Fic- Echoes: Call of the Bad Wolf
Title- Echoes: Call of the Bad Wolf
Fandom: Doctor Who
Chapter: Something Right
Characters: Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Eight), Mickey Smith
Spoilers: none yet
Tagline: What if Nine wasn't the first Doctor Rose Tyler ever met? What if she was more then just a Companion? And what if there was more to Bad Wolf than meets the eye?
Disclaimer: I wish it were mine..oh how I wish.
Author's Notes: Figured I'd give everyone a chance to get their brains back after the finale. And always with the thanks to my beta
whochick for without her there'd be no continuity and more commas then you can shake a stick at.
Summary: Things that would normally be seen as stupid are, more often than not, exactly what you need to do.
By the time the two had reached the door to the flat Rose was bearing practically all the strange man’s weight. He tried to walk, stumbling beside her as his breath hissed between his teeth. The doorframe held him up as Rose fumbled with the lock, her hands shaking from the cold and wet of the storm.
Finally, upon twisting the key he dropped to the floor, feeling the first blast of heat on his shivering body. Rose dropped as well, her hands working over the green velvet coat, trying to turn him over so she could see his face. A murmured curse escaped her lips as she raked back the rogue strands of hair and attempted to move him, if only a little.
“What the hell are you doin’?” a voice asked from just beyond the doorway and Rose turned to see a bundled up Mickey Smith staring at her.
“Help me get him inside.”
“What?”
“I said help me!” she ordered and tugged at the man’s shoulders to lay him on his back.
Mickey moved to crouch down beside her, helping move the man to rest on his back. Mickey stood up, backing away with a start as he saw the blood and the pained expression on the man’s face. Rose held her ground, her hands working over the grey silk vest and cravat, uncaring as they were instantly stained red.
“The hell’s going on? What happened to him?” Mickey shouted, pointing.
“Keep it down. You want everyone in the building to hear you? Help me get him into my room…Mum’ll freak if there’s blood on the carpet.” Rose again slid the man’s arm around her shoulders and attempted to stand, but couldn’t quite lift his weight. “Come on. Help me!”
Mickey shook his head, staying in the doorway as Rose shakily got to feet. The man cried out, his eyes opening and his free hand gripping at his chest, “what’s going on?”
“We’re getting you inside. Can you stand?” Rose asked, looping her arm that wasn’t holding him across her shoulders around his waist.
“We’ll see…” he moved, knees wobbling as they both stood in sync.
“What the hell happened to you? You ought to be dead losing that much blood…” Mickey pointed at him as Rose glowered.
“Now’s not exactly the time for this!” she hissed and turned, starting toward her bedroom as the man shuffled alongside her.
“This is the perfect time for this!” Mickey shouted and followed after them, closing the door on the bitter cold.
Rose eased a bit as the entered her room, kicking aside clothes and other assorted things as she led the now failing man at her side to her bed. They both fell as his knees gave, him landing with a sharp cry and Rose immediately leaned over to inspect the damage. Again the man’s hand went to his chest, fresh blood pouring against the white shirt that clung to his chest beneath the now open grey silk vest.
“Help me get him out of these clothes and into something warm…he’s shaking.” Rose ordered Mickey, her hands already pushing the green velvet coat off of his shoulders and shoving at the vest beneath it.
“I’m not touching him! If he dies we’re the first suspects!” Mickey shouted, crossing his arms.
“Fine…look, can you sit up? It’ll only be for a second, I promise…” she cooed, pulling him into a sitting position and slid both the jacket and vest off, undoing the cravat as well in a smooth motion.
He sat there compliantly, his eyes starting to glaze over, swaying a bit as Rose moved to undo the buttons of the white shirt that was so stained with blood. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and his hands wrapped around hers, deep blue eyes looking into her hazel ones. Her voice caught; a sudden warmth spilling up from somewhere in her that she couldn’t place.
“We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed...” Rose murmured, lost in the abyss of blue.
His hands squeezed her lightly, “I’ll manage here…could I trouble you for some hot water?”
Rose nodded, “I’ll draw a bath for you…” and stood, her hands still wrapped in his.
“Thank you...” he whispered, sliding his hands away from hers and started to unbutton the rest of the shirt shakily.
“Go grab some sweat pants and a shirt from mum’s room. There should be some in the wardrobe hangin’ up.” Rose turned to Mickey, automatically going to shove at her hair but stopped when she noticed that her hands were covered in blood. “Hurry!”
Mickey followed her to the washroom as she leaned over the chipped porcelain tub and started the hot water from the tap. She rinsed her hands, the water tinting pink as she rubbed them beneath the stream before putting the stopper in the drain. Her hands shook as she pulled them from the water and watched it for a minute, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“Rose, what the hell happened? Who is he?” Mickey asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I told you to go get him some clothes…”
“And I’m not doing it until you tell me what’s going on.”
