Doctor Who - Ten/Rose Fic - Part 5 of 6
Title: The Six Stages of a Human Time Lord Biological Metacrisis (Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Frosting)
Author: Gowdie
Spoilers: Journey’s End, obviously.
Rating: Adult. Unabashedly adult.
Summary: You may have heard this one before. The Doctor learns to adapt. This time with the help of a few fights, a baby TARDIS, love and, eventually, sex.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. This chapter was hard to write for some reason. I very nearly posted: "The Doctor gets scared. Rose helps." But fortunately we worked our way through it.
Stage Five: The Fear Vortex
“I know what you did.”
Startled by the formidable voice, the Doctor bashed his head on the brand new panel of his brand new consol for his baby TARDIS. He had been happily working away, fitting the last wires for the energy-to-matter converter, so he could begin the long process of building the outer shell. Rubbing his forehead, he peaked out from his hiding place. The now tortoise size TARDIS coral glowed peacefully behind him, humming, blissfully unaware of the intruder who was encroaching upon her nest.
Jackie Tyler stood in the barn doorway, glaring at the Doctor with the full power of a mother’s wrath, hands firmly on her hips. Now, Jackie had many faults, including the embarrassing pass she’d made at him the first time they’d met, rather questionable opinions on the proper cooking of turkey, and hitting him on occasion, but she was not a hypocrite. Therefore, it was impossible that she was angry at him for the first transgression that leapt to his mind. A transgression he had merrily committed with Rose a few times each day over the last week. A transgression they both seemed to be getting better and better at each time they transgressed. All the same, in light of the stormy expression being directed at him, the Doctor decided it best to proceed with an innocent, if slightly distracted, “What?”
“Tony,” she replied, as though it were perfectly obvious. “I’ve told him from now on, when he wants to potty, he can use your loo. And you can spend your day cleaning up the mess.”
“Oh, that.” He ducked back to his work, chuckling to himself. “He’s a growing boy, Jackie, he deserves to pee like a man.”
“Oh, and here I thought I might wait until he has the sense not to turn his whole body round every time he gets distracted by something shiny,” she answered airily. “But then I guess I’m just his mother.”
Intending to demonstrate how very busy he was, the Doctor soniced a few wires, and then set his screwdriver between his teeth. Jackie walked into the room, and moved over to his side. Apparently the conversation wasn’t over.
“If you really wanted to squabble over childrearing, you could try having your own kids, you know,” she said.
Oi! He spat his beloved screwdriver out of his mouth and popped back out again. “Honestly, woman, don’t you think it’s a bit early to start nagging about grandkids?” Jackie shrugged. He tried a different tact. “A lady in her prime, such as yourself, shouldn’t have children running around calling her Grandmum.”
“Oh, you,” she scowled, indicating she didn’t take him seriously in the least. Rather than leaving though, she took the compliment as an invitation and sat down beside him. “I’ve watched you with Tony,” she said quietly. “You’d make a good dad in a lot of ways.”
Keeping his attention focused entirely on the circuit in front of him, the Doctor couldn’t stop himself from mumbling, “I was a good dad.”
Jackie stilled. He could feel her eyes on him, appraising this new information. “Rose told me you lost your family, but she never said…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
It was the Doctor’s turn to shrug. “Long time ago.” And not so long, but he wasn’t near ready to start talking about Jenny.
Still watching him, she asked, “Are you ever going to tell her everything?”
The Doctor sighed, giving up. He pulled himself up to sit beside her. “I’ve 900 years of secrets, Jackie. I’d go mad if I tried to relive them all, even for Rose.” He nudged her shoulder. “Did you tell Pete everything? About the twenty years you were apart?”
“Suppose not,” she agreed.
The next few seconds of silence, with Jackie staring sadly at the parts of TARDIS on display in front of her, convinced the Doctor it was time to shift gears and change the topic. Pronto. As pronto as possible. “Soooooo,” he said cheerily, “what really brings you all the way out here. Surely it wasn’t Tony’s urinary misadventures.”
Without answering, she tentatively reached toward the glowing coral. The Doctor squawked and hastily slapped her away.
“Oi!” Jackie exclaimed, mouth open and holding her hand in shock.
The Doctor pointed a finger at her. “Hands in your pockets,” he ordered without apology.
She glowered at him for a beat, before, much to his delighted surprise, doing as she was told. “How long do you think?” she asked, indicating the room full of equipment with her elbows.
“Well, hard to say,” he answered, scratching his chin. “While the inner and outer hauls are building, I’ll work on the inter-dimensional integrator circuits. And I still have to worry about environmental systems. Meanwhile, the TARDIS is adjusting to the fluctuations in power absorption for this universe, and reintegrating herself into the Time Vortex. Not an easy process, as we’re feeding off auxiliary systems at the moment. Then I’ll have to nurse her through creating a new celestial database, for in-flight co-ordinate mapping, a bit tricky given I’m not necessarily as familiar with the star-systems of…” He trailed off, noting the flummoxed expression on Jackie’s face as she was staring at him, agog. He rubbed his hands nervously through his hair. “A few months? Give or take.”
