Don't Blink - 32/?
Title: Don't Blink - 32/?
Characters: Ten, Rose
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor? How would they get back to their proper time? Would they want to?
Rating: PG
Beta: nattieb
It's been a while since I updated. Sorry for the delay, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
(ch 1) (ch 2) (ch 3) (ch 4) (ch 5) (ch 6) (ch 7) (ch 8) (ch 9) (ch 10) (ch 11) (ch 12) (ch 13) (ch 14) (ch 15) (ch 16) (ch 17) (ch 18)
(ch 19) (ch 20) (ch 21) (ch 22) (ch 23) (ch 24) (ch 25) (ch 26) (ch 27) (ch 28) (ch 29) (ch 30) (ch 31)
The walk to the shop was a quiet one despite the chaos of London all around them. Cars honked and music played and people talked and laughed and shouted, but Rose and the Doctor walked in silence. Rose wondered what was wrong. It was obvious that something was bothering him.
It could not have been the words Bad Wolf. They’d seen the phrase everywhere, even before they’d been trans-matted to the Game Station and figured out what it meant. It had become a non-issue after his regeneration, something to be noted casually when they came across it.
So it must be something else. But what?
The Doctor was aware of Rose throwing glances at him as they walked down the street, but he couldn’t summon up the nerve to explain it to her. The words Bad Wolf were just words. They held no power over him.
But Bad Wolf herself terrified him. Hadn’t he died to save Rose from that power? He remembered his fear and awe, seeing Rose bathed in a golden light, her hair blowing in a silent breeze. He knew the terrible power she’d been capable of, and he’d thought that had been left behind along with the Daleks and the Game Station and even Jack Harkness. He’d given his life for that, and it should be gone.
So why was the light back in her eyes? Had it been there all along, waiting? What would it do to Rose?
Or had he only imagined it?
“You're being awfully quiet,” Rose said. “Do you have a headache or something?"
“No.” He heard how terse his answer was but couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath. “Rose. Did you...notice anything, in that alley back there?”
She looked puzzled. “Do you mean the writing on the wall? That was just me doing my time and space thing.” She gave him a small smile.
She didn’t remember. He knew that, had questioned her repeatedly about the events they’d been through, and he’d been satisfied that her memories of what had happened after she’d looked into the heart of the TARDIS were hazy at best. She knew she had destroyed the Daleks, but that was all.
He must have imagined what he saw. Rose was Rose, and nothing more.
He continued in silence, running things over and over in his mind in an attempt to make sense of it. They reached the shop and the words flew out of Rose’s mouth as he started to open the door.
“Doctor, what’s wrong?”
He stopped and looked back at her. She was frowning in frustration. “Nothing,” he forced himself to say. “I’m sorry. Maybe it was breakfast.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. He gently prodded her inside.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said again. “I think the eggs were a bit off, that’s all. Remember those bad eggs I had on Epsilon V?”
“I try not to. You were sick for three days,” Rose said, allowing herself to be persuaded that he was fine.
The next morning Rose was still wondering if things were as all right as the Doctor claimed, but he met her at breakfast with a cheerful smile and a bowl of hot cereal.
“I’ll walk you to the shop this morning,” he said as he poured her a cup of tea.
“Won’t that make you late? And then late to come home?”
“It won’t make me too late, I swear.”
Rose eyed him narrowly and finally gave in. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
After breakfast they gathered up their things and locked the flat up behind them. Rose had made it halfway down the first flight of stairs when she stopped. Something had caught her eye and she bent down to get a better look.
“Shoe come untied?” the Doctor asked.
There was something on the floor that didn’t belong there. “Do you see this?” she asked instead. He bent down beside her, his arm brushing hers. His quick intake of breath told her when he saw it.
“Step back.” He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, thumbed the setting, and aimed it at the small dark blotch on the step.
Rose watched in trepidation as he looked at the result. “What is it?”
The Doctor’s face was grim as he put the screwdriver away and stood up. Rose was still kneeling down and he extended a hand to help her up.
“It’s blood.”
