Recurring Event
Recurring Event, TenII/Rose, G
“Have you ever,” he started, dragging her in to the flashing mess of machines, “played Space Invaders with an actual alien?”, 2159
“Wh- where are we?” Rose yawned, lifting her head from the Doctor’s shoulder. She immediately straightened away from him, embarrassed that she had fallen asleep on top of him, and feeling awkward about being so physical with this man beside her. He simply smiled at her, a crinkling ‘round his eyes, and squeezed her hand softly.
“London,” her mum had informed them from the second row of seats in the sleek SUV. “And good thing, my bum is about flat from all this sitting.”
“London!” Rose looked wildly out the window. “’Ow long was I asleep for, then?”
“Six hours and fifty five minutes, give or take ten seconds,” the Doctor said proudly. “Time sense is still intact!” Rose looked at him oddly, an expression he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but didn’t say anything. He thought it was familiar, but he couldn’t tell where he’d seen that look on her face before. She’d been shooting him those glances ever since they’d watched the TARDIS dematerialize on that bloody beach in Norway.
As Rose had stared where the blue box had left a square imprint in the sand Jackie had called Pete and demanded that he come pick them up immediately. She didn’t care what it took, but a zeppelin needed to be there as quickly as possible and what did he mean the best he could do was have one ready in Bergen?! That was fifty miles from bloody Darlig Ulv-Stranden! Their daughter was probably in shock and he needed to make something happen!
“Mum, I can get us to Bergen,” Rose had said quietly. “Just have Pete get one ready at the airfield.” Jackie had relayed the message, then walked away to talk to her husband in as much privacy as she could.
“You heard your mum, it’s fifty miles to Bergen,” the Doctor started. Rose just shook her head and pulled a small round machine out of her pocket.
“Mickey gave it back to me, before he left. It’s the Dimension Cannon. Normally I don’t think it would be strong enough to carry three people fifty miles, but…” she trailed off with a shrug and tipped it into his hand.
“It’s hot,” he said, carefully turning it over in his fingers, examining it.
“Yeah. Normally it isn’t, not even after it’s been used. It didn’t get hot until I was in the TARDIS. I think, being so close to the Vortex, it’s a bit more powerful than usual. Leeched some energy. It’s fair to bursting with it now, more than capable of getting us through Norway.”
“I thought that big gun was the cannon,” he said, looking at her from under his eyebrows.
“Naw, that was an optical amplification electromagnetic radiation emission concentrator,” she said with a grin. The look on his face was stunned for a second, forcing a bark of laughter out of her.
“It was a laser gun,” he clarified.
“It was a laser gun,” she agreed.
Feeling a bit lighter after their exchange, Rose hadn’t allowed herself to look at the few footprints the Doctor’s trainers had left behind. The real Doctor, not the one beside her. She’d simply tossed her hair, reached for his hand again, and set off after her mother. He hadn’t complained, just woven his fingers through hers and followed.
She was right, after all, that the dimension cannon could carry them as far as they needed to go, though it left him with a horrible metallic taste in his mouth. The zeppelin had been waiting when they made it to the airfield, and they’d set off for Glasgow. It was, the Doctor learned, a two hour flight from Bergen to Glasgow via zeppelin. Rose had not sat as close to him as he would have liked. He’d started babbling about his adventures with Martha and Donna to try and break the tension. He’d always had a gob, but mix him with Donna Noble and he could talk the ears off a Weeping Angel.
Eventually Rose had started a game, of sorts, pointing out all the things that were different in this universe when their parallels came up in his stories. Here, he learned, Shakespeare had never made it after being overshadowed by Thomas Kyd. Pompeii was a booming producer of motor bikes, and Miss Marple was never created by Agatha Christie, because she never came back after her disappearance in 1926.
He caught her, at one point, offhandedly mentioning one of their adventures and then scrutinizing him. “Madam de Pompadour married Louis after the Queen died, became queen official,” she told him during one of their exchanges.