Getting the answer she wanted, Jackie sighed. “For a whole day I actually thought Rose would get her happy ending, and I wouldn’t have to worry about this machine ever again.” She looked at him, but there was no malice. “I should have known better, I guess.”
“Jackie, I…”
“Don’t take Tony,” she blurted.
“What?” he exclaimed, completely flabbergasted.
“He’s already infatuated with you,” she said, in way of explanation. “Promise me, even when he’s older, you won’t take Tony.”
The Doctor could foresee how hard a promise that might be to keep in twenty years, but he could also tell how much Jackie needed to be reassured he wasn’t going to steal away another child. Maybe there could be room for renegotiation when the time came, but for now, “I promise.”
She swallowed, and took a deep breath. “You’re different now.”
He looked down, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Yes.”
“I can’t stop Rose from going with you, I never could. And she’s committed to you, but…” Jackie paused, winding herself up. “But I was a widow, at twenty-one years old, and I don’t want the same fate for my daughter.”
The Doctor squinted at the woman before him. “Who are you worried about getting killed, Rose or me?”
“Well, both of you, aren’t I?” she loudly scoffed. “You’re welcome to stay here. You don’t have to go running off.”
He tried to make her understand. “The TARDIS is part of who I am.”
“As much as Rose?” Jackie challenged.
“Yes,” he answered, resolute. “I need… I need them both.”
Jacked seemed to consider him for a moment, before she pleaded, “But can you protect her, like you did before? Can you even protect yourself?”
The Doctor gulped, his mouth dry. He didn’t know how to answer.
“Can you?”
~ ~ ~
The Doctor was aboard the Crucible. Bronze metal beneath his feet, and impenetrable walls closing in. He was trapped. He couldn’t move. He tried to speak, but no sound came. He could barely even breathe.
Hordes of Daleks surrounded him on all sides. They were shrieking in a horrific chorus of mechanical voices. Calling him the destroyer of worlds. Demanding his blood. Triumphantly ordering his extermination. He tried to shout for them to stop, to reason, but the words died, locked in his throat.
The TARDIS appeared, materializing with her familiar song in front of him. He would escape, be rescued. The door opened and Rose Tyler appeared, bathed in white light. She was glowing. Ethereal. More beautiful than he had ever seen her, and she stepped from the safety of his magnificent time machine into burning hell.
“Everything must come to dust,” she said with a wave of her hand, and the Daleks started screeching, spinning and shaking as they were ripped apart. Dematerialized until there was nothing left.
Nothing but the two of them. But still the Doctor was helpless.
“I want you safe, my Doctor,” Rose whispered, tears on her face. They were the words she had spoken when he first realized she loved him too. She was his miracle.
He was desperate to go to her, but his limbs refused to obey. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, how much he loved her. She had saved him, so many times, and he couldn’t even save her in return. He watched, guilty, as the golden light emanating from inside her intensified, and pulled her apart. Soon Rose, his strong, brave Rose, was reduced to mere atoms, floating on the air.
He could feel the light moving into his own body, burning from within. He looked to his hand, and saw his skin melting away. In a few seconds, he, like everything else, would become nothing more than a few scattered particles, and he couldn’t even scream.
The Doctor awoke with a start, pulling breath into his lungs. The horrible plunging sensation of being dropped from a nightmare into the reality of his bed, made his heart race as he struggled to take in his surroundings.
He was warm. He was safe. Rose was asleep beside him. Perhaps sensing his movement she snuggled deeper into his side, reaching around to hug his arm more tightly against her body.
He could hear Jackie’s voice from that afternoon, asking him if he could still protect Rose like he had before. When he had been whole. He had never answered her.
He turned to Rose, taking her in, watching her breathe. He was tempted to wake her, strip off the silk she wore and cover her skin with warm wet kisses, bury himself in the heat he knew he would find inside her. She would writhe under him as her legs squeezed around his hips. Her fingernails would dig into his back. She would moan and gasp his name. He would feel her heart pounding, and taste her sweat. What better proof could he give himself that she was alive?
But the Doctor couldn’t do it. He felt terrified and broken, like a tiny, insignificant, little, miniscule, shivering … thing. He couldn’t regenerate. He couldn’t withstand electrocution, or radiation, or dispel poison.
Sure, most of the time, he relied on his rather fantastic brain. He was still a genius - he couldn’t deny that. He could talk, or argue, or think his way out of the majority of dangerous situations. That was perfectly true. But, that being said, how many times, really, had he relied on his Time Lord biology to sneak him by, and let him save the day?
Could he look after Rose? Could he even look after himself?
The answer was no.
He had to get out of that bed, that instant, and he knew precisely where he was going.
The Doctor walked across the wet grass in bare feet, wishing his pajama bottoms came with pockets he could stuff his hands into. It was a determined march, his chin down, face grim, and he felt at odds with his arms swinging loosely at his sides, not playing their usual part in his dour posture. Perhaps he should have stopped for his coat?
No. There wasn’t time. He had to act now, while his fear, his palpable blood curdling terror, made him strong. Because even despite the suffocating dread, he could still feel the deeper urge struggling to take hold. The seductive voice, ingrained and murmuring, “Go on. Go on. Go on.” And if he waited till morning, the safety of daylight, he would forget how desperate he feels, pretend the horror wasn’t real, and give in.
