Fic: A Warning, From Me To You
Title: A Warning, From Me To You
Author: the_magpye
Rating: All ages
Pairing: Doctor/Rose, implied.
A/N: This is me, trying to get back into writing for Doctor Who. Also, an experiment in first person, which I haven't really used before and am a little worried about. *headdesk* I don't pretend to think this is worth anything, but I need to get it out there anyway, otherwise I'll never get back to writing for Who. >.< I hope you enjoy this little snapshot anyway. Any comments at all will be greeting with large hugs. :) Also, un-beta'd - so any error-picking gets much credit.
Summary: Rose Tyler has a rather annoying habit of turning your life upside-down if you get too close. She's a bit like a car wreck; because yeah, you could die, but bloody hell - why not go out in style? A story of how life progressed in the alternate universe post-DD, told by an observer who had the misfortune to get too close.
A Warning, From Me To You
I didn’t choose to work at Torchwood for any real purpose; far from it, times were hard and there was more going out of my little pokey London flat than there was coming in. I took what little I could. Working on reception for an organisation that stopped alien invasions seemed to be just as good as doing temp work, and the pay wasn’t all that bad.
So it continued. Another job, another nine to five, another turn and circle of the boring, boring life.
And then Rose Tyler walked through the door.
&&&
The first time I saw her, it was on the cover of a magazine. Maybe in the hairdressers a few months before I started work, while I was stranded in that gaping chasm between being made redundant and starting the desperate search for the smallest way to earn some cash. I tried not to pay too much attention to the glowing world of celebrity - I had enough to juggle with my own life and misfortune, thank you very much. Seeing other people being successful was just depressing.
But what can I say? I was bored, the hairdresser was late, and Heat was staring up at me from the little glass table. I picked it up and there she was; all blonde hair, swinging bag and oversized folder shielding her face from the glare of the flashbulbs. There was a short biography - age, star sign, education, the usual - and an article, something about tiredness, late night parties and mysterious disappearances. I scanned it absently but it wasn’t long until the hairdresser tapped me on the shoulder. I shrugged, left the magazine behind and life went on.
In the end, I didn’t like the haircut. By the time I joined Torchwood it had grown out, discarded and forgotten like that copy of Heat. But little did I know that the distant figure captured in between the neat lines of print would soon become more real to me than my family and money worries put together.
&&&
“You’re new, then?”
Oddly enough, she didn’t sound anything like I’d imagined. No posh accent, no airs and graces or trademarks of the ‘rural finishing school’ where she'd allegedly been hidden away for X number of years; just a little Estuary, the rasp of roll of vowels so familiar from ordinary Londoners on the street, shopkeepers and the group of teens I’d spoken to once during that one-month job in marketing.
I nodded once, searched for words to say in welcome or sarcasm or something (really, I had no idea what I was going to say and won’t bother trying to hide it) but she was already smiling, setting down her jacket and bag, scooping out a pass and handing it to me with practiced ease.
“Here. Just scan it, code up. The stupid thing never used to work for Dan, either. But then again he was a guy.” Her smile was wide and didn’t reach her eyes at all; they remained untouched, out of reach. “I’m sure you can do a much better job, right?”
“Yeah,” I replied, a little cautious. After all, it wasn’t every day that one found themselves enjoying small talk with a celebrity - especially not on a Monday. “You had a male receptionist?”
Rose chuckled. “Mh-hm. He’s up in Research now, poor lad. Just out of school. But that’s enough about that. Aliens to keep an eye on, invasions to stop. The universe doesn’t slow down for Mondays.” She peered at me closely for a few long moments. Something in her face spoke of acceptance, friendliness. Most of the ice thawed from her eyes, leaving only the core, that final protection. “Anyway… I’ll see you later. If you need help finding coffee, let me know?”
“Okay, Ms. Tyler.”
She was walking away and didn’t look back as she said,
“Rose. It’s just Rose.”
It sounded well-practiced, world-weary and I decided immediately that Rose Tyler was someone I could get on with. Someone I liked? Probably. I was usually a good judge of characters and she seemed like... well, a friend. Looking back, I wonder why at that point, I didn’t just run away screaming, quit my job and go and live in a hermitage somewhere, far away from aliens and darkness and the end of the world. When I told her this, one sunny day last week, she just laughed and scrubbed her hands through her hair.