Rose took another deep breath and pulled open a cupboard, staring into it just so she could avoid his eyes, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t…know?”
“I don’t bloody know so go get some clothes from Mum’s room. Please?”
Mickey shook his head, “you should have called an ambulance…he’ll bleed to death here.”
“No he won’t.”
“How do you know? Did you see ‘im get shot or something?”
“ He wasn’t shot! He’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Mickey pulled out his phone and Rose’s eyes widened, “what are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling an ambulance like you should’ve done.”
Rose snatched the phone from his hands and turned it off, sliding it her pocket. Mickey cocked an eyebrow and took a step toward her, “the hell are you thinking? You’ve got a man dying in your room, you don’t know who the bloody hell he is, and now you’re taking my phone for calling a doctor? What’s wrong with you?”
“He’ll be fine. I know he will. Just please go and get those clothes…please?” she begged and left from the room, going down the hall back to hers.
Mickey shook his head a few times, an awed expression on his face as he watched her go. For a moment he just stood there in complete shock. That was certainly not the Rose he knew…his Rose wouldn’t act like that.
By the time the soft knock at the door sounded the man had managed to get out of the vest and shirt and was trying to examine his wounds in a mirror. He leaned against the frame, breathing shallow, and wondered if he’d squandered away this life. Sure, he’d gone through enough but he was still so young in this body…he hadn’t had a chance to really live yet.
“Bath’s running…and Mickey’s getting you something to wear.” A shaky voice said from behind the closed door and he smiled.
“Thank you…” and smeared a stream of crimson from his chest with his fingers.
“Need any help?”
“Actually…yes…that would be good right about now…”
Rose went in and gasped at the sight of the man. Blood soaked him from the chest down as he leaned against the frame of her full-length mirror, wide blue eyes staring out blankly at her. She bit her lip and went to him, her hands closing around his upper arms as she moved close. He smiled weakly at her and let himself be led out of the room and to the washroom down the hall. Both were silent as they walked.
Mickey reappeared as the washroom door shut and Rose was left leaning against the wall. She pressed her forehead against the cold plaster and sighed, wishing to whoever would listen that Mickey would just give her the clothes and go home. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him…and in the current situation she’d have been screwed without his help, but she knew he wasn’t out to help this man that she’d brought home. He would try to convince her that it wasn’t her place to help…that she should call an ambulance and let them deal with things…that he could kill her in her sleep and no one would know…that she had no idea who he was and had let him into her and her mother’s home. She knew, oh she knew, but something in her told her that it was going to be all right. She had nothing to fear except the fact that this man might not live to see the next morning.
“Rose…I know you’re just trying to help him, but you have to call someone. It’s not up to you to help this guy…” Mickey tried to reason, but Rose just closed her eyes and wished she was anywhere but there.
“I know. I promise you I know. He could kill me in my sleep if he wanted to … provided he makes it through the night. But something tells me I have to help him. I had to help him.” As she spoke she turned and let her eyes meet his in blatant defiance. If she was going to defy her conscience then she was going to do it while looking him in the eye.
“You didn’t have to do anything except call a doctor. God, Rose…what would Jackie say if she saw you like this? She’d rip you a new one, that’s what’d she do.” Mickey shook his head and turned, going toward her room.
“What you doing?” she asked, following him, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Checking to see if he has any ID on him. He changed out of the jacket … might have something worth looking at.” Mickey tossed over his shoulder as he entered her room and picked up the stained green jacket and started rooting through the pockets.
“You can’t do that! Those are his clothes!” Rose rushed in after him and moved to take the jacket away.
Mickey shook his head and went back to going through the pockets, pulling out a small pile of miscellaneous items a he went along. Rose watched as a wild assortment of things (some of which she’d never seen the like of before) came from the pockets and both she and Mickey shared a look as it seemed like there was no end to the strange odds and ends.
Finally Mickey pulled out a battered leather wallet and flipped it open, “bingo.”
“What?” Rose asked and came up behind him, looking over his shoulder to read what was in it.
The stained paper shower a picture of the man and what looked like an ancient passport paper. They both leaned in close to try and read the smeared name and Rose cocked an eyebrow, “all that for John Smith. How…anti-climactic.”
“Probably not his real name…no one’s named that. It’s too ordinary…”
Rose shot him a look, “yes because Michael Smith is so much more original.”
Mickey made a face and flipped the wallet closed before digging in to the rest of the stuff that sat on a pile on Rose’s bed. They both exchanged a few looks as they pulled out pens, odd coins, papers with bits of writing on them in a language neither of them could decipher, watches, a bag full of Jelly Babies (a candy Rose hadn’t had since she was little), small wrenches, a pocket guidebook for Italy, a silver ring, a yo-yo, and a long wand-like thing with a red jewel on the end of it. Rose picked it up and fiddled with it, suddenly feeling warm and happy as she looked at the silver colored tool. A feeling of familiarity struck her and with less than a thought she pressed one of the buttons on the side and pointed it toward a lamp, the light brightening considerably before the bulb exploded. Mickey shouted and Rose, having been shocked out of her reverie, threw down the tool.