If he didn’t end it now, forever, he would finish the TARDIS. He would travel. He would take Rose with him. And maybe it would be fun for a while, ecstatically, brilliantly fun, but it couldn’t last, and he would doom them both.
When the Doctor reached the barn, he didn’t even pause for a moment. He opened the door and strode over to where the sledgehammer still rested against the wall. He picked it up, without hesitation, walked to the center of the room, and hefted the weight above his head.
The TARDIS coral was glowing in her nest. Her soft hum singing sweetly to him. Trusting as ever. She had no idea the destruction he was about to reek upon her.
He took a final breath, trying not to choke. Goodbye, old friend.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Damn.
The voice came from the doorway, and he wasn’t sure he had ever seen its owner appear more shocked at his actions. Well, there was that once, but he was really quite certain that his destructive impulses were the more moral course of action this time.
Without changing his violent stance, the Doctor pleaded, “Rose.”
“No,” she said, moving between him and the heart of his ship. “I’m not going to let you do this.”
Looking down into her trusting face, he insisted, “I have to.”
She reached up and placed a gentle hand on his, still gripping the handle tightly. “No, you don’t.” A moment passed, neither of them moving. She tried again. “Please.”
Defeated, he let the weapon fall harmlessly to his side. He never stood a chance. Not really. “Why are you here?”
“I followed you,” she answered, simply.
He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Why are you stopping me?”
Rose gave him a grim smile, and placed a hand over his heart. “Because whatever you’re thinking right now, you might not feel the same in the morning.”
“That’s the point,” the Doctor rasped out.
“Doctor,” she said, shoving lightly against his chest, “shift away from the spaceship.”
He allowed her to push him over to the wall. Once there, head hung low, he slid to the ground. It was cold. He really ought to have stopped for his coat.
Rose seemed to think the same, as she arranged herself in his lap, and pressed her body up against him. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms a few times, before asking, “So, care to share?”
He wrapped his limbs around her, holding her as close as he could. “Rose, we can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
“Was always dangerous,” she said against his neck.
“It’s different,” he answered. “I’m different.”
Apparently wanting to argue semantics, she pressed further. “Was always dangerous for me.”
Somehow, that made the Doctor angry a little, at himself. “Then I was selfish, and irresponsible, and I never should have let you on board.”
Rose pulled back to glare at him. “Well, then, if you’re wishing away our entire life together…”
“I didn’t mean that,” he sighed, frustrated. He needed to reason with her, use logic and make her see sense. “Do you have any idea how many times you would have died if I had been like I am now?”
“No,” she said, warily, “but I’ve a feeling you do.”
He raised his eyebrows and used a tone meant to sound severe. “Twenty-six.”
“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” Rose said with a hint of a smile, which was very silly because this was a terribly serious discussion. “I’d remember almost dying twenty-six times.”
Okay, maybe not quite that high, he just liked the sound of the double digit. It sounded impressive and made his point. “Fine,” he gave in, “eleven.”
“Really?” Rose sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yes.”
She twisted her mouth a little as she thought about it. “And how many times are you counting that thing with the Sycorax?”
“Three,” he said authoritatively, “but they are all perfectly valid.”
“Well,” Rose reasoned, looking far too adorable doing so, “shouldn’t we reduce it to eight then, since that was on Earth.”
“No,” the Doctor responded, not amused. “You seem to think this is funny.”
“You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to. My father died getting out of his car.”
He had known this ploy was coming; the old ‘humans die crossing the street all the time’ argument. “Yes, but per capita more people who willingly walk into a battlefield die in an hour than those walking on a bloody side street in London.”
“Doctor…”
“Rose!” he bit out. “I couldn’t even keep you with me for two years. And that’s including a regeneration and surviving all kinds of things that I can’t now. I want a life with you, a fantastic, brilliant life, but I want it to last a lot longer than two years.”
That seemed to get through as Rose visibly softened. She cupped his cheek with her hand, leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips moved slowly, gently, coaxing his mouth open. He lost himself in the kiss, letting her tongue slide against his, the reassuring flavour of her taste taking over and calming his other senses.
Rose pulled away a little, keeping one hand around his neck, fingers lightly stroking his hair. She looked him in the eye and asked, “How long have you loved me?”
“What?” The Doctor hadn’t been expecting that question, it seemed a bit off topic, not to mention obvious. He opened his mouth to answer, only to find that the exact pinpoint in time escaped him. Hold on, maybe not so obvious.
Woman Wept? Walking hand in hand under the majestic curves of the frozen waves had been the first time he’d truly let go and allowed his hearts to enjoy the pleasure of love. He’d watched Rose taking in the crystalline beauty with her usual mix of giddy awe, and he’d basked. But by then he’d already known, already admitted the truth to himself. He’d taken her there because he loved her and he wanted to make up for the damage he’d done by allowing the trip to 1987. He’d wanted to show her something quiet and breathtaking to mend her broken heart, the way she’d mended his.
Your wish is my command? Yup, that kind of foolhardy gesture could only be explained as a Time Lord besotted. He’d meant it: he would have given her anything. He’d known better, but he couldn’t say no. Perhaps the very reason his kind had frowned upon meddling with other species in the first place.
