Fic: "To Seek and To Find" 1/2 (Nine/Rose | T)
Title: To Seek and To Find
Author: aibhinn
Rating: T
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Warnings: None
Summary: Left alone while Rose visits her mum, the Doctor is startled by a beacon attuned to the TARDIS. He tracks it down, and is startled by what he finds.
Author's Note: Written for the generous, wonderful wiggiemomsi for the Support Stacie auction. I'm way behind with this. Sorry, hon, but I hope you enjoy! Part 2 will be smutty. Heh heh. This is a prequel to my story In Plain Sight.
The TARDIS landed more gently than usual in the courtyard across from the Powell Estates, and the Doctor gave her console an appreciative stroke. "There you are," he said to Rose, whose knapsack full of laundry sat at her feet. "Twenty-third of August, two thousand and six. Eleven-thirty a.m. Plenty of time for you and your mum to do some catching up before you go off for your manicure or pedicure or facial or whatever it is you're doing."
"All three, actually," Rose said, grinning. "Mum's friend Sharon just opened her new beauty salon, and she's giving us both freebies. Could probably talk her into doing you as well. Sure you don't want to come along?"
"What would I do with pink toenails?" he said mock-derisively. She just grinned more broadly, and he had to hold in a chuckle. A human who could challenge his wit. Who'd've thought it? "You go on," he continued in a more normal tone of voice. "I've got some maintenance to do that requires bein' in the Vortex, but phone me when you're ready for me to come get you."
"We were just in the Vortex," Rose protested. "Why didn't you do it then?"
"I've got to open up the Rotor and replace some stripped parts. Not safe for humans to be exposed to that kind of Time radiation. If you hadn't asked to come home, I'd've suggested it. This isn't the sort of maintenance that can wait very long; it hurts the TARDIS to fly when the Rotor's out of balance."
"Oh, poor girl," Rose said in sympathy, and stroked one of the coralline support struts. In the Doctor's mind, the TARDIS purred. "I thought her song sounded, I dunno, off somehow. Like she was having to strain to keep it up."
"You can hear the TARDIS singing?" the Doctor asked, startled.
"Of course," Rose said, as though he'd asked, You can see me standing in front of you? She glanced at her watch. "I'd better go before Mum comes down and pounds on the door." She reached up and hugged him, her arms around his neck. His went around her waist, and he tried very hard not to notice the line of bare flesh where her shirt had risen up. She held him for just a few moments longer than a simple friendly hug should have been, then let go and reached down for her bag. "I'm off to be pampered," she said, the grin back. "See you later!"
She bounced down the ramp and out the door, closing it carefully behind her. Almost without thinking, the Doctor turned to the viewscreen to watch her as she hefted her laundry to her shoulder and half-jogged towards the block of flats she'd called 'home' for most of her life.
But not any more. Now this was her home.
Whistling cheerfully at that thought, the Doctor flipped a couple of switches and pulled down a lever, and the TARDIS slipped into the Vortex.
***
The maintenance didn't take anywhere near as long as he'd feared, not least because the TARDIS was in enough pain that she did everything in her power to help him. When the last of the replacement parts was bolted in, the Doctor felt a shudder of relief go through his ship, as though she'd given a great sigh and relaxed all at once, like an injured person once the painkillers kicked in. He pulled back and allowed the access panels to fold up, closing off the Rotor from the console room. Only then did he remove the protective eyewear and gloves he had on. The dons at the Academy would have had his hide for not dressing in full protective gear, but none of them had ever had a relationship with their TARDIS like the one he had with his; their TARDISes would never have voluntarily shielded the Core away from them, the way his had done. The gloves and his leather jacket combined to give him quite enough protection-though he had taken the precaution of buttoning the jacket, just in case-and were much less restrictive besides.
Still, it wasn't something he'd care to do every day. He blew out a breath as he tossed the gloves and goggles down on the jump seat. "There you are," he said affectionately. "Hope you appreciate it, 'cos it's given me a bugger of a headache."
A happy chord 'sounded' in his head, along with a sense of gratitude and fondness. He grinned. "That's me done, then," he said. "I'm off for a shower. Rose ought to be phoning soon."
The TARDIS agreed, and he headed down the corridor towards his room, stripping as he went.
He'd nearly finished his shower when the alarm sounded. He didn't even grab a towel; just darted out of the bathroom and into the hallway, pelting towards the console room. Dripping, he reached out and pulled the viewscreen towards him, typing in a command one-handed. "What is it?" he asked, somewhat redundantly, since that was the essence of what he'd typed. "What's wrong?"
Scrolling Gallifreyan script rolled across the screen. His brow furrowed. "A beacon? That's not worth an alarm, surely."