He smiled and looked over at her from his place by the window. Her own face was intent, however, darting across his features. He realized she was testing him, seeing how much he knew, how much he remembered. Seeing if he was the same man she ripped through the fabric of the universe for, or a stranger she didn’t know. She was looking at him, quite frankly, the same way she had looked at him after he’d regenerated into his tenth incarnation, with fear and wonder and confusion. She’d done the same thing then, challenging him with mentions of nanogenes and Gelth and Slitheen. Then he’d assured her he was the same man (despite the mole on his back and big hair). Now he simply said
“Queen Jeanne-Antoinette, eh? I imagine she quite liked that.”
When the zeppelin had landed they’d exited to find a Torchwood escort waiting for them. They’d climbed into the back of the big black vehicle and started off for London. Rose had fallen asleep as soon as they’d hit the M6. He’d been delighted. He could relax, could feel less like he had something to prove to her. He could watch the way her eyes had moved under her lids as she dreamt, how her pulse beat in her throat, how her hair would tickle her nose if it fell in her face. He’d tentatively moved it back behind her ear when she shifted after the first few times, afraid she’d lean away from him. And he’d had time to get his own head together, to catalogue how he’d changed after the meta-crisis. Their constant stop and go as they’d hit London had woken her, and he carefully rotated his shoulder where her head had caused it to go to sleep.
Halfway through London, Rose was awake, and he was starting to get itchy under her gaze. He realized with a start that as she’d run onto the TARDIS after he and Donna had rescued them, she’d gone straight to his side. She’d planted herself beside him at the console, not by the door waiting for the original Time Lord. She’d looked to him as they flew the Earth back to its designated place in the solar system. She’d stood with him on the TARDIS as the other him said goodbye to Sarah-Jane, and Jack, and Martha. She was, despite her cleverness and bravery, still a young woman who was confused about love. And his resolve hardened.
“Say, uh, what are we going to do once we get back to Torchwood?” he asked Rose. She jumped a little at his sudden question.
“Dunno. A debriefing, I would imagine. A full round of physicals. A huge amount of paperwork. We’ve got to return all the equipment.” Her eyes widened. “We’ve got to build you a life. Birth certificates and a driver’s license. Buy you clothes and -“
“Sounds rubbish,” he declared, cutting her off. Her jaw dropped a little. “We can do that later. Just got back from saving a universe or two, I say we deserve a bit of down time. Besides, it’s my birthday!”
“But Pete-“
“Will understand,” Jackie declared, surprising them both.
“So what-“ Rose began again, before the Doctor grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Run.” He ordered, as he threw open the side door. The vehicle wasn’t stopped, inching along in traffic, and he pulled her out of the door between cars. She didn’t argue, just smiled a real smile at him and ignored the honking horns and shaking fists of the other drivers. They darted across the lanes and onto a sidewalk, weaving through crowds of people in the dark.
“You smell that?” he asked smiling down at her. She obligingly turned her nose up into the air and sniffed. “Chips,” he explained. “I haven’t eaten in this body,” he ignored the way she squeezed his hand, “and I’m absolutely starving.”
“Guess I’m buying again, yeah?” she teased.
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out.
“Come on,” she laughed and drug him toward a nearby chippy. They’d eaten and walked around London, seeing the sights. Even though she’d lived here for over three years, she hadn’t had much occasion to just wander around London. In fact, it wasn’t recommended now that she was considered an heiress. He finally pulled her to a stop in front of a flashy arcade shop. She looked up at the garish neon signs, and listened to the din of the various games’ music and raised an eyebrow.
“Have you ever,” he started, dragging her in to the flashing mess of machines, “played Space Invaders with an actual alien?”
“Don’t know that I’ve ever played Space Invaders at all. Bit before my time,” she teased.
“Oi!” he objected halfheartedly as he looked around at the available games.
“Used to kick Mickey’s butt at Mortal Kombat though,” she said thoughtfully.
“Oh, Mickey-shmickey. I’ve got centuries of experience and Time Lord reflexes,” he scoffed.
“Is that a challenge?” she said, loosing his hand and crossing her arms.
“Oh yes,” he declared. “Though I don’t see either Space Invaders or Mortal Kombat,” he complained. “What kind of rubbish arcade doesn’t have the classics?”
“The kind in an alternate universe,” she mumbled quietly. He heard her anyway, but didn’t comment, afraid to mess up their tenuous footing with each other.
