Fic: Laughing at Stars, 4/?

[glory_jean]

Title: Laughing at Stars, Part 1 Chapter 4/5
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Adult
Setting: S2 post AoS
Summary:This is the Doctor and Rose's journey together as they grow from friendship to something more. Can they overcome their separate fears to find a common ground?
Beta Team: achuislemochroiannissaghidden_n_hotmilievaoobiemcrubyroyalladyemma
Prompt 1: never-ever-will Prompt 12 pic 3
Prompt 2: never-ever-willPrompt 12 Pic 24
Setting: S2 post AoS
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC. No infringement intended.
Notes: Written for journeystory Quotes from The Little Prince/Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Chapter title from the song Human Wheels by John Mellencamp.

Beautiful cover and chapter art by moodilylit
Note: if you have a light background format, click "view in in original" to see artwork.
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Fic Masterlist
Chapters:
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Prince and the Rose
Chapter 2: Leap of Faith






As for me, I am concerned with matters of consequence.
There is no time for idle dreaming in my life.

He was still watching Rose. Currently she was sat on the jumpseat while he pretended to adjust some wiring under the console. He'd thought, wrongly, he would have to stop watching her if he was buried up to his chest in machinery. But, if he looked just there, between the multi-loop stabilizer and that bit of dangling wire (that really should be seen to one of these days) he could just see her legs as they swung idly. He shook himself, trying to clear his head. This needed to stop now.

He could tell himself all he liked that he was monitoring her recovery from the alien drug, but that wasn't precisely true. She had responded well to the antidote, brushing off his cautions to rest as coddling. Just to be sure, though, he had been carefully distracting her with the dullest planets he could find that sported a passable view or a decent shopping district. He did have to admit on these last couple of trips the bounce in her step as she enthusiastically pulled him from shop to shop had belied just how sick she been.

Had she felt it? Could she feel it now, ticking in the back of that little human head of hers? He experienced it as an itch in the back of his skull. He longed to scratch at it, to push at it and bridge the gap, to connect their two minds. But he held himself still, slapping away his own questing mental fingers that longed to reach out.

This was preposterous. He was a Time Lord, for Rassilon's sake. Time Lords had self-control. But there it was more to it than that. He was the last Time Lord. The Last. He was better than this. If he forgot himself - if he stopped behaving as a Time Lord... If he lost everything they were and all that came with it ... Well, he might as well just kill them all a second time for good measure.

Not that he'd ever been particular good at being a proper Time Lord. Not that he'd striven to be especially. They were so, well, them. So pompous and arrogant . So certain they knew what was best for the rest of universe, never deigning to so much as ask if they might have had heir own ideas regarding their destinies. No, he wouldn't be surprised to learn that on the day he'd borrowed a TARDIS and forgot to bring it back, his people had done the Numfarian Dance of Joy. Not that Time Lords would actually do the Numfarian Dance of Joy, but still.

Oh, this was getting him nowhere. Almost before he realised what he was doing, his hands were punching keys and pulling levers, spinning them into the vortex toward the first planet that popped into his head.

"Where are we off to?" She asked, looking hopeful.

"Um, parts. There's a crack on the housing of the molecular filter's rear intake. Can't have that failing now. Plus, the best planet for filter parts also has a very nice commercial centre."

He winced as he heard and felt her sigh. A small, rebellious part of him reminded him smugly that Rose would understand if only he allowed their rapport to develop completely.

He led her out of the TARDIS, casting bewildered glances about as he realised that they’d arrived at the Miaere Marketplace. What had inspired this trip he'd no idea. But he still managed to babble a bit about the local colour until Rose seemed to cheer up and was no longer vexed by his sudden need for retail therapy. He breathed a sigh of relief as he led her through the crowds. Good, he thought. A bit of distraction; that was all he needed.

Rose paused at a vendor and, Rassilon help him, he could feel that something had caught her attention. So much for distractions.



Rose wandered through the market stalls, pleased that the slight weakness that had dogged her steps ever since running into that toxic fog was finally gone. The Doctor had told her she'd had a particularly bad allergic reaction to it. Fortunately, she'd been oblivious to the worst of it. She did have vague memories of being carried, combined with the soothing sound of the Doctor's voice, the feel of his suit coat under her cheek, and his strangely honeyed scent. Naturally, she hadn't shared any of those details with him. A part of her was sorry she didn't remember more.

She wondered how long this latest shopping trip would last.

This morning when she'd walked into the console room, the Doctor had given her a small, distracted smile as she'd perched on the captain's chair. He was idly turning dials, pretending he was involved in some important adjustments. Rose had fought to keep her face neutral, hoping uncharacteristically for a day that didn't involve shopping. At first, she had been grateful for the slower pace. It had been a nice change from getting into trouble all the time, but frankly she was getting bored of it. And on top of everything, he was still watching her as if she were a science project or something that might break.