“Running is always a good plan, but sometimes it’s better to fight. Isn't that right?”
I still don’t know just how much I agree with her, but something tells me I would be sure of her choice, whichever one it was. If there’s anyone I want to be standing behind at the end of the world, it is Rose Tyler.
&&&
When aliens invaded the reception foyer, I didn’t really know what to do. This was not in my job description. At all. There is no Alien Combat GCSE, no ‘How To Fight For Your Life For Dummies’ - only my bratty cousin's Xbox and a few perilous encounters with desperate guys in bars and clubs.
Which is why, when confronted with something resembling walking snot wielding a rather impressive-looking gun, I decided the best option would be to go for the standard male defence tactic. Five minutes later, the snot-monsters were rolling around on the shiny white floor, guns abandoned and making a hell of a job for the cleaners. The expression on Rose Tyler’s face when she ran down the stairs - accompanied by several SWAT-style men in leather with guns not half as impressive as the aliens - was worth every well-placed kick. And the broken heel.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t worth the letter that landed on my doormat a few days later, requesting that I join Field Agent training. Effective immediately.
&&&
“Urgh.”
Lying face-down in the mud, I was too busy mourning the loss of my nice clean uniform shirt to notice the splash of blonde hair squatting in front of me.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“You all right?”
“…”
She laughed. “Okay, you don’t need to answer that.” An arm came down to haul me to my feet. “Come on, the training session’s over now. The other team got caught before you. You’ve passed this time.”
The news did little to cheer me up. It only meant another few weeks of hell while we went through scenario after scenario under the watchful eye of our instructors - Rose was all right, but I was certain that Mickey and Jake were out to make our lives a misery. They were bloody well succeeding too.
“… why me?”
It wasn’t meant to be a question, but Rose answered anyway.
“Your average receptionist wouldn’t be able to take out an entire attack squad of Garanians single-handed. Pete was very impressed.”
“I didn’t pick this job for the bloody aliens.”
The blonde fixed me with a stare. There was something unfathomable in her eyes, something so very painful that it made my breath catch in my throat. Her lips tilted at the edges.
“Neither did I.”
Because of that wistful smile, that infinite sadness, my troubles suddenly felt small, overwhelmed by something much larger than money worries and a bit of rain and mud. I immediately resolved to stop moping. We went and had a cup of tea, and a few hours later I was back out on Dartmoor, running away from a team of ‘alien’ agents.
I tried my best to ignore the memory of her face. Deep inside, I shuddered, and hoped that I never had the need to look like that. But still… interest itched.
‘What could possibly have hurt her that much?’
&&&
My curiosity hadn’t abated at all when I was promoted again a few months later. Rose collected me from the mass barracks beneath the tower, towed me along an endless maze of corridors until we were at the very top, standing on a thin piece of metal in the giddy heights above London. Zeppelins floated past at eye level - at this point, I remembered exactly how much I hated high places.
When we first walked into the white room, it was blinding. I made out a number of black figures in various states of relaxation across the room - a woman at a computer, two men playing cards across a table, another woman looking out of the window at the human-ants scurrying through their tiny tunnels below. The last figure stood and came over - all I saw was long dark hair and a friendly smile.
“Gwen, meet our newest team member.”
And that was that. I was welcomed into the fold - Tosh was sweet, if a little secluded. Mickey and Jake were much nicer now that I wasn’t in training. Owen was an ass. Ianto brought coffee and conversation. Gwen was a friend. And Rose? Rose was our leader.
But that didn’t mean she was infallible. On that first day, Jake pulled me aside.
“Look… with Rose, you need to be careful what you say. She’s been through a lot, that woman, and we try very hard not to add to it.”
“What?”
‘What could she possibly have been through? She’s a celebrity!’ My words sat unspoken in the air, and Jake shook his head.
“She’ll tell you, eventually. I think she trusts you already, so it probably won’t be too long.” A little smile and nod and he was walking away, back to work. Unable to do anything else in the face of this new information, I did the same.
&&&
I wouldn’t get my answers until the stars started going out. I’d been a field agent in Rose’s team for almost two years, senior member for a year after that - a participant in the Dimension Cannon project for the same amount of time. And still I didn’t know this unspoken secret.
