Stories Post (1/1)
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Title: 1. Worth a Thousand Words
Doctor: Nine
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Rating: G
The tunnel is damp and cold. A couple of the children are scared and the teacher has to walk with them and hold their hands, but most just follow silently in single file. They wind down into the side of the hill, their trainers echoing against the metal steps built over the steep incline.
One short, blonde girl brings up the end of the line, walking next to the class chaperone, idly playing with the zipper on her jacket.
-----
The Tardis shakes and rolls, bouncing through the nebula and nearly throwing them to the floor. The Doctor relishes the feeling of Rose pressed against him, her back to his front as they fight to hold on. Their laughter floats out the open door, tangling with the brilliant pinks and purples of the plasma storm as they streak by.
After a few more minutes, the Doctor closes the door and they stumble their way to the console. He flips a switch and then points to the lever on the other side. Rose folds her fingers around the rubber handle and waits.
“Anywhere?” she asks, grinning.
“Anywhere,” he replies.
With that Rose pulls the lever and the Tardis throws itself into the Vortex riding the shockwave until it ends.
-----
The teacher stops the group on a wide landing half way down the tunnel to point out the first drawings. They’re crude and oddly shaped bovines, legs out stretched in front and back looking more like they are jumping hurdles than running.
The girl frowns at them and asks why they look nothing like a cow should look. Her teacher ignores the question and leads the group in further.
-----
Rose stares out at the barren landscape, shivering in a gust of bitter cold air. She can see mountains rising in the distance, covered in snow. There are a few drifts scattered here and there over the plain before her, most look like they are nearing the end, melting into the rocky ground. There are a few pockets of mostly brown grass and tall trees, their branches bare and bent at impossible angles.
“Where are we?” she asks quietly.
“Earth,” he replies. “Somewhere in France if I’m not mistaken.”
She turns around, an incredulous expression on her face. “France?”
He almost smiles at how startled she looks. “Yup.”
“Okay,” she says, pausing a moment. “When are we?”
“Paleolithic Era, about 16,000 years in your past.”
She frowns, and shivers as another burst of cold air blows in, carrying a few flakes in with it. “So what do we do?”
A short while later, properly attired for the chilly air, they walk arm in arm through the wilderness. They are slowly nearing the edge of the mountains where the snow is more persistent and the wind faster and harsher. Her face begins to turn red from the stinging breeze.
Rose stops walking and exhales, watching the fog her breath makes swirl and fade. “I guess I was expecting dinosaurs or wooly mammoths or something.”
He tries not to laugh at how young and innocent she seems right now, but he fails miserably. “Oh Rose, the dinosaurs died off millions of years ago. This is the Stone Age.”
“Great,” she mutters. “So let’s go visit the Flintstones.”
----
The girl is bored, swinging back and forth on one of the railings while her teacher drones on about things she should probably be paying attention to. Her mother worked a lot of extra hours so she could go with the other kids, but most of them won’t give her a second glance. It doesn’t matter, the drawings on the large open wall are beautiful and bright. The yellow lights that hang from the ceiling of the cavern and the small round ones embedded in the rocks glow like firelight.
She can imagine the cavemen sitting around a fire, scratching their artwork onto the stone walls, drawing large, fat horses in browns and reds. She loves horses.
----
Rose finds herself standing on a small ledge a few feet off the ground, tucked into the entrance of a prehistoric cave. The Doctor pulls out his sonic screwdriver and shines it into the cave.
Rose swallows nervously. “We’re going in there?”
He gives her an odd look, as if their destination should be obvious, and takes a step into the cave.
“Wait,” she says, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “What if there’s a bear or a - I dunno, a saber tooth tiger in there or something?”
“Rose, don’t be silly,” he laughs.
He folds his hand around hers and enters the cave, the thin blue light of the sonic barely cutting the darkness. A short distance in, the floor descends sharply and they half walk half slide down the incline. The cave opens to a large room scattered with stalactites and stalagmites.
The Doctor looks around until he finds a small fire pit. Adjusting the sonic, he zaps the small pile of tinder and logs, illuminating the cavern in a golden light. His grin nearly splits his face in two when he hears Rose gasp.
Turning around, he finds his young companion staring in wide eyed awe at the high, flat wall of the cave. From one end to the other and extending up the narrow tunnel they entered are vibrant paintings depicting all manner of animals.