“What the hell was that?” Mickey shouted, pointed to the smoking lamp on the side of her desk.
“Dunno.”
“You don’t know? You did it!” Mickey yelled and Rose put a finger up to her lips.
“You want him to know we were messing about with his stuff, then?” she hissed and Mickey covered his mouth with a hand.
“S’what I thought. Now…I’m going to try and get this blood out of those clothes…if he comes out and asks just tell him that. And don’t mess with that stuff again!” Rose told him as she gathered up the stained shirt, vest and jacket and made her way to the kitchen.
As Rose stood, holding the grey vest under the fall of cold water, she let her mind wander. There was something so familiar and homey to the weave of the cloth in her hand and the pattern woven into it. The water turned pink as it ran down the drain, taking her mind with it as it went.
In her mind the world turned to that golden glow that she was quickly becoming used to. Warmth and comfort erupted through her as her fingers methodically rubbed over the bloodstains under the cold water. She heard something calling her and through the haze she saw the same blue eyes that she had looked into not an hour ago. They looked worried, nay, protective as they locked onto her as she washed.
You must help the Doctor. The Doctor is very important. Help him. Let him rest. Save the Doctor. You must save the Doctor. Help him. You are his only hope. You must help him. You must stay with him. Stay with him. Stay with the Doctor. You must. The soft voices called out in her mind, hurried and anxious. The words pounded in her skull, softly at first, but then grew to a crescendo that thundered in her head like a stampede of elephants. The cloth fell from her hands and she had to hold herself up against the sink as the voices shouted at her.
“Miss?” asked a quiet voice and she turned to the man standing in the living room dressed only in the sweatpants Mickey had grabbed from Jackie’s room. Immediately a blush crept up Rose’s face and she turned back to the sink, picking up the vest.
“Rose. My name’s Rose.”
“Rose…lovely name. If you have any kind of bandages or…anything…I’d be much obliged. The bleeding has stopped, I think, for the most part and I’d like to get this covered as soon as possible...” he still looked pale and sick as he stood there, hands clasping a towel as water ran down from the half-dried curls that hung down in his face. Along his chest the wounds looked much better now that they were clean, but still seeped enough blood to mix with the water and turn it red as it ran down his torso.
She nodded and reached under the sink in a cabinet and pulled out a small box, “go lay down. I’ll be in there in a mo’.”
The man nodded and Rose plugged the drain and let water fill it. She put the bloody clothes in to soak, in a vain attempt that the blood was still wet enough to not have stained them. She wiped her hands on a towel, her mind reeling, and took a breath before going into her room with the box she’d pulled from under the sink.
Mickey was already in the room, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, when she came in. The man was eyeing the pile of his things and fiddling with the rod that had made the lamp explode. He looked up as Rose came in and stood, obviously pained by the effort, bowing a bit. Mickey rolled her eyes and turned his head away, muttering under his breath.
“I can do bandages…took a first aid class when I was still in school. Most of it’s stuck with me…” Rose murmured and set the box down on her dresser.
The man nodded, “perhaps your friend would prefer to wait outside? He seems a little uneasy…”
Mickey cocked an eyebrow, “I don’t think so. If you try to kill her who’s gonna take care of you?”
The man half smiled and shook his head, “I’m not going to try and kill her…what gives you the idea that I would try something like that?”
“Dunno. You just could. And I don’t like that you’ve got so much weird stuff around…I don’t trust you.” Mickey’s eyes were locked on him.
“Well that’s all well and good for you….” He gestured with his hands a bit.
“Mickey. Mickey Smith.”
The man smiled, “we may be relatives then, Mr. Smith.”
“Like hell we are...” and he turned to Rose.
“I think he’s right, Mickey. You should wait outside…I’m perfectly capable of handling things on my own and I swear if pulls a gun out of the pants you got from Mum’s closet I’ll scream for you. Okay?” Rose grabbed Mickey’s hands and pulled him towards the door, a warning look on her face.
“But...” he started, but Rose gave him another look and shut the door behind him.
“Sorry about that…he’s…” she stopped, searching for the word as she turned and started digging bandages and antiseptic out from the box.
“Protective?” the man offered, leaning back against the pillows.
“Putting it a bit lightly there…” she smiled and walked over to him.