“Look, how about you pick a game and I’ll get us some tokens, yeah?” She patted his arm as she walked away. He watched her go, still in her bright blue jacket and, he noticed, very tight black pants. He shook his head and strolled around the big machines. He noticed that he didn’t mind the thought of the shoot-em-up games, even the ones that pitted you against invading space aliens. Born of blood and anger and revenge indeed. He was less comfortable with the knowledge that it didn’t bother him than the actual thought of useless violence against other species. His ninth body wouldn’t have cared, but his tenth would have probably broken the game beyond repair with his sonic screwdriver so no one could play. He was, he admitted, very much like when he had first met Rose.
His attention was caught by a console even bigger than most, where two players sat inside an enclosed area. He waved Rose over when he saw her.
“Jurassic Park?” she said doubtfully.
“Yeah, look!” he said excitedly. “There are guns, but they’re only tranquilizer guns. We don’t actually kill anything.” He didn’t mention that having her sit with him in a semi-enclosed space was another deciding factor in his choice. She looked at him closely for a second before shrugging and pulling a handful of silver tokens out of her pocket.
Confident in his abilities (after all, he explained disdainfully, it was only an old 21st century human game built for children) he had set the game on expert. She laughed until her sides hurt as he was killed by velociraptors again and again. He didn’t mention that he would risk actual velociraptor attack if it meant he could hear her laugh. It burst out of her, the first few times, and he sadly realized it must have been a long time since she’d properly laughed if it was so explosive. She used to laugh easily, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth, even when they were being chased by a Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform.
Finally they’d gotten past the initial velociraptor attack. An hour later they’d rescued Ian and Sarah (an irony not lost on him), and beaten the game. The Doctor crawled out of the little chair and bounced on the balls of his feet, looking for the next game. Rose climbed out more slowly, starting to feel the wear of not enough sleep, and the physical strain of dimension jumping as often as she had the last few days.
“Come on, blondie! Let’s try the dancing one! I can dance, you know, you’ve seen it!” He froze as he heard Donna slip out of his mouth, but Rose just shook her head and chucked a few coins at him. They stayed until the arcade closed, and he noticed guiltily that Rose was swaying where she stood. And for the first time in what he hoped would be a recurring event, he took Rose Tyler home.
“Have you ever,” he started, dragging her in to the flashing mess of machines, “played Space Invaders with an actual alien?”, 2159
“Wh- where are we?” Rose yawned, lifting her head from the Doctor’s shoulder. She immediately straightened away from him, embarrassed that she had fallen asleep on top of him, and feeling awkward about being so physical with this man beside her. He simply smiled at her, a crinkling ‘round his eyes, and squeezed her hand softly.
“London,” her mum had informed them from the second row of seats in the sleek SUV. “And good thing, my bum is about flat from all this sitting.”
“London!” Rose looked wildly out the window. “’Ow long was I asleep for, then?”
“Six hours and fifty five minutes, give or take ten seconds,” the Doctor said proudly. “Time sense is still intact!” Rose looked at him oddly, an expression he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but didn’t say anything. He thought it was familiar, but he couldn’t tell where he’d seen that look on her face before. She’d been shooting him those glances ever since they’d watched the TARDIS dematerialize on that bloody beach in Norway.
As Rose had stared where the blue box had left a square imprint in the sand Jackie had called Pete and demanded that he come pick them up immediately. She didn’t care what it took, but a zeppelin needed to be there as quickly as possible and what did he mean the best he could do was have one ready in Bergen?! That was fifty miles from bloody Darlig Ulv-Stranden! Their daughter was probably in shock and he needed to make something happen!
“Mum, I can get us to Bergen,” Rose had said quietly. “Just have Pete get one ready at the airfield.” Jackie had relayed the message, then walked away to talk to her husband in as much privacy as she could.
“You heard your mum, it’s fifty miles to Bergen,” the Doctor started. Rose just shook her head and pulled a small round machine out of her pocket.
“Mickey gave it back to me, before he left. It’s the Dimension Cannon. Normally I don’t think it would be strong enough to carry three people fifty miles, but…” she trailed off with a shrug and tipped it into his hand.
“It’s hot,” he said, carefully turning it over in his fingers, examining it.