The skies went dark on a Friday. Shouting voices from radio, TV, broadcast zeppelins told people not to panic but human instinct was overriding. Crowds rushed through empty streets and little burning pockets of anarchy broke out across the city, festering like wounds with black blood spreading, staining person after to person until whole districts were rebelling, screaming and crying to be saved by the saviours who weren't really saviours at all.
Torchwood was pretty much disintegrating; field agents were out fighting. The board of directors were in an emergency meeting at some mansion in the countryside. All the admin staff had set down office supplies with shaking hands - some had walked calmly, others had run, some even tried to beat the Olympic one hundred metre record.
I watched them go from the top of the stairs, remembering a day long ago when I had been one of them. One of the crowd. One of the people who could run away, happy and blind in their ignorance, trusting in the authorities to solve the deadly problem bleeding out in the sky above their heads. Now, I didn’t have that luxury. I was one of the few that knew exactly what was going on. I had a responsibility. I was important.
And so I went to find Rose.
The door to the meeting room was swinging off its hinges. The walls were bare, white and stark against the darkness creeping in from the line of windows. Papers littered the floor, the tables, the pile of folders propped against the twin levers embedded in the blank concrete slab - deadlocked. No ghosts here.
“Rose?”
My voice echoed oddly, but the figure kneeling on the floor didn’t look up.
“Rose? Where are the others? Jake, Mickey? Gwen, Owen, Ianto? Tosh?"
She raised her head slowly and I took a step back, stunned at the change that had come across this woman - my leader, my friend. All life had fled; only the bare bones of humanity remained, the truth of all those moments where I had glanced over at her and she was looking away, lips turned down and lost in thought, eyes bearing that terrible emptiness that I could never understand, never taste the true depth of - because I had never fallen to that deep, dark place where only the brave or dying dared venture.
I had my answer about the others, and the tears burned my eyes like acid.
“I have to go.”
I looked down; clasped between her clenching fingers was the blueprint for the Dimension Cannon - untested, incomplete. Dangerous as stepping into Hell.
“What?? Are you mad?” 'No. Nonono. I can't lose you, too!'
The horrible emptiness fled and Rose returned: not the Rose of laughing lunch breaks and fish and chips on Friday. This wasn’t even the Rose of Earth invasions, street chases and races against time, against life and death and everything in between - but something far harder, steely and determined. This Rose was from a different furnace altogether. This was something inhuman. Something I had never seen or known before.
Her voice didn't waver.
“No. I have to try and find him.”
I didn’t know who ‘him’ was. But the look in her eyes told me everything.
“Who is it, Rose? God, can he help us?”
A chuckle rasped from her throat, half-hearted but genuine. For a moment, she was the old Rose again. A candle flickering before it was extinguished, I thought, and felt horrible.
“If anyone can save this universe, it’s him. And that’s why I have to go.”
“What’s his name?” I found that I had to ask, remembering a rainy day on Dartmoor and that longing branded across her face as plain as the screaming newsprint that sparked panic when the stars started to go out.
Her face changed again. And all of the little things I’d learnt about her over the years slid against each other, rough edges and corners that never quite fit together properly. But with that look, something clicked and fell into place and I was left standing on the edge of everything, looking down at the endless pit.
Rose smiled, and it burned like the sun.
“The Doctor.”
The button swinging around her neck gleamed. She was gone.
Our world ended a few hours after she left. The darkness swallowed us up whole, and I died knowing that Rose Tyler was out there somewhere, still trying to save the world. My last thought was for her and her Doctor, and the truth I had seen waiting for me at the bottom of that pit - all of me in all of the universes in all and all - and I wished them luck at the end of all things, because that was the only gift I could give them.
&&&
Life came back like a slap in the face. I was on my back in one of the tech rooms. My head was throbbing hangover-style, and my last memory was of a desperate search for one of the DC transporters, a half-dreamed mad idea of following Rose across the parallels, helping her find this ‘Doctor’ of hers and stop the darkness.