A basket of blue stones on table in front of her caught her eye. They were covered with familiar patterns.

Uncannily, the Doctor turned to look at her just as she held up a polished stone intending to show it to him.

"Oh, look. It's so pretty," she gushed. "And it looks like your language."

He stared at her blankly. "Hmm?"

Rose rolled her eyes and poked out her tongue cheekily, hoping to get his attention back. "This stone, what does it say?"

He focused on her then, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What?"

"What does it say?" She waved the hand with the stone in it to clarify.

"What are you talking about? It doesn't say anything, Rose. It's a stone, azurite. Rather common on Earth."

Rose rolled her eyes at him. "I know it's a stone, but look at the patterns. It looks like your writing."

"It may slightly resemble it, but it clearly isn't. Come on." And he moved off, leaving her to hastily put the stone back on the table before she chased after him in irritation.

"Doctor!" she called, catching hold of his sleeve to slow him down.

He looked at her with concern as he obliged her and steered them out of the flow of the crowds.

"Rose?"

She captured one of his hands in hers, half-afraid he would hurry her along again.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm always all right," he said with a shrug.

Rose sighed at his automatic answer. "It's like you're not even here with me."

The Doctor's face fell a little, the corners of his mouth turning down unhappily. He curled his fingers of his captured hand securely around hers.

"I might be a little distracted." He bent slightly to look into her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just..."

"It's okay." She tried for her most winning smile. "Are we all done here? I'm getting really tired of shopping."

He flashed her a guilty look. "Yeah, thought you might be." He paused for a moment then brightened. "You know, there is this planet I was meaning to take you to."

"Yeah?"

"We could go now - if you like."

She let her wide smile be her answer.

Giving her his first real grin all day, he tucked her arm around his and turned them back toward the TARDIS.

And that's when it all fell to pieces.



The Doctor mentally rattled off a string of invectives in three languages. This day had been one misstep after another. The fact that he was using fully eighty percent of his sizable brain-power on getting them safely aboard the TARDIS and dematerialised only proved how exhausted he was. He left it up the other nineteen-and-one-half percent of his brain to keep a firm grip on Rose's hand while not losing his footing. He allowed the scant half per cent to indulge in worry and fear.

He was a fool. He shouldn't be allowed out of the TARDIS without proper supervision. In his quest for distractions, he'd forgotten one crucial detail about this sector of space. The Vellairae. A scourge upon the universe, the Vellairae were a psychic race with a penchant for dealing in smuggled goods and an understandable intolerance for other psychic species that could uncover their questionable activities. He'd been so busy listening to Rose's unshielded emotions that he'd missed the first signs of danger until it was too late. He'd been well-trained to keep prying minds out, but Rose was wide open and the psychic attack had come from nowhere.

She'd clutched at her head with a cry an instant before he'd felt it; slimy mental fingers clawing her mind. Without a thought, he'd cupped her face in his hands and linked their minds, throwing a hasty mental shield around hers. She'd relaxed immediately.

"What just happened -" she murmured weakly in confusion.

"Later! Run!" he'd called, grabbing her hand.

There were at least six assailants trying to home in on them, twisting and worrying at his mental shields as he strained to protect both their minds. The effort was starting to take its toll. How much farther was it to the TARDIS anyway?

At last, the welcome blue loomed ahead of them. He sighed with relief when he finally opened the doors and pushed Rose inside. He felt a moment of calm once he stood in front of the time rotor, staring up at its comforting glow. He began to relax his mental shields, unknotting his mind from hers. Then abruptly, pain shot through his skull and his world dissolved into a sea of colour.



Running, running, always running. That, at least, was nothing new. What was new was the feeling of desperation pouring off the Doctor. It was almost tangible in the way he gripped her hand and pulled her along. She'd been too surprised to worry earlier after he'd warded off whatever had been attacking her. Now she felt the first tinges of panic creeping up from her stomach.

The Doctor was stumbling, looking pale and shaky to her eyes. Her focus had narrowed to the man leading their hasty retreat. It was surprising, then, when she felt herself propelled through the doors, landing unceremoniously on the hard metal floor as he swept past her toward the console.

She was letting the giddiness of relief have its way with her, when it happened. One minute the Doctor was grinning smugly at the time rotor and the next he lay in a tangled heap on the floor.

The air left her lungs like a physical blow and she ran to his side. He was clearly unconscious, laying still and pale on the grating. Rose shivered with fear and uncertainty. It was one thing when she got hurt or wandered off. She knew the Doctor would manage. But she was no Doctor. Rose felt as helpless as she did at Christmas, blundering through half-remembered phrases, stalling for time. Now it was almost worse. No world was at stake and there was nothing to fight. Nothing but her and the unnatural stillness. The TARDIS was still planet-bound but at least no-one could get in. Of that much she was sure.

