LoneRaven Ficathon 2006 for: Vilya Mariposa
2006 Ten/Rose LoneRaven’s Ficathon
This is for: vilya_mariposa
Characters: The Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler
Tomorrow Never Knows by Membio
1 ~ A Day in the Life
“Come on Rose, we’re gonna be late!” The Doctor rolled his eyes, if Rose had been paying him any attention she might have noticed an edge to his voice. “I hate being late!” He heaved the heavy shopping bags Rose had pushed on him while she tried on a new jacket.
He loosened his tie and tried again, “It’s embarrassing! Imagine, me, a Time Lord, late! It’s just unseemly.” He was trying to play it light but this shopping trip was going on much longer than he had thought possible. He glanced at his watch and tried to reorganise his burden.
“Doctor, quit complainin,’ you’re always late! What’s the point of being a ‘Lord o’ Time’ if you can’t be late?” Rose had been enjoying her shopping trip on Taxilon IV until the Doctor had decided they had to go. Immediately. Probably just an excuse to be done with this shopping spree she griped to herself.
“You have a time machine, how can you ever be late?” She liked the green coat, it brought out the warmth in her eyes she thought. “What do you think of this green one?” she stalled.
Rose decided she liked the cut of the coat, it was short waisted and had red snaps up the front. It looked fashionable but not too dressy. The material was rugged, dyed leaf-green. Good for runnin’, she thought ruefully. There was embroidery on the back in blood-red stitching that looked like a mythological tree, branches curling up and roots down. It reminded her of something from the Lord of the Rings. She’d always fancied the Elvin clothing in those movies.
The Doctor ignored her coat and all the fine detail. He was fidgeting and alternately nodding and squinting. “Yes, yes, fine. It’s just that I’ve got a very important appointment, one that can’t be missed.” He gave Rose a wide-eyed desperate look, and twisted the shopping bags in his hands.
Rose glanced at him through her lashes; he looked genuinely upset, it took a lot to rattle the Doctor. Rose felt a chill run down her spine and shivered.
“What? You okay?” he snapped, agitated. The now obvious edge in the Doctor’s voice made her nervous.
“Of course! I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be? Just a chill, like someone walkin’ on my grave.” She grinned, trying to shrug off his impatience, “I’m getting’ this jacket. Do you like it?”
The Doctor stared at her, eyes round, “Don’t say that!”
“Say what?” The Doctor was acting odd, well, odder than usual, he was seriously starting to make her edgy. “It’s just an expression!”
“Expressions come from somewhere you know,” he grabbed her by the arm and hustled her to the door. As they passed he tossed a credit chit to the door checker. “Keep the change, just the green coat. Have a nice life.”
**
Scene:
Picture a hillock at twilight on some unnamed world, the sun sinking low behind it. The sky is dark above, stars just beginning to show. Hovering on the horizon a thin band of illumination spans the western sky. On top of the hill there appears to be a wind whipped figure, in silhouette. If one were to look carefully, one would see the figure’s hands and feet appeared too thin and pale to be human, his robes improbably blacker than the deepest shadows night could offer. If one was very brave, one might look closer and notice an aura of dark moodiness from the figure, a feeling that might make even a cat’s eyes water. But then again, the hint of tooth and bone where a face generally should reside would have most observers running for the safety of home and hearth.
The black robed figure paced back and forth atop the hill as though waiting for an appointment that was now becoming quite late. Under one arm he clutched a rectangular board. A small wooden case sat on a large stump of a once majestic tree.
The figure did everything a waiting person might; he looked to the horizon and muttered quietly under his breath. The one thing that he did not do was look at his wrist. Instead from time to time he pulled a large hourglass from within his robes and watched the fine pale sand slide through the centre to pool in the lower half.
The figure shook his head impatiently and strode over to the stump. He unfolded the rectangle and laid it on the impromptu table. The case contained thirty-two figurines, half polished black stone and half worn ivory. The pieces were quickly placed on the board in two rows opposite, black facing white. The board was now set and fate would take its course.
The robed figure had just struck a very impressive pose alongside the chessboard when a sudden and shocking grinding and wheezing filled the air. He lunged at the pieces and hurriedly scooped them into his case. Whatever was making that awful skull splitting noise was going to land on him. He grabbed the board and made a hasty retreat away from the tortuous noise and away from this dimension.
**
The TARDIS vibrated violently. “Rose! Hold on!” The Doctor gripped the console tightly and alternately banged at it and twiddled a wheel. “We’re in for-”
A loud crash and a jolt shook the TARDIS. Both lost their hold and crashed to the floor. Rose let out a small screech, mostly of surprise. She’d gotten pretty good at hanging on.
“-a bumpy landing,” he finished weakly from the floor. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand while he pushed up to a reclining position. “You all right?”
“It’s a wonder my mum doesn’t turn you in for beating me, the way I keep turning up covered in bruises.” Rose winced as she stood, her shin having struck the rail on her way to the metal grating. “Why don’t you pad this room? You’d save a lot of pain an’ sufferin’. Mostly mine.”
“What? A padded console room? I’d be a laughing stock.” He strode around the console trying to hide a small limp. He flicked on the view screen and pushed some buttons. The readout seemed to please him. “There we are. Won’t be a moment. Just wait here.”
Rose stared at him incredulous. “What? You think you’re going out without me?” she grinned. She was used to his silly notions and knew how to badger him into letting her have her way.
He turned to her, “Not this time Rose, trust me.” His voice had deepened and sounded really ancient. For the first time he really sounded alien. “If you have ever trusted me, please trust me now. I have to do this alone.” He buttoned his suit coat and grabbed for his long tan duster hanging by the door.
She couldn’t argue with that voice. Now that was a lordly voice. Rose looked over at the view screen and wondered if she dared try to look outside. She shivered again, and reached for her new green coat.
**
The Doctor exited the TARDIS and nearly landed on his head. The TARDIS was perched on what appeared to be an old tree stump. He jumped down and made a mental note to check the old girl’s dematerialisation circuits and fixed-object avoidance systems.
“Well that explains the rough landing,” he muttered, staring up at his ship. He was on a hill just as the sun set. Right on time. He spun about, paced the plateau and circled the TARDIS while he scanned the windswept land below. There was no sign of his appointment and it was not like Death to miss a meeting.
He was circling the hilltop again, and starting to get a bit peeved he’d been stood up when his shoe hit something. He bent and peered into the grass and weeds cautiously. It was a chess piece. He picked it up and pocketed it. “ So,” he said to no one in particular, “he has been here. Where has he gotten to is the question.”
The Doctor raised his eyes to the dark sky, the sun having fully set. He shouted to the black, indifferent universe, “I don’t forfeit. I was here at sunset as was the bargain. We will have this game. My turn to select the time and place, that’s how it works.”
He tapped his chin with his fingers and wondered where would be a good safe place to have this final match. He looked around; this was Death’s element, dark, forlorn and open. He decided.
“We shall meet in one week’s relative time at the Cavern club, Liverpool, the ninth of November, 1961. Oh and I fancy lunchtime!” The Doctor cocked his head at the universe and headed back into the TARDIS.
2 ~ Because
Death heard the Doctor’s instructions and gritted his forever grinning teeth. He hated that era. As Death, he heard all pleas and prayers; it was the curse of being Death. He hated people that had wasted their entire lives pleading for a few more years. To do what? he wondered. Watch more telly, or beat their children some more?
There were always those unfortunates that did not deserve the death they drew, but selection was not his job, he just took life. Mortals would have to take fairness up with Fate and Destiny if they had issues.
He sighed, or at least the wind blowing through his skull sounded suspiciously like a sigh. This Doctor was quite a thorn in his side. The whole Time Lord Regeneration thing always gave him a nasty ache in his skull. Damn that Rassilon. Bad enough he’d agreed to an appointment to play chess with the Doctor, but it wasn’t even for the Doctor’s life. He’d never played chess for a life by proxy before. Somehow he’d been talked into it and he couldn’t remember how. That really irked him. “Slippery tongued Time Lord,” Death spat out, though ineffectively due to a conspicuous lack of lips and saliva.
He had to meet the Doctor again in a week’s relative time, which meant that there were a lot of souls to reap between then and now. Sixteen hundred in England from smoking alone he mused and shook his skull. He’d often wondered where all these statistics came from. What good did it do him knowing ahead of time? None.