My fingers were stiff; I was hanging on to a clipboard, a sheet of paper… a signing out sheet? There were three names; Rose Tyler (even when the world was ending, she still followed the bloody procedure) Mickey Smith and Jacqueline Tyler (what?). Seething, I threw it into a corner. No wonder I couldn’t find the stupid things!
… but if the world was back, did that mean Rose had done it?
That hadn’t occurred to me before. Warmth seeped into my bones and I could feel myself smiling, climbing to my feet and laughing long and loud, on and on until I was crying, gasping for breath and throwing my arms wide to greet the sun beaming through the window.
Darkness no more!
When I ran out of breath and the tears stopped falling, I went back to work.
What else was I supposed to do?
&&&
Rose was back two days later. And she wasn’t alone. There was a man, with crazy hair and a blue suit, brown eyes older than the centuries and smile as white as the walls of our meeting room. He and she were in the paper. Gramps gave it me at breakfast. I just rolled my eyes and ate my toast.
The day after, Rose brought him into work. The blonde came stumbling into the office, laughing at something the man was saying, words spilling out almost too fast for me to keep up - and most of it sounded like a different language anyway, for the amount of sense it made. The stress lines were gone from her eyes and mouth, and she looked far younger than I’d ever seen her before. The shadows were gone. She was human again. The pair came to a stop in front of me, hands tangled together in a happy mess; Rose was grinning gleefully, but when the man glanced over at me, he looked like he’d been slapped.
‘What,’ I wondered. ‘I know my hair's crap today, but really!’
“Doctor… this is Donna Noble. Donna, meet the Doctor.”
I held a hand out to shake. This ‘Doctor’ just watched me dumbly, mouth half-open and blinking like an idiot. I got impatient.
“Oi.”
He snapped to attention.
“Oh- I’m sorry, it’s very nice to meet you, Ms Noble! I’m the Doctor.”
I eyed him for a moment.
“I know, she just told me that.” I smirked at Rose. “And Donna’s fine. You know, I’d hug you for saving the world, but I’d probably get a papercut.”
He looked at me strangely, something dawning across his face. And then he laughed, bright and joyous, and hugged me anyway. I decided, while almost being strangled by this skinny rake of a man, that life at Torchwood was going to get decidedly more interesting.
Who was I to know exactly how much?
Author: the_magpye
Rating: All ages
Pairing: Doctor/Rose, implied.
A/N: This is me, trying to get back into writing for Doctor Who. Also, an experiment in first person, which I haven't really used before and am a little worried about. *headdesk* I don't pretend to think this is worth anything, but I need to get it out there anyway, otherwise I'll never get back to writing for Who. >.< I hope you enjoy this little snapshot anyway. Any comments at all will be greeting with large hugs. :) Also, un-beta'd - so any error-picking gets much credit.
Summary: Rose Tyler has a rather annoying habit of turning your life upside-down if you get too close. She's a bit like a car wreck; because yeah, you could die, but bloody hell - why not go out in style? A story of how life progressed in the alternate universe post-DD, told by an observer who had the misfortune to get too close.
A Warning, From Me To You
I didn’t choose to work at Torchwood for any real purpose; far from it, times were hard and there was more going out of my little pokey London flat than there was coming in. I took what little I could. Working on reception for an organisation that stopped alien invasions seemed to be just as good as doing temp work, and the pay wasn’t all that bad.
So it continued. Another job, another nine to five, another turn and circle of the boring, boring life.
And then Rose Tyler walked through the door.
&&&
The first time I saw her, it was on the cover of a magazine. Maybe in the hairdressers a few months before I started work, while I was stranded in that gaping chasm between being made redundant and starting the desperate search for the smallest way to earn some cash. I tried not to pay too much attention to the glowing world of celebrity - I had enough to juggle with my own life and misfortune, thank you very much. Seeing other people being successful was just depressing.
But what can I say? I was bored, the hairdresser was late, and Heat was staring up at me from the little glass table. I picked it up and there she was; all blonde hair, swinging bag and oversized folder shielding her face from the glare of the flashbulbs. There was a short biography - age, star sign, education, the usual - and an article, something about tiredness, late night parties and mysterious disappearances. I scanned it absently but it wasn’t long until the hairdresser tapped me on the shoulder. I shrugged, left the magazine behind and life went on.