The wounds were deep scratches and cuts along his midsection. Nothing would require stitches, but it would be a long time before he could move comfortably. Rose winced as she moved closer to him; the wounds were still bleeding a bit and Rose had always hated the sight of blood. Whatever adrenaline had come over her to bring him back to the flat was gone now and her hands shook as she moved to wipe the blood away and clean the angry, red marks that marred his otherwise flawless pale skin.
“I can do it if you like…” the man offered quietly, holding out his hands to take the medical supplies from Rose.
“You’re hurt…you just need to lie back.”
“You’ve never dealt with real blood and you don’t like the sight of it. Now, let me take care of this while you mark a few settings on my sonic.”
Rose looked up, “excuse me?”
The man took the supplies out of her hands and nodded his head toward the wand-like thing that rested not too far from him. “What you blew up your lamp with. Click the top button a few times until the red light flashes, and then hand it to me. I want to scan and make sure I’ve not done anything life threatening.”
Rose cocked her head to the side and picked up the metallic rod, turning it over in her hands. Again she felt that same homey feeling that she’d had when she picked it up earlier and her hands moved along the buttons as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The man blotted at the blood with a cotton ball and winced a bit, trying to sit up so he could see the wounds better. When the blood had cleared he looked up at her and held out a hand for the device.
“What is it?” Rose asked as she handed it over, her body reacting just a bit as their fingers brushed when he took the rod from her hand.
“Sonic screwdriver. Does just about everything but make tea…and even then all you have to do is coax it a bit.” He smiled and moved the red light across the wounds in his stomach and settled back to hold the device horizontally in front of his eyes.
“Is it some sort of…medical scanner? Are you a doctor?” she froze. Something in her mind reeled at that. It sounded familiar…as if she’d said that name in a hushed voice inside that room before.
His blue eyes looked up at her and he smiled warmly, if not tiredly, “something like that, yes.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes focusing on how his hands moved as he pressed the bandages against his torso. To her embarrassment she blushed a little as she watched him move, strong muscles beneath his chest and abdomen curling and rippling as he stirred to get at the right angle. One particularly long scratch proved to be a bit of a problem as it ran from under his ribs down along one side. He twisted, but made a face full of pain as he did so and Rose leaned over to help him.
“Let me. I’d like to help…” she whispered and carefully patted the bandage against the slash, desperately trying to ignore the strength of his chest and core as she pressed close to him.
“Thank you for all of this…Rose, wasn’t it? You’re far braver than I am. I’d have never expected anyone taking in someone that looked like I did into their home…” he whispered, his voice tired.
“Don’t worry about it. I had to do it…” she murmured, ripping off a piece of medical tape and secured the bandage to his skin.
“Why’s that?”
As if on cue she could hear the swell of the voices in her mind again and her hands trembled as they moved away from his body, “It was just…something right.”
The man nodded, his eyelids fluttering closed as she moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. His breathing slowed and for a moment Rose’s heart sank, thinking that they hadn’t done enough. Soon though, the sounds of his rhythmic breathing signaled that he was asleep and she sighed in relief.
Not too long after she had pulled a throw across his chest Rose slid out of the room and shut the door quietly. Mickey eyed her as she leaned against the door for a moment, her forehead pressed against the cheap wood. One hand pressed flat against her face as she rested, wanting to be on the other side and out of the accusing stare of her ex-boyfriend.
“It’s not normal, this. He was practically dead when you hauled him in and now all he has is a few scratch marks on him. He should have bled to death.” Mickey’s tone was dark.
“But he didn’t. That’s what matters.”
Mickey’s eyes rolled, “tomorrow you’re going to call a proper doctor, yeah? Get him looked at properly?”
Rose shook her head, “I think he is some sort of doctor…”
“A proper doctor wouldn’t go around like that-“
Rose cut him off, “drop it, okay? I need a cuppa…” she murmured and tugged her hair free from the ponytail it had been encased in for so long and ran her fingers through her dyed blonde mane.
Mickey followed her into the kitchen and eyed the clothes soaking in the sink, “I don’t like this, Rose.”
She looked up from the kettle she was filling with water and glared at him in the way that only a person who’d just saved another person’s life could glare, “you don’t like anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Just saying.”
“Well if that’s how you feel I’ll just leave then…”
Rose looked up. The anger had faded from her face, and calm resolve remained set on her pretty features. “Go, then. I can handle this.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Mickey hissed.
Rose put the kettle on the burner and sighed, “He’s sleeping. He can’t do anything while he’s sleeping. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.” Rose murmured as she looked down at the floor, her voice a bit hollow.
“Rose?”
“Just go. I can handle things here.”
Mickey shook his head again, “if you say so, but don’t call me when he’s swingin’ an axe at your head…” and went into the living room to grab his jacket.
Rose watched him put on his jacket, muttering all the time, and leave. Her head swam a bit as the sound of the door clicked shut and the blast of frigid air blew through the room. Her last ally had just left the building.
She was on her own.