Thinking he’d killed her? And refusing to doom her a second time? Others had and would sacrifice themselves to save the world, but he wouldn’t let it be Rose. She was too precious. He needed her. He couldn’t let anything happen to her no matter the cost.
The Horsehead Nebula? Manly showing off - pure and simple. Well, he says showing off, he means desperation to keep her with him.
Not wanting to risk her to save the world? He’d hesitated, for hours in Downing Street. Admitting it out loud, he’d already known how far he’d fallen. Judging by the look on her face, so had she.
Telling her how glad he was to have met her, even for such a short time? The joy he’d felt at having that sentiment returned? Her smile. Was he already done for in that Cardiff cellar?
Chips? Was that when he fell?
Asking her a second time? Run? Surely he wasn’t that sentimental. Was he?
“Doctor?” Rose’s voice pulled him out of his musings. She was shaking her head at him. “Wasn’t meant to be a trick question.”
“I don’t know.” Sometime between ‘run’ and Woman Wept. Definitely in there, somewhere. “Always?” Was that the right answer?
She rolled her eyes at him. “The point is you’ve loved me for a long time, yeah?”
Okay, that the Doctor could agree to. He nodded, guardedly. He was a little afraid of where this might be going.
Rose tilted her head, and asked, sadly, “How much of that time did you waste keeping me at a distance?”
“Too much.” A year, on and off, if you put it together, which he did.
“Seems to me this is the same thing.” She said in a quiet voice, “You can spend your whole life waiting to die, or you can live it.”
“It’s not the same.” He swallowed and made his offer, “We can live a life here.”
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you really want? Safe doors and carpets?”
“No mortgage?” the Doctor teased, trying to lift the weight that had settled on him, at least a little.
“You might not have noticed, but I’m very rich,” she flirted back. But she wouldn’t let him off so easily. “You’re avoiding the question.”
He hung his head, unable to meet her eyes. “Maybe?”
“If you were really sure,” Rose reasoned, “you should be able to close this barn door and walk away. Why are you destroying it? Destroying a piece of yourself?”
“To remove the temptation,” he said, becoming frustrated again.
“Because you want it.”
“Of course I want it!” he nearly shouted. Losing the TARDIS… He might as well cut off a leg, or rip out his lungs, or lose some other vital organ, or limb. But… But… Then he broke a little, his throat hurting, eyes burning. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t…” he choked. “I don’t want to die.”
Rose’s eyes filled with infinite sympathy. He kind of hated it. “You’re feeling mortal for the first time. It’s normal. All of us humans do.”
He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He’d lived for so long, thinking his longevity was a curse, and now he didn’t want to die. He remembered Cassandra, telling her nobody wants to die, like it was so easy for him to empathize. Nobody did, but who was he to say that, so comfortable and happy in his new body? And then there were the times he was downright suicidal, wishing for the mercy of death to release him from his pain. Now he had the freedom to live a life however he wanted, and he was paralyzed by how short it would be.
He sniffed, tilting his head back against the wall. “I’m one fucked up bastard.”
Rose twisted around, straddling him, and bringing his face back down. “Bit more colourful with the language now, aren’t you?”
“I’m having a crisis here,” he said in mild outrage. “And you’re nagging me about swearing?”
She nuzzled against his neck. “I just think, if you’re going to use the word ‘fuck’ you could be more… fruitful about it.” She wiggled in his lap to make her point.
He moved his hands to hold her hips still. If he was pressing them down at all, it was merely incidental. “Again, you seem to think this is funny.”
“I don’t.” Rose nipped at his chin before leaning back to look at him seriously. “I love you, and I want you to be happy, but we can’t solve this right now. You don’t have to make some big decision.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, pushing up against her. She’d started it after all.
“For now, come to bed,” she answered.
“And then?” He pressed his lips against her throat.
“Tomorrow, work on the TARDIS.”
“And then?” His fingers trailed lazily up her arms.
“Keep her building her until she’s finished.”
“And then?” He leaned her back, kissing down her chest, cupping a breast with one hand.
“We go on a trip,” she said, finally sounding a bit breathless. “One trip. If we like it, we keep traveling. When we think it’s time to stop, we stop.”
He pulled away, happy to see she looked a bit annoyed at his sudden halt. “You’re just making this up as you go along,” he accused.
“Of course I am. That’s life. And you of all people know that when you’re in a better mood.” Rose stood up and extended a hand. “One day a time, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling himself up.
Rose smiled, leading him back to their bed.
He’d promised her a life, growing old together. And he’d meant it, but living it… He wanted to travel, to discover, and he wanted so many other things. It seemed impossible. One day at a time might be all he’d ever be able to manage.
Acknowledgements: The Doctor’s thoughts on the process of building the TARDIS come from this site. Also, if you think the “And then…” conversation sounds familiar, you’re not wrong. It’s an allusion to another R.T. Davies script - this time with a happier variation.
Next Chapter - Stage Six: The First of the Part Human Time Lords
Previous Chapters:
Stage One: Babbling For Your Life
Stage Two: The Oncoming Tantrum
Stage Three: A Few Bits and Bobs
Stage Four: The Untempered Lust
Author: Gowdie
Spoilers: Journey’s End, obviously.