More script scrolled, and his eyes widened. "Attuned specifically to you?" he repeated. "as in, someone's got your signature and isn't afraid to use it to find us? All right, yeah, that's something big enough to scare me out of a decade or two. We'd better go before Rose phones. I don't want to risk her getting hurt if this is someone with a grudge." He flipped a few switches, twisted a knob to set the course, and was about to press the lever when a small, external thought niggled at the corner of his mind-the TARDIS trying to get his attention.
"What?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling, one fist on his hip in irritation. "You want to find out who's calling us or not? I'm setting the course now."
Then he realised. "Oh," he said. "Right. I'll get dressed first."
He headed back towards his bedroom, ignoring the amusement that twined a warm, affectionate tendril through his consciousness.
***
The TARDIS bumped hard as she landed-so hard even the Doctor had to hang onto the edge of the console to keep from being thrown to the floor. Her song in his head was disturbed, as if one of the layers of harmony had turned dissonant. "You all right?" he asked her, worried. "Not something wrong with my repair job, is it?"
The TARDIS reassured him, but in a distracted manner, as though something else were holding her attention-but what, the Doctor had no idea.
"Right," he said. "Let's find out who's looking for me, then, and we'll get you back to where you're comfortable soon as we can." Straightening his leather jacket, he strode purposefully out of the doors.
The Nepthron II bazaar was a milling, thronging mass of humans and humanoid life forms. Nepthron II, the Doctor remembered, was a relatively central hub in the space lanes near the frontier planets; a lot of suppliers were based here, and the frontier planets sent factors in to purchase what they needed. Out here, the power of the Pure Human Coalition-just the thought of them was enough to make the Doctor snort in derision-was significantly weaker than closer in to the Central Planets, so while at first glance the crowd seemed human, the occasional slit-pupiled eye or flash of a third eyelid made it very clear that appearances, as always, could be decieving.
The Doctor, however, was in no mood to sightsee. Letting his connection with the TARDIS guide him, he made his way through the crowd, hardly noticing the way that the people parted before him. He was none too happy that someone had the TARDIS's frequency, and entirely aware that Rose could be phoning any time. He radiated tense irritation like a cloud around him: the Oncoming Storm indeed.
The beacon wasn't far away as the crow flew, but having to weave through the bazaar, around stalls and semi-permanent shops, made it nearly twice as long. By the time the Doctor stepped into the shade of the tent restaurant, he was well and truly annoyed. The becaon, which registered as an irritating mental whine, pulled him towards a corner, where a dark-haired woman sat at a table alone, facing away from him. A knapsack sat at her feet, and she nursed a glass of what looked like one of the specialty fruit juices. Nothing about her seemed out of the ordinary, which only made the Doctor even more annoyed.
Huffing out a breath, he stomped over towards her. "All right," he said gruffly. "I'm here. What do you want? And this had better be good."
Startled, she spun around, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. They stared at each other for a long, horrified moment.
"D-doctor?" stuttered a mature, though still young-looking, dark-haired Rose Tyler.
***
Blue eyes bored into hers, looking as startled as she felt. She hadn't considered this possibility-that the beacon Mickey and Jake had helped her build into her mobile might contact an earlier version of the Doctor than she'd left.
I suppose I should be grateful it's a version who knows me, she thought, even as she looked around for her younger self. Though she didn't remember ever coming to this planet-oh, God, had he even met her yet?
He put her fears to rest over that, at least. "Good job my version of you's with your mum, or we'd be for it," he observed. She could see the telltale signs of annoyance fading into interest. "What's happened-did you wander off again and lose me?"
The question was asked with his usual mixture of fondness and exasperation, but the image of her pinstriped Doctor on a beach flashed before her eyes, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "I can't tell you," she forced herself to say. "It's your future."
He rolled his eyes, and the familiar gesture clenched at her heart. "Got that, thanks," he told her. "But clearly you need me, or you wouldn't have set off the beacon. Will I be showing up to find you shortly?"
"I don't know," Rose said. Stupid, she castigated herself. Now what?
His eyebrows rose. "You know, you can tell me," he said. "I'll already need to wipe my memory later; you might as well give me everything you know."
The temptation to do just that was overwhelming. She wanted to tell him so much-so very, very much. But she held back. "I don't want to do something that will hurt you or cause a paradox," she hedged.
He leant forward and took her hand. The feel of it, the strong callused palm and thick, capable fingers, sent remembered grief coursing through her, and two tears trickled down her cheeks. She'd never imagined she'd be able to feel those hands again. "Rose," he said quietly, "it's okay. Tell me why you're here."
She took a shaky breath. "Trying to find you," she said. "But not this you. The next you."
He blinked, sudden understanding in his eyes. "I'll regenerate?" he asked.
She nodded helplessly. "Now do you understand why I can't say anything?" she asked.
He hesitated for a moment, then rose to his feet and pulled her gently up with him. "Come on," he said. "Let's continue this back in the TARDIS."
