Time & Confusion
A Statement of Profit and Loss
Part 1 of ?
Time & Confusion
Through centuries of give and take, the Doctor always seemed to end up in the red. But today, with only a couple notes of currency, he just may make it into the black.
Rated Everybody (for now)
This is our future (from what we've heard)
And I've still got your hand
It feels like this could last forever
And I'm not doing this alone
They are let loose on London in a daze, this city that is at once familiar and foreign. So few words have been exchanged in the past twelve hours and yet she thinks, hopes somehow, she's reading the signals right and they're on the same page. Rose doesn't want to go 'home' yet. She's not ready to face the nearly-empty flat she's been (barely) sleeping in these past years. If they go 'home' this will be real - permanent and irreversible. She's not sure if she wants to face that truth.
So they wander. Aimlessly they walk through a native yet alien landscape. The world around them functions as a mirror, she thinks. The warmer-than-normal weight of her hand in his swings between them with an aching familiarity. But unlike before that is the only thing shared between them. No playful teasing, grandiose lectures on their surroundings, or comfortable reminiscing of previous adventures fill the gaping silence between them. It may as well be the Void for as disconnected as Rose feels from him right now.
The Doctor, for his part, finds himself at a complete loss for appropriate words for perhaps the first time in recent memory. His gob fails him utterly. Where once words seemed like unfashioned clay for him to mold at will, they now seem like land mines waiting to trap him and obliterate the offending breath that gave them life. He's not sure if there are phrases in any language to express his current feelings or assuage Rose's unspoken doubts. She's holding his hand, at least, and right now that is the only anchor holding him together.
With his other hand, he rifles unconsciously through his pocket. An instinctive inventory of his assets. It would be so easy to focus on the innumerable things he's lost today but the Doctor is nothing if not a survivor and he knows the only way to move forward is counting what he has - Rose, of course, being number one on that short list. Crumpled beneath bits and bobs that were crucial at the time but seem useless now is a bank note - ten quid, he remembers now - left over from an outing he took with Donna and her grandfather.
Tinged with nostalgia and grief, it's something. A small profit in a world of loss. Used the right way, it just may be enough.
He smells it before he sees it; the warm, golden scent wafting through the afternoon air. He hopes they taste the same in this world.
"Come on," he says, pulling Rose along with him in a distinct path to the chip shop.
"Chips?" Rose asks and despite everything she can't keep a small smile from breaking out across her face.
He returns her look with a grin of his own, almost giddy with the delight of causing her even the smallest happiness. "New first date," he tells her simply and approaches the window to order before she can react.
Rose giggles as she watches him produce money from his pocket like any old bloke, smoothing out the wrinkled paper absently. "What, you're paying now?"
The Doctor is still not sure what words will ruin or immortalize this moment, so he settles on a wink and a smirk as he trades his net worth in this universe for two orders of chips. His companion can't help but notice he doesn't wait for change as he hands Rose her share and gestures to an open cafe table.
They sit on opposite sides of the small table and eat in silence, but the quiet is a bit more companionable now. The scene is surreal. Shadows are long against the honeyed light of the approaching evening. The threat of a storm brings heavy clouds to soak up the incandescent colors of twilight. It could be any afternoon from their time together, a lull in the constant flurry of their adventures.
Rose thinks, her mind wandering to years of loneliness and longing, unrealistic and unfulfilled expectations, and better days. She contemplates the chips even as she consumes them. There's meaning to them, deep and important. It's continuity - one small proof that his memories are intact as he says. Then she speaks, because nothing is going to change if neither of them brings a voice to their inner turmoil.
"I was gonna run," she begins pensively, speaking right to him but avoiding his eyes. "Down that street or any street on any planet, any time. But no matter what, you were gonna be at the end of it. And then we'd hug like always but it'd be different this time. There'd be a kiss at the end, and maybe some words we never said. After everything…" she trails off, looking past him and far away. "But that was never gonna happen, was it?"
His lips draw into a firm line and for a moment Rose thinks he's not going to answer. He's reflecting, trying to pull together infinite and scattered thoughts in a newly limited mind. Analyzing a self that's no longer there. She deserves the truth but it should be delivered in the best way he can do it.