“Blood!” She looked all around, but that was the only splotch she could see. “Maybe someone is injured.”
“Maybe.” The Doctor took her arm and led her down the remaining stairs. “From now on you don’t come and go without me.”
Rose did not argue.
Despite his assurances that he had lots of time to get to Cambridge, the Doctor left her at the door to the shop with just a quick kiss on her cheek.
“See you tonight,” he said, and sprinted down to catch his train.
Rose watched him go, feeling unsettled. Her Doctor, brought down to the lows of hurrying to catch a train for work. He didn’t complain about it at all, but she knew it wasn’t something he wanted to be doing. How much longer before he started to resent the situation?
“Rose?” Iris opened the door and peered out at her. “I saw you walk up. Are you all right?”
Rose forced a smile. “Yep. Good morning!”
“I’m not sure if it’s good or not,” Iris confessed, locking the door up behind Rose.
Rose glanced over her shoulder as she walked to the back office to put her things away. “What’s wrong?”
Iris followed her to the back and sat at the desk. When Rose had first starting working at Helio the back office, as well as the back room, had been spotless. Now the desk was covered in papers and invoices, and shipping boxes were stacked up against the walls. Rose already knew that the back room was just as chaotic. As fast as they tried to put out new merchandise, new orders came in. Many had been marked “do not open”, and those Iris had been forced to set aside for Mr. Troy to deal with. The entire situation was making her frazzled.
Rose shoved aside a box of stockings and perched on the chair in front of the desk.
Iris frowned slightly at the mess. Coming from any other woman, that slight frown would have been a ferocious scowl.
“Mr. Troy is coming in this morning. He wants to discuss some of the renovations.”
“Will they be finished soon?” Rose couldn’t help asking eagerly. “It’s crazy around here.”
“He says there’s about two months’ more work to go.” Iris toyed with her pearl necklace and did not sound excited about this.
“How can there be two more months? Just last night I saw workmen in here after hours.”
Iris shook her head. “You couldn’t have. The men Mr. Troy hired are finished with that.”
Rose tilted her head, puzzled. “We saw lights inside here. And we heard noise.”
“Nothing’s been done since we left yesterday,” Iris responded, and before Rose could argue the point, they were interrupted by loud pounding on the shop’s front window.
“What on earth?” Iris stood up and hurried to the front, the skirt of her powder blue shift swirling around her knees. Rose followed, her eyes on Iris’s matching, powder-blue shoes with a modest heel.
“About time!” Jim said impatiently, shouldering his way in through the door. “I get a call saying I need to be here as soon as possible, and -” He stopped as he looked around, glancing from Iris to Rose. “Troy’s not here, is he?”
“Not yet.” Iris checked the time and locked the door again. The shop wasn’t due to open for another twenty minutes.
“I’ll just set my things down, then.” Jim strode to the back of the shop where his current project, custom-built shelving for folded men’s dress shirts and ties, was in progress. The large plastic hangings that protected the shop’s merchandise from the dust and dirt of the renovations were pulled back, at the moment. Rose and Iris watched as he paused to drag his black leather jacket, revealing his working outfit of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt in faded grey. Iris hastily turned away as Jim turned back to them.
Rose rolled her eyes. Iris was acting like she was in school again instead of a grown woman allowed to have feelings for a man.
Maybe the women’s movement needed to start a little earlier, Rose reflected. A little girl power wouldn’t do Iris any harm.
Since she couldn’t say any of that out loud, she smiled at Jim. “Were you part of the crew last night?”
“What crew?” From somewhere among his things Jim had produced a thermos, and now proceeded to take a long drink of whatever was inside. The morning sunlight touched his head and made his blond hair shine. Rose was distracted by the color - it was a sharp reminder that she really needed to do something about her own hair. It had grown out a bit and while she had been limping along with some temporary color hair dyes, she was anxious to cover up her dark roots. She was not as anxious to try out the permanent hair colors of this time period, though, despite the Doctor’s assurances that she would be fine. Jackie had taught her too much about the way hair coloring used to be done.
“The crew who was working here last night.” Rose forced her thoughts away from highlights and potential shades of blonde and toxic dyes being tested on innocent bunny rabbits.