Part Two.
Author: aibhinn
Rating: T
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Warnings: None
Summary: Left alone while Rose visits her mum, the Doctor is startled by a beacon attuned to the TARDIS. He tracks it down, and is startled by what he finds.
Author's Note: Written for the generous, wonderful wiggiemomsi for the Support Stacie auction. I'm way behind with this. Sorry, hon, but I hope you enjoy! Part 2 will be smutty. Heh heh. This is a prequel to my story In Plain Sight.
The TARDIS landed more gently than usual in the courtyard across from the Powell Estates, and the Doctor gave her console an appreciative stroke. "There you are," he said to Rose, whose knapsack full of laundry sat at her feet. "Twenty-third of August, two thousand and six. Eleven-thirty a.m. Plenty of time for you and your mum to do some catching up before you go off for your manicure or pedicure or facial or whatever it is you're doing."
"All three, actually," Rose said, grinning. "Mum's friend Sharon just opened her new beauty salon, and she's giving us both freebies. Could probably talk her into doing you as well. Sure you don't want to come along?"
"What would I do with pink toenails?" he said mock-derisively. She just grinned more broadly, and he had to hold in a chuckle. A human who could challenge his wit. Who'd've thought it? "You go on," he continued in a more normal tone of voice. "I've got some maintenance to do that requires bein' in the Vortex, but phone me when you're ready for me to come get you."
"We were just in the Vortex," Rose protested. "Why didn't you do it then?"
"I've got to open up the Rotor and replace some stripped parts. Not safe for humans to be exposed to that kind of Time radiation. If you hadn't asked to come home, I'd've suggested it. This isn't the sort of maintenance that can wait very long; it hurts the TARDIS to fly when the Rotor's out of balance."
"Oh, poor girl," Rose said in sympathy, and stroked one of the coralline support struts. In the Doctor's mind, the TARDIS purred. "I thought her song sounded, I dunno, off somehow. Like she was having to strain to keep it up."
"You can hear the TARDIS singing?" the Doctor asked, startled.
"Of course," Rose said, as though he'd asked, You can see me standing in front of you? She glanced at her watch. "I'd better go before Mum comes down and pounds on the door." She reached up and hugged him, her arms around his neck. His went around her waist, and he tried very hard not to notice the line of bare flesh where her shirt had risen up. She held him for just a few moments longer than a simple friendly hug should have been, then let go and reached down for her bag. "I'm off to be pampered," she said, the grin back. "See you later!"
She bounced down the ramp and out the door, closing it carefully behind her. Almost without thinking, the Doctor turned to the viewscreen to watch her as she hefted her laundry to her shoulder and half-jogged towards the block of flats she'd called 'home' for most of her life.
But not any more. Now this was her home.
Whistling cheerfully at that thought, the Doctor flipped a couple of switches and pulled down a lever, and the TARDIS slipped into the Vortex.
***
The maintenance didn't take anywhere near as long as he'd feared, not least because the TARDIS was in enough pain that she did everything in her power to help him. When the last of the replacement parts was bolted in, the Doctor felt a shudder of relief go through his ship, as though she'd given a great sigh and relaxed all at once, like an injured person once the painkillers kicked in. He pulled back and allowed the access panels to fold up, closing off the Rotor from the console room. Only then did he remove the protective eyewear and gloves he had on. The dons at the Academy would have had his hide for not dressing in full protective gear, but none of them had ever had a relationship with their TARDIS like the one he had with his; their TARDISes would never have voluntarily shielded the Core away from them, the way his had done. The gloves and his leather jacket combined to give him quite enough protection-though he had taken the precaution of buttoning the jacket, just in case-and were much less restrictive besides.
Still, it wasn't something he'd care to do every day. He blew out a breath as he tossed the gloves and goggles down on the jump seat. "There you are," he said affectionately. "Hope you appreciate it, 'cos it's given me a bugger of a headache."
A happy chord 'sounded' in his head, along with a sense of gratitude and fondness. He grinned. "That's me done, then," he said. "I'm off for a shower. Rose ought to be phoning soon."
The TARDIS agreed, and he headed down the corridor towards his room, stripping as he went.
He'd nearly finished his shower when the alarm sounded. He didn't even grab a towel; just darted out of the bathroom and into the hallway, pelting towards the console room. Dripping, he reached out and pulled the viewscreen towards him, typing in a command one-handed. "What is it?" he asked, somewhat redundantly, since that was the essence of what he'd typed. "What's wrong?"
Scrolling Gallifreyan script rolled across the screen. His brow furrowed. "A beacon? That's not worth an alarm, surely."