Rose looked at him helplessly for a moment and then she made a decision. He needed to be in the infirmary. She slid behind him and sat him up against her chest. Locking her arms around his chest just under his arms, she began to slowly drag him toward the corridor.

When she reached the medbay, ready to collapse from exhaustion, she found the exam bed had moved down to almost floor height so she could roll the Doctor onto it. Once that was done, it slowly raised up again. Grateful as Rose was for this, all could do now was stare helplessly at the baffling equipment.

"What do I do now? Help me," she implored the coral walls.

A flicker of light beside her had her jumping back in fright. An image of the Doctor wavered into being.

"Voice interface activated," it said in a bland, unemotional voice.

"Oh," she gaped at the image for a moment before she recovered. "What's happened to him? What do I do to help him."

A scanner clicked on and began to move overhead. The nearby display swirled with unreadable text.

"There was a psychic attack. The Doctor's higher brain functions have been blocked off."

"What does that mean."

"He is dying."

"What?"

"He is dying."

Rose bit her lip to stop herself from crying. "You mean he's going to regenerate?"

"Unknown."

"Unknown! What do you mean unknown?"

"Odds of regeneration in this condition are twenty-four point one percent."

"Well, we have to help him then, what do we do?"

"Unknown."

"You have all that Time Lord knowledge in there." She waved her hand at the read out desperately. " How can you not know?"

"There is no data on this. When the pilot is incapacitated in this manner, the default setting is to return to place of origin. However, the Doctor has removed that setting and override is not possible as place of origin no longer exists."

"So what does that mean?"

"He is dying."

"Right. Lot of good you are." Rose made a sound of frustration. "I know you're only trying to help, but having, well you, tell me that you're dying is really starting to freak me out." She sighed and let her head droop.

"This better?" a familiar voice asked her.

She turned to see Jack Harkness standing there. She bit her lip. "Yeah."

"So how do I save him?"

"You can't."

"I can't. So what, he just dies? Just like that?"

"Unless he can save himself."

"You mean regenerate."

"No. Odds of regeneration in this condition are twenty-four point one percent."

Rose wanted to scream at the TARDIS for being so ... mechanical. "So what can I do? There must be something."

"You can't. You are human."

Rose's heart sped up at that. "Oh, so there is a way. You just don't want to tell me. What is it?"

"You are human. You have neither the mental abilities nor the training to treat psychic damage in a Time Lord."

"Just pretend I'm not human then and tell me anyway."

"I wouldn't recommend that."

"Since when did anyone on this ship do what was 'recommended?'" Rose sighed.

"Occurrence rate one-point-eight-one-two per cent."

"Well then...?"

"If you insist."

"Yes, I insist. Now tell me." Rose fought to keep her voice down. She doubted shouting at a hologram would do a lot of good.

"You must maintain physical contact with the Doctor at all times."

Rose looked at the prone Doctor uncertainly for a moment. Then she climbed up in the bed beside him, twining their limbs together to keep them in contact.

"Done. Next?"

"Open your mind to me. I'll guide you to him"

Rose frowned at Jack's image. "How do I do that?"

"Just as you did before. Don't you remember?" For a moment Jack-who-wasn't-Jack looked faintly annoyed. "Oh, I suppose not. He always did meddle."

"What are you-"

"Clear your mind and focus on what you need to do," the interface interrupted.

"What do I need to do?"

"Find the Doctor, of course. Lead him into the light."

"But-"

"Focus. Tempus fugit."

The Doctor, the Doctor she told herself, fiercely, find the Doctor.

"Well, are you ready?" Jack's impatient voice sounded next to her ear.

Her eyes shot open in shock and she found herself standing with Jack in a long corridor. She spun around in confusion. At either end was a door. The near one was wooden and reminded her of the type of door found at the old estate. The other door was ornate and looked antique.

"What? Where? This can't be-"

"Now you sound like him. This," Jack indicated the corridor, "is me. Or a representation of me that your linear, corporeal mind can quantify. If you are ready, he is just there." Jack pointed to the ornate door. "And this one," he indicated the nearer one, "is yours. When the task is done, return here and re-enter your own mind."

Rose felt a frisson of fear. "What happens to my body if my mind is out of it?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Best not think on it."

"No, I'd like to think on it, thanks. Worst case scenario?"

"Prolonged coma state for the Doctor and Rose Tyler. Eventual death."

With that less-than-comforting thought, Rose stepped forward and opened the Doctor's door.



Chapter 4