"I'd be lying if I said on some level I didn't want that," the Doctor answers in a measured tone. "But back then, the way I was - I'm not sure I could have given you what you wanted."
"And now?" she asks, hesitantly, as if this moment is fragile and one wrong sound or movement will shatter it completely.
"New, new, new Doctor," he chirps jauntily, a faint echo of words said before. "Ten-point-Five. Upgrades and downgrades. New features. Bugs fixed."
She laughs outright and he's glad because that's the whole point. He can make light of this, the losses they have suffered in this strange situation, as long as it will make her smile.
Rose nods in understanding of the meaning behind his jesting words. He's the same person but not. A little less and a little more. Similar enough to regeneration that she can almost wrap her head around it - as much as she ever could. It's all alien to her so why should this be any different?
"I meant what I said," he mumbles quietly, almost as if he doesn't want her to hear.
"What?" she asks seriously but there's a teasing edge just below her voice. "You've said a lot of things to me."
He leans back, adopting what he hopes is a casual, impartial pose. "All of it. Well," he amends, drawing out the word just as Rose remembers. "Maybe not the 'stupid ape' bit. That was a bit ruder than usual."
Rose smiles a little smile but it doesn't reach her eyes. She doesn't reply right away and the Doctor wonders if he's fallen into a pit of his own making. Said the wrong words, evoked the wrong memory. Before he can jump in to mend the presumed damage her arm dashes across the table to cover his open hand, small fingers curving delicately into his palm. Fingertips tap anxiously against his skin and pearly teeth bite her bottom lip as she regards the ground thoughtfully. She obviously has something to say, he can practically see the gears turning behind her eyes, so he waits barely daring to breathe.
"Doctor," Rose questions in a small voice and he tries not to let on how much his chest swells with hope at that one word. "About what you said," she begins in halting, uncertain words. "I don't want you to feel that way just because I'm the only one left."
She looks up and her eyes bravely meet his. This isn't a comfortable subject by any means but it has to be brought out into the open eventually. She hopes they can push past quickly and move on, like ripping a bandage from wounded skin. The scar remains but pain fades slowly over time. She wants to be open to the gift she's been given, as Donna described it, but she won't go into this blindly. There's been too much heartbreak already. After years of doubt and questions, Rose thinks it's time for some answers.
The Doctor swallows purposefully, trying to hold her stare without faltering. "That's hard to separate," he explains honestly. "And yet, to me, those are two completely independent facts. You are the only thing I have left, Rose Tyler. The only important thing. And I love you. One doesn't depend on the other."
Her heart flutters at those words spoken so freely but she presses on.
"But you didn't before," Rose pushes, lowering her gaze as though she fears the answer even as she asks the question. "When you weren't stuck here."
"I'm not stuck here," he pulls her hand toward him, cradling it protectively to his chest and urging her to look at him once again. To believe him. "This is a chance I thought I'd never have. I told you that. Do you remember?"
She nods, biting her lip again to staunch the tears threatening to roll over at yet another bad memory of that awful beach.
"I know this isn't what you expected," the Doctor admits, squeezing her hand. "But I can't say I'm unhappy to be here with you."
"Even if it means carpets and doors?" Rose flashes a cheeky smirk at him despite her watery eyes. "And a mortgage?"
To her surprise he doesn't grimace, just regards her hopefully. "Can I still share with you?"
"Yeah," she croaks and with a choked sob the tears do spill over her eyes. "Offer still stands."
The Doctor is at her side in what seems like an instant and the spell is broken. Any illusion that this could be a moment from their past is suddenly dissolved. Rose is hurled wildly into the here and now; into a world where her Doctor is part human and his walls have crumbled before her. Though she can remember him offering comfort before, there is something more impulsive and vulnerable in the way he gathers her up in his arms in this public place without a second's hesitation.
He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before he speaks, "Rose, please don't cry."
"S'alright," she assures him, reveling in his warmth around her. "I'm happy," Rose tells him even as her shoulders shake and her tears dampen his collar. She embraces him reflexively as though he might disappear at any moment.