**
Rose was fiddling with the dials on the view screen as she tried to see what the Doctor was doing outside. She jumped guiltily when he climbed back in through the door.
“You’re back quick,” she stammered.
“Yup, told ya, back in a flash, that’s me.” Rose could tell from his strained tone he was being evasive.
“What?” Rose hated it when he hid things from her. “What happened out there?”
“Nothing,” he said perfectly truthfully, he raised his eyebrows innocently. “Not a thing. Figured out why we had such a bad landing though,” he grinned tightly at her. “The TARDIS tried to land on top of a massive tree stump!” He shrugged off his overcoat, stalked to the console and began to set the dials without another word.
Rose knew enough by now not to press when he was acting this tetchy. She changed the subject. “Where to now?” she grinned a bit too widely and felt the falseness of her smile.
The effort was wasted on the Doctor. He didn’t look up. “Oh, here and there. Maybe get some parts for the TARDIS, I’ve been neglecting ’er.” he stroked a bit of console absently.
Great! Rose thought, rolling her eyes. More ship repairs. That had clearly become a euphemism for “Don’t ask” or “I’ll explain later.”
**
The next few days were fraught with the adventure of salvage yards and shipwrecks. Rose decided suspicious parts dealers across time and space all had the same shifty eyes. She felt a little bad for taking it in ill humour and had to admit there was something to be said for meeting new and different species, especially ones that for once weren’t trying to exterminate or delete them. That alone should have been a tick in the plus column.
In the end, Rose just couldn’t get over that the most exciting thing they had seen was a stripped down Hynorian battle cruiser. The way the Doctor went on she’d thought he was truly in love with it. Normally she would have been thrilled right alongside him, but it wasn’t fun anymore. The Doctor didn’t trust her; he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Every time she tried to wander off he caught her.
One day she’d finally had enough. “Doctor, why don’t you just get me a pair of those zapping cuffs like what Jack had? I feel like a prisoner!”
He looked up from a pail full of knackered and greasy parts, “Don’t tempt me Rose.” He pulled a face and sighed when he saw the boredom she radiated. “Can’t you get interested in mechanics? It’s a good trade an’ dead useful.”
She felt like a petulant child, not allowed to cross the street or let go of mummy’s hand.
Rose tossed the part she was idly handling back into the bin. “Enough!”
He looked up a bit shocked, eyes round.
“I don’t mind helping you with this,” she waved a greasy hand around indicating all the piles of parts, “but I want to see more than the contents of a greasy skip.”
“Oh? Um… sorry?” He didn’t sound sure if that was the response she wanted, but he was trying it out, ready to duck in case it was the wrong reply.
Rose already felt bad; it wasn’t like her to made demands on the Doctor.
“What’s wrong? You hardly talk to me and I can’t go anywhere on my own. I feel like you’re avoiding me which is pretty amazin’ since we spend all day together.” She paced a few steps and turned, pleading, “come on, you can tell me, yeah?”
“I can’t.” He paused and considered. “I mean, nothing’s wrong!” He went back to sorting parts avoiding her gaze.
His guilty expression almost made her laugh bitterly. Rose considered. She supposed she should feel vindicated that at least he felt bad about whatever he was hiding from her, but it didn’t help the strain that had weighed so heavily between them the past few days. “Look I can cut the tension with a knife it’s been so thick,” she tried to cajole him. “Come on, out with it.”
The Doctor hung his head, and then turned to glance at her, “You play chess?”
Rose shook her head negative and was trying to figure out where that had come from.
“I’ll teach you! It’d be good practice for me and help you with tactics.” That settled, he gathered up his greasy treasures and went to pay the shifty eyed cashier.
Rose gritted her teeth. It was just like the Doctor to change the subject. But maybe she’d be able to work on him some more while he taught her chess.
**
“What’s this one again?” Rose asked fingering a horse shaped piece.
The Doctor looked over, distracted, “That’s the knight, put it back,” a tinge of exasperation laced his voice.
Rose ignored his tone; she wanted to enjoy this time with him.
“Right, Rook is the castle the pointy one’s a Bishop…”
“Yeah you got it, right genius, you are,” he said unthinkingly.
Rose stiffened, at his unkind words but tried to ignore them. “If you’re gonna be that way about it…” She put the horse back on the board with a click and folded her arms.
The Doctor looked over at her and saw the hurt expression she was trying to hide. He’d done it again, been unnecessarily harsh thanks to his frustration over the entire beast prophecy, Death situation. What was it with this rude personality?
“Sorry Rose, that was uncalled for.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Really, it’s a brilliant game, I’m sure you’ll take to it like a duck to water. Course the Chinese version has artillery and a river to contend with, amazing!”
Rose had never heard of Chinese chess and decided the western version was enough to think about at the moment. The Doctor was more animated than she had seen him in days. She didn’t want to spoil his mood.
“Right. Now, to start with: opening.” He looked at her expectantly. She looked back and nodded. “Opening,” she echoed.
**
The lesson hadn’t been all bad. Rose enjoyed a few parts of the game; she was getting better at her openings. The Doctor still seemed preoccupied and a few times he stared at the board so hard she was sure it would burst into flames. She was no match for the Time Lord; it was her first lesson after all. He didn’t seem to really notice the game or her game play much anyway; he was elsewhere in time and space. Eventually, they pushed away from the board and talked about adventures past. She was happy to feel like they were getting back to the way they had been when he turned to her.
His tone was serious. “Rose, I know this week has been difficult for you-us.” She started to protest, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry I haven’t felt able to explain. It’s wrong, you deserve to know.”
She waited for him to continue. He fiddled with his tie. “Remember what that beast by the black hole said?” his dark eyes bored into hers. She wanted to tear her eyes away but couldn’t. Of course she remembered what he’d said. “That I would die in battle…soon,” she whispered.
“He wasn’t lying.” The Doctor turned away in shame. “I was.”
“Tell me,” she reached for his hand, she could take anything as long as he was honest.
The Doctor grasped her hand and brought his gaze back to meet Rose’s. “I’m trying to find a way around it.” He dropped her hand and swept her up in a desperate embrace.
3 ~ Come Together
A few days later the Doctor told her he had to go out without her again. Rose knew what the stakes were. She didn’t argue. She felt half dead already. He treated her like some kind of fragile object. If this was what it was going to be like the rest of her time in the TARDIS she wasn’t sure if she wanted it. The amount of hugging had increased but it had a desperate and clingy feel to it. Not the emotion she had sought. It wasn’t romantic or sexy.
She paced around the console wishing she had something to do. She decided to try the view screen again. Couldn’t hurt, she reasoned. “Probably won’t bloody get it working this time, either,” she muttered.
**
The Doctor wandered the Cavern Club looking for the appropriate table. He wanted some privacy; he was about to embark on a winner take all competition with Death after all. At least the setting would provide a bit of distraction while he waited, even though he felt a twinge of guilt that Rose would be missing it. This was a momentous day for a couple of guys with guitars.
He found a table tucked partway under a brick arch that would suit. He sat and fiddled with the menu. The bar maid came by and he ordered a pint. When he looked up Death was sitting across from him.
“You travel on cat’s paws,” the Doctor said impressed.
Death just sat impassively.
The Doctor arched an eyebrow at him. “You want a pint?”
The windy voice that emanated from under Death’s cowl carried to the Doctor’s ears only, “I don’t want a bloody pint, I want to know how you talked me into this.”
“Oh! That. I’m an excellent talker this time round,” he saw that Death was taking offence and changed tact. “Yes, well, shall we play then?” The Doctor fingered the ivory piece in his coat pocket.
“I’m afraid I left my set behind,” Death wheezed.
The Doctor squinted at him. “What?” He glanced up in time to accept his pint from the server; she looked at him a bit oddly and left quickly.
“You forgot or you decided not to bring it?” The Doctor was wondering how this would turn out. He had been practicing up for this match, but he knew Death was missing a vital piece.
**
Rose jumped for joy; an involuntary squeal escaped her lips. She’d gotten the view screen working. She could see what was outside the TARDIS. She scrolled left and right. It looked like…a storage room for a pub. Definitely, there was a case of limes and one of gin.
She panned some more. A door, but what else could she see? She zoomed in with the camera and caught a face going past the door. It was oddly familiar, as was the next and the one after. Oh! She clapped her hand over her mouth. John, Paul and George. She didn’t recognise that last fellow. The Beatles!
