(no subject)
Here You Leave Today, Ten/Rose, PG, 1,624 words
It's certainly not a Disney-issue uniform, which only makes Rose more anxious -- a stranger, a non-cast member, is running around the bowels of a ride, tinkering with things.
For the first time since Rose has worked there, they have to close down the entrance gates.
The park's at capacity -- at real capacity, the kind of capacity where the fire department can't look the other way while a few more guests trickle in, because those extra few guests could be the difference between a successful evacuation and a full scale tragedy.
Especially if they stop to take pictures on their way out. And they always stop to take pictures.
On top of the crowds -- or because of them -- it's sweltering inside the park. Rose has never been so glad to staff an indoor attraction.
When it's in the 70s and breezy and Shireen's got a gorgeous tan, out in the sun, helping little kids in to flying Dumbos, Rose might get a little jealous. Especially if it's a day that the inside of Space Mountain smells like soiled pants and body odor.
But on a day like today, Space Mountain could literally smell like Jimmy Stone getting sick in an alley and Rose would still be grateful to be somewhere air-conditioned.
Unfortunately, it seems like every guest has the same idea, and they all pack into the queues, jostling to get out of the outdoor pens and inside the building as fast as possible. Rose feels bad for whoever's working the split there today, they'll be yelled at more than a few times before the day's out. Unless it's Adam -- that little shit deserves a yelling. Or a slap.
Not that loading the ride isn't getting Rose her fair share of complaints. Guests that want to sit in the front. Guests that can't get the safety bar down. Guests that dropped their expensive sunglasses on the last turn. All of them made that much more aggressive by the heat and dehydration and a misplaced sense of entitlement. It's surprising just how foul-mouthed people are willing to get inside an amusement park.
It's only 10 minutes to her break when things get actually awful though. The ride stops. Two shuttles are on the tracks and she's loading the third when the control booth signals an error.
The auto-announcement rings over the speakers, thanking riders for their patience and assuring them the ride will be back in motion soon, and the entire crowd, the whole fucking building, groans in unison. Rose catches an older woman wearing three lanyards full of trading pins glaring right at her, like she's personally responsible.
It's not technically Rose's job -- at all -- to see what's going on, but the alarm will have already triggered a call to Mickey for repairs and she can at least start on the usual checks before he gets in.
With a wave at the control booth, she hops down the steps and makes her way through the doors that'll put her on the floor underneath the tracks. The emergency lights haven't come up yet, so it's still dark, meteor projections streaking across the ceiling.
She picks her way out to the center of the grates and looks up, trying to find a signal light or anything to indicate where the problem is. There's nothing Rose can see in any of the normal places, but she decides to stay out for just a bit longer -- at least until Mickey arrives.
The dark makes it seem so much cooler and with the ride's soundtrack stopped for the auto-announcements, it's almost peaceful -- the only noise is the occasional 'whoop!' from a rider in one of the two shuttles stuck on the tracks and some electrical whirring from the machines.
Rose is just making her way to the far wall, to sit down against and wait, when her foot collides with something. With someone.
The person she's kicked barely acknowledges her and Rose can just make out the shape of a man with messy hair hunched over the floor by the light of something he's got in his hand. It's glowing blue and he's got it angled down through where he's opened the grating. She opens her mouth to speak, to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, when the man pops up suddenly.
He grabs for her hand, yanking her away from the open grate with a command -- "Run!"
Rose is jerked back and running before she has time to think and the ride whirrs back to life, a burst of sparks in her peripheral vision shooting up from the floor in all directions.
The man, tall and skinny, and with a tight grip on her hand, zig-zags across the grates and pulls her through a door she's never been in. It's some sort of secondary control room, with low light and expensive looking equipment.
"Power center," he breathes, dropping her hand before aiming the blue light at one of the machines lining the walls.