Rating: Adult. Unabashedly adult.
Summary: You may have heard this one before. The Doctor learns to adapt. This time with the help of a few fights, a baby TARDIS, love and, eventually, sex.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. This chapter was hard to write for some reason. I very nearly posted: "The Doctor gets scared. Rose helps." But fortunately we worked our way through it.
Stage Five: The Fear Vortex
“I know what you did.”
Startled by the formidable voice, the Doctor bashed his head on the brand new panel of his brand new consol for his baby TARDIS. He had been happily working away, fitting the last wires for the energy-to-matter converter, so he could begin the long process of building the outer shell. Rubbing his forehead, he peaked out from his hiding place. The now tortoise size TARDIS coral glowed peacefully behind him, humming, blissfully unaware of the intruder who was encroaching upon her nest.
Jackie Tyler stood in the barn doorway, glaring at the Doctor with the full power of a mother’s wrath, hands firmly on her hips. Now, Jackie had many faults, including the embarrassing pass she’d made at him the first time they’d met, rather questionable opinions on the proper cooking of turkey, and hitting him on occasion, but she was not a hypocrite. Therefore, it was impossible that she was angry at him for the first transgression that leapt to his mind. A transgression he had merrily committed with Rose a few times each day over the last week. A transgression they both seemed to be getting better and better at each time they transgressed. All the same, in light of the stormy expression being directed at him, the Doctor decided it best to proceed with an innocent, if slightly distracted, “What?”
“Tony,” she replied, as though it were perfectly obvious. “I’ve told him from now on, when he wants to potty, he can use your loo. And you can spend your day cleaning up the mess.”
“Oh, that.” He ducked back to his work, chuckling to himself. “He’s a growing boy, Jackie, he deserves to pee like a man.”
“Oh, and here I thought I might wait until he has the sense not to turn his whole body round every time he gets distracted by something shiny,” she answered airily. “But then I guess I’m just his mother.”
Intending to demonstrate how very busy he was, the Doctor soniced a few wires, and then set his screwdriver between his teeth. Jackie walked into the room, and moved over to his side. Apparently the conversation wasn’t over.
“If you really wanted to squabble over childrearing, you could try having your own kids, you know,” she said.
Oi! He spat his beloved screwdriver out of his mouth and popped back out again. “Honestly, woman, don’t you think it’s a bit early to start nagging about grandkids?” Jackie shrugged. He tried a different tact. “A lady in her prime, such as yourself, shouldn’t have children running around calling her Grandmum.”
“Oh, you,” she scowled, indicating she didn’t take him seriously in the least. Rather than leaving though, she took the compliment as an invitation and sat down beside him. “I’ve watched you with Tony,” she said quietly. “You’d make a good dad in a lot of ways.”
Keeping his attention focused entirely on the circuit in front of him, the Doctor couldn’t stop himself from mumbling, “I was a good dad.”
Jackie stilled. He could feel her eyes on him, appraising this new information. “Rose told me you lost your family, but she never said…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
It was the Doctor’s turn to shrug. “Long time ago.” And not so long, but he wasn’t near ready to start talking about Jenny.
Still watching him, she asked, “Are you ever going to tell her everything?”
The Doctor sighed, giving up. He pulled himself up to sit beside her. “I’ve 900 years of secrets, Jackie. I’d go mad if I tried to relive them all, even for Rose.” He nudged her shoulder. “Did you tell Pete everything? About the twenty years you were apart?”
“Suppose not,” she agreed.
The next few seconds of silence, with Jackie staring sadly at the parts of TARDIS on display in front of her, convinced the Doctor it was time to shift gears and change the topic. Pronto. As pronto as possible. “Soooooo,” he said cheerily, “what really brings you all the way out here. Surely it wasn’t Tony’s urinary misadventures.”
Without answering, she tentatively reached toward the glowing coral. The Doctor squawked and hastily slapped her away.
“Oi!” Jackie exclaimed, mouth open and holding her hand in shock.
The Doctor pointed a finger at her. “Hands in your pockets,” he ordered without apology.
She glowered at him for a beat, before, much to his delighted surprise, doing as she was told. “How long do you think?” she asked, indicating the room full of equipment with her elbows.
“Well, hard to say,” he answered, scratching his chin. “While the inner and outer hauls are building, I’ll work on the inter-dimensional integrator circuits. And I still have to worry about environmental systems. Meanwhile, the TARDIS is adjusting to the fluctuations in power absorption for this universe, and reintegrating herself into the Time Vortex. Not an easy process, as we’re feeding off auxiliary systems at the moment. Then I’ll have to nurse her through creating a new celestial database, for in-flight co-ordinate mapping, a bit tricky given I’m not necessarily as familiar with the star-systems of…” He trailed off, noting the flummoxed expression on Jackie’s face as she was staring at him, agog. He rubbed his hands nervously through his hair. “A few months? Give or take.”
Getting the answer she wanted, Jackie sighed. “For a whole day I actually thought Rose would get her happy ending, and I wouldn’t have to worry about this machine ever again.” She looked at him, but there was no malice. “I should have known better, I guess.”