“Rose, I told you that no one was here after we left,” Iris reminded her from the counter, where she was setting up cash in the till.
“None of my crew were here.” Jim leaned against one of the couches sitting in front of the dressing rooms. “We left when you did. Besides, they’ve all got a holiday this week and next while I finish up these displays. No one would have been here last night.”
“I know I heard noises coming from here last night,” Rose said stubbornly.
“Perhaps it was the cleaning crew,” a voice said smoothly from behind them, and Rose jumped in surprise.
Iris was calmer, since she’d been expecting Mr. Troy’s arrival.
“Good morning!” she said.
Jim simply sipped his drink and watched Mr. Troy.
“Good morning, Iris. Rose.” He nodded to Rose and looked beyond her to Jim. “You’re here bright and early, I see.”
Jim straightened up and nodded. “As you requested.”
“Good.” Rose’s employer shot back the cuffs of his shirt to examine his gold watch. “We have some time before opening. Will you all join me in the office.”
Iris winced at the mention of the office and glanced at Rose in agony. She worked so hard to send a professional image, and the office was a wreck.
Hector Troy didn’t seem to notice. He simply stepped over some boxes to sit in the leather chair behind the desk. He watched as Rose and Iris took the other two chairs in the room. Jim shoved aside a packing case and leaned against the wall.
“I see some of our new freight is arriving.” Mr. Troy sent an approving glance around the room, as if he actually appreciated the mess of boxes and packing tape surrounding him. “Lovely. We should be able to put it all away shortly, Iris, so don’t worry about the continued disorganization.”
Iris smiled faintly. “Of course not.”
“If it’s unpacking you need done, I can help with that,” Jim offered, gesturing to one of the boxes marked “do not open”. “I could have the boxes emptied out with an hour.”
“No,” Mr. Troy said, somewhat more sharply than Rose would have thought necessary. “Leave them be for now. They’re not on the sales floor, and I have plans for this merchandise.”
Jim shrugged, clearly feeling that if the shop’s owner wanted to live in such a mess it was his business.
“Now.” Mr. Troy straightened his tie. Rose was close enough to see that it had small yellow sunbursts on the navy background. “I have a few alterations to our plans, Jim. I’m trusting your crew to take care of the changes yourself, without having to hire outside help.”
“I thought you already had a second crew working here at night?” Rose asked before she could stop herself.
Iris winced. Clearly the shop-girl should not be questioning the owner. Jim looked interested in the answer.
Mr. Troy was a tall, commanding man in his forties. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and he had a presence about him that usually struck people silent. When he fixed his gaze on Rose, she felt all of that presence and more, and decided on the spot that she was going to be sacked.
Her employer surprised her.
“That was a temporary arrangement. Their work is finished, and now I’ve decided I want one more thing done.”
Rose sat back and decided not to say anything else. Really, what happened in the shop wasn’t any of her business. From the looks Iris was throwing her, Iris felt the same way.
“What is it you want me to do?” Jim asked. A lesser man might have added a ‘sir’ to the end of the statement. It made Rose want to giggle. She settled for a quick smile instead.
“I want a skylight put in. It should be placed right above the middle of the layout out there.”
“A skylight,” Jim repeated. “Right. How soon?”
“As soon as you can get to it, Jim. I want to start planning for our grand reopening, and the skylight will be the showpiece of the shop.”
“What sort of grand reopening are you planning?” Iris asked.
Mr. Troy smiled. “Oh, a very grand one, indeed. I want to make sure we have as many people here as possible.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll handle those details myself, Iris. Now. Why don’t we get ready to open up for the day? Jim, will you meet me in the new area in ten minutes?”
He kept Jim waiting for twenty minutes before he came out of the office, then kept him for just ten minutes to go over some last minute changes to the shelving Jim was constructing. Then he was gone.
“He’s an odd bloke, that one.” Jim watched him leave, free to speak his mind now that the shop was empty.
“He’s very busy right now,” Iris said.