Comment. Enjoy. Have pie. Dance to Rogue Traders.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Chapter: Something Right
Characters: Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Eight), Mickey Smith
Spoilers: none yet
Tagline: What if Nine wasn't the first Doctor Rose Tyler ever met? What if she was more then just a Companion? And what if there was more to Bad Wolf than meets the eye?
Disclaimer: I wish it were mine..oh how I wish.
Author's Notes: Figured I'd give everyone a chance to get their brains back after the finale. And always with the thanks to my beta
whochick for without her there'd be no continuity and more commas then you can shake a stick at.
Summary: Things that would normally be seen as stupid are, more often than not, exactly what you need to do.
By the time the two had reached the door to the flat Rose was bearing practically all the strange man’s weight. He tried to walk, stumbling beside her as his breath hissed between his teeth. The doorframe held him up as Rose fumbled with the lock, her hands shaking from the cold and wet of the storm.
Finally, upon twisting the key he dropped to the floor, feeling the first blast of heat on his shivering body. Rose dropped as well, her hands working over the green velvet coat, trying to turn him over so she could see his face. A murmured curse escaped her lips as she raked back the rogue strands of hair and attempted to move him, if only a little.
“What the hell are you doin’?” a voice asked from just beyond the doorway and Rose turned to see a bundled up Mickey Smith staring at her.
“Help me get him inside.”
“What?”
“I said help me!” she ordered and tugged at the man’s shoulders to lay him on his back.
Mickey moved to crouch down beside her, helping move the man to rest on his back. Mickey stood up, backing away with a start as he saw the blood and the pained expression on the man’s face. Rose held her ground, her hands working over the grey silk vest and cravat, uncaring as they were instantly stained red.
“The hell’s going on? What happened to him?” Mickey shouted, pointing.
“Keep it down. You want everyone in the building to hear you? Help me get him into my room…Mum’ll freak if there’s blood on the carpet.” Rose again slid the man’s arm around her shoulders and attempted to stand, but couldn’t quite lift his weight. “Come on. Help me!”
Mickey shook his head, staying in the doorway as Rose shakily got to feet. The man cried out, his eyes opening and his free hand gripping at his chest, “what’s going on?”
“We’re getting you inside. Can you stand?” Rose asked, looping her arm that wasn’t holding him across her shoulders around his waist.
“We’ll see…” he moved, knees wobbling as they both stood in sync.
“What the hell happened to you? You ought to be dead losing that much blood…” Mickey pointed at him as Rose glowered.
“Now’s not exactly the time for this!” she hissed and turned, starting toward her bedroom as the man shuffled alongside her.
“This is the perfect time for this!” Mickey shouted and followed after them, closing the door on the bitter cold.
Rose eased a bit as the entered her room, kicking aside clothes and other assorted things as she led the now failing man at her side to her bed. They both fell as his knees gave, him landing with a sharp cry and Rose immediately leaned over to inspect the damage. Again the man’s hand went to his chest, fresh blood pouring against the white shirt that clung to his chest beneath the now open grey silk vest.
“Help me get him out of these clothes and into something warm…he’s shaking.” Rose ordered Mickey, her hands already pushing the green velvet coat off of his shoulders and shoving at the vest beneath it.
“I’m not touching him! If he dies we’re the first suspects!” Mickey shouted, crossing his arms.
“Fine…look, can you sit up? It’ll only be for a second, I promise…” she cooed, pulling him into a sitting position and slid both the jacket and vest off, undoing the cravat as well in a smooth motion.
He sat there compliantly, his eyes starting to glaze over, swaying a bit as Rose moved to undo the buttons of the white shirt that was so stained with blood. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and his hands wrapped around hers, deep blue eyes looking into her hazel ones. Her voice caught; a sudden warmth spilling up from somewhere in her that she couldn’t place.
“We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed...” Rose murmured, lost in the abyss of blue.
His hands squeezed her lightly, “I’ll manage here…could I trouble you for some hot water?”
Rose nodded, “I’ll draw a bath for you…” and stood, her hands still wrapped in his.
“Thank you...” he whispered, sliding his hands away from hers and started to unbutton the rest of the shirt shakily.
“Go grab some sweat pants and a shirt from mum’s room. There should be some in the wardrobe hangin’ up.” Rose turned to Mickey, automatically going to shove at her hair but stopped when she noticed that her hands were covered in blood. “Hurry!”
Mickey followed her to the washroom as she leaned over the chipped porcelain tub and started the hot water from the tap. She rinsed her hands, the water tinting pink as she rubbed them beneath the stream before putting the stopper in the drain. Her hands shook as she pulled them from the water and watched it for a minute, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“Rose, what the hell happened? Who is he?” Mickey asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I told you to go get him some clothes…”
“And I’m not doing it until you tell me what’s going on.”