Rose's heart is pounding when she finally gets a good look at him -- he's wearing a brown, pinstriped suit and Chuck Taylors. It's certainly not a Disney-issue uniform, which only makes Rose more anxious -- a stranger, a non-cast member, is running around the bowels of a ride, tinkering with things. She flashes back on the videos she watched in training, about reporting suspicious activity and presumed threats and national security.
"Who -- what --" Rose takes a breath, trying to steady herself, "What are you and who are you doing?"
Damn, so close.
The man rocks back on to his heels, the light in his hand flipping off as he turns to look at her, "What am I? I am trying to help. That second question seems a tad personal, I'll leave it be."
He sounds a little cheeky, but not like a homicidal maniac, and Rose relaxes a bit.
"Trying to help what? Is there a problem?" She sizes him up more, her eyes now adjusted to the low light of the room. He's got on thick-rimmed glasses and his hair is more than just messy, it's deliberately messy. So, probably not homeless then. He's also -- no harm in saying it if he's not trying to kill them all, right? -- he's also pretty fit.
"Well, I assumed you'd noticed the ride stopped, what with that lot out there and their groaning about it," he says and it's almost smug.
"Of course I noticed," she crosses her arms over her chest, "But Mickey's usually the one on repairs in Tomorrowland. Did you switch shifts or something? Are you new here?"
Rose idly thinks about whether it'd be inappropriate to ask her ex-boyfriend for details on the handsome new guy. Like how old he is (can't be more than mid-30s) and whether he's gay (probably, with her luck).
"No, I'm not new," he grins and Rose feels her cheeks go warm, "I'm very, very not new."
"What are you doing then? What was wrong?"
He rubs at the back of his neck, "It seems someone had maybe tried to configure the constellation projections so they were closer to the actual stars in location and relative brightness. In the process, this someone may have -- overwhelmed the circuitry."
"Oh," Rose isn't sure what to say to that. That's definitely something she should report, but running to file a bunch of paperwork is the last thing on her mind.
He turns back to the machine on the wall and gives it another zap with his blue light, "Should be fixed now though." He twirls the light in his hand and Rose can see it's a bit more high tech than standard Disney issue.
"So you just shine lights on things and they're repaired? Or broken?"
The man puffs out his chest a little, looking proud, "More than a light -- it's a sonic screwdriver."
"A screwdriver? Mickey's got a screwdriver, too, looks nothing like that." She squints at the alleged screwdriver.
"Mickey probably isn't owed at least 46 different favors from the boys over in Imagineering. Well, not your Mickey anyway, if he's a human."
"What would he be if not human?" Rose is more than a little intrigued now -- strange guy running around the park with fancy tools, talking about aliens or something. Whatever's happening with Shireen on Dumbo today, there's no way she's going to top this.
"A mouse? Mickey Mouse? How exactly did you get this job if you're not familiar with him? Anyway, the mouse Mickey could probably get the Imagineers to do some work, but your human Mickey, no way. They're not an easy lot to get in with. Took me years and I'm, well, me."
"And who is that? Who are you?" Rose can hear the ride working outside the door, shuttle-loads of guests screaming above them, but it was almost time for her break anyway. She'll just stick this out for a few more minutes.
"I'm the Doctor and you're Rose."
Rose isn't sure where to go first with that, "If you're a doctor, why aren't you in the clinics? And how did you know my name?"
"Not that kind of doctor," he brushes by her and taps her name tag with his finger, "Rose."
Oh.
She follows him out the door and back across the grating to another door she's never been through, "Where are you going? You can't just leave. I should write up an incident report."
"Come with me," the Doctor says abruptly, hand on the door handle.
"What? Come with you where?"
"To see Disneyland!" He looks positively gleeful and, for a moment, Rose wants to go anywhere, everywhere, with this man, to feel as happy as he looks in that instant.
"I work in Disneyland," Rose says. "I've seen it."
"Not like this," and with that, he's through the door, leaving Rose alone, under a roller coaster, surrounded by fake stars.