There are numerous herds of deer, mostly stags, their antlers tall and pointed like antelope. In the middle of the wall is a large orange equine in mid stride, its long mane trailing behind it. There are even a few lumbering bison in a muted yellow with exaggerated humped backs and curved horns.
A noise startles the Doctor and he spins around to find two bright eyes staring back at him from a dirty, tanned face. Slowly, the dark space fills with more and more sets of eyes.
----
They’ve been here for hours, listening to their teacher talk about the animals and the cavemen. Half the students aren’t even listening. Wandering to the edge where a railing keeps her from going further into the cave, she notices something and calls out to the teacher. Exasperated and tired, her teacher politely orders her to come back to the group and pay attention.
The girl frowns but scurries back to her class. She keeps glancing back, curiosity tugging at her.
----
They’re out of breath from running and laughter by the time they get back to the Tardis. Their pursuers giving up the chase as soon as they get out into the open plain and the dusty light of the setting sun.
Rose collapses on the jump seat, a little dirty but all smiles as she watches the Doctor move around the console. It’s somehow fitting that they randomly ended up here, a bit like coming full circle. She’s gone from the end of the world, to stopping world war three, to this. It’s one of the places where humanity really began, hunting to survive and living in dark, damp caves, hiding from the snow.
The grinding noise of the Tardis scares most living creatures in the vicinity away, except for one. Two small eyes peek out from the shadows, curiosity getting the better of her. She smiles crookedly as the magic box slips from sight.
----
Tour complete, the teacher does a quick head count, and begins herding the students towards the exit, barking out orders to stick together and don’t touch the walls. One girl brings up the rear of the line again, throwing one last look over her shoulder.
No one else notices the drawing in the far corner, the image of two figures standing near a tall, dark colored box.
Title: 2. Natural Habitat
Doctor: Ten
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Pre-Stolen Earth
Rating: PG-13
“You’re sure it’s not an alien?”
Rose knew the question was ridiculous but she couldn’t resist asking, just to hear the Doctor’s reaction. The funny thing was, the beast lifted its shaggy head from the patch of grass it’d been grazing on to look in their direction as if it understood what she’d said. The Doctor didn’t notice, rising to her bait as he rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “That is a perfect example of the American Plains Bison, the largest mammal in North America. Marvelous animal, really ; they were almost hunted to extinction by the start of the Twentieth Century, but conservationists managed to ensure the continuation of the herds, thanks in part to places like this. It’s as much an alien as I am.”
He paused as he realized what he’d just said. “Oh, wait…”
Rose couldn’t help giggling at his slightly flummoxed expression. For some reason, the Doctor had been possessed that morning with the urge to show her the wonders of her own planet, which was why they’d spent the last several hours traipsing through the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge as he expounded happily on the flora, fauna and animals residing in the sixty thousand acres. Nature studies had never been near the top of Rose’s lists, but the more he happily spilled out facts, the more she found herself smiling, as if his own happiness was infecting her. For once, no one was chasing them, they weren’t running for their lives, and the only alien in view was him, no matter how much she might tease him about the bison.
Still laughing, she linked her arm through his. “So it’s not an alien. Still say it looks funny - and don’t tell me we look funny to him.”
The bison emitted a snort, shook his head and went back to the grass with a rather bored expression. “I don’t think he finds us amusing at all,” the Doctor said, a broad grin crossing his face as he leaned in a bit closer. “Look at this, Rose. We could spend a week wandering this place and see only the merest fraction of what it has to offer.”
They strolled on through the tall grass for a while, then he suddenly loped away, returning almost instantly with a dense, spiky purple flower. “Dalea purpurea,” he announced. “The Purple Prairie Clover. You can make tea from this, you know.”
More facts as they continued their stroll, horticultural trivia interspersed with him tickling her nose with the bloom until she sneezed. Then they were running, her chasing him with dire threats that weren’t so dire while he laughed as he managed to stay just out of reach. No mention of coming storms today, just the simple joy of being together. This was why she traveled with him, because he managed to make even the most ordinary things somehow magical - and he wanted to share that magic with her. Didn't matter where - ancient Rome, Women Wept, New Earth, the wilds of Scotland or even Cardiff - as long as they were together, everything was a wonder.
# # #
“What are buffalos doing in the Himalayas?” Mickey asked, shifting the weapon he carried slightly.
“What's a buffalo?” Jake asked, taking in the small herd of shaggy animals before them with some suspicion.
“Technically, it's a bison,” Rose said. “American Plains Bison.”