How could the Doctor be so utterly cruel! He was going to see the Beatles and she was stuck in the TARDIS!
She hit the console and immediately felt bad and stroked the spot she had struck. “Sorry, didn’t mean it.” How could he expect her to miss the Beatles? They were so young. She messed with the view screen to replay the image. They were very young and that wasn’t Ringo was it? “Oh!” she gasped, “The Beatles before Ringo?” That must be quite early indeed. Rose paced over the metal grating, stomping her feet crossly. She looked back at the screen. November 1961.
Before long she had formed a plan. She left a big note on the TARDIS controls. She didn’t want to get left behind here in the early 1960s. She was sure they were a fantastic time but nothing could compare with travelling with her Doctor. She just really wanted to see the Beatles. The real Beatles, not Paul McCartney wanking along on his own.
She changed into what passed for nineteen sixties clothes, grabbed her new green jacket and headed for the door. She slipped quietly out of the TARDIS and along the back hallways of the club just as the band started to play. She grinned and started to mouth the lyrics. She knew them all.
**
The Doctor tried to stare down Death. It was a lost cause, he should have known better. He looked away with a mild ache behind his eyes. “What do you mean we can’t play here and now? Why ever not? Do you forfeit? Go on, just forfeit, I don’t have time for this and I’m sure you are a busy bloke.”
Death stared back without emotion. “No,” came the reply from the darkness within the cowl. Death couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him a “bloke.” He almost liked it.
“Well then what happens next? Hmmm? I’m really disappointed, me. I’ve been practicing an’ everything.” The Doctor was disappointed. He had hoped that Death would have had to concede the point and forfeit Rose’s death in battle.
Death decided he didn’t actually like being called a bloke, too familiar. He pointed at the Doctor with a bony finger. “You chose a new game, I choose a new place. Third time’s the charm.”
“I choose the game?” This was a surprise. The Doctor considered for a while and wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to choose right now?”
Death would have rolled his eyes if he’d had any. The Doctor felt the waves of irritation never the less. This made the Time Lord grin. Foiling Death was one of his specialities.
**
On his way back to the TARDIS the Doctor leaned over the shoulder of a man in a dark suit and whispered in his ear. “These are the ones, Brian. Don’t miss this boat, it’s a wild ride, take my word for it.” What the Doctor didn’t see was the blond haired girl in a green jacket dancing up near the stage.
The man turned just in time to catch sight of a pinstriped form disappearing into the crowd and wondered how the bloke had known his name. Must be someone in the record business, he mused. Brian went back to his pint and ploughman’s lunch, but those words continued to echo in his mind. He made a notation in is pocket calendar. He watched the enthusiastic gyrations of a blond girl up on the dance floor and put an exclamation point by his notation.
Back in the TARDIS the Doctor shouted for Rose and was surprised when he didn’t get a reply. He was a bit put off that she wasn’t waiting for him in the console room. He was about to head back to search for her when he saw a piece of paper stuck haphazardly to the console. He snatched it off his beautiful time-ship and read the brief note. Then read it again. His hearts sank. She was out there right now. Death was out there… he ran for the door.
4 ~ Twist and Shout
The band was very loud in the small club, and Brian Epstein was not the only one that noticed the energetic blond on the crowded dance floor. The tall lean figure clad in black gazed intently at the dancing girl.
It would be safe to say that although the dark figure was aware of every life form in the room, very few ever noticed him. An exception was a tabby cat perched on a top corner shelf staring at him with wide, amber eyes. She turned, squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the apparition to go away.
Death stalked forward towards his prize. He had not though it could be so easy. She was slated for his taking. The Doctor had thwarted him by jumping time tracks and hiding her inside his dimensionally transcendent ship. Though the two Lords had a verbal agreement to play a game of chance for her soul, this would be easier. So far both meetings had proved fruitless and it was irritating. The loss of his white queen had made him powerless. Chess could not be played without his ivory queen. Rose Tyler would make an appropriate replacement for his set.
The Grim Reaper reached confidently towards Rose but was shocked to be warded off by an invisible shield. He cursed, and seven flies minding their own business by the trash bin dropped dead.
**
Rose was dancing wildly, enjoying the moment. She flirted with a longhaired boy about her age dancing nearby and enjoyed the thrill it gave her. She was hopelessly lost for the Doctor but flirting with him was different, for one, he didn’t respond. The band seemed to appreciate her enthusiastic gyrations as well. She was having a great time and forgot that she should keep an eye out for the Doctor. I think George Harrison fancies me!
The flying body tackle came as a bit of a surprise. There weren’t mosh pits in the sixties were there? She found herself tangled up with a lot of brown pinstriped legs and arms.
“Doctor what are you doing?” she shouted annoyed and bruised.
“Saving your life? That a good enough answer for you?” he managed through gritted teeth. He got up and turned his back on her, “Come on Rose no arguments, back to the TARDIS. Now.”
Rose got up grumpily favouring her left leg; he’d landed on it when they hit the floor. No one really seemed to notice them leaving, not even George Harrison, she noted ruefully. They made it back to the TARDIS without incident and without speaking a word.
Rose hung her head while the Doctor dressed her down for sneaking out. He paced back and forth and even hit the console; she winced at the jolt that went through the ship. She barely listened; it was so hurtful that he didn’t trust her anymore. They used to investigate and work as a team.
He seemed to be winding down. She peeked out from under a curtain of blond hair at him. He still looked angry. Tears threatened to make a mess of her mascara.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” she stammered but then found a pit of anger that had been seething in her belly. “I jus’ don’t understand why you don’t trust me anymore! Look, I can take care of myself! I’ve saved your skin more ’an once; don’t treat me like a baby! I…I just couldn’t resist the Beatles.” She hung her head again, out of steam. “How could you take me here and not let me out to see them?”
“I was coming back to get you,” he said, but only barely convincingly.
She glared at him, but he refused to make eye contact. He might be telling the truth. She didn’t know if she could trust him and that hurt even more deeply. She let out an exasperated snort.
“I was! Honest. Once my…guest was gone and business done.” He gestured impotently towards the club.
Rose was not one to take second seat, well she was second to the Doctor but she demanded to be included, “What kind of business?”
It was the Doctor’s turn to get indignant. “Rose I can’t-won’t talk about it.” He turned from her and went to the console.
The fight lost, her mascara ran down her cheeks in rivulets. She stifled the sobs that wanted to join the tears-a small victory-and managed to calm the emotions that warred within her. She suddenly felt ridiculous in her early sixties clothes and limped off to change and give her face a good scrub.
The Doctor watched her leave and felt horrible. Something had to change. If he didn’t lose her to Death he would drive her away acting like this, which meant he would lose either way.
He put the TARDIS into a quick hop to a deserted world.
Exiting the TARDIS he hugged his tan coat close as it was whipped by the wind. He looked up into the starless night sky and yelled to Death. “I have chosen my game, you choose the place and soon. I want this settled!”
5 ~ Tomorrow Never Knows
This time when the Doctor got ready to meet with Death, he gave Rose explicit orders to stay in the TARDIS.
“I mean it; there’s nothing out there for miles, no bands, no shops, nothing.” She trailed after him as he marched into the wardrobe room. Well, room really wasn’t the right word for it; cathedral was more like it. The winding helical stairways and rack upon rack of random clothing made her head spin.
The Doctor pawed through the various velvet coats and ruffled shirts. Rose recognised a Victorian dress she had once worn in Cardiff and stroked the fabric.
“Ah, ha!” the Doctor chortled as he snatched at a scarf. “This should do me.” Rose made an effort not to snicker as he wound the ridiculously long scarf around his neck. He glanced in a mirror, “The browns even match. Wish me luck.”
“You’re really going to meet…Death?” She wasn’t sure she fully believed that story. He had sworn scouts honour it was true.
“Yep, me and old Mortis are going to play a game of chance. It’s a tradition as old as time.” He checked his pockets.
“So he’s really Death, like black robe and bones?” Rose asked incredulously.
“Yep.” He wasn’t much in the mood for chit chat but didn’t want to hurt Rose’s feelings.
She kept trying, “He’s Death for everyone an’ everything?”
“Well, as far as I know, yes, he can take any form he chooses. I don’t hang out with him usually.”
“So he’s been around a while then.” She was desperately trying to get a grasp of what was happening.