&&.
It's certainly not a Disney-issue uniform, which only makes Rose more anxious -- a stranger, a non-cast member, is running around the bowels of a ride, tinkering with things.
For the first time since Rose has worked there, they have to close down the entrance gates.
The park's at capacity -- at real capacity, the kind of capacity where the fire department can't look the other way while a few more guests trickle in, because those extra few guests could be the difference between a successful evacuation and a full scale tragedy.
Especially if they stop to take pictures on their way out. And they always stop to take pictures.
On top of the crowds -- or because of them -- it's sweltering inside the park. Rose has never been so glad to staff an indoor attraction.
When it's in the 70s and breezy and Shireen's got a gorgeous tan, out in the sun, helping little kids in to flying Dumbos, Rose might get a little jealous. Especially if it's a day that the inside of Space Mountain smells like soiled pants and body odor.
But on a day like today, Space Mountain could literally smell like Jimmy Stone getting sick in an alley and Rose would still be grateful to be somewhere air-conditioned.
Unfortunately, it seems like every guest has the same idea, and they all pack into the queues, jostling to get out of the outdoor pens and inside the building as fast as possible. Rose feels bad for whoever's working the split there today, they'll be yelled at more than a few times before the day's out. Unless it's Adam -- that little shit deserves a yelling. Or a slap.
Not that loading the ride isn't getting Rose her fair share of complaints. Guests that want to sit in the front. Guests that can't get the safety bar down. Guests that dropped their expensive sunglasses on the last turn. All of them made that much more aggressive by the heat and dehydration and a misplaced sense of entitlement. It's surprising just how foul-mouthed people are willing to get inside an amusement park.
It's only 10 minutes to her break when things get actually awful though. The ride stops. Two shuttles are on the tracks and she's loading the third when the control booth signals an error.
The auto-announcement rings over the speakers, thanking riders for their patience and assuring them the ride will be back in motion soon, and the entire crowd, the whole fucking building, groans in unison. Rose catches an older woman wearing three lanyards full of trading pins glaring right at her, like she's personally responsible.
It's not technically Rose's job -- at all -- to see what's going on, but the alarm will have already triggered a call to Mickey for repairs and she can at least start on the usual checks before he gets in.
With a wave at the control booth, she hops down the steps and makes her way through the doors that'll put her on the floor underneath the tracks. The emergency lights haven't come up yet, so it's still dark, meteor projections streaking across the ceiling.
She picks her way out to the center of the grates and looks up, trying to find a signal light or anything to indicate where the problem is. There's nothing Rose can see in any of the normal places, but she decides to stay out for just a bit longer -- at least until Mickey arrives.
The dark makes it seem so much cooler and with the ride's soundtrack stopped for the auto-announcements, it's almost peaceful -- the only noise is the occasional 'whoop!' from a rider in one of the two shuttles stuck on the tracks and some electrical whirring from the machines.
Rose is just making her way to the far wall, to sit down against and wait, when her foot collides with something. With someone.
The person she's kicked barely acknowledges her and Rose can just make out the shape of a man with messy hair hunched over the floor by the light of something he's got in his hand. It's glowing blue and he's got it angled down through where he's opened the grating. She opens her mouth to speak, to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, when the man pops up suddenly.
He grabs for her hand, yanking her away from the open grate with a command -- "Run!"
Rose is jerked back and running before she has time to think and the ride whirrs back to life, a burst of sparks in her peripheral vision shooting up from the floor in all directions.
The man, tall and skinny, and with a tight grip on her hand, zig-zags across the grates and pulls her through a door she's never been in. It's some sort of secondary control room, with low light and expensive looking equipment.
"Power center," he breathes, dropping her hand before aiming the blue light at one of the machines lining the walls.