“Jackie, I…”
“Don’t take Tony,” she blurted.
“What?” he exclaimed, completely flabbergasted.
“He’s already infatuated with you,” she said, in way of explanation. “Promise me, even when he’s older, you won’t take Tony.”
The Doctor could foresee how hard a promise that might be to keep in twenty years, but he could also tell how much Jackie needed to be reassured he wasn’t going to steal away another child. Maybe there could be room for renegotiation when the time came, but for now, “I promise.”
She swallowed, and took a deep breath. “You’re different now.”
He looked down, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Yes.”
“I can’t stop Rose from going with you, I never could. And she’s committed to you, but…” Jackie paused, winding herself up. “But I was a widow, at twenty-one years old, and I don’t want the same fate for my daughter.”
The Doctor squinted at the woman before him. “Who are you worried about getting killed, Rose or me?”
“Well, both of you, aren’t I?” she loudly scoffed. “You’re welcome to stay here. You don’t have to go running off.”
He tried to make her understand. “The TARDIS is part of who I am.”
“As much as Rose?” Jackie challenged.
“Yes,” he answered, resolute. “I need… I need them both.”
Jacked seemed to consider him for a moment, before she pleaded, “But can you protect her, like you did before? Can you even protect yourself?”
The Doctor gulped, his mouth dry. He didn’t know how to answer.
“Can you?”
~ ~ ~
The Doctor was aboard the Crucible. Bronze metal beneath his feet, and impenetrable walls closing in. He was trapped. He couldn’t move. He tried to speak, but no sound came. He could barely even breathe.
Hordes of Daleks surrounded him on all sides. They were shrieking in a horrific chorus of mechanical voices. Calling him the destroyer of worlds. Demanding his blood. Triumphantly ordering his extermination. He tried to shout for them to stop, to reason, but the words died, locked in his throat.
The TARDIS appeared, materializing with her familiar song in front of him. He would escape, be rescued. The door opened and Rose Tyler appeared, bathed in white light. She was glowing. Ethereal. More beautiful than he had ever seen her, and she stepped from the safety of his magnificent time machine into burning hell.
“Everything must come to dust,” she said with a wave of her hand, and the Daleks started screeching, spinning and shaking as they were ripped apart. Dematerialized until there was nothing left.
Nothing but the two of them. But still the Doctor was helpless.
“I want you safe, my Doctor,” Rose whispered, tears on her face. They were the words she had spoken when he first realized she loved him too. She was his miracle.
He was desperate to go to her, but his limbs refused to obey. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, how much he loved her. She had saved him, so many times, and he couldn’t even save her in return. He watched, guilty, as the golden light emanating from inside her intensified, and pulled her apart. Soon Rose, his strong, brave Rose, was reduced to mere atoms, floating on the air.
He could feel the light moving into his own body, burning from within. He looked to his hand, and saw his skin melting away. In a few seconds, he, like everything else, would become nothing more than a few scattered particles, and he couldn’t even scream.
The Doctor awoke with a start, pulling breath into his lungs. The horrible plunging sensation of being dropped from a nightmare into the reality of his bed, made his heart race as he struggled to take in his surroundings.
He was warm. He was safe. Rose was asleep beside him. Perhaps sensing his movement she snuggled deeper into his side, reaching around to hug his arm more tightly against her body.
He could hear Jackie’s voice from that afternoon, asking him if he could still protect Rose like he had before. When he had been whole. He had never answered her.
He turned to Rose, taking her in, watching her breathe. He was tempted to wake her, strip off the silk she wore and cover her skin with warm wet kisses, bury himself in the heat he knew he would find inside her. She would writhe under him as her legs squeezed around his hips. Her fingernails would dig into his back. She would moan and gasp his name. He would feel her heart pounding, and taste her sweat. What better proof could he give himself that she was alive?
But the Doctor couldn’t do it. He felt terrified and broken, like a tiny, insignificant, little, miniscule, shivering … thing. He couldn’t regenerate. He couldn’t withstand electrocution, or radiation, or dispel poison.
Sure, most of the time, he relied on his rather fantastic brain. He was still a genius - he couldn’t deny that. He could talk, or argue, or think his way out of the majority of dangerous situations. That was perfectly true. But, that being said, how many times, really, had he relied on his Time Lord biology to sneak him by, and let him save the day?
Could he look after Rose? Could he even look after himself?
The answer was no.
He had to get out of that bed, that instant, and he knew precisely where he was going.
The Doctor walked across the wet grass in bare feet, wishing his pajama bottoms came with pockets he could stuff his hands into. It was a determined march, his chin down, face grim, and he felt at odds with his arms swinging loosely at his sides, not playing their usual part in his dour posture. Perhaps he should have stopped for his coat?
No. There wasn’t time. He had to act now, while his fear, his palpable blood curdling terror, made him strong. Because even despite the suffocating dread, he could still feel the deeper urge struggling to take hold. The seductive voice, ingrained and murmuring, “Go on. Go on. Go on.” And if he waited till morning, the safety of daylight, he would forget how desperate he feels, pretend the horror wasn’t real, and give in.
