in black. The others watched him warily as he strode to where Rose and Angela were seated.
"You had that machine!" Barclay said and pointed at the Doctor. "I saw you! Did you do this?"
"Me?" the Doctor asked, clearly surprised. "Nah, I was just tracking a wormhole-never thought I'd end up going through one! Thing is," he knelt by Rose and studied Angela's cut. "The hole I was tracking was tiny, not dangerous to anything larger than a sparrow-until it suddenly got big and we went right through it. The amount of energy it would take to generate a dimensional portal of that size is, well, astronomical."
"Where are we?" Rose asked.
He straightened. "Working on it."
"Nowhere you recognize?"
He shook his head. "There are thousands of desert planets and millions of planets with deserts on them. Narrowing it down is going to take a while."
"But how did we get here?" the driver wanted to know.
The Doctor led everyone besides Carmen and Lou out of the bus. They blinked as their eyes watered and adjusted to the bright light. "You'll want sunscreen," he informed them, "if you have it. Three suns means three times as much radiation-try not to stay in direct sun too long unless you're looking to burn."
"What about you?" Christina asked.
"I'm fine," he told her and gestured to the space just behind the bus. "Here it is-the edge of the portal." He scooped up a handful of sand and threw it. As the sand impacted the air shimmered and shook in a ragged circle just larger than the bus.
"If it's still here we can still go back," the driver reasoned, and started towards it. "I can get help."
"Don't!" the Doctor yelled but it was too late. As the driver reached the edge of the wormhole fire sprang up around and over him. For a moment he hovered, desperately trying to turn but his momentum was too great. He hung in the air as the flesh dissolved, leaving only charred bones to fall back to London. Angela screamed, Christina took a step back, Nathan looked ill and shaky. Rose's lips pulled into a thin line as the scent of burning flesh hit her and closed her eyes in revulsion.
"What the hell?" Barclay shouted, eyes wide and scared. "He was just bones!"
The Doctor sagged beside her. "We survived because the bus came through," he explained in a flat, toneless voice. "It protected us from the electric field the wormhole generated, a great big metal box."
"Like a Faraday cage." Christina, at least, seemed to have recovered her composure.
"Like a car in a thunderstorm," Nathan agreed. "Safest place to be, all that metal conducts the lightning right through." He was pale still, and plainly shocked, but he was thinking.
"A Faraday cage needs to be closed," Christina pointed out as she gestured to the top of the bus. It was in tatters, clearly damaged by its passage through the wormhole. "This one is wide open."
"How are we going to get back if we can't travel in the bus?" Angela asked. Her voice shook.
"We'll figure something out," Rose said firmly.
The Doctor stared at the bus, eyes narrowed in thought. "There should be enough metal left to shield us," he mused. "Hopefully, anyway."
"No TARDIS and no dimension cannon," Rose reminded him. "There has to be enough metal, 'cause it looks like our on
ly way back."