Rose's heart is pounding when she finally gets a good look at him -- he's wearing a brown, pinstriped suit and Chuck Taylors. It's certainly not a Disney-issue uniform, which only makes Rose more anxious -- a stranger, a non-cast member, is running around the bowels of a ride, tinkering with things. She flashes back on the videos she watched in training, about reporting suspicious activity and presumed threats and national security.
"Who -- what --" Rose takes a breath, trying to steady herself, "What are you and who are you doing?"
Damn, so close.
The man rocks back on to his heels, the light in his hand flipping off as he turns to look at her, "What am I? I am trying to help. That second question seems a tad personal, I'll leave it be."
He sounds a little cheeky, but not like a homicidal maniac, and Rose relaxes a bit.
"Trying to help what? Is there a problem?" She sizes him up more, her eyes now adjusted to the low light of the room. He's got on thick-rimmed glasses and his hair is more than just messy, it's deliberately messy. So, probably not homeless then. He's also -- no harm in saying it if he's not trying to kill them all, right? -- he's also pretty fit.
"Well, I assumed you'd noticed the ride stopped, what with that lot out there and their groaning about it," he says and it's almost smug.
"Of course I noticed," she crosses her arms over her chest, "But Mickey's usually the one on repairs in Tomorrowland. Did you switch shifts or something? Are you new here?"
Rose idly thinks about whether it'd be inappropriate to ask her ex-boyfriend for details on the handsome new guy. Like how old he is (can't be more than mid-30s) and whether he's gay (probably, with her luck).
"No, I'm not new," he grins and Rose feels her cheeks go warm, "I'm very, very not new."
"What are you doing then? What was wrong?"
He rubs at the back of his neck, "It seems someone had maybe tried to configure the constellation projections so they were closer to the actual stars in location and relative brightness. In the process, this someone may have -- overwhelmed the circuitry."
"Oh," Rose isn't sure what to say to that. That's definitely something she should report, but running to file a bunch of paperwork is the last thing on her mind.
He turns back to the machine on the wall and gives it another zap with his blue light, "Should be fixed now though." He twirls the light in his hand and Rose can see it's a bit more high tech than standard Disney issue.
"So you just shine lights on things and they're repaired? Or broken?"
The man puffs out his chest a little, looking proud, "More than a light -- it's a sonic screwdriver."
"A screwdriver? Mickey's got a screwdriver, too, looks nothing like that." She squints at the alleged screwdriver.
"Mickey probably isn't owed at least 46 different favors from the boys over in Imagineering. Well, not your Mickey anyway, if he's a human."
"What would he be if not human?" Rose is more than a little intrigued now -- strange guy running around the park with fancy tools, talking about aliens or something. Whatever's happening with Shireen on Dumbo today, there's no way she's going to top this.
"A mouse? Mickey Mouse? How exactly did you get this job if you're not familiar with him? Anyway, the mouse Mickey could probably get the Imagineers to do some work, but your human Mickey, no way. They're not an easy lot to get in with. Took me years and I'm, well, me."
"And who is that? Who are you?" Rose can hear the ride working outside the door, shuttle-loads of guests screaming above them, but it was almost time for her break anyway. She'll just stick this out for a few more minutes.
"I'm the Doctor and you're Rose."
Rose isn't sure where to go first with that, "If you're a doctor, why aren't you in the clinics? And how did you know my name?"
"Not that kind of doctor," he brushes by her and taps her name tag with his finger, "Rose."
Oh.
She follows him out the door and back across the grating to another door she's never been through, "Where are you going? You can't just leave. I should write up an incident report."
"Come with me," the Doctor says abruptly, hand on the door handle.
"What? Come with you where?"
"To see Disneyland!" He looks positively gleeful and, for a moment, Rose wants to go anywhere, everywhere, with this man, to feel as happy as he looks in that instant.
"I work in Disneyland," Rose says. "I've seen it."
"Not like this," and with that, he's through the door, leaving Rose alone, under a roller coaster, surrounded by fake stars.
&&.