If he didn’t end it now, forever, he would finish the TARDIS. He would travel. He would take Rose with him. And maybe it would be fun for a while, ecstatically, brilliantly fun, but it couldn’t last, and he would doom them both.
When the Doctor reached the barn, he didn’t even pause for a moment. He opened the door and strode over to where the sledgehammer still rested against the wall. He picked it up, without hesitation, walked to the center of the room, and hefted the weight above his head.
The TARDIS coral was glowing in her nest. Her soft hum singing sweetly to him. Trusting as ever. She had no idea the destruction he was about to reek upon her.
He took a final breath, trying not to choke. Goodbye, old friend.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Damn.
The voice came from the doorway, and he wasn’t sure he had ever seen its owner appear more shocked at his actions. Well, there was that once, but he was really quite certain that his destructive impulses were the more moral course of action this time.
Without changing his violent stance, the Doctor pleaded, “Rose.”
“No,” she said, moving between him and the heart of his ship. “I’m not going to let you do this.”
Looking down into her trusting face, he insisted, “I have to.”
She reached up and placed a gentle hand on his, still gripping the handle tightly. “No, you don’t.” A moment passed, neither of them moving. She tried again. “Please.”
Defeated, he let the weapon fall harmlessly to his side. He never stood a chance. Not really. “Why are you here?”
“I followed you,” she answered, simply.
He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Why are you stopping me?”
Rose gave him a grim smile, and placed a hand over his heart. “Because whatever you’re thinking right now, you might not feel the same in the morning.”
“That’s the point,” the Doctor rasped out.
“Doctor,” she said, shoving lightly against his chest, “shift away from the spaceship.”
He allowed her to push him over to the wall. Once there, head hung low, he slid to the ground. It was cold. He really ought to have stopped for his coat.
Rose seemed to think the same, as she arranged herself in his lap, and pressed her body up against him. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms a few times, before asking, “So, care to share?”
He wrapped his limbs around her, holding her as close as he could. “Rose, we can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
“Was always dangerous,” she said against his neck.
“It’s different,” he answered. “I’m different.”
Apparently wanting to argue semantics, she pressed further. “Was always dangerous for me.”
Somehow, that made the Doctor angry a little, at himself. “Then I was selfish, and irresponsible, and I never should have let you on board.”
Rose pulled back to glare at him. “Well, then, if you’re wishing away our entire life together…”
“I didn’t mean that,” he sighed, frustrated. He needed to reason with her, use logic and make her see sense. “Do you have any idea how many times you would have died if I had been like I am now?”
“No,” she said, warily, “but I’ve a feeling you do.”
He raised his eyebrows and used a tone meant to sound severe. “Twenty-six.”
“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” Rose said with a hint of a smile, which was very silly because this was a terribly serious discussion. “I’d remember almost dying twenty-six times.”
Okay, maybe not quite that high, he just liked the sound of the double digit. It sounded impressive and made his point. “Fine,” he gave in, “eleven.”
“Really?” Rose sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yes.”
She twisted her mouth a little as she thought about it. “And how many times are you counting that thing with the Sycorax?”
“Three,” he said authoritatively, “but they are all perfectly valid.”
“Well,” Rose reasoned, looking far too adorable doing so, “shouldn’t we reduce it to eight then, since that was on Earth.”
“No,” the Doctor responded, not amused. “You seem to think this is funny.”
“You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to. My father died getting out of his car.”
He had known this ploy was coming; the old ‘humans die crossing the street all the time’ argument. “Yes, but per capita more people who willingly walk into a battlefield die in an hour than those walking on a bloody side street in London.”
“Doctor…”
“Rose!” he bit out. “I couldn’t even keep you with me for two years. And that’s including a regeneration and surviving all kinds of things that I can’t now. I want a life with you, a fantastic, brilliant life, but I want it to last a lot longer than two years.”
That seemed to get through as Rose visibly softened. She cupped his cheek with her hand, leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips moved slowly, gently, coaxing his mouth open. He lost himself in the kiss, letting her tongue slide against his, the reassuring flavour of her taste taking over and calming his other senses.
Rose pulled away a little, keeping one hand around his neck, fingers lightly stroking his hair. She looked him in the eye and asked, “How long have you loved me?”
“What?” The Doctor hadn’t been expecting that question, it seemed a bit off topic, not to mention obvious. He opened his mouth to answer, only to find that the exact pinpoint in time escaped him. Hold on, maybe not so obvious.
Woman Wept? Walking hand in hand under the majestic curves of the frozen waves had been the first time he’d truly let go and allowed his hearts to enjoy the pleasure of love. He’d watched Rose taking in the crystalline beauty with her usual mix of giddy awe, and he’d basked. But by then he’d already known, already admitted the truth to himself. He’d taken her there because he loved her and he wanted to make up for the damage he’d done by allowing the trip to 1987. He’d wanted to show her something quiet and breathtaking to mend her broken heart, the way she’d mended his.
Your wish is my command? Yup, that kind of foolhardy gesture could only be explained as a Time Lord besotted. He’d meant it: he would have given her anything. He’d known better, but he couldn’t say no. Perhaps the very reason his kind had frowned upon meddling with other species in the first place.