“Older than me if that’s what you mean.” The Doctor adjusted his scarf and made for the front of the ship.
**
He met Death on a nameless ice world the incarnation had insisted upon. Figures Death would want a world of contrast. The table and chairs were made of ice, clear and sparkling. The white snow lay around as far as they eye could see to an indistinct white on white horizon. Death’s black robes stood out from the white and crystal. Sound was muted and flat on this empty world.
“I selected this place,” Death swung a bony hand to the expanse of white wasteland. “What is the game to be?”
The Doctor stood cockily by his beloved TARDIS, the only colour that dimpled the tundra for miles. He glared at Death, “You tried to cheat back there at the club!”
“Death does not apologise,” was the only reply from the bony visage.
The Doctor was not dissuaded. “You tried to take her early,” he accused.
Death hated persistent creatures, nothing worse than a Time Lord. “But I could not,” the skull breathed with an irritated whistle.
“But why couldn’t you? That’s the question, isn’t it?” The Doctor glared at Death.
“She wore protection, old magic.” Death hated speaking of his weaknesses but it was the only way to shut the Doctor up. “Can we get on with the game?”
The Doctor wasn’t exactly sure what Death meant, but he’d figure it out. He continued to glare at the Grim Reaper, hands on hips, his tan coat flapping. He was glad to have found his lucky scarf. “I choose…Go Fish!” he declared haughtily.
If Death had possessed eyebrows they would have shot up. “Did you bring the… cards?”
The Doctor flourished an arcane set of hand drawn cards he had gotten centuries ago. They were a full set of major and minor arcana, the moon, the sun, and the stars. Even Death and Time were depicted in this set.
Death nodded his approval. These would do. He would not have put it past the Doctor to provide a set of pinochle or old maid cards.
The pair sat on the ice chairs. Death cut and the Doctor dealt.
**
“Two of cups?”
“Go Fish.”
Death sorted the cards in his hand, “Five of Pentacles?”
“HA! Go fish!”
This was going nowhere. They’d played several games and each came out to an exact draw. This was statistically impossible. First the Doctor accused Death of cheating, Death countered that the Doctor must have rigged the deck. Neither of the accusations turned out to be the case.
Another game ended in a draw. The Doctor jumped up and carelessly tossed a stack of the beautiful hand painted gilt cards onto the ice table. They fanned out and Death noted they foretold the Time Lord’s future, but he did not utter a word.
As The Doctor paced, his trainers made squeaky sounds on the powdery snow. “What does this mean?” He whirled on Death, “Tell me, what will you do now? I can’t win but neither can you. Rose’s fate is in limbo.”
Death ran his hands idly over the cards. The Doctor’s future showed a massive upheaval, enemies from the past and great loss. He shuffled the cards; it never helped to know one’s own future. There really was nothing to do about it anyway. He should know.
Death found it interesting that the Doctor probably thought he was represented by Time or Chronos, but was just as aptly The Hermit. The Doctor watched as bone fingers sorted the cards. Death turned his dark sockets on the Doctor.
“I know you think she is the moon and stars, but really she is only the Queen of Swords, a mortal woman.” Death found the Queen and cast her first.
The Doctor wanted to argue, but didn’t see the point, and shrugged his shoulders at Death. Time Lords didn’t believe in palmistry and card reading. He’d only grabbed a Tarot deck as the only cards handy, a gift from some forgotten king or pope, he never could remember. Let Death play with the cards.
Death dealt out a reading for Rose.
It was no surprise that she would go on a long journey. The Doctor snorted and rolled his eyes. Rose did that everyday before breakfast.
The Doctor noted there were a good number of major arcana represented for his “mortal woman,” the hanged man, the tower, even Death was in the cards but inverted. The Doctor felt his hearts surge, and then immediately ashamed for even looking at the draw. He stomped off to inspect some icicles forming on the TARDIS.
Death considered the cards and the pattern. He hadn’t been surprised by anything in so very long it made him chuckle. Mirth was not something that often visited Death.
The Doctor whirled on the hooded incarnation, eyes ablaze. “What do you find so very funny in those toy cards?” His Rose was at stake here and his patience was wearing very thin.
Death would have exuded sympathy and irony if his bony countenance could express anything other than a dark socketed stare. “We both lose.” He waved a skeletal hand across the cards spread before him.
“How?” the Doctor demanded.
“The cards don’t say. She shall not die under my watch but you too shall lose her…forever.” Death tilted his skull at the Doctor as though sizing him up. “The Devil is in the details,” he added cryptically.
“How can she not die under your watch? You are Death. One day she will die. All things have their time, all things must end.” Death did his best to shrug.
He memorised the card draw and shook his skull in what might have been weariness. “The World inverted always means a lot of work for me,” the ancient voice stated as he gathered the deck up. “Keep these cards safe, they are a rare gift.” Death paused then continued, “And they are rotten for Go, Fish.”
The Doctor took the cards and shoved them into a coat pocket. He glared at Death. “Fine time to start telling jokes, you.”
The skeleton stood up, a few pops and creaks accompanied his journey. “You keep me busy. I am always in your wake, Destroyer of Worlds.”
The Doctor grimaced, he had earned that title. “Ah go on, Ankou. I don’t blame you for anything that happens.” The Doctor thought about it, sighed and fumbled in his other coat pocket.
“I found this; it’s yours,” he said grudgingly, and handed over the Ivory Queen he’d found on that hilltop what now like seemed eons ago. He wasn’t sure if it was really the right thing to do.
Death took it and examined it, then the Doctor. “Thank you.” He looked like he was going to say more but he didn’t.
The Doctor turned and entered the TARDIS.
**
Rose saw his face when he came through the doors and knew to be cautious. He didn’t look happy or sad, just fragile. He went directly to the controls and set the TARDIS humming into the Vortex.
“I don’t know what the future brings but it’s going t’ be big, bad and scary.” He said more to himself than Rose.
“Like the big bad wolf?” Rose teased, trying to lighten the mood testing her Doctor.
The Doctor stared at her, loss and pain already seeping into his soul, his little Red Riding Hood, all innocence, soon to be consumed. “In the original version the wolf wins,” he said quietly.
The look on his face broke her heart into a million shards. Rose gasped.
The Doctor hurled himself at her and embraced her fiercely. “Rose, I have to say this now, I may never get another chance. You are my saviour, you are my light, please know you mean more to me than anything in this universe.”
Rose stared at him in shocked silence. What was she supposed to say to that? She grinned at him, and then found his lips with hers.
The Doctor was jolted by the kiss; he could feel all her love for him. He poured his own love back into her as he returned her kiss.
Epilogue ~ Nowhere Man
Months had gone by but it happened just as the Tarot cards had foretold.
The Doctor stood at the console, tears running down his face. He’d just seen Rose for the very last time; he’d fallen short of the mark once again. He hadn’t been able to say those simple human words. Surely she knew?
He sighed and stuffed the emotions as deep as he could. He’d done his best and at least she was still alive. Death wouldn’t have her in this universe but neither would he. She was gone, better than dead, more than lost.
He dried his face roughly on a pinstriped sleeve and set some coordinates, then glanced up and saw with a sinking stomach that her green coat still hung by the door. A rowan tree design stitched neatly in red. It was a beautiful coat, why hadn’t he ever noticed before? The red snaps looked like red rowanberries.
His hand paused and hovered over a lever. Could it have been that simple? The Doctor strode over to the coat. It still smelled of Rose. A fresh wave of emotion threatened to crash on his shore. He pushed them aside, lifted the coat sleeve and licked it.
Most definitely, it was woven out of a fibre from the same botanical family as the rowan tree. How fantastic was that? This simple jacket is what had saved Rose from Death. The Doctor sighed and turned from the coat. He still didn’t believe in coincidence or card reading but was glad for anything that had given him more time with her. He returned to the console and continued his pushing of buttons and levers.
It was better with two.
END
**
This was for: vilya_mariposa, who wanted:
1. Something small being significant, but not obviously so
2. Action, drama, adventure, some angst
3. Romance and/or evidence of their (10/Rose) deep friendship
4. No overly graphic violence.
The title and chapter names are all Beatles song titles.