He reciprocates automatically, squeezing her to him firmly and stroking her back gently in what he believes is a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry -"
Rose cuts him off. "Oh, stop it," she chuckles dryly as she puts her hands on his chest and pushes away slowly to look in his eyes. "No more 'I'm so sorry' anymore, yeah? Can you promise me that?"
He schools her with a serious look, "I don't think I can. I have a lot to apologize for."
He owes this woman so much. She's saved him, more than once. Made him better but also made him believe in something again. Brought light and life where there was once only darkness and death. He's in debt to her, now more than ever. With nothing to offer her, no prospects, home, or property, he's not sure how he will ever repay her.
"But you're staying, right?" Rose asks shyly and hopes she doesn't sound nearly as needy to his ears as she does to her own. "With me?"
The Doctor blinks, a blank expression on his face, and then nods slowly. "If you'll have me," he says, echoing the same uncertainty he displayed on the beach.
Because really, it's her decision. She didn't ask to be brought back here or to have him thrust upon her without warning. Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth and trans-dimensional traveler has earned the right to choose her own destiny. He doesn't want to force anything else on her from now onwards. Not even himself.
Rose doesn't give him long to doubt. The girl still accepting his embrace smiles beautifully. "Then consider us even."
He returns her smile but he knows they're not even. Not by a long shot. The Doctor has many things to answer for and he'll spend the rest of his (decidedly shortened) life making it up to her. Still, he can't help but be glad at her acceptance and even more pleased at making her smile.
His affection for her, long brewing beneath the surface in another life, is now at the forefront of his mind. A heady combination of love and unfamiliar biology. It's instinctive now for him to pull her back into their hug and place another lingering kiss to her temple. It feels more like a compulsion, this sudden need to be close to her. Even if it does manifest as Donna's voice ringing in his mind: hold her, you idiot.
After a few precious moments savoring these new developments, propriety returns to the couple as awareness of their surroundings creeps in. People walk by on the sidewalk, their idle chatter invading the private moment. Rose clears her throat and - with more reluctance than she would readily admit - detangles herself from his embrace.
"Ready?" she asks, smoothing her clothes out primly.
He gives her a small smile. "Yeah," he agrees and cleans up the mess they've made with their snack without prompting.
Rose adds 'conscientious' to her mental checklist of apparent upgrades in her new, new, new Doctor ten-point-five.
Their walk resumes in a quiet now charged with possibility. His hands are in his pockets and hers are wrapped around herself. They are close but not touching. Every so often, an errant look crosses the short distance. She meets his eyes for a fleeting second before dashing away with a blush and the stirrings of a smile.
It's like being back to the beginning. The history between them doesn't mean less but maybe now the more depressing parts can fade in favor of the potential between them. Rose will never know if she could have had more from the Time Lord in his magical blue box. It will be the question that keeps her up on a random Tuesday night someday. Along with a thousand other 'ifs' and 'maybes' that all seem to converge on endless white walls and an unfortunate lack of upper body strength. What she does know is that the man next to her today is hers, if she wants. And if the excited fluttering in her chest is anything to go by, she thinks maybe she wants.
As she starts to lead them in the general direction of her flat, the first drizzle comes down from the gathering gloom overhead. The world around them changes. A dusky sky gives everything a feeling of celluloid grey. Harsh edges of concrete and steel soften and fade into the mist. Wet pavement reflects the shine of streetlamps, glittering like stars in the distance. The vapor hangs in the air for a few moments, dampening everything, before the sky erupts with a full downpour.
As other people run and scramble inside stores and underneath awnings, Rose and the Doctor slow to a stop and look up at the surging sky.
"Atmospheric disturbance," he comments over the sound of the rain, meeting Rose's gaze. "This Earth didn't move but there are still effects. As you said, the stars were going out. We brought the universe back from the brink of darkness and the planet is just catching up."
Rose stares at him for a moment before she laughs at the absurdity of it all. Standing in an alternate London with an alternate Doctor in a very real and icy rainstorm. He frowns in confusion at first before he gives up and joins her.
Laughing, the Doctor grabs her hand and meets her eyes.