Rose took another deep breath and pulled open a cupboard, staring into it just so she could avoid his eyes, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t…know?”
“I don’t bloody know so go get some clothes from Mum’s room. Please?”
Mickey shook his head, “you should have called an ambulance…he’ll bleed to death here.”
“No he won’t.”
“How do you know? Did you see ‘im get shot or something?”
“ He wasn’t shot! He’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Mickey pulled out his phone and Rose’s eyes widened, “what are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling an ambulance like you should’ve done.”
Rose snatched the phone from his hands and turned it off, sliding it her pocket. Mickey cocked an eyebrow and took a step toward her, “the hell are you thinking? You’ve got a man dying in your room, you don’t know who the bloody hell he is, and now you’re taking my phone for calling a doctor? What’s wrong with you?”
“He’ll be fine. I know he will. Just please go and get those clothes…please?” she begged and left from the room, going down the hall back to hers.
Mickey shook his head a few times, an awed expression on his face as he watched her go. For a moment he just stood there in complete shock. That was certainly not the Rose he knew…his Rose wouldn’t act like that.
By the time the soft knock at the door sounded the man had managed to get out of the vest and shirt and was trying to examine his wounds in a mirror. He leaned against the frame, breathing shallow, and wondered if he’d squandered away this life. Sure, he’d gone through enough but he was still so young in this body…he hadn’t had a chance to really live yet.
“Bath’s running…and Mickey’s getting you something to wear.” A shaky voice said from behind the closed door and he smiled.
“Thank you…” and smeared a stream of crimson from his chest with his fingers.
“Need any help?”
“Actually…yes…that would be good right about now…”
Rose went in and gasped at the sight of the man. Blood soaked him from the chest down as he leaned against the frame of her full-length mirror, wide blue eyes staring out blankly at her. She bit her lip and went to him, her hands closing around his upper arms as she moved close. He smiled weakly at her and let himself be led out of the room and to the washroom down the hall. Both were silent as they walked.
Mickey reappeared as the washroom door shut and Rose was left leaning against the wall. She pressed her forehead against the cold plaster and sighed, wishing to whoever would listen that Mickey would just give her the clothes and go home. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him…and in the current situation she’d have been screwed without his help, but she knew he wasn’t out to help this man that she’d brought home. He would try to convince her that it wasn’t her place to help…that she should call an ambulance and let them deal with things…that he could kill her in her sleep and no one would know…that she had no idea who he was and had let him into her and her mother’s home. She knew, oh she knew, but something in her told her that it was going to be all right. She had nothing to fear except the fact that this man might not live to see the next morning.
“Rose…I know you’re just trying to help him, but you have to call someone. It’s not up to you to help this guy…” Mickey tried to reason, but Rose just closed her eyes and wished she was anywhere but there.
“I know. I promise you I know. He could kill me in my sleep if he wanted to … provided he makes it through the night. But something tells me I have to help him. I had to help him.” As she spoke she turned and let her eyes meet his in blatant defiance. If she was going to defy her conscience then she was going to do it while looking him in the eye.
“You didn’t have to do anything except call a doctor. God, Rose…what would Jackie say if she saw you like this? She’d rip you a new one, that’s what’d she do.” Mickey shook his head and turned, going toward her room.
“What you doing?” she asked, following him, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Checking to see if he has any ID on him. He changed out of the jacket … might have something worth looking at.” Mickey tossed over his shoulder as he entered her room and picked up the stained green jacket and started rooting through the pockets.
“You can’t do that! Those are his clothes!” Rose rushed in after him and moved to take the jacket away.
Mickey shook his head and went back to going through the pockets, pulling out a small pile of miscellaneous items a he went along. Rose watched as a wild assortment of things (some of which she’d never seen the like of before) came from the pockets and both she and Mickey shared a look as it seemed like there was no end to the strange odds and ends.
Finally Mickey pulled out a battered leather wallet and flipped it open, “bingo.”
“What?” Rose asked and came up behind him, looking over his shoulder to read what was in it.
The stained paper shower a picture of the man and what looked like an ancient passport paper. They both leaned in close to try and read the smeared name and Rose cocked an eyebrow, “all that for John Smith. How…anti-climactic.”
“Probably not his real name…no one’s named that. It’s too ordinary…”
Rose shot him a look, “yes because Michael Smith is so much more original.”
Mickey made a face and flipped the wallet closed before digging in to the rest of the stuff that sat on a pile on Rose’s bed. They both exchanged a few looks as they pulled out pens, odd coins, papers with bits of writing on them in a language neither of them could decipher, watches, a bag full of Jelly Babies (a candy Rose hadn’t had since she was little), small wrenches, a pocket guidebook for Italy, a silver ring, a yo-yo, and a long wand-like thing with a red jewel on the end of it. Rose picked it up and fiddled with it, suddenly feeling warm and happy as she looked at the silver colored tool. A feeling of familiarity struck her and with less than a thought she pressed one of the buttons on the side and pointed it toward a lamp, the light brightening considerably before the bulb exploded. Mickey shouted and Rose, having been shocked out of her reverie, threw down the tool.