Jake nodded. “Okay, what's a bison?”
“Largest mammal in North America,” Rose replied, a wave of memory coming with the words. Purple flowers, vast plains and a smile which haunted her dreams. “At least they were in our world. They don't exist here. No bison and no Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge.”
Mickey frowned. “Wichita Mountains? Oh. Him.”
Rose didn't need to ask what he meant. For three years now, she'd been told to move on and let her memories of the Doctor be, build a life here. She had somewhat, almost in spite of herself - working for Torchwood, even heading up her own team - but it felt a poor substitute for the life she'd left behind and nothing seemed to be able to change that. “The point is what are bison doing in the foothills of the Himalayas when they don't even exist in this universe? That's the question we should be asking.”
It was a question they’d been asking all too often in recent weeks. Following up reports of strange things being found was Torchwoods daily routine, but some of the stuff coming through wasn’t alien - at least, it wasn’t alien to Mickey and Rose. The sudden appearance of several copies of The Sun in what had once been the control room at Canary Wharf had seemed like a bad joke, though how anyone in this world could have written the misadventures of Britney Spears when her music wasn’t popular was beyond Rose.
Mickey had been the one to identify the bi-plane wing found in Northumberland, a strange sight in a world where the Wright Brothers never made their historic flight and zeppelins were still the favored mode of transport. Now, they’d been called in by the Indian government to consult on the strange creatures discovered roaming the foothills which looked like no form of cattle known to the inhabitants of the region.
Could the walls between the universes be opening? Holes appearing the Doctor thought he had patched? It had to mean something; newspapers and airplane parts Rose could understand, momentary fissures not large enough for a person - or a TARDIS - to pass through. But animals? Bison didn’t just move from one universe to another, munching on the grass here as placidly as when she’d seen them what felt a lifetime ago. If they could find their way across the Void, she had to be able to as well.
But when she’d checked with Sonya this morning, the Dimension Cannon had been as dark and silent as always, stubbornly refusing to give even the faintest flicker of life. Even if holes were appearing, she had no way to cross. All she could do was hope they’d either find a way to make the thing work - or the Doctor would realize what was happening and risk the trip.
Forcing herself to focus on the present, she told Mickey and Jake, “The first thing we need to do is arrange to move these guys somewhere more temperate. I don’t think they can survive too long here. If we can get them back to London, maybe we can find a home for them. Then we figure out how they got here, because I’ll lay odds they’ve got Void stuff all over them. Something’s going on and I don’t like it.”
Even as she spoke she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, almost as if there was a change in the atmosphere. Something in the air she heard the Doctor’s voice whisper inside her head. Something coming. A storm’s approaching.
One of the bison lifted his head, regarding her with deep, dark eyes. This time, he was an alien, lost in a world not his own. They both were. The difference was, she was going to find a way back.
Title: 3. Go Slowly, My Lovely Moon, Go Slowly
Doctor: Ten
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
The Doctor has long regarded himself as a soft touch with regard to Rose. Anything she wants - be it a trip to her Mum’s, a day at the biggest intergalactic mall in the universe, or even just a cup of tea - the Doctor makes sure she gets. Sometimes, when he’s alone in the library or tinkering with the TARDIS while she’s asleep, his subconscious whispers in his ear that it’s because he’s in love with her, this insatiable need to make her the happiest she can possibly be. And sometimes, when he’s tired or when he’s kissing her or even just when he’s holding her hand and she’s laughing, he accepts that it might possibly be true.
With this desire quietly registered in the back of his mind, that he will do anything in his power to give her exactly what she wants just to see that hundred-watt, sun-shaming smile, he isn’t surprised by the thunderbolt of anguish that slices through his mind when he discovers her crying in their bedroom. Rose isn’t a woman to cry, preferring to shout and blaze or even just to retreat into herself, but today she is sitting on their bed with her knees hugged to her chest, staring at the mirror with a sort of torturous curiosity.
“Rose?” He crosses the room in two long strides, sits beside her in a tangle of arms and legs which is one of the only things he dislikes about being this tall. He can never be graceful, not with limbs a hundred feet long and skinny to boot. His only consolation is that he’s the perfect height to tilt Rose’s head up for a kiss whenever he feels like it and, if he’s honest, that’s more than enough to make it all worth it.