Thanks to:
http://www.strawberrywalrus.com/cavernclub.html
http://www.treesforlife.org.uk/forest/mythfolk/rowan.html
http://www.intuitivetarot.com/queenofswords.html
http://www.intuitivetarot.com/hermit.html
http://www.dance-lyrics.com/artists/beatles.htm
This is for: vilya_mariposa
Characters: The Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler
Tomorrow Never Knows by Membio
1 ~ A Day in the Life
“Come on Rose, we’re gonna be late!” The Doctor rolled his eyes, if Rose had been paying him any attention she might have noticed an edge to his voice. “I hate being late!” He heaved the heavy shopping bags Rose had pushed on him while she tried on a new jacket.
He loosened his tie and tried again, “It’s embarrassing! Imagine, me, a Time Lord, late! It’s just unseemly.” He was trying to play it light but this shopping trip was going on much longer than he had thought possible. He glanced at his watch and tried to reorganise his burden.
“Doctor, quit complainin,’ you’re always late! What’s the point of being a ‘Lord o’ Time’ if you can’t be late?” Rose had been enjoying her shopping trip on Taxilon IV until the Doctor had decided they had to go. Immediately. Probably just an excuse to be done with this shopping spree she griped to herself.
“You have a time machine, how can you ever be late?” She liked the green coat, it brought out the warmth in her eyes she thought. “What do you think of this green one?” she stalled.
Rose decided she liked the cut of the coat, it was short waisted and had red snaps up the front. It looked fashionable but not too dressy. The material was rugged, dyed leaf-green. Good for runnin’, she thought ruefully. There was embroidery on the back in blood-red stitching that looked like a mythological tree, branches curling up and roots down. It reminded her of something from the Lord of the Rings. She’d always fancied the Elvin clothing in those movies.
The Doctor ignored her coat and all the fine detail. He was fidgeting and alternately nodding and squinting. “Yes, yes, fine. It’s just that I’ve got a very important appointment, one that can’t be missed.” He gave Rose a wide-eyed desperate look, and twisted the shopping bags in his hands.
Rose glanced at him through her lashes; he looked genuinely upset, it took a lot to rattle the Doctor. Rose felt a chill run down her spine and shivered.
“What? You okay?” he snapped, agitated. The now obvious edge in the Doctor’s voice made her nervous.
“Of course! I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be? Just a chill, like someone walkin’ on my grave.” She grinned, trying to shrug off his impatience, “I’m getting’ this jacket. Do you like it?”
The Doctor stared at her, eyes round, “Don’t say that!”
“Say what?” The Doctor was acting odd, well, odder than usual, he was seriously starting to make her edgy. “It’s just an expression!”
“Expressions come from somewhere you know,” he grabbed her by the arm and hustled her to the door. As they passed he tossed a credit chit to the door checker. “Keep the change, just the green coat. Have a nice life.”
**
Scene:
Picture a hillock at twilight on some unnamed world, the sun sinking low behind it. The sky is dark above, stars just beginning to show. Hovering on the horizon a thin band of illumination spans the western sky. On top of the hill there appears to be a wind whipped figure, in silhouette. If one were to look carefully, one would see the figure’s hands and feet appeared too thin and pale to be human, his robes improbably blacker than the deepest shadows night could offer. If one was very brave, one might look closer and notice an aura of dark moodiness from the figure, a feeling that might make even a cat’s eyes water. But then again, the hint of tooth and bone where a face generally should reside would have most observers running for the safety of home and hearth.
The black robed figure paced back and forth atop the hill as though waiting for an appointment that was now becoming quite late. Under one arm he clutched a rectangular board. A small wooden case sat on a large stump of a once majestic tree.
The figure did everything a waiting person might; he looked to the horizon and muttered quietly under his breath. The one thing that he did not do was look at his wrist. Instead from time to time he pulled a large hourglass from within his robes and watched the fine pale sand slide through the centre to pool in the lower half.
The figure shook his head impatiently and strode over to the stump. He unfolded the rectangle and laid it on the impromptu table. The case contained thirty-two figurines, half polished black stone and half worn ivory. The pieces were quickly placed on the board in two rows opposite, black facing white. The board was now set and fate would take its course.
The robed figure had just struck a very impressive pose alongside the chessboard when a sudden and shocking grinding and wheezing filled the air. He lunged at the pieces and hurriedly scooped them into his case. Whatever was making that awful skull splitting noise was going to land on him. He grabbed the board and made a hasty retreat away from the tortuous noise and away from this dimension.
**
The TARDIS vibrated violently. “Rose! Hold on!” The Doctor gripped the console tightly and alternately banged at it and twiddled a wheel. “We’re in for-”
A loud crash and a jolt shook the TARDIS. Both lost their hold and crashed to the floor. Rose let out a small screech, mostly of surprise. She’d gotten pretty good at hanging on.
“-a bumpy landing,” he finished weakly from the floor. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand while he pushed up to a reclining position. “You all right?”
“It’s a wonder my mum doesn’t turn you in for beating me, the way I keep turning up covered in bruises.” Rose winced as she stood, her shin having struck the rail on her way to the metal grating. “Why don’t you pad this room? You’d save a lot of pain an’ sufferin’. Mostly mine.”
“What? A padded console room? I’d be a laughing stock.” He strode around the console trying to hide a small limp. He flicked on the view screen and pushed some buttons. The readout seemed to please him. “There we are. Won’t be a moment. Just wait here.”
Rose stared at him incredulous. “What? You think you’re going out without me?” she grinned. She was used to his silly notions and knew how to badger him into letting her have her way.
He turned to her, “Not this time Rose, trust me.” His voice had deepened and sounded really ancient. For the first time he really sounded alien. “If you have ever trusted me, please trust me now. I have to do this alone.” He buttoned his suit coat and grabbed for his long tan duster hanging by the door.
She couldn’t argue with that voice. Now that was a lordly voice. Rose looked over at the view screen and wondered if she dared try to look outside. She shivered again, and reached for her new green coat.
**
The Doctor exited the TARDIS and nearly landed on his head. The TARDIS was perched on what appeared to be an old tree stump. He jumped down and made a mental note to check the old girl’s dematerialisation circuits and fixed-object avoidance systems.
“Well that explains the rough landing,” he muttered, staring up at his ship. He was on a hill just as the sun set. Right on time. He spun about, paced the plateau and circled the TARDIS while he scanned the windswept land below. There was no sign of his appointment and it was not like Death to miss a meeting.
He was circling the hilltop again, and starting to get a bit peeved he’d been stood up when his shoe hit something. He bent and peered into the grass and weeds cautiously. It was a chess piece. He picked it up and pocketed it. “ So,” he said to no one in particular, “he has been here. Where has he gotten to is the question.”
The Doctor raised his eyes to the dark sky, the sun having fully set. He shouted to the black, indifferent universe, “I don’t forfeit. I was here at sunset as was the bargain. We will have this game. My turn to select the time and place, that’s how it works.”
He tapped his chin with his fingers and wondered where would be a good safe place to have this final match. He looked around; this was Death’s element, dark, forlorn and open. He decided.
“We shall meet in one week’s relative time at the Cavern club, Liverpool, the ninth of November, 1961. Oh and I fancy lunchtime!” The Doctor cocked his head at the universe and headed back into the TARDIS.
2 ~ Because
Death heard the Doctor’s instructions and gritted his forever grinning teeth. He hated that era. As Death, he heard all pleas and prayers; it was the curse of being Death. He hated people that had wasted their entire lives pleading for a few more years. To do what? he wondered. Watch more telly, or beat their children some more?
There were always those unfortunates that did not deserve the death they drew, but selection was not his job, he just took life. Mortals would have to take fairness up with Fate and Destiny if they had issues.
He sighed, or at least the wind blowing through his skull sounded suspiciously like a sigh. This Doctor was quite a thorn in his side. The whole Time Lord Regeneration thing always gave him a nasty ache in his skull. Damn that Rassilon. Bad enough he’d agreed to an appointment to play chess with the Doctor, but it wasn’t even for the Doctor’s life. He’d never played chess for a life by proxy before. Somehow he’d been talked into it and he couldn’t remember how. That really irked him. “Slippery tongued Time Lord,” Death spat out, though ineffectively due to a conspicuous lack of lips and saliva.
He had to meet the Doctor again in a week’s relative time, which meant that there were a lot of souls to reap between then and now. Sixteen hundred in England from smoking alone he mused and shook his skull. He’d often wondered where all these statistics came from. What good did it do him knowing ahead of time? None.
**
Rose was fiddling with the dials on the view screen as she tried to see what the Doctor was doing outside. She jumped guiltily when he climbed back in through the door.