The "run" is implied.
Part 1 of ?
Time & Confusion
Through centuries of give and take, the Doctor always seemed to end up in the red. But today, with only a couple notes of currency, he just may make it into the black.
Rated Everybody (for now)
This is our future (from what we've heard)
And I've still got your hand
It feels like this could last forever
And I'm not doing this alone
They are let loose on London in a daze, this city that is at once familiar and foreign. So few words have been exchanged in the past twelve hours and yet she thinks, hopes somehow, she's reading the signals right and they're on the same page. Rose doesn't want to go 'home' yet. She's not ready to face the nearly-empty flat she's been (barely) sleeping in these past years. If they go 'home' this will be real - permanent and irreversible. She's not sure if she wants to face that truth.
So they wander. Aimlessly they walk through a native yet alien landscape. The world around them functions as a mirror, she thinks. The warmer-than-normal weight of her hand in his swings between them with an aching familiarity. But unlike before that is the only thing shared between them. No playful teasing, grandiose lectures on their surroundings, or comfortable reminiscing of previous adventures fill the gaping silence between them. It may as well be the Void for as disconnected as Rose feels from him right now.
The Doctor, for his part, finds himself at a complete loss for appropriate words for perhaps the first time in recent memory. His gob fails him utterly. Where once words seemed like unfashioned clay for him to mold at will, they now seem like land mines waiting to trap him and obliterate the offending breath that gave them life. He's not sure if there are phrases in any language to express his current feelings or assuage Rose's unspoken doubts. She's holding his hand, at least, and right now that is the only anchor holding him together.
With his other hand, he rifles unconsciously through his pocket. An instinctive inventory of his assets. It would be so easy to focus on the innumerable things he's lost today but the Doctor is nothing if not a survivor and he knows the only way to move forward is counting what he has - Rose, of course, being number one on that short list. Crumpled beneath bits and bobs that were crucial at the time but seem useless now is a bank note - ten quid, he remembers now - left over from an outing he took with Donna and her grandfather.
Tinged with nostalgia and grief, it's something. A small profit in a world of loss. Used the right way, it just may be enough.
He smells it before he sees it; the warm, golden scent wafting through the afternoon air. He hopes they taste the same in this world.
"Come on," he says, pulling Rose along with him in a distinct path to the chip shop.
"Chips?" Rose asks and despite everything she can't keep a small smile from breaking out across her face.
He returns her look with a grin of his own, almost giddy with the delight of causing her even the smallest happiness. "New first date," he tells her simply and approaches the window to order before she can react.
Rose giggles as she watches him produce money from his pocket like any old bloke, smoothing out the wrinkled paper absently. "What, you're paying now?"
The Doctor is still not sure what words will ruin or immortalize this moment, so he settles on a wink and a smirk as he trades his net worth in this universe for two orders of chips. His companion can't help but notice he doesn't wait for change as he hands Rose her share and gestures to an open cafe table.
They sit on opposite sides of the small table and eat in silence, but the quiet is a bit more companionable now. The scene is surreal. Shadows are long against the honeyed light of the approaching evening. The threat of a storm brings heavy clouds to soak up the incandescent colors of twilight. It could be any afternoon from their time together, a lull in the constant flurry of their adventures.
Rose thinks, her mind wandering to years of loneliness and longing, unrealistic and unfulfilled expectations, and better days. She contemplates the chips even as she consumes them. There's meaning to them, deep and important. It's continuity - one small proof that his memories are intact as he says. Then she speaks, because nothing is going to change if neither of them brings a voice to their inner turmoil.
"I was gonna run," she begins pensively, speaking right to him but avoiding his eyes. "Down that street or any street on any planet, any time. But no matter what, you were gonna be at the end of it. And then we'd hug like always but it'd be different this time. There'd be a kiss at the end, and maybe some words we never said. After everything…" she trails off, looking past him and far away. "But that was never gonna happen, was it?"
His lips draw into a firm line and for a moment Rose thinks he's not going to answer. He's reflecting, trying to pull together infinite and scattered thoughts in a newly limited mind. Analyzing a self that's no longer there. She deserves the truth but it should be delivered in the best way he can do it.