She looks up as the bed dips, gives him an embarrassed little smile and then wipes her eyes, and he wishes she wouldn’t, wishes that she didn’t ever feel silly in front of him. Doesn’t she know that he feels a little bit stupid half the time he’s talking to her? Doesn’t she know that every time he babbles, every time he rambles about the minutiae of science, he’s just trying to impress her enough that she’ll want to stay with him forever? Slowly, he reaches out, stills her hand, takes it in his.
“What’s the matter, love?”
She regards him for a moment as though unsure whether she can trust him not to laugh, and he thinks for a mad, dizzying heartbeat that she might actually reject him, and the possibility is ridiculously frightening. He’s a Time Lord, for heaven’s sake. A Time Lord in love, whispers his subconscious.
“I just...” she starts, then trails off, drops her gaze. “I’ve been trying to find a dress to wear to that ball you were talking about and...” She sighs again, takes a breath. “They all look horrible.” He wonders for a second why this is so upsetting and feels himself frown, but then he remembers human women and Weightwatchers and does-my-bum-look-big-in-this and suddenly it all makes sense.
“You’re beautiful, Rose,” he assures her, and he’s really quite pleased that he’s worked it out all by himself.
She looks at him doubtfully. “You would say that.”
He’s silent for a moment, that big, brilliant brain working at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, and then the idea pops straight into his head and he pulls her to her feet.
“Look,” he says, grinning, “I’ll show you.”
*
By the time they land, Rose’s dubious expression has not disappeared. In fact, as he flings open the doors - no, he is not showing off - and the landscape of Custer National Park is spread out in front of them, she looks decidedly nonplussed.
“What are we doing here?” she asks, stepping outside and turning a slow circle to admire the haunting beauty of the craggy mountains surrounding them. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Nope.” He pulls the doors shut behind them and then reaches out for her hand, the familiar tingle of relief slithering through his fingers as he feels her pulse beat against his wrist. He wonders if it’s unhealthy, this constant need to have her close, and then pushes the thought aside. You’re in love with her, insists his subconscious. He ignores it.
He gives her a sideways glance, smiles as the wind whips life back into a face which is blotchy from tears, stirs up that old thrill of arriving somewhere new.
“No?”
“Nope,” he repeats, and if he wasn’t very manly and therefore incapable of such a thing, he might have blushed in that moment, because he is just a little bit nervous. “It’s not half as beautiful as you.” Before she can react, before she can tease him, he lets go of her hand, throws out his arms. “Rose Tyler, I’m going to prove to you just how beautiful you are.”
He starts to run, Converse pounding on the grass and her delighted laughter ringing in his ears, and a part of him decides that this is probably the best idea he’s ever had, if it makes her this happy. He looks back, sees her catching up, and so moves faster and faster, two boats rallying against the current, until they come to a sudden stop in the middle of a field.
In front of them, undeterred by their rowdy entrance, stands a very large and very placid bison. There is silence, and then Rose bursts out laughing.
“Is this my competition?” she asks finally, still giggling, as the bison turns its head slowly towards them and regards them with solemn eyes. The Doctor meets its gaze and waggles his eyebrows, trying in vain to remember whether bison are renowned for spiking anything with those horns. Their close proximity makes him rather hope not.
“Oh come on, Rose,” he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting to walk on. “That bison is much prettier.” She skips after him and smacks him on the arm, all pouting and laughing and breathless, and he just has to kiss her, because she’s so young in that moment that he feels the fierce desire to remember this, to remember her joy and her pleasure. Her lips are cold from the wind and her hands are icy as she slips them under his jacket but he doesn’t care, just holds her closer and closes his eyes as her teeth sink lightly, briefly into his lower lip. He shivers. You’re in love with her.
They climb to the top of a rock and sit there until the stars come out, this glorious array of diamonds which twinkle against a dark sapphire sky. She leans her head on his shoulder and he kisses her hair, lifts her hand in his to point to the full moon which smiles benevolently over the sleeping park. It’s the wholesome creamy yellow of vanilla ice-cream, a fairytale moon, and it’s lovely.
“It hasn’t got a patch on you,” he whispers, as he presses kisses down the side of her neck and the light makes her shine like some kind of angel. Their kisses don’t rise to passion, not tonight. They’re just quiet affirmations, stolen caresses, low sighs. And then Rose falls asleep, despite the cold, despite the rock, and he nuzzles her hair out of the way, murmurs in an ear that is too lost in dreams to hear:
“I think,” he whispers, as a herd of bison move in a slow pack across the grass, so many metres below, “I might be falling in love with you.”
Then everything is quiet, and the moon smiles on.