Thinking he’d killed her? And refusing to doom her a second time? Others had and would sacrifice themselves to save the world, but he wouldn’t let it be Rose. She was too precious. He needed her. He couldn’t let anything happen to her no matter the cost.
The Horsehead Nebula? Manly showing off - pure and simple. Well, he says showing off, he means desperation to keep her with him.
Not wanting to risk her to save the world? He’d hesitated, for hours in Downing Street. Admitting it out loud, he’d already known how far he’d fallen. Judging by the look on her face, so had she.
Telling her how glad he was to have met her, even for such a short time? The joy he’d felt at having that sentiment returned? Her smile. Was he already done for in that Cardiff cellar?
Chips? Was that when he fell?
Asking her a second time? Run? Surely he wasn’t that sentimental. Was he?
“Doctor?” Rose’s voice pulled him out of his musings. She was shaking her head at him. “Wasn’t meant to be a trick question.”
“I don’t know.” Sometime between ‘run’ and Woman Wept. Definitely in there, somewhere. “Always?” Was that the right answer?
She rolled her eyes at him. “The point is you’ve loved me for a long time, yeah?”
Okay, that the Doctor could agree to. He nodded, guardedly. He was a little afraid of where this might be going.
Rose tilted her head, and asked, sadly, “How much of that time did you waste keeping me at a distance?”
“Too much.” A year, on and off, if you put it together, which he did.
“Seems to me this is the same thing.” She said in a quiet voice, “You can spend your whole life waiting to die, or you can live it.”
“It’s not the same.” He swallowed and made his offer, “We can live a life here.”
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you really want? Safe doors and carpets?”
“No mortgage?” the Doctor teased, trying to lift the weight that had settled on him, at least a little.
“You might not have noticed, but I’m very rich,” she flirted back. But she wouldn’t let him off so easily. “You’re avoiding the question.”
He hung his head, unable to meet her eyes. “Maybe?”
“If you were really sure,” Rose reasoned, “you should be able to close this barn door and walk away. Why are you destroying it? Destroying a piece of yourself?”
“To remove the temptation,” he said, becoming frustrated again.
“Because you want it.”
“Of course I want it!” he nearly shouted. Losing the TARDIS… He might as well cut off a leg, or rip out his lungs, or lose some other vital organ, or limb. But… But… Then he broke a little, his throat hurting, eyes burning. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t…” he choked. “I don’t want to die.”
Rose’s eyes filled with infinite sympathy. He kind of hated it. “You’re feeling mortal for the first time. It’s normal. All of us humans do.”
He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He’d lived for so long, thinking his longevity was a curse, and now he didn’t want to die. He remembered Cassandra, telling her nobody wants to die, like it was so easy for him to empathize. Nobody did, but who was he to say that, so comfortable and happy in his new body? And then there were the times he was downright suicidal, wishing for the mercy of death to release him from his pain. Now he had the freedom to live a life however he wanted, and he was paralyzed by how short it would be.
He sniffed, tilting his head back against the wall. “I’m one fucked up bastard.”
Rose twisted around, straddling him, and bringing his face back down. “Bit more colourful with the language now, aren’t you?”
“I’m having a crisis here,” he said in mild outrage. “And you’re nagging me about swearing?”
She nuzzled against his neck. “I just think, if you’re going to use the word ‘fuck’ you could be more… fruitful about it.” She wiggled in his lap to make her point.
He moved his hands to hold her hips still. If he was pressing them down at all, it was merely incidental. “Again, you seem to think this is funny.”
“I don’t.” Rose nipped at his chin before leaning back to look at him seriously. “I love you, and I want you to be happy, but we can’t solve this right now. You don’t have to make some big decision.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, pushing up against her. She’d started it after all.
“For now, come to bed,” she answered.
“And then?” He pressed his lips against her throat.
“Tomorrow, work on the TARDIS.”
“And then?” His fingers trailed lazily up her arms.
“Keep her building her until she’s finished.”
“And then?” He leaned her back, kissing down her chest, cupping a breast with one hand.
“We go on a trip,” she said, finally sounding a bit breathless. “One trip. If we like it, we keep traveling. When we think it’s time to stop, we stop.”
He pulled away, happy to see she looked a bit annoyed at his sudden halt. “You’re just making this up as you go along,” he accused.
“Of course I am. That’s life. And you of all people know that when you’re in a better mood.” Rose stood up and extended a hand. “One day a time, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling himself up.
Rose smiled, leading him back to their bed.
He’d promised her a life, growing old together. And he’d meant it, but living it… He wanted to travel, to discover, and he wanted so many other things. It seemed impossible. One day at a time might be all he’d ever be able to manage.
Acknowledgements: The Doctor’s thoughts on the process of building the TARDIS come from this site. Also, if you think the “And then…” conversation sounds familiar, you’re not wrong. It’s an allusion to another R.T. Davies script - this time with a happier variation.
Next Chapter - Stage Six: The First of the Part Human Time Lords
Previous Chapters:
Stage One: Babbling For Your Life
Stage Two: The Oncoming Tantrum
Stage Three: A Few Bits and Bobs
Stage Four: The Untempered Lust