“Yeah. Normally it isn’t, not even after it’s been used. It didn’t get hot until I was in the TARDIS. I think, being so close to the Vortex, it’s a bit more powerful than usual. Leeched some energy. It’s fair to bursting with it now, more than capable of getting us through Norway.”
“I thought that big gun was the cannon,” he said, looking at her from under his eyebrows.
“Naw, that was an optical amplification electromagnetic radiation emission concentrator,” she said with a grin. The look on his face was stunned for a second, forcing a bark of laughter out of her.
“It was a laser gun,” he clarified.
“It was a laser gun,” she agreed.
Feeling a bit lighter after their exchange, Rose hadn’t allowed herself to look at the few footprints the Doctor’s trainers had left behind. The real Doctor, not the one beside her. She’d simply tossed her hair, reached for his hand again, and set off after her mother. He hadn’t complained, just woven his fingers through hers and followed.
She was right, after all, that the dimension cannon could carry them as far as they needed to go, though it left him with a horrible metallic taste in his mouth. The zeppelin had been waiting when they made it to the airfield, and they’d set off for Glasgow. It was, the Doctor learned, a two hour flight from Bergen to Glasgow via zeppelin. Rose had not sat as close to him as he would have liked. He’d started babbling about his adventures with Martha and Donna to try and break the tension. He’d always had a gob, but mix him with Donna Noble and he could talk the ears off a Weeping Angel.
Eventually Rose had started a game, of sorts, pointing out all the things that were different in this universe when their parallels came up in his stories. Here, he learned, Shakespeare had never made it after being overshadowed by Thomas Kyd. Pompeii was a booming producer of motor bikes, and Miss Marple was never created by Agatha Christie, because she never came back after her disappearance in 1926.
He caught her, at one point, offhandedly mentioning one of their adventures and then scrutinizing him. “Madam de Pompadour married Louis after the Queen died, became queen official,” she told him during one of their exchanges.
He smiled and looked over at her from his place by the window. Her own face was intent, however, darting across his features. He realized she was testing him, seeing how much he knew, how much he remembered. Seeing if he was the same man she ripped through the fabric of the universe for, or a stranger she didn’t know. She was looking at him, quite frankly, the same way she had looked at him after he’d regenerated into his tenth incarnation, with fear and wonder and confusion. She’d done the same thing then, challenging him with mentions of nanogenes and Gelth and Slitheen. Then he’d assured her he was the same man (despite the mole on his back and big hair). Now he simply said
“Queen Jeanne-Antoinette, eh? I imagine she quite liked that.”
When the zeppelin had landed they’d exited to find a Torchwood escort waiting for them. They’d climbed into the back of the big black vehicle and started off for London. Rose had fallen asleep as soon as they’d hit the M6. He’d been delighted. He could relax, could feel less like he had something to prove to her. He could watch the way her eyes had moved under her lids as she dreamt, how her pulse beat in her throat, how her hair would tickle her nose if it fell in her face. He’d tentatively moved it back behind her ear when she shifted after the first few times, afraid she’d lean away from him. And he’d had time to get his own head together, to catalogue how he’d changed after the meta-crisis. Their constant stop and go as they’d hit London had woken her, and he carefully rotated his shoulder where her head had caused it to go to sleep.
Halfway through London, Rose was awake, and he was starting to get itchy under her gaze. He realized with a start that as she’d run onto the TARDIS after he and Donna had rescued them, she’d gone straight to his side. She’d planted herself beside him at the console, not by the door waiting for the original Time Lord. She’d looked to him as they flew the Earth back to its designated place in the solar system. She’d stood with him on the TARDIS as the other him said goodbye to Sarah-Jane, and Jack, and Martha. She was, despite her cleverness and bravery, still a young woman who was confused about love. And his resolve hardened.
“Say, uh, what are we going to do once we get back to Torchwood?” he asked Rose. She jumped a little at his sudden question.
“Dunno. A debriefing, I would imagine. A full round of physicals. A huge amount of paperwork. We’ve got to return all the equipment.” Her eyes widened. “We’ve got to build you a life. Birth certificates and a driver’s license. Buy you clothes and -“
“Sounds rubbish,” he declared, cutting her off. Her jaw dropped a little. “We can do that later. Just got back from saving a universe or two, I say we deserve a bit of down time. Besides, it’s my birthday!”