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Title: 1. Worth a Thousand Words
Doctor: Nine
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Rating: G
The tunnel is damp and cold. A couple of the children are scared and the teacher has to walk with them and hold their hands, but most just follow silently in single file. They wind down into the side of the hill, their trainers echoing against the metal steps built over the steep incline.
One short, blonde girl brings up the end of the line, walking next to the class chaperone, idly playing with the zipper on her jacket.
-----
The Tardis shakes and rolls, bouncing through the nebula and nearly throwing them to the floor. The Doctor relishes the feeling of Rose pressed against him, her back to his front as they fight to hold on. Their laughter floats out the open door, tangling with the brilliant pinks and purples of the plasma storm as they streak by.
After a few more minutes, the Doctor closes the door and they stumble their way to the console. He flips a switch and then points to the lever on the other side. Rose folds her fingers around the rubber handle and waits.
“Anywhere?” she asks, grinning.
“Anywhere,” he replies.
With that Rose pulls the lever and the Tardis throws itself into the Vortex riding the shockwave until it ends.
-----
The teacher stops the group on a wide landing half way down the tunnel to point out the first drawings. They’re crude and oddly shaped bovines, legs out stretched in front and back looking more like they are jumping hurdles than running.
The girl frowns at them and asks why they look nothing like a cow should look. Her teacher ignores the question and leads the group in further.
-----
Rose stares out at the barren landscape, shivering in a gust of bitter cold air. She can see mountains rising in the distance, covered in snow. There are a few drifts scattered here and there over the plain before her, most look like they are nearing the end, melting into the rocky ground. There are a few pockets of mostly brown grass and tall trees, their branches bare and bent at impossible angles.
“Where are we?” she asks quietly.
“Earth,” he replies. “Somewhere in France if I’m not mistaken.”
She turns around, an incredulous expression on her face. “France?”
He almost smiles at how startled she looks. “Yup.”
“Okay,” she says, pausing a moment. “When are we?”
“Paleolithic Era, about 16,000 years in your past.”
She frowns, and shivers as another burst of cold air blows in, carrying a few flakes in with it. “So what do we do?”
A short while later, properly attired for the chilly air, they walk arm in arm through the wilderness. They are slowly nearing the edge of the mountains where the snow is more persistent and the wind faster and harsher. Her face begins to turn red from the stinging breeze.
Rose stops walking and exhales, watching the fog her breath makes swirl and fade. “I guess I was expecting dinosaurs or wooly mammoths or something.”
He tries not to laugh at how young and innocent she seems right now, but he fails miserably. “Oh Rose, the dinosaurs died off millions of years ago. This is the Stone Age.”
“Great,” she mutters. “So let’s go visit the Flintstones.”
----
The girl is bored, swinging back and forth on one of the railings while her teacher drones on about things she should probably be paying attention to. Her mother worked a lot of extra hours so she could go with the other kids, but most of them won’t give her a second glance. It doesn’t matter, the drawings on the large open wall are beautiful and bright. The yellow lights that hang from the ceiling of the cavern and the small round ones embedded in the rocks glow like firelight.
She can imagine the cavemen sitting around a fire, scratching their artwork onto the stone walls, drawing large, fat horses in browns and reds. She loves horses.
----
Rose finds herself standing on a small ledge a few feet off the ground, tucked into the entrance of a prehistoric cave. The Doctor pulls out his sonic screwdriver and shines it into the cave.
Rose swallows nervously. “We’re going in there?”
He gives her an odd look, as if their destination should be obvious, and takes a step into the cave.
“Wait,” she says, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “What if there’s a bear or a - I dunno, a saber tooth tiger in there or something?”
“Rose, don’t be silly,” he laughs.
He folds his hand around hers and enters the cave, the thin blue light of the sonic barely cutting the darkness. A short distance in, the floor descends sharply and they half walk half slide down the incline. The cave opens to a large room scattered with stalactites and stalagmites.
The Doctor looks around until he finds a small fire pit. Adjusting the sonic, he zaps the small pile of tinder and logs, illuminating the cavern in a golden light. His grin nearly splits his face in two when he hears Rose gasp.
Turning around, he finds his young companion staring in wide eyed awe at the high, flat wall of the cave. From one end to the other and extending up the narrow tunnel they entered are vibrant paintings depicting all manner of animals.