“What the hell was that?” Mickey shouted, pointed to the smoking lamp on the side of her desk.
“Dunno.”
“You don’t know? You did it!” Mickey yelled and Rose put a finger up to her lips.
“You want him to know we were messing about with his stuff, then?” she hissed and Mickey covered his mouth with a hand.
“S’what I thought. Now…I’m going to try and get this blood out of those clothes…if he comes out and asks just tell him that. And don’t mess with that stuff again!” Rose told him as she gathered up the stained shirt, vest and jacket and made her way to the kitchen.
As Rose stood, holding the grey vest under the fall of cold water, she let her mind wander. There was something so familiar and homey to the weave of the cloth in her hand and the pattern woven into it. The water turned pink as it ran down the drain, taking her mind with it as it went.
In her mind the world turned to that golden glow that she was quickly becoming used to. Warmth and comfort erupted through her as her fingers methodically rubbed over the bloodstains under the cold water. She heard something calling her and through the haze she saw the same blue eyes that she had looked into not an hour ago. They looked worried, nay, protective as they locked onto her as she washed.
You must help the Doctor. The Doctor is very important. Help him. Let him rest. Save the Doctor. You must save the Doctor. Help him. You are his only hope. You must help him. You must stay with him. Stay with him. Stay with the Doctor. You must. The soft voices called out in her mind, hurried and anxious. The words pounded in her skull, softly at first, but then grew to a crescendo that thundered in her head like a stampede of elephants. The cloth fell from her hands and she had to hold herself up against the sink as the voices shouted at her.
“Miss?” asked a quiet voice and she turned to the man standing in the living room dressed only in the sweatpants Mickey had grabbed from Jackie’s room. Immediately a blush crept up Rose’s face and she turned back to the sink, picking up the vest.
“Rose. My name’s Rose.”
“Rose…lovely name. If you have any kind of bandages or…anything…I’d be much obliged. The bleeding has stopped, I think, for the most part and I’d like to get this covered as soon as possible...” he still looked pale and sick as he stood there, hands clasping a towel as water ran down from the half-dried curls that hung down in his face. Along his chest the wounds looked much better now that they were clean, but still seeped enough blood to mix with the water and turn it red as it ran down his torso.
She nodded and reached under the sink in a cabinet and pulled out a small box, “go lay down. I’ll be in there in a mo’.”
The man nodded and Rose plugged the drain and let water fill it. She put the bloody clothes in to soak, in a vain attempt that the blood was still wet enough to not have stained them. She wiped her hands on a towel, her mind reeling, and took a breath before going into her room with the box she’d pulled from under the sink.
Mickey was already in the room, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, when she came in. The man was eyeing the pile of his things and fiddling with the rod that had made the lamp explode. He looked up as Rose came in and stood, obviously pained by the effort, bowing a bit. Mickey rolled her eyes and turned his head away, muttering under his breath.
“I can do bandages…took a first aid class when I was still in school. Most of it’s stuck with me…” Rose murmured and set the box down on her dresser.
The man nodded, “perhaps your friend would prefer to wait outside? He seems a little uneasy…”
Mickey cocked an eyebrow, “I don’t think so. If you try to kill her who’s gonna take care of you?”
The man half smiled and shook his head, “I’m not going to try and kill her…what gives you the idea that I would try something like that?”
“Dunno. You just could. And I don’t like that you’ve got so much weird stuff around…I don’t trust you.” Mickey’s eyes were locked on him.
“Well that’s all well and good for you….” He gestured with his hands a bit.
“Mickey. Mickey Smith.”
The man smiled, “we may be relatives then, Mr. Smith.”
“Like hell we are...” and he turned to Rose.
“I think he’s right, Mickey. You should wait outside…I’m perfectly capable of handling things on my own and I swear if pulls a gun out of the pants you got from Mum’s closet I’ll scream for you. Okay?” Rose grabbed Mickey’s hands and pulled him towards the door, a warning look on her face.
“But...” he started, but Rose gave him another look and shut the door behind him.
“Sorry about that…he’s…” she stopped, searching for the word as she turned and started digging bandages and antiseptic out from the box.
“Protective?” the man offered, leaning back against the pillows.
“Putting it a bit lightly there…” she smiled and walked over to him.
The wounds were deep scratches and cuts along his midsection. Nothing would require stitches, but it would be a long time before he could move comfortably. Rose winced as she moved closer to him; the wounds were still bleeding a bit and Rose had always hated the sight of blood. Whatever adrenaline had come over her to bring him back to the flat was gone now and her hands shook as she moved to wipe the blood away and clean the angry, red marks that marred his otherwise flawless pale skin.