Rose looked up from a pile of scarves that she was sorting. “At least he came by in person today. Usually it’s long-distance phone calls.” The scarves slithered through her hands, refusing to be folded.
“Those are pretty,” Jim said unexpectedly. He came over, picked up a light blue silk patterned with small pink flowers. “Will you set this one aside for me?” he asked Rose. He picked up another one, this time in shades of green and yellow. “And this one.”
“Sure.” Rose placed them aside, and watched with great interest as Jim’s attention returned to the pile of silk once more. Iris was watching as well, her thoughts hidden behind cool blue eyes.
Jim held a red scarf out to Iris. She took it automatically.
“That would like nice with your hair,” he said, and went back to work.
Iris blushed.
The Doctor was fighting a losing battle with himself. Despite his assurances to Rose that all would be well, he could feel the panic rising up. He had no idea if all would be well or not. All he had were a few recordings that Billy would one day put out onto DVDs for him. No assurance that it would get done or get them home.
No knowledge as to when they might get back to the TARDIS. All he knew was that he could not, absolutely not, be trapped here until the year 2007 rolled around again. To stay in one place would be absolute torture. How would he manage it? How would Rose?
But Ian worked here. Could he continue, week by week, to work beside a man he’d once traveled with? Sooner or later he was bound to say something that would make Ian curious, and while it wouldn’t be terrible, the Doctor preferred to keep his identity to himself.
As he watched his students file out at the end of his afternoon lecture, the Doctor felt more despondent than ever. He couldn’t even run away. In the very back of his mind was the warning he kept hearing over and over again. If they were trapped here for the next few decades, he could not just walk away from this job. If he left Cambridge and couldn’t go back than he would need some sort of employment, and to leave trail of bad feelings would jeopardize any other job he attempted to get.
He’d turned into a domestic type of man and it wasn’t even his fault.
Still. He might have to play domestic, but he didn’t have to do it at Cambridge. Although he was enjoying himself, the sense of entitlement and self-importance that he felt from some of his colleagues made him eager to leave. If he found a closer university he would be closer to Rose, and he wouldn’t be forced to take the train in to work at such ridiculous hours. And then, if one day he decided he’d had enough of academia, at least he could leave on friendly terms for something else.
To that end the Doctor went in search of his dissertation. The office was empty except for a single secretary, the one who’d been assigned his handwritten pages. She was kneeling in front of a filing cabinet.
“We’ve had a setback, Mr. Smith,” she said as soon as she saw him enter. “I had to go away last week so I’m a fair bit behind. Mrs. Loudon was going to give it to one of the other girls but there was no time.”
The Doctor sighed. Of course. “That’s all right, er, what’s your name?”
“Helen.”
“That’s all right, Helen. I won’t be defending it for another month or two. But I’d appreciate any action that speeds things up.”
“Of course.” Helen gave him a hesitant smile and went back to her filing. For a moment her skin seemed to shimmer, but he blinked and the shimmer was gone.
“Er...Helen?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything. She looked so normal, standing there in a pink and green striped shirtwaist dress, dark hair caught back in a pink scarf. He was seeing lots of odd things lately.
“Nothing,” the Doctor sighed. “Just too much time spent in 1969.”
Helen looked confused. “Where else would you be?” she asked.
“Oh, you’d be amazed,” he said, and left the office.
Thirty-three
Characters: Ten, Rose
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor? How would they get back to their proper time? Would they want to?
Rating: PG
Beta: nattieb
It's been a while since I updated. Sorry for the delay, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
(ch 1) (ch 2) (ch 3) (ch 4) (ch 5) (ch 6) (ch 7) (ch 8) (ch 9) (ch 10) (ch 11) (ch 12) (ch 13) (ch 14) (ch 15) (ch 16) (ch 17) (ch 18)
(ch 19) (ch 20) (ch 21) (ch 22) (ch 23) (ch 24) (ch 25) (ch 26) (ch 27) (ch 28) (ch 29) (ch 30) (ch 31)
The walk to the shop was a quiet one despite the chaos of London all around them. Cars honked and music played and people talked and laughed and shouted, but Rose and the Doctor walked in silence. Rose wondered what was wrong. It was obvious that something was bothering him.