There are numerous herds of deer, mostly stags, their antlers tall and pointed like antelope. In the middle of the wall is a large orange equine in mid stride, its long mane trailing behind it. There are even a few lumbering bison in a muted yellow with exaggerated humped backs and curved horns.
A noise startles the Doctor and he spins around to find two bright eyes staring back at him from a dirty, tanned face. Slowly, the dark space fills with more and more sets of eyes.
----
They’ve been here for hours, listening to their teacher talk about the animals and the cavemen. Half the students aren’t even listening. Wandering to the edge where a railing keeps her from going further into the cave, she notices something and calls out to the teacher. Exasperated and tired, her teacher politely orders her to come back to the group and pay attention.
The girl frowns but scurries back to her class. She keeps glancing back, curiosity tugging at her.
----
They’re out of breath from running and laughter by the time they get back to the Tardis. Their pursuers giving up the chase as soon as they get out into the open plain and the dusty light of the setting sun.
Rose collapses on the jump seat, a little dirty but all smiles as she watches the Doctor move around the console. It’s somehow fitting that they randomly ended up here, a bit like coming full circle. She’s gone from the end of the world, to stopping world war three, to this. It’s one of the places where humanity really began, hunting to survive and living in dark, damp caves, hiding from the snow.
The grinding noise of the Tardis scares most living creatures in the vicinity away, except for one. Two small eyes peek out from the shadows, curiosity getting the better of her. She smiles crookedly as the magic box slips from sight.
----
Tour complete, the teacher does a quick head count, and begins herding the students towards the exit, barking out orders to stick together and don’t touch the walls. One girl brings up the rear of the line again, throwing one last look over her shoulder.
No one else notices the drawing in the far corner, the image of two figures standing near a tall, dark colored box.
Title: 2. Natural Habitat
Doctor: Ten
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Pre-Stolen Earth
Rating: PG-13
“You’re sure it’s not an alien?”
Rose knew the question was ridiculous but she couldn’t resist asking, just to hear the Doctor’s reaction. The funny thing was, the beast lifted its shaggy head from the patch of grass it’d been grazing on to look in their direction as if it understood what she’d said. The Doctor didn’t notice, rising to her bait as he rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “That is a perfect example of the American Plains Bison, the largest mammal in North America. Marvelous animal, really ; they were almost hunted to extinction by the start of the Twentieth Century, but conservationists managed to ensure the continuation of the herds, thanks in part to places like this. It’s as much an alien as I am.”
He paused as he realized what he’d just said. “Oh, wait…”
Rose couldn’t help giggling at his slightly flummoxed expression. For some reason, the Doctor had been possessed that morning with the urge to show her the wonders of her own planet, which was why they’d spent the last several hours traipsing through the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge as he expounded happily on the flora, fauna and animals residing in the sixty thousand acres. Nature studies had never been near the top of Rose’s lists, but the more he happily spilled out facts, the more she found herself smiling, as if his own happiness was infecting her. For once, no one was chasing them, they weren’t running for their lives, and the only alien in view was him, no matter how much she might tease him about the bison.
Still laughing, she linked her arm through his. “So it’s not an alien. Still say it looks funny - and don’t tell me we look funny to him.”
The bison emitted a snort, shook his head and went back to the grass with a rather bored expression. “I don’t think he finds us amusing at all,” the Doctor said, a broad grin crossing his face as he leaned in a bit closer. “Look at this, Rose. We could spend a week wandering this place and see only the merest fraction of what it has to offer.”
They strolled on through the tall grass for a while, then he suddenly loped away, returning almost instantly with a dense, spiky purple flower. “Dalea purpurea,” he announced. “The Purple Prairie Clover. You can make tea from this, you know.”
More facts as they continued their stroll, horticultural trivia interspersed with him tickling her nose with the bloom until she sneezed. Then they were running, her chasing him with dire threats that weren’t so dire while he laughed as he managed to stay just out of reach. No mention of coming storms today, just the simple joy of being together. This was why she traveled with him, because he managed to make even the most ordinary things somehow magical - and he wanted to share that magic with her. Didn't matter where - ancient Rome, Women Wept, New Earth, the wilds of Scotland or even Cardiff - as long as they were together, everything was a wonder.
# # #
“What are buffalos doing in the Himalayas?” Mickey asked, shifting the weapon he carried slightly.
“What's a buffalo?” Jake asked, taking in the small herd of shaggy animals before them with some suspicion.
“Technically, it's a bison,” Rose said. “American Plains Bison.”
Jake nodded. “Okay, what's a bison?”