"I'd be lying if I said on some level I didn't want that," the Doctor answers in a measured tone. "But back then, the way I was - I'm not sure I could have given you what you wanted."
"And now?" she asks, hesitantly, as if this moment is fragile and one wrong sound or movement will shatter it completely.
"New, new, new Doctor," he chirps jauntily, a faint echo of words said before. "Ten-point-Five. Upgrades and downgrades. New features. Bugs fixed."
She laughs outright and he's glad because that's the whole point. He can make light of this, the losses they have suffered in this strange situation, as long as it will make her smile.
Rose nods in understanding of the meaning behind his jesting words. He's the same person but not. A little less and a little more. Similar enough to regeneration that she can almost wrap her head around it - as much as she ever could. It's all alien to her so why should this be any different?
"I meant what I said," he mumbles quietly, almost as if he doesn't want her to hear.
"What?" she asks seriously but there's a teasing edge just below her voice. "You've said a lot of things to me."
He leans back, adopting what he hopes is a casual, impartial pose. "All of it. Well," he amends, drawing out the word just as Rose remembers. "Maybe not the 'stupid ape' bit. That was a bit ruder than usual."
Rose smiles a little smile but it doesn't reach her eyes. She doesn't reply right away and the Doctor wonders if he's fallen into a pit of his own making. Said the wrong words, evoked the wrong memory. Before he can jump in to mend the presumed damage her arm dashes across the table to cover his open hand, small fingers curving delicately into his palm. Fingertips tap anxiously against his skin and pearly teeth bite her bottom lip as she regards the ground thoughtfully. She obviously has something to say, he can practically see the gears turning behind her eyes, so he waits barely daring to breathe.
"Doctor," Rose questions in a small voice and he tries not to let on how much his chest swells with hope at that one word. "About what you said," she begins in halting, uncertain words. "I don't want you to feel that way just because I'm the only one left."
She looks up and her eyes bravely meet his. This isn't a comfortable subject by any means but it has to be brought out into the open eventually. She hopes they can push past quickly and move on, like ripping a bandage from wounded skin. The scar remains but pain fades slowly over time. She wants to be open to the gift she's been given, as Donna described it, but she won't go into this blindly. There's been too much heartbreak already. After years of doubt and questions, Rose thinks it's time for some answers.
The Doctor swallows purposefully, trying to hold her stare without faltering. "That's hard to separate," he explains honestly. "And yet, to me, those are two completely independent facts. You are the only thing I have left, Rose Tyler. The only important thing. And I love you. One doesn't depend on the other."
Her heart flutters at those words spoken so freely but she presses on.
"But you didn't before," Rose pushes, lowering her gaze as though she fears the answer even as she asks the question. "When you weren't stuck here."
"I'm not stuck here," he pulls her hand toward him, cradling it protectively to his chest and urging her to look at him once again. To believe him. "This is a chance I thought I'd never have. I told you that. Do you remember?"
She nods, biting her lip again to staunch the tears threatening to roll over at yet another bad memory of that awful beach.
"I know this isn't what you expected," the Doctor admits, squeezing her hand. "But I can't say I'm unhappy to be here with you."
"Even if it means carpets and doors?" Rose flashes a cheeky smirk at him despite her watery eyes. "And a mortgage?"
To her surprise he doesn't grimace, just regards her hopefully. "Can I still share with you?"
"Yeah," she croaks and with a choked sob the tears do spill over her eyes. "Offer still stands."
The Doctor is at her side in what seems like an instant and the spell is broken. Any illusion that this could be a moment from their past is suddenly dissolved. Rose is hurled wildly into the here and now; into a world where her Doctor is part human and his walls have crumbled before her. Though she can remember him offering comfort before, there is something more impulsive and vulnerable in the way he gathers her up in his arms in this public place without a second's hesitation.
He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before he speaks, "Rose, please don't cry."
"S'alright," she assures him, reveling in his warmth around her. "I'm happy," Rose tells him even as her shoulders shake and her tears dampen his collar. She embraces him reflexively as though he might disappear at any moment.