“You’re back quick,” she stammered.
“Yup, told ya, back in a flash, that’s me.” Rose could tell from his strained tone he was being evasive.
“What?” Rose hated it when he hid things from her. “What happened out there?”
“Nothing,” he said perfectly truthfully, he raised his eyebrows innocently. “Not a thing. Figured out why we had such a bad landing though,” he grinned tightly at her. “The TARDIS tried to land on top of a massive tree stump!” He shrugged off his overcoat, stalked to the console and began to set the dials without another word.
Rose knew enough by now not to press when he was acting this tetchy. She changed the subject. “Where to now?” she grinned a bit too widely and felt the falseness of her smile.
The effort was wasted on the Doctor. He didn’t look up. “Oh, here and there. Maybe get some parts for the TARDIS, I’ve been neglecting ’er.” he stroked a bit of console absently.
Great! Rose thought, rolling her eyes. More ship repairs. That had clearly become a euphemism for “Don’t ask” or “I’ll explain later.”
**
The next few days were fraught with the adventure of salvage yards and shipwrecks. Rose decided suspicious parts dealers across time and space all had the same shifty eyes. She felt a little bad for taking it in ill humour and had to admit there was something to be said for meeting new and different species, especially ones that for once weren’t trying to exterminate or delete them. That alone should have been a tick in the plus column.
In the end, Rose just couldn’t get over that the most exciting thing they had seen was a stripped down Hynorian battle cruiser. The way the Doctor went on she’d thought he was truly in love with it. Normally she would have been thrilled right alongside him, but it wasn’t fun anymore. The Doctor didn’t trust her; he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Every time she tried to wander off he caught her.
One day she’d finally had enough. “Doctor, why don’t you just get me a pair of those zapping cuffs like what Jack had? I feel like a prisoner!”
He looked up from a pail full of knackered and greasy parts, “Don’t tempt me Rose.” He pulled a face and sighed when he saw the boredom she radiated. “Can’t you get interested in mechanics? It’s a good trade an’ dead useful.”
She felt like a petulant child, not allowed to cross the street or let go of mummy’s hand.
Rose tossed the part she was idly handling back into the bin. “Enough!”
He looked up a bit shocked, eyes round.
“I don’t mind helping you with this,” she waved a greasy hand around indicating all the piles of parts, “but I want to see more than the contents of a greasy skip.”
“Oh? Um… sorry?” He didn’t sound sure if that was the response she wanted, but he was trying it out, ready to duck in case it was the wrong reply.
Rose already felt bad; it wasn’t like her to made demands on the Doctor.
“What’s wrong? You hardly talk to me and I can’t go anywhere on my own. I feel like you’re avoiding me which is pretty amazin’ since we spend all day together.” She paced a few steps and turned, pleading, “come on, you can tell me, yeah?”
“I can’t.” He paused and considered. “I mean, nothing’s wrong!” He went back to sorting parts avoiding her gaze.
His guilty expression almost made her laugh bitterly. Rose considered. She supposed she should feel vindicated that at least he felt bad about whatever he was hiding from her, but it didn’t help the strain that had weighed so heavily between them the past few days. “Look I can cut the tension with a knife it’s been so thick,” she tried to cajole him. “Come on, out with it.”
The Doctor hung his head, and then turned to glance at her, “You play chess?”
Rose shook her head negative and was trying to figure out where that had come from.
“I’ll teach you! It’d be good practice for me and help you with tactics.” That settled, he gathered up his greasy treasures and went to pay the shifty eyed cashier.
Rose gritted her teeth. It was just like the Doctor to change the subject. But maybe she’d be able to work on him some more while he taught her chess.
**
“What’s this one again?” Rose asked fingering a horse shaped piece.
The Doctor looked over, distracted, “That’s the knight, put it back,” a tinge of exasperation laced his voice.
Rose ignored his tone; she wanted to enjoy this time with him.
“Right, Rook is the castle the pointy one’s a Bishop…”
“Yeah you got it, right genius, you are,” he said unthinkingly.
Rose stiffened, at his unkind words but tried to ignore them. “If you’re gonna be that way about it…” She put the horse back on the board with a click and folded her arms.
The Doctor looked over at her and saw the hurt expression she was trying to hide. He’d done it again, been unnecessarily harsh thanks to his frustration over the entire beast prophecy, Death situation. What was it with this rude personality?
“Sorry Rose, that was uncalled for.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Really, it’s a brilliant game, I’m sure you’ll take to it like a duck to water. Course the Chinese version has artillery and a river to contend with, amazing!”
Rose had never heard of Chinese chess and decided the western version was enough to think about at the moment. The Doctor was more animated than she had seen him in days. She didn’t want to spoil his mood.
“Right. Now, to start with: opening.” He looked at her expectantly. She looked back and nodded. “Opening,” she echoed.
**
The lesson hadn’t been all bad. Rose enjoyed a few parts of the game; she was getting better at her openings. The Doctor still seemed preoccupied and a few times he stared at the board so hard she was sure it would burst into flames. She was no match for the Time Lord; it was her first lesson after all. He didn’t seem to really notice the game or her game play much anyway; he was elsewhere in time and space. Eventually, they pushed away from the board and talked about adventures past. She was happy to feel like they were getting back to the way they had been when he turned to her.
His tone was serious. “Rose, I know this week has been difficult for you-us.” She started to protest, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry I haven’t felt able to explain. It’s wrong, you deserve to know.”
She waited for him to continue. He fiddled with his tie. “Remember what that beast by the black hole said?” his dark eyes bored into hers. She wanted to tear her eyes away but couldn’t. Of course she remembered what he’d said. “That I would die in battle…soon,” she whispered.
“He wasn’t lying.” The Doctor turned away in shame. “I was.”
“Tell me,” she reached for his hand, she could take anything as long as he was honest.
The Doctor grasped her hand and brought his gaze back to meet Rose’s. “I’m trying to find a way around it.” He dropped her hand and swept her up in a desperate embrace.
3 ~ Come Together
A few days later the Doctor told her he had to go out without her again. Rose knew what the stakes were. She didn’t argue. She felt half dead already. He treated her like some kind of fragile object. If this was what it was going to be like the rest of her time in the TARDIS she wasn’t sure if she wanted it. The amount of hugging had increased but it had a desperate and clingy feel to it. Not the emotion she had sought. It wasn’t romantic or sexy.
She paced around the console wishing she had something to do. She decided to try the view screen again. Couldn’t hurt, she reasoned. “Probably won’t bloody get it working this time, either,” she muttered.
**
The Doctor wandered the Cavern Club looking for the appropriate table. He wanted some privacy; he was about to embark on a winner take all competition with Death after all. At least the setting would provide a bit of distraction while he waited, even though he felt a twinge of guilt that Rose would be missing it. This was a momentous day for a couple of guys with guitars.
He found a table tucked partway under a brick arch that would suit. He sat and fiddled with the menu. The bar maid came by and he ordered a pint. When he looked up Death was sitting across from him.
“You travel on cat’s paws,” the Doctor said impressed.
Death just sat impassively.
The Doctor arched an eyebrow at him. “You want a pint?”
The windy voice that emanated from under Death’s cowl carried to the Doctor’s ears only, “I don’t want a bloody pint, I want to know how you talked me into this.”
“Oh! That. I’m an excellent talker this time round,” he saw that Death was taking offence and changed tact. “Yes, well, shall we play then?” The Doctor fingered the ivory piece in his coat pocket.
“I’m afraid I left my set behind,” Death wheezed.
The Doctor squinted at him. “What?” He glanced up in time to accept his pint from the server; she looked at him a bit oddly and left quickly.
“You forgot or you decided not to bring it?” The Doctor was wondering how this would turn out. He had been practicing up for this match, but he knew Death was missing a vital piece.
**
Rose jumped for joy; an involuntary squeal escaped her lips. She’d gotten the view screen working. She could see what was outside the TARDIS. She scrolled left and right. It looked like…a storage room for a pub. Definitely, there was a case of limes and one of gin.
She panned some more. A door, but what else could she see? She zoomed in with the camera and caught a face going past the door. It was oddly familiar, as was the next and the one after. Oh! She clapped her hand over her mouth. John, Paul and George. She didn’t recognise that last fellow. The Beatles!