“Largest mammal in North America,” Rose replied, a wave of memory coming with the words. Purple flowers, vast plains and a smile which haunted her dreams. “At least they were in our world. They don't exist here. No bison and no Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge.”
Mickey frowned. “Wichita Mountains? Oh. Him.”
Rose didn't need to ask what he meant. For three years now, she'd been told to move on and let her memories of the Doctor be, build a life here. She had somewhat, almost in spite of herself - working for Torchwood, even heading up her own team - but it felt a poor substitute for the life she'd left behind and nothing seemed to be able to change that. “The point is what are bison doing in the foothills of the Himalayas when they don't even exist in this universe? That's the question we should be asking.”
It was a question they’d been asking all too often in recent weeks. Following up reports of strange things being found was Torchwoods daily routine, but some of the stuff coming through wasn’t alien - at least, it wasn’t alien to Mickey and Rose. The sudden appearance of several copies of The Sun in what had once been the control room at Canary Wharf had seemed like a bad joke, though how anyone in this world could have written the misadventures of Britney Spears when her music wasn’t popular was beyond Rose.
Mickey had been the one to identify the bi-plane wing found in Northumberland, a strange sight in a world where the Wright Brothers never made their historic flight and zeppelins were still the favored mode of transport. Now, they’d been called in by the Indian government to consult on the strange creatures discovered roaming the foothills which looked like no form of cattle known to the inhabitants of the region.
Could the walls between the universes be opening? Holes appearing the Doctor thought he had patched? It had to mean something; newspapers and airplane parts Rose could understand, momentary fissures not large enough for a person - or a TARDIS - to pass through. But animals? Bison didn’t just move from one universe to another, munching on the grass here as placidly as when she’d seen them what felt a lifetime ago. If they could find their way across the Void, she had to be able to as well.
But when she’d checked with Sonya this morning, the Dimension Cannon had been as dark and silent as always, stubbornly refusing to give even the faintest flicker of life. Even if holes were appearing, she had no way to cross. All she could do was hope they’d either find a way to make the thing work - or the Doctor would realize what was happening and risk the trip.
Forcing herself to focus on the present, she told Mickey and Jake, “The first thing we need to do is arrange to move these guys somewhere more temperate. I don’t think they can survive too long here. If we can get them back to London, maybe we can find a home for them. Then we figure out how they got here, because I’ll lay odds they’ve got Void stuff all over them. Something’s going on and I don’t like it.”
Even as she spoke she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, almost as if there was a change in the atmosphere. Something in the air she heard the Doctor’s voice whisper inside her head. Something coming. A storm’s approaching.
One of the bison lifted his head, regarding her with deep, dark eyes. This time, he was an alien, lost in a world not his own. They both were. The difference was, she was going to find a way back.
Title: 3. Go Slowly, My Lovely Moon, Go Slowly
Doctor: Ten
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
The Doctor has long regarded himself as a soft touch with regard to Rose. Anything she wants - be it a trip to her Mum’s, a day at the biggest intergalactic mall in the universe, or even just a cup of tea - the Doctor makes sure she gets. Sometimes, when he’s alone in the library or tinkering with the TARDIS while she’s asleep, his subconscious whispers in his ear that it’s because he’s in love with her, this insatiable need to make her the happiest she can possibly be. And sometimes, when he’s tired or when he’s kissing her or even just when he’s holding her hand and she’s laughing, he accepts that it might possibly be true.
With this desire quietly registered in the back of his mind, that he will do anything in his power to give her exactly what she wants just to see that hundred-watt, sun-shaming smile, he isn’t surprised by the thunderbolt of anguish that slices through his mind when he discovers her crying in their bedroom. Rose isn’t a woman to cry, preferring to shout and blaze or even just to retreat into herself, but today she is sitting on their bed with her knees hugged to her chest, staring at the mirror with a sort of torturous curiosity.
“Rose?” He crosses the room in two long strides, sits beside her in a tangle of arms and legs which is one of the only things he dislikes about being this tall. He can never be graceful, not with limbs a hundred feet long and skinny to boot. His only consolation is that he’s the perfect height to tilt Rose’s head up for a kiss whenever he feels like it and, if he’s honest, that’s more than enough to make it all worth it.