In the end, I didn’t like the haircut. By the time I joined Torchwood it had grown out, discarded and forgotten like that copy of Heat. But little did I know that the distant figure captured in between the neat lines of print would soon become more real to me than my family and money worries put together.
&&&
“You’re new, then?”
Oddly enough, she didn’t sound anything like I’d imagined. No posh accent, no airs and graces or trademarks of the ‘rural finishing school’ where she'd allegedly been hidden away for X number of years; just a little Estuary, the rasp of roll of vowels so familiar from ordinary Londoners on the street, shopkeepers and the group of teens I’d spoken to once during that one-month job in marketing.
I nodded once, searched for words to say in welcome or sarcasm or something (really, I had no idea what I was going to say and won’t bother trying to hide it) but she was already smiling, setting down her jacket and bag, scooping out a pass and handing it to me with practiced ease.
“Here. Just scan it, code up. The stupid thing never used to work for Dan, either. But then again he was a guy.” Her smile was wide and didn’t reach her eyes at all; they remained untouched, out of reach. “I’m sure you can do a much better job, right?”
“Yeah,” I replied, a little cautious. After all, it wasn’t every day that one found themselves enjoying small talk with a celebrity - especially not on a Monday. “You had a male receptionist?”
Rose chuckled. “Mh-hm. He’s up in Research now, poor lad. Just out of school. But that’s enough about that. Aliens to keep an eye on, invasions to stop. The universe doesn’t slow down for Mondays.” She peered at me closely for a few long moments. Something in her face spoke of acceptance, friendliness. Most of the ice thawed from her eyes, leaving only the core, that final protection. “Anyway… I’ll see you later. If you need help finding coffee, let me know?”
“Okay, Ms. Tyler.”
She was walking away and didn’t look back as she said,
“Rose. It’s just Rose.”
It sounded well-practiced, world-weary and I decided immediately that Rose Tyler was someone I could get on with. Someone I liked? Probably. I was usually a good judge of characters and she seemed like... well, a friend. Looking back, I wonder why at that point, I didn’t just run away screaming, quit my job and go and live in a hermitage somewhere, far away from aliens and darkness and the end of the world. When I told her this, one sunny day last week, she just laughed and scrubbed her hands through her hair.
“Running is always a good plan, but sometimes it’s better to fight. Isn't that right?”
I still don’t know just how much I agree with her, but something tells me I would be sure of her choice, whichever one it was. If there’s anyone I want to be standing behind at the end of the world, it is Rose Tyler.
&&&
When aliens invaded the reception foyer, I didn’t really know what to do. This was not in my job description. At all. There is no Alien Combat GCSE, no ‘How To Fight For Your Life For Dummies’ - only my bratty cousin's Xbox and a few perilous encounters with desperate guys in bars and clubs.
Which is why, when confronted with something resembling walking snot wielding a rather impressive-looking gun, I decided the best option would be to go for the standard male defence tactic. Five minutes later, the snot-monsters were rolling around on the shiny white floor, guns abandoned and making a hell of a job for the cleaners. The expression on Rose Tyler’s face when she ran down the stairs - accompanied by several SWAT-style men in leather with guns not half as impressive as the aliens - was worth every well-placed kick. And the broken heel.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t worth the letter that landed on my doormat a few days later, requesting that I join Field Agent training. Effective immediately.
&&&
“Urgh.”
Lying face-down in the mud, I was too busy mourning the loss of my nice clean uniform shirt to notice the splash of blonde hair squatting in front of me.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“You all right?”
“…”
She laughed. “Okay, you don’t need to answer that.” An arm came down to haul me to my feet. “Come on, the training session’s over now. The other team got caught before you. You’ve passed this time.”
The news did little to cheer me up. It only meant another few weeks of hell while we went through scenario after scenario under the watchful eye of our instructors - Rose was all right, but I was certain that Mickey and Jake were out to make our lives a misery. They were bloody well succeeding too.
“… why me?”
It wasn’t meant to be a question, but Rose answered anyway.
“Your average receptionist wouldn’t be able to take out an entire attack squad of Garanians single-handed. Pete was very impressed.”
“I didn’t pick this job for the bloody aliens.”
The blonde fixed me with a stare. There was something unfathomable in her eyes, something so very painful that it made my breath catch in my throat. Her lips tilted at the edges.