How could the Doctor be so utterly cruel! He was going to see the Beatles and she was stuck in the TARDIS!
She hit the console and immediately felt bad and stroked the spot she had struck. “Sorry, didn’t mean it.” How could he expect her to miss the Beatles? They were so young. She messed with the view screen to replay the image. They were very young and that wasn’t Ringo was it? “Oh!” she gasped, “The Beatles before Ringo?” That must be quite early indeed. Rose paced over the metal grating, stomping her feet crossly. She looked back at the screen. November 1961.
Before long she had formed a plan. She left a big note on the TARDIS controls. She didn’t want to get left behind here in the early 1960s. She was sure they were a fantastic time but nothing could compare with travelling with her Doctor. She just really wanted to see the Beatles. The real Beatles, not Paul McCartney wanking along on his own.
She changed into what passed for nineteen sixties clothes, grabbed her new green jacket and headed for the door. She slipped quietly out of the TARDIS and along the back hallways of the club just as the band started to play. She grinned and started to mouth the lyrics. She knew them all.
**
The Doctor tried to stare down Death. It was a lost cause, he should have known better. He looked away with a mild ache behind his eyes. “What do you mean we can’t play here and now? Why ever not? Do you forfeit? Go on, just forfeit, I don’t have time for this and I’m sure you are a busy bloke.”
Death stared back without emotion. “No,” came the reply from the darkness within the cowl. Death couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him a “bloke.” He almost liked it.
“Well then what happens next? Hmmm? I’m really disappointed, me. I’ve been practicing an’ everything.” The Doctor was disappointed. He had hoped that Death would have had to concede the point and forfeit Rose’s death in battle.
Death decided he didn’t actually like being called a bloke, too familiar. He pointed at the Doctor with a bony finger. “You chose a new game, I choose a new place. Third time’s the charm.”
“I choose the game?” This was a surprise. The Doctor considered for a while and wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to choose right now?”
Death would have rolled his eyes if he’d had any. The Doctor felt the waves of irritation never the less. This made the Time Lord grin. Foiling Death was one of his specialities.
**
On his way back to the TARDIS the Doctor leaned over the shoulder of a man in a dark suit and whispered in his ear. “These are the ones, Brian. Don’t miss this boat, it’s a wild ride, take my word for it.” What the Doctor didn’t see was the blond haired girl in a green jacket dancing up near the stage.
The man turned just in time to catch sight of a pinstriped form disappearing into the crowd and wondered how the bloke had known his name. Must be someone in the record business, he mused. Brian went back to his pint and ploughman’s lunch, but those words continued to echo in his mind. He made a notation in is pocket calendar. He watched the enthusiastic gyrations of a blond girl up on the dance floor and put an exclamation point by his notation.
Back in the TARDIS the Doctor shouted for Rose and was surprised when he didn’t get a reply. He was a bit put off that she wasn’t waiting for him in the console room. He was about to head back to search for her when he saw a piece of paper stuck haphazardly to the console. He snatched it off his beautiful time-ship and read the brief note. Then read it again. His hearts sank. She was out there right now. Death was out there… he ran for the door.
4 ~ Twist and Shout
The band was very loud in the small club, and Brian Epstein was not the only one that noticed the energetic blond on the crowded dance floor. The tall lean figure clad in black gazed intently at the dancing girl.
It would be safe to say that although the dark figure was aware of every life form in the room, very few ever noticed him. An exception was a tabby cat perched on a top corner shelf staring at him with wide, amber eyes. She turned, squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the apparition to go away.
Death stalked forward towards his prize. He had not though it could be so easy. She was slated for his taking. The Doctor had thwarted him by jumping time tracks and hiding her inside his dimensionally transcendent ship. Though the two Lords had a verbal agreement to play a game of chance for her soul, this would be easier. So far both meetings had proved fruitless and it was irritating. The loss of his white queen had made him powerless. Chess could not be played without his ivory queen. Rose Tyler would make an appropriate replacement for his set.
The Grim Reaper reached confidently towards Rose but was shocked to be warded off by an invisible shield. He cursed, and seven flies minding their own business by the trash bin dropped dead.
**
Rose was dancing wildly, enjoying the moment. She flirted with a longhaired boy about her age dancing nearby and enjoyed the thrill it gave her. She was hopelessly lost for the Doctor but flirting with him was different, for one, he didn’t respond. The band seemed to appreciate her enthusiastic gyrations as well. She was having a great time and forgot that she should keep an eye out for the Doctor. I think George Harrison fancies me!
The flying body tackle came as a bit of a surprise. There weren’t mosh pits in the sixties were there? She found herself tangled up with a lot of brown pinstriped legs and arms.
“Doctor what are you doing?” she shouted annoyed and bruised.
“Saving your life? That a good enough answer for you?” he managed through gritted teeth. He got up and turned his back on her, “Come on Rose no arguments, back to the TARDIS. Now.”
Rose got up grumpily favouring her left leg; he’d landed on it when they hit the floor. No one really seemed to notice them leaving, not even George Harrison, she noted ruefully. They made it back to the TARDIS without incident and without speaking a word.
Rose hung her head while the Doctor dressed her down for sneaking out. He paced back and forth and even hit the console; she winced at the jolt that went through the ship. She barely listened; it was so hurtful that he didn’t trust her anymore. They used to investigate and work as a team.
He seemed to be winding down. She peeked out from under a curtain of blond hair at him. He still looked angry. Tears threatened to make a mess of her mascara.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” she stammered but then found a pit of anger that had been seething in her belly. “I jus’ don’t understand why you don’t trust me anymore! Look, I can take care of myself! I’ve saved your skin more ’an once; don’t treat me like a baby! I…I just couldn’t resist the Beatles.” She hung her head again, out of steam. “How could you take me here and not let me out to see them?”
“I was coming back to get you,” he said, but only barely convincingly.
She glared at him, but he refused to make eye contact. He might be telling the truth. She didn’t know if she could trust him and that hurt even more deeply. She let out an exasperated snort.
“I was! Honest. Once my…guest was gone and business done.” He gestured impotently towards the club.
Rose was not one to take second seat, well she was second to the Doctor but she demanded to be included, “What kind of business?”
It was the Doctor’s turn to get indignant. “Rose I can’t-won’t talk about it.” He turned from her and went to the console.
The fight lost, her mascara ran down her cheeks in rivulets. She stifled the sobs that wanted to join the tears-a small victory-and managed to calm the emotions that warred within her. She suddenly felt ridiculous in her early sixties clothes and limped off to change and give her face a good scrub.
The Doctor watched her leave and felt horrible. Something had to change. If he didn’t lose her to Death he would drive her away acting like this, which meant he would lose either way.
He put the TARDIS into a quick hop to a deserted world.
Exiting the TARDIS he hugged his tan coat close as it was whipped by the wind. He looked up into the starless night sky and yelled to Death. “I have chosen my game, you choose the place and soon. I want this settled!”
5 ~ Tomorrow Never Knows
This time when the Doctor got ready to meet with Death, he gave Rose explicit orders to stay in the TARDIS.
“I mean it; there’s nothing out there for miles, no bands, no shops, nothing.” She trailed after him as he marched into the wardrobe room. Well, room really wasn’t the right word for it; cathedral was more like it. The winding helical stairways and rack upon rack of random clothing made her head spin.
The Doctor pawed through the various velvet coats and ruffled shirts. Rose recognised a Victorian dress she had once worn in Cardiff and stroked the fabric.
“Ah, ha!” the Doctor chortled as he snatched at a scarf. “This should do me.” Rose made an effort not to snicker as he wound the ridiculously long scarf around his neck. He glanced in a mirror, “The browns even match. Wish me luck.”
“You’re really going to meet…Death?” She wasn’t sure she fully believed that story. He had sworn scouts honour it was true.
“Yep, me and old Mortis are going to play a game of chance. It’s a tradition as old as time.” He checked his pockets.
“So he’s really Death, like black robe and bones?” Rose asked incredulously.
“Yep.” He wasn’t much in the mood for chit chat but didn’t want to hurt Rose’s feelings.
She kept trying, “He’s Death for everyone an’ everything?”
“Well, as far as I know, yes, he can take any form he chooses. I don’t hang out with him usually.”
“So he’s been around a while then.” She was desperately trying to get a grasp of what was happening.
“Older than me if that’s what you mean.” The Doctor adjusted his scarf and made for the front of the ship.