“But Pete-“
“Will understand,” Jackie declared, surprising them both.
“So what-“ Rose began again, before the Doctor grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Run.” He ordered, as he threw open the side door. The vehicle wasn’t stopped, inching along in traffic, and he pulled her out of the door between cars. She didn’t argue, just smiled a real smile at him and ignored the honking horns and shaking fists of the other drivers. They darted across the lanes and onto a sidewalk, weaving through crowds of people in the dark.
“You smell that?” he asked smiling down at her. She obligingly turned her nose up into the air and sniffed. “Chips,” he explained. “I haven’t eaten in this body,” he ignored the way she squeezed his hand, “and I’m absolutely starving.”
“Guess I’m buying again, yeah?” she teased.
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out.
“Come on,” she laughed and drug him toward a nearby chippy. They’d eaten and walked around London, seeing the sights. Even though she’d lived here for over three years, she hadn’t had much occasion to just wander around London. In fact, it wasn’t recommended now that she was considered an heiress. He finally pulled her to a stop in front of a flashy arcade shop. She looked up at the garish neon signs, and listened to the din of the various games’ music and raised an eyebrow.
“Have you ever,” he started, dragging her in to the flashing mess of machines, “played Space Invaders with an actual alien?”
“Don’t know that I’ve ever played Space Invaders at all. Bit before my time,” she teased.
“Oi!” he objected halfheartedly as he looked around at the available games.
“Used to kick Mickey’s butt at Mortal Kombat though,” she said thoughtfully.
“Oh, Mickey-shmickey. I’ve got centuries of experience and Time Lord reflexes,” he scoffed.
“Is that a challenge?” she said, loosing his hand and crossing her arms.
“Oh yes,” he declared. “Though I don’t see either Space Invaders or Mortal Kombat,” he complained. “What kind of rubbish arcade doesn’t have the classics?”
“The kind in an alternate universe,” she mumbled quietly. He heard her anyway, but didn’t comment, afraid to mess up their tenuous footing with each other.
“Look, how about you pick a game and I’ll get us some tokens, yeah?” She patted his arm as she walked away. He watched her go, still in her bright blue jacket and, he noticed, very tight black pants. He shook his head and strolled around the big machines. He noticed that he didn’t mind the thought of the shoot-em-up games, even the ones that pitted you against invading space aliens. Born of blood and anger and revenge indeed. He was less comfortable with the knowledge that it didn’t bother him than the actual thought of useless violence against other species. His ninth body wouldn’t have cared, but his tenth would have probably broken the game beyond repair with his sonic screwdriver so no one could play. He was, he admitted, very much like when he had first met Rose.
His attention was caught by a console even bigger than most, where two players sat inside an enclosed area. He waved Rose over when he saw her.
“Jurassic Park?” she said doubtfully.
“Yeah, look!” he said excitedly. “There are guns, but they’re only tranquilizer guns. We don’t actually kill anything.” He didn’t mention that having her sit with him in a semi-enclosed space was another deciding factor in his choice. She looked at him closely for a second before shrugging and pulling a handful of silver tokens out of her pocket.
Confident in his abilities (after all, he explained disdainfully, it was only an old 21st century human game built for children) he had set the game on expert. She laughed until her sides hurt as he was killed by velociraptors again and again. He didn’t mention that he would risk actual velociraptor attack if it meant he could hear her laugh. It burst out of her, the first few times, and he sadly realized it must have been a long time since she’d properly laughed if it was so explosive. She used to laugh easily, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth, even when they were being chased by a Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform.
Finally they’d gotten past the initial velociraptor attack. An hour later they’d rescued Ian and Sarah (an irony not lost on him), and beaten the game. The Doctor crawled out of the little chair and bounced on the balls of his feet, looking for the next game. Rose climbed out more slowly, starting to feel the wear of not enough sleep, and the physical strain of dimension jumping as often as she had the last few days.
“Come on, blondie! Let’s try the dancing one! I can dance, you know, you’ve seen it!” He froze as he heard Donna slip out of his mouth, but Rose just shook her head and chucked a few coins at him. They stayed until the arcade closed, and he noticed guiltily that Rose was swaying where she stood. And for the first time in what he hoped would be a recurring event, he took Rose Tyler home.