“Neither did I.”
Because of that wistful smile, that infinite sadness, my troubles suddenly felt small, overwhelmed by something much larger than money worries and a bit of rain and mud. I immediately resolved to stop moping. We went and had a cup of tea, and a few hours later I was back out on Dartmoor, running away from a team of ‘alien’ agents.
I tried my best to ignore the memory of her face. Deep inside, I shuddered, and hoped that I never had the need to look like that. But still… interest itched.
‘What could possibly have hurt her that much?’
&&&
My curiosity hadn’t abated at all when I was promoted again a few months later. Rose collected me from the mass barracks beneath the tower, towed me along an endless maze of corridors until we were at the very top, standing on a thin piece of metal in the giddy heights above London. Zeppelins floated past at eye level - at this point, I remembered exactly how much I hated high places.
When we first walked into the white room, it was blinding. I made out a number of black figures in various states of relaxation across the room - a woman at a computer, two men playing cards across a table, another woman looking out of the window at the human-ants scurrying through their tiny tunnels below. The last figure stood and came over - all I saw was long dark hair and a friendly smile.
“Gwen, meet our newest team member.”
And that was that. I was welcomed into the fold - Tosh was sweet, if a little secluded. Mickey and Jake were much nicer now that I wasn’t in training. Owen was an ass. Ianto brought coffee and conversation. Gwen was a friend. And Rose? Rose was our leader.
But that didn’t mean she was infallible. On that first day, Jake pulled me aside.
“Look… with Rose, you need to be careful what you say. She’s been through a lot, that woman, and we try very hard not to add to it.”
“What?”
‘What could she possibly have been through? She’s a celebrity!’ My words sat unspoken in the air, and Jake shook his head.
“She’ll tell you, eventually. I think she trusts you already, so it probably won’t be too long.” A little smile and nod and he was walking away, back to work. Unable to do anything else in the face of this new information, I did the same.
&&&
I wouldn’t get my answers until the stars started going out. I’d been a field agent in Rose’s team for almost two years, senior member for a year after that - a participant in the Dimension Cannon project for the same amount of time. And still I didn’t know this unspoken secret.
The skies went dark on a Friday. Shouting voices from radio, TV, broadcast zeppelins told people not to panic but human instinct was overriding. Crowds rushed through empty streets and little burning pockets of anarchy broke out across the city, festering like wounds with black blood spreading, staining person after to person until whole districts were rebelling, screaming and crying to be saved by the saviours who weren't really saviours at all.
Torchwood was pretty much disintegrating; field agents were out fighting. The board of directors were in an emergency meeting at some mansion in the countryside. All the admin staff had set down office supplies with shaking hands - some had walked calmly, others had run, some even tried to beat the Olympic one hundred metre record.
I watched them go from the top of the stairs, remembering a day long ago when I had been one of them. One of the crowd. One of the people who could run away, happy and blind in their ignorance, trusting in the authorities to solve the deadly problem bleeding out in the sky above their heads. Now, I didn’t have that luxury. I was one of the few that knew exactly what was going on. I had a responsibility. I was important.
And so I went to find Rose.
The door to the meeting room was swinging off its hinges. The walls were bare, white and stark against the darkness creeping in from the line of windows. Papers littered the floor, the tables, the pile of folders propped against the twin levers embedded in the blank concrete slab - deadlocked. No ghosts here.
“Rose?”
My voice echoed oddly, but the figure kneeling on the floor didn’t look up.
“Rose? Where are the others? Jake, Mickey? Gwen, Owen, Ianto? Tosh?"
She raised her head slowly and I took a step back, stunned at the change that had come across this woman - my leader, my friend. All life had fled; only the bare bones of humanity remained, the truth of all those moments where I had glanced over at her and she was looking away, lips turned down and lost in thought, eyes bearing that terrible emptiness that I could never understand, never taste the true depth of - because I had never fallen to that deep, dark place where only the brave or dying dared venture.
I had my answer about the others, and the tears burned my eyes like acid.
“I have to go.”
I looked down; clasped between her clenching fingers was the blueprint for the Dimension Cannon - untested, incomplete. Dangerous as stepping into Hell.