She looks up as the bed dips, gives him an embarrassed little smile and then wipes her eyes, and he wishes she wouldn’t, wishes that she didn’t ever feel silly in front of him. Doesn’t she know that he feels a little bit stupid half the time he’s talking to her? Doesn’t she know that every time he babbles, every time he rambles about the minutiae of science, he’s just trying to impress her enough that she’ll want to stay with him forever? Slowly, he reaches out, stills her hand, takes it in his.
“What’s the matter, love?”
She regards him for a moment as though unsure whether she can trust him not to laugh, and he thinks for a mad, dizzying heartbeat that she might actually reject him, and the possibility is ridiculously frightening. He’s a Time Lord, for heaven’s sake. A Time Lord in love, whispers his subconscious.
“I just...” she starts, then trails off, drops her gaze. “I’ve been trying to find a dress to wear to that ball you were talking about and...” She sighs again, takes a breath. “They all look horrible.” He wonders for a second why this is so upsetting and feels himself frown, but then he remembers human women and Weightwatchers and does-my-bum-look-big-in-this and suddenly it all makes sense.
“You’re beautiful, Rose,” he assures her, and he’s really quite pleased that he’s worked it out all by himself.
She looks at him doubtfully. “You would say that.”
He’s silent for a moment, that big, brilliant brain working at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, and then the idea pops straight into his head and he pulls her to her feet.
“Look,” he says, grinning, “I’ll show you.”
*
By the time they land, Rose’s dubious expression has not disappeared. In fact, as he flings open the doors - no, he is not showing off - and the landscape of Custer National Park is spread out in front of them, she looks decidedly nonplussed.
“What are we doing here?” she asks, stepping outside and turning a slow circle to admire the haunting beauty of the craggy mountains surrounding them. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Nope.” He pulls the doors shut behind them and then reaches out for her hand, the familiar tingle of relief slithering through his fingers as he feels her pulse beat against his wrist. He wonders if it’s unhealthy, this constant need to have her close, and then pushes the thought aside. You’re in love with her, insists his subconscious. He ignores it.
He gives her a sideways glance, smiles as the wind whips life back into a face which is blotchy from tears, stirs up that old thrill of arriving somewhere new.
“No?”
“Nope,” he repeats, and if he wasn’t very manly and therefore incapable of such a thing, he might have blushed in that moment, because he is just a little bit nervous. “It’s not half as beautiful as you.” Before she can react, before she can tease him, he lets go of her hand, throws out his arms. “Rose Tyler, I’m going to prove to you just how beautiful you are.”
He starts to run, Converse pounding on the grass and her delighted laughter ringing in his ears, and a part of him decides that this is probably the best idea he’s ever had, if it makes her this happy. He looks back, sees her catching up, and so moves faster and faster, two boats rallying against the current, until they come to a sudden stop in the middle of a field.
In front of them, undeterred by their rowdy entrance, stands a very large and very placid bison. There is silence, and then Rose bursts out laughing.
“Is this my competition?” she asks finally, still giggling, as the bison turns its head slowly towards them and regards them with solemn eyes. The Doctor meets its gaze and waggles his eyebrows, trying in vain to remember whether bison are renowned for spiking anything with those horns. Their close proximity makes him rather hope not.
“Oh come on, Rose,” he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting to walk on. “That bison is much prettier.” She skips after him and smacks him on the arm, all pouting and laughing and breathless, and he just has to kiss her, because she’s so young in that moment that he feels the fierce desire to remember this, to remember her joy and her pleasure. Her lips are cold from the wind and her hands are icy as she slips them under his jacket but he doesn’t care, just holds her closer and closes his eyes as her teeth sink lightly, briefly into his lower lip. He shivers. You’re in love with her.
They climb to the top of a rock and sit there until the stars come out, this glorious array of diamonds which twinkle against a dark sapphire sky. She leans her head on his shoulder and he kisses her hair, lifts her hand in his to point to the full moon which smiles benevolently over the sleeping park. It’s the wholesome creamy yellow of vanilla ice-cream, a fairytale moon, and it’s lovely.
“It hasn’t got a patch on you,” he whispers, as he presses kisses down the side of her neck and the light makes her shine like some kind of angel. Their kisses don’t rise to passion, not tonight. They’re just quiet affirmations, stolen caresses, low sighs. And then Rose falls asleep, despite the cold, despite the rock, and he nuzzles her hair out of the way, murmurs in an ear that is too lost in dreams to hear:
“I think,” he whispers, as a herd of bison move in a slow pack across the grass, so many metres below, “I might be falling in love with you.”
Then everything is quiet, and the moon smiles on.