More script scrolled, and his eyes widened. "Attuned specifically to you?" he repeated. "as in, someone's got your signature and isn't afraid to use it to find us? All right, yeah, that's something big enough to scare me out of a decade or two. We'd better go before Rose phones. I don't want to risk her getting hurt if this is someone with a grudge." He flipped a few switches, twisted a knob to set the course, and was about to press the lever when a small, external thought niggled at the corner of his mind-the TARDIS trying to get his attention.
"What?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling, one fist on his hip in irritation. "You want to find out who's calling us or not? I'm setting the course now."
Then he realised. "Oh," he said. "Right. I'll get dressed first."
He headed back towards his bedroom, ignoring the amusement that twined a warm, affectionate tendril through his consciousness.
***
The TARDIS bumped hard as she landed-so hard even the Doctor had to hang onto the edge of the console to keep from being thrown to the floor. Her song in his head was disturbed, as if one of the layers of harmony had turned dissonant. "You all right?" he asked her, worried. "Not something wrong with my repair job, is it?"
The TARDIS reassured him, but in a distracted manner, as though something else were holding her attention-but what, the Doctor had no idea.
"Right," he said. "Let's find out who's looking for me, then, and we'll get you back to where you're comfortable soon as we can." Straightening his leather jacket, he strode purposefully out of the doors.
The Nepthron II bazaar was a milling, thronging mass of humans and humanoid life forms. Nepthron II, the Doctor remembered, was a relatively central hub in the space lanes near the frontier planets; a lot of suppliers were based here, and the frontier planets sent factors in to purchase what they needed. Out here, the power of the Pure Human Coalition-just the thought of them was enough to make the Doctor snort in derision-was significantly weaker than closer in to the Central Planets, so while at first glance the crowd seemed human, the occasional slit-pupiled eye or flash of a third eyelid made it very clear that appearances, as always, could be decieving.
The Doctor, however, was in no mood to sightsee. Letting his connection with the TARDIS guide him, he made his way through the crowd, hardly noticing the way that the people parted before him. He was none too happy that someone had the TARDIS's frequency, and entirely aware that Rose could be phoning any time. He radiated tense irritation like a cloud around him: the Oncoming Storm indeed.
The beacon wasn't far away as the crow flew, but having to weave through the bazaar, around stalls and semi-permanent shops, made it nearly twice as long. By the time the Doctor stepped into the shade of the tent restaurant, he was well and truly annoyed. The becaon, which registered as an irritating mental whine, pulled him towards a corner, where a dark-haired woman sat at a table alone, facing away from him. A knapsack sat at her feet, and she nursed a glass of what looked like one of the specialty fruit juices. Nothing about her seemed out of the ordinary, which only made the Doctor even more annoyed.
Huffing out a breath, he stomped over towards her. "All right," he said gruffly. "I'm here. What do you want? And this had better be good."
Startled, she spun around, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. They stared at each other for a long, horrified moment.
"D-doctor?" stuttered a mature, though still young-looking, dark-haired Rose Tyler.
***
Blue eyes bored into hers, looking as startled as she felt. She hadn't considered this possibility-that the beacon Mickey and Jake had helped her build into her mobile might contact an earlier version of the Doctor than she'd left.
I suppose I should be grateful it's a version who knows me, she thought, even as she looked around for her younger self. Though she didn't remember ever coming to this planet-oh, God, had he even met her yet?
He put her fears to rest over that, at least. "Good job my version of you's with your mum, or we'd be for it," he observed. She could see the telltale signs of annoyance fading into interest. "What's happened-did you wander off again and lose me?"
The question was asked with his usual mixture of fondness and exasperation, but the image of her pinstriped Doctor on a beach flashed before her eyes, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "I can't tell you," she forced herself to say. "It's your future."
He rolled his eyes, and the familiar gesture clenched at her heart. "Got that, thanks," he told her. "But clearly you need me, or you wouldn't have set off the beacon. Will I be showing up to find you shortly?"
"I don't know," Rose said. Stupid, she castigated herself. Now what?
His eyebrows rose. "You know, you can tell me," he said. "I'll already need to wipe my memory later; you might as well give me everything you know."
The temptation to do just that was overwhelming. She wanted to tell him so much-so very, very much. But she held back. "I don't want to do something that will hurt you or cause a paradox," she hedged.
He leant forward and took her hand. The feel of it, the strong callused palm and thick, capable fingers, sent remembered grief coursing through her, and two tears trickled down her cheeks. She'd never imagined she'd be able to feel those hands again. "Rose," he said quietly, "it's okay. Tell me why you're here."
She took a shaky breath. "Trying to find you," she said. "But not this you. The next you."
He blinked, sudden understanding in his eyes. "I'll regenerate?" he asked.
She nodded helplessly. "Now do you understand why I can't say anything?" she asked.
He hesitated for a moment, then rose to his feet and pulled her gently up with him. "Come on," he said. "Let's continue this back in the TARDIS."
Part Two.