“What?? Are you mad?” 'No. Nonono. I can't lose you, too!'
The horrible emptiness fled and Rose returned: not the Rose of laughing lunch breaks and fish and chips on Friday. This wasn’t even the Rose of Earth invasions, street chases and races against time, against life and death and everything in between - but something far harder, steely and determined. This Rose was from a different furnace altogether. This was something inhuman. Something I had never seen or known before.
Her voice didn't waver.
“No. I have to try and find him.”
I didn’t know who ‘him’ was. But the look in her eyes told me everything.
“Who is it, Rose? God, can he help us?”
A chuckle rasped from her throat, half-hearted but genuine. For a moment, she was the old Rose again. A candle flickering before it was extinguished, I thought, and felt horrible.
“If anyone can save this universe, it’s him. And that’s why I have to go.”
“What’s his name?” I found that I had to ask, remembering a rainy day on Dartmoor and that longing branded across her face as plain as the screaming newsprint that sparked panic when the stars started to go out.
Her face changed again. And all of the little things I’d learnt about her over the years slid against each other, rough edges and corners that never quite fit together properly. But with that look, something clicked and fell into place and I was left standing on the edge of everything, looking down at the endless pit.
Rose smiled, and it burned like the sun.
“The Doctor.”
The button swinging around her neck gleamed. She was gone.
Our world ended a few hours after she left. The darkness swallowed us up whole, and I died knowing that Rose Tyler was out there somewhere, still trying to save the world. My last thought was for her and her Doctor, and the truth I had seen waiting for me at the bottom of that pit - all of me in all of the universes in all and all - and I wished them luck at the end of all things, because that was the only gift I could give them.
&&&
Life came back like a slap in the face. I was on my back in one of the tech rooms. My head was throbbing hangover-style, and my last memory was of a desperate search for one of the DC transporters, a half-dreamed mad idea of following Rose across the parallels, helping her find this ‘Doctor’ of hers and stop the darkness.
My fingers were stiff; I was hanging on to a clipboard, a sheet of paper… a signing out sheet? There were three names; Rose Tyler (even when the world was ending, she still followed the bloody procedure) Mickey Smith and Jacqueline Tyler (what?). Seething, I threw it into a corner. No wonder I couldn’t find the stupid things!
… but if the world was back, did that mean Rose had done it?
That hadn’t occurred to me before. Warmth seeped into my bones and I could feel myself smiling, climbing to my feet and laughing long and loud, on and on until I was crying, gasping for breath and throwing my arms wide to greet the sun beaming through the window.
Darkness no more!
When I ran out of breath and the tears stopped falling, I went back to work.
What else was I supposed to do?
&&&
Rose was back two days later. And she wasn’t alone. There was a man, with crazy hair and a blue suit, brown eyes older than the centuries and smile as white as the walls of our meeting room. He and she were in the paper. Gramps gave it me at breakfast. I just rolled my eyes and ate my toast.
The day after, Rose brought him into work. The blonde came stumbling into the office, laughing at something the man was saying, words spilling out almost too fast for me to keep up - and most of it sounded like a different language anyway, for the amount of sense it made. The stress lines were gone from her eyes and mouth, and she looked far younger than I’d ever seen her before. The shadows were gone. She was human again. The pair came to a stop in front of me, hands tangled together in a happy mess; Rose was grinning gleefully, but when the man glanced over at me, he looked like he’d been slapped.
‘What,’ I wondered. ‘I know my hair's crap today, but really!’
“Doctor… this is Donna Noble. Donna, meet the Doctor.”
I held a hand out to shake. This ‘Doctor’ just watched me dumbly, mouth half-open and blinking like an idiot. I got impatient.
“Oi.”
He snapped to attention.
“Oh- I’m sorry, it’s very nice to meet you, Ms Noble! I’m the Doctor.”
I eyed him for a moment.
“I know, she just told me that.” I smirked at Rose. “And Donna’s fine. You know, I’d hug you for saving the world, but I’d probably get a papercut.”
He looked at me strangely, something dawning across his face. And then he laughed, bright and joyous, and hugged me anyway. I decided, while almost being strangled by this skinny rake of a man, that life at Torchwood was going to get decidedly more interesting.
Who was I to know exactly how much?