**
He met Death on a nameless ice world the incarnation had insisted upon. Figures Death would want a world of contrast. The table and chairs were made of ice, clear and sparkling. The white snow lay around as far as they eye could see to an indistinct white on white horizon. Death’s black robes stood out from the white and crystal. Sound was muted and flat on this empty world.
“I selected this place,” Death swung a bony hand to the expanse of white wasteland. “What is the game to be?”
The Doctor stood cockily by his beloved TARDIS, the only colour that dimpled the tundra for miles. He glared at Death, “You tried to cheat back there at the club!”
“Death does not apologise,” was the only reply from the bony visage.
The Doctor was not dissuaded. “You tried to take her early,” he accused.
Death hated persistent creatures, nothing worse than a Time Lord. “But I could not,” the skull breathed with an irritated whistle.
“But why couldn’t you? That’s the question, isn’t it?” The Doctor glared at Death.
“She wore protection, old magic.” Death hated speaking of his weaknesses but it was the only way to shut the Doctor up. “Can we get on with the game?”
The Doctor wasn’t exactly sure what Death meant, but he’d figure it out. He continued to glare at the Grim Reaper, hands on hips, his tan coat flapping. He was glad to have found his lucky scarf. “I choose…Go Fish!” he declared haughtily.
If Death had possessed eyebrows they would have shot up. “Did you bring the… cards?”
The Doctor flourished an arcane set of hand drawn cards he had gotten centuries ago. They were a full set of major and minor arcana, the moon, the sun, and the stars. Even Death and Time were depicted in this set.
Death nodded his approval. These would do. He would not have put it past the Doctor to provide a set of pinochle or old maid cards.
The pair sat on the ice chairs. Death cut and the Doctor dealt.
**
“Two of cups?”
“Go Fish.”
Death sorted the cards in his hand, “Five of Pentacles?”
“HA! Go fish!”
This was going nowhere. They’d played several games and each came out to an exact draw. This was statistically impossible. First the Doctor accused Death of cheating, Death countered that the Doctor must have rigged the deck. Neither of the accusations turned out to be the case.
Another game ended in a draw. The Doctor jumped up and carelessly tossed a stack of the beautiful hand painted gilt cards onto the ice table. They fanned out and Death noted they foretold the Time Lord’s future, but he did not utter a word.
As The Doctor paced, his trainers made squeaky sounds on the powdery snow. “What does this mean?” He whirled on Death, “Tell me, what will you do now? I can’t win but neither can you. Rose’s fate is in limbo.”
Death ran his hands idly over the cards. The Doctor’s future showed a massive upheaval, enemies from the past and great loss. He shuffled the cards; it never helped to know one’s own future. There really was nothing to do about it anyway. He should know.
Death found it interesting that the Doctor probably thought he was represented by Time or Chronos, but was just as aptly The Hermit. The Doctor watched as bone fingers sorted the cards. Death turned his dark sockets on the Doctor.
“I know you think she is the moon and stars, but really she is only the Queen of Swords, a mortal woman.” Death found the Queen and cast her first.
The Doctor wanted to argue, but didn’t see the point, and shrugged his shoulders at Death. Time Lords didn’t believe in palmistry and card reading. He’d only grabbed a Tarot deck as the only cards handy, a gift from some forgotten king or pope, he never could remember. Let Death play with the cards.
Death dealt out a reading for Rose.
It was no surprise that she would go on a long journey. The Doctor snorted and rolled his eyes. Rose did that everyday before breakfast.
The Doctor noted there were a good number of major arcana represented for his “mortal woman,” the hanged man, the tower, even Death was in the cards but inverted. The Doctor felt his hearts surge, and then immediately ashamed for even looking at the draw. He stomped off to inspect some icicles forming on the TARDIS.
Death considered the cards and the pattern. He hadn’t been surprised by anything in so very long it made him chuckle. Mirth was not something that often visited Death.
The Doctor whirled on the hooded incarnation, eyes ablaze. “What do you find so very funny in those toy cards?” His Rose was at stake here and his patience was wearing very thin.
Death would have exuded sympathy and irony if his bony countenance could express anything other than a dark socketed stare. “We both lose.” He waved a skeletal hand across the cards spread before him.
“How?” the Doctor demanded.
“The cards don’t say. She shall not die under my watch but you too shall lose her…forever.” Death tilted his skull at the Doctor as though sizing him up. “The Devil is in the details,” he added cryptically.
“How can she not die under your watch? You are Death. One day she will die. All things have their time, all things must end.” Death did his best to shrug.
He memorised the card draw and shook his skull in what might have been weariness. “The World inverted always means a lot of work for me,” the ancient voice stated as he gathered the deck up. “Keep these cards safe, they are a rare gift.” Death paused then continued, “And they are rotten for Go, Fish.”
The Doctor took the cards and shoved them into a coat pocket. He glared at Death. “Fine time to start telling jokes, you.”
The skeleton stood up, a few pops and creaks accompanied his journey. “You keep me busy. I am always in your wake, Destroyer of Worlds.”
The Doctor grimaced, he had earned that title. “Ah go on, Ankou. I don’t blame you for anything that happens.” The Doctor thought about it, sighed and fumbled in his other coat pocket.
“I found this; it’s yours,” he said grudgingly, and handed over the Ivory Queen he’d found on that hilltop what now like seemed eons ago. He wasn’t sure if it was really the right thing to do.
Death took it and examined it, then the Doctor. “Thank you.” He looked like he was going to say more but he didn’t.
The Doctor turned and entered the TARDIS.
**
Rose saw his face when he came through the doors and knew to be cautious. He didn’t look happy or sad, just fragile. He went directly to the controls and set the TARDIS humming into the Vortex.
“I don’t know what the future brings but it’s going t’ be big, bad and scary.” He said more to himself than Rose.
“Like the big bad wolf?” Rose teased, trying to lighten the mood testing her Doctor.
The Doctor stared at her, loss and pain already seeping into his soul, his little Red Riding Hood, all innocence, soon to be consumed. “In the original version the wolf wins,” he said quietly.
The look on his face broke her heart into a million shards. Rose gasped.
The Doctor hurled himself at her and embraced her fiercely. “Rose, I have to say this now, I may never get another chance. You are my saviour, you are my light, please know you mean more to me than anything in this universe.”
Rose stared at him in shocked silence. What was she supposed to say to that? She grinned at him, and then found his lips with hers.
The Doctor was jolted by the kiss; he could feel all her love for him. He poured his own love back into her as he returned her kiss.
Epilogue ~ Nowhere Man
Months had gone by but it happened just as the Tarot cards had foretold.
The Doctor stood at the console, tears running down his face. He’d just seen Rose for the very last time; he’d fallen short of the mark once again. He hadn’t been able to say those simple human words. Surely she knew?
He sighed and stuffed the emotions as deep as he could. He’d done his best and at least she was still alive. Death wouldn’t have her in this universe but neither would he. She was gone, better than dead, more than lost.
He dried his face roughly on a pinstriped sleeve and set some coordinates, then glanced up and saw with a sinking stomach that her green coat still hung by the door. A rowan tree design stitched neatly in red. It was a beautiful coat, why hadn’t he ever noticed before? The red snaps looked like red rowanberries.
His hand paused and hovered over a lever. Could it have been that simple? The Doctor strode over to the coat. It still smelled of Rose. A fresh wave of emotion threatened to crash on his shore. He pushed them aside, lifted the coat sleeve and licked it.
Most definitely, it was woven out of a fibre from the same botanical family as the rowan tree. How fantastic was that? This simple jacket is what had saved Rose from Death. The Doctor sighed and turned from the coat. He still didn’t believe in coincidence or card reading but was glad for anything that had given him more time with her. He returned to the console and continued his pushing of buttons and levers.
It was better with two.
END
**
This was for: vilya_mariposa, who wanted:
1. Something small being significant, but not obviously so
2. Action, drama, adventure, some angst
3. Romance and/or evidence of their (10/Rose) deep friendship
4. No overly graphic violence.
The title and chapter names are all Beatles song titles.
Thanks to:
http://www.strawberrywalrus.com/cavernclub.html
http://www.treesforlife.org.uk/forest/mythfolk/rowan.html
http://www.intuitivetarot.com/queenofswords.html
http://www.intuitivetarot.com/hermit.html
http://www.dance-lyrics.com/artists/beatles.htm