He reciprocates automatically, squeezing her to him firmly and stroking her back gently in what he believes is a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry -"
Rose cuts him off. "Oh, stop it," she chuckles dryly as she puts her hands on his chest and pushes away slowly to look in his eyes. "No more 'I'm so sorry' anymore, yeah? Can you promise me that?"
He schools her with a serious look, "I don't think I can. I have a lot to apologize for."
He owes this woman so much. She's saved him, more than once. Made him better but also made him believe in something again. Brought light and life where there was once only darkness and death. He's in debt to her, now more than ever. With nothing to offer her, no prospects, home, or property, he's not sure how he will ever repay her.
"But you're staying, right?" Rose asks shyly and hopes she doesn't sound nearly as needy to his ears as she does to her own. "With me?"
The Doctor blinks, a blank expression on his face, and then nods slowly. "If you'll have me," he says, echoing the same uncertainty he displayed on the beach.
Because really, it's her decision. She didn't ask to be brought back here or to have him thrust upon her without warning. Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth and trans-dimensional traveler has earned the right to choose her own destiny. He doesn't want to force anything else on her from now onwards. Not even himself.
Rose doesn't give him long to doubt. The girl still accepting his embrace smiles beautifully. "Then consider us even."
He returns her smile but he knows they're not even. Not by a long shot. The Doctor has many things to answer for and he'll spend the rest of his (decidedly shortened) life making it up to her. Still, he can't help but be glad at her acceptance and even more pleased at making her smile.
His affection for her, long brewing beneath the surface in another life, is now at the forefront of his mind. A heady combination of love and unfamiliar biology. It's instinctive now for him to pull her back into their hug and place another lingering kiss to her temple. It feels more like a compulsion, this sudden need to be close to her. Even if it does manifest as Donna's voice ringing in his mind: hold her, you idiot.
After a few precious moments savoring these new developments, propriety returns to the couple as awareness of their surroundings creeps in. People walk by on the sidewalk, their idle chatter invading the private moment. Rose clears her throat and - with more reluctance than she would readily admit - detangles herself from his embrace.
"Ready?" she asks, smoothing her clothes out primly.
He gives her a small smile. "Yeah," he agrees and cleans up the mess they've made with their snack without prompting.
Rose adds 'conscientious' to her mental checklist of apparent upgrades in her new, new, new Doctor ten-point-five.
Their walk resumes in a quiet now charged with possibility. His hands are in his pockets and hers are wrapped around herself. They are close but not touching. Every so often, an errant look crosses the short distance. She meets his eyes for a fleeting second before dashing away with a blush and the stirrings of a smile.
It's like being back to the beginning. The history between them doesn't mean less but maybe now the more depressing parts can fade in favor of the potential between them. Rose will never know if she could have had more from the Time Lord in his magical blue box. It will be the question that keeps her up on a random Tuesday night someday. Along with a thousand other 'ifs' and 'maybes' that all seem to converge on endless white walls and an unfortunate lack of upper body strength. What she does know is that the man next to her today is hers, if she wants. And if the excited fluttering in her chest is anything to go by, she thinks maybe she wants.
As she starts to lead them in the general direction of her flat, the first drizzle comes down from the gathering gloom overhead. The world around them changes. A dusky sky gives everything a feeling of celluloid grey. Harsh edges of concrete and steel soften and fade into the mist. Wet pavement reflects the shine of streetlamps, glittering like stars in the distance. The vapor hangs in the air for a few moments, dampening everything, before the sky erupts with a full downpour.
As other people run and scramble inside stores and underneath awnings, Rose and the Doctor slow to a stop and look up at the surging sky.
"Atmospheric disturbance," he comments over the sound of the rain, meeting Rose's gaze. "This Earth didn't move but there are still effects. As you said, the stars were going out. We brought the universe back from the brink of darkness and the planet is just catching up."
Rose stares at him for a moment before she laughs at the absurdity of it all. Standing in an alternate London with an alternate Doctor in a very real and icy rainstorm. He frowns in confusion at first before he gives up and joins her.
Laughing, the Doctor grabs her hand and meets her eyes.
The "run" is implied.