“I can do it if you like…” the man offered quietly, holding out his hands to take the medical supplies from Rose.
“You’re hurt…you just need to lie back.”
“You’ve never dealt with real blood and you don’t like the sight of it. Now, let me take care of this while you mark a few settings on my sonic.”
Rose looked up, “excuse me?”
The man took the supplies out of her hands and nodded his head toward the wand-like thing that rested not too far from him. “What you blew up your lamp with. Click the top button a few times until the red light flashes, and then hand it to me. I want to scan and make sure I’ve not done anything life threatening.”
Rose cocked her head to the side and picked up the metallic rod, turning it over in her hands. Again she felt that same homey feeling that she’d had when she picked it up earlier and her hands moved along the buttons as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The man blotted at the blood with a cotton ball and winced a bit, trying to sit up so he could see the wounds better. When the blood had cleared he looked up at her and held out a hand for the device.
“What is it?” Rose asked as she handed it over, her body reacting just a bit as their fingers brushed when he took the rod from her hand.
“Sonic screwdriver. Does just about everything but make tea…and even then all you have to do is coax it a bit.” He smiled and moved the red light across the wounds in his stomach and settled back to hold the device horizontally in front of his eyes.
“Is it some sort of…medical scanner? Are you a doctor?” she froze. Something in her mind reeled at that. It sounded familiar…as if she’d said that name in a hushed voice inside that room before.
His blue eyes looked up at her and he smiled warmly, if not tiredly, “something like that, yes.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes focusing on how his hands moved as he pressed the bandages against his torso. To her embarrassment she blushed a little as she watched him move, strong muscles beneath his chest and abdomen curling and rippling as he stirred to get at the right angle. One particularly long scratch proved to be a bit of a problem as it ran from under his ribs down along one side. He twisted, but made a face full of pain as he did so and Rose leaned over to help him.
“Let me. I’d like to help…” she whispered and carefully patted the bandage against the slash, desperately trying to ignore the strength of his chest and core as she pressed close to him.
“Thank you for all of this…Rose, wasn’t it? You’re far braver than I am. I’d have never expected anyone taking in someone that looked like I did into their home…” he whispered, his voice tired.
“Don’t worry about it. I had to do it…” she murmured, ripping off a piece of medical tape and secured the bandage to his skin.
“Why’s that?”
As if on cue she could hear the swell of the voices in her mind again and her hands trembled as they moved away from his body, “It was just…something right.”
The man nodded, his eyelids fluttering closed as she moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. His breathing slowed and for a moment Rose’s heart sank, thinking that they hadn’t done enough. Soon though, the sounds of his rhythmic breathing signaled that he was asleep and she sighed in relief.
Not too long after she had pulled a throw across his chest Rose slid out of the room and shut the door quietly. Mickey eyed her as she leaned against the door for a moment, her forehead pressed against the cheap wood. One hand pressed flat against her face as she rested, wanting to be on the other side and out of the accusing stare of her ex-boyfriend.
“It’s not normal, this. He was practically dead when you hauled him in and now all he has is a few scratch marks on him. He should have bled to death.” Mickey’s tone was dark.
“But he didn’t. That’s what matters.”
Mickey’s eyes rolled, “tomorrow you’re going to call a proper doctor, yeah? Get him looked at properly?”
Rose shook her head, “I think he is some sort of doctor…”
“A proper doctor wouldn’t go around like that-“
Rose cut him off, “drop it, okay? I need a cuppa…” she murmured and tugged her hair free from the ponytail it had been encased in for so long and ran her fingers through her dyed blonde mane.
Mickey followed her into the kitchen and eyed the clothes soaking in the sink, “I don’t like this, Rose.”
She looked up from the kettle she was filling with water and glared at him in the way that only a person who’d just saved another person’s life could glare, “you don’t like anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Just saying.”
“Well if that’s how you feel I’ll just leave then…”
Rose looked up. The anger had faded from her face, and calm resolve remained set on her pretty features. “Go, then. I can handle this.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Mickey hissed.
Rose put the kettle on the burner and sighed, “He’s sleeping. He can’t do anything while he’s sleeping. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.” Rose murmured as she looked down at the floor, her voice a bit hollow.
“Rose?”
“Just go. I can handle things here.”
Mickey shook his head again, “if you say so, but don’t call me when he’s swingin’ an axe at your head…” and went into the living room to grab his jacket.
Rose watched him put on his jacket, muttering all the time, and leave. Her head swam a bit as the sound of the door clicked shut and the blast of frigid air blew through the room. Her last ally had just left the building.
She was on her own.
Comment. Enjoy. Have pie. Dance to Rogue Traders.