It could not have been the words Bad Wolf. They’d seen the phrase everywhere, even before they’d been trans-matted to the Game Station and figured out what it meant. It had become a non-issue after his regeneration, something to be noted casually when they came across it.
So it must be something else. But what?
The Doctor was aware of Rose throwing glances at him as they walked down the street, but he couldn’t summon up the nerve to explain it to her. The words Bad Wolf were just words. They held no power over him.
But Bad Wolf herself terrified him. Hadn’t he died to save Rose from that power? He remembered his fear and awe, seeing Rose bathed in a golden light, her hair blowing in a silent breeze. He knew the terrible power she’d been capable of, and he’d thought that had been left behind along with the Daleks and the Game Station and even Jack Harkness. He’d given his life for that, and it should be gone.
So why was the light back in her eyes? Had it been there all along, waiting? What would it do to Rose?
Or had he only imagined it?
“You're being awfully quiet,” Rose said. “Do you have a headache or something?"
“No.” He heard how terse his answer was but couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath. “Rose. Did you...notice anything, in that alley back there?”
She looked puzzled. “Do you mean the writing on the wall? That was just me doing my time and space thing.” She gave him a small smile.
She didn’t remember. He knew that, had questioned her repeatedly about the events they’d been through, and he’d been satisfied that her memories of what had happened after she’d looked into the heart of the TARDIS were hazy at best. She knew she had destroyed the Daleks, but that was all.
He must have imagined what he saw. Rose was Rose, and nothing more.
He continued in silence, running things over and over in his mind in an attempt to make sense of it. They reached the shop and the words flew out of Rose’s mouth as he started to open the door.
“Doctor, what’s wrong?”
He stopped and looked back at her. She was frowning in frustration. “Nothing,” he forced himself to say. “I’m sorry. Maybe it was breakfast.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. He gently prodded her inside.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said again. “I think the eggs were a bit off, that’s all. Remember those bad eggs I had on Epsilon V?”
“I try not to. You were sick for three days,” Rose said, allowing herself to be persuaded that he was fine.
The next morning Rose was still wondering if things were as all right as the Doctor claimed, but he met her at breakfast with a cheerful smile and a bowl of hot cereal.
“I’ll walk you to the shop this morning,” he said as he poured her a cup of tea.
“Won’t that make you late? And then late to come home?”
“It won’t make me too late, I swear.”
Rose eyed him narrowly and finally gave in. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
After breakfast they gathered up their things and locked the flat up behind them. Rose had made it halfway down the first flight of stairs when she stopped. Something had caught her eye and she bent down to get a better look.
“Shoe come untied?” the Doctor asked.
There was something on the floor that didn’t belong there. “Do you see this?” she asked instead. He bent down beside her, his arm brushing hers. His quick intake of breath told her when he saw it.
“Step back.” He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, thumbed the setting, and aimed it at the small dark blotch on the step.
Rose watched in trepidation as he looked at the result. “What is it?”
The Doctor’s face was grim as he put the screwdriver away and stood up. Rose was still kneeling down and he extended a hand to help her up.
“It’s blood.”
“Blood!” She looked all around, but that was the only splotch she could see. “Maybe someone is injured.”
“Maybe.” The Doctor took her arm and led her down the remaining stairs. “From now on you don’t come and go without me.”
Rose did not argue.
Despite his assurances that he had lots of time to get to Cambridge, the Doctor left her at the door to the shop with just a quick kiss on her cheek.
“See you tonight,” he said, and sprinted down to catch his train.
Rose watched him go, feeling unsettled. Her Doctor, brought down to the lows of hurrying to catch a train for work. He didn’t complain about it at all, but she knew it wasn’t something he wanted to be doing. How much longer before he started to resent the situation?
“Rose?” Iris opened the door and peered out at her. “I saw you walk up. Are you all right?”
Rose forced a smile. “Yep. Good morning!”
“I’m not sure if it’s good or not,” Iris confessed, locking the door up behind Rose.
Rose glanced over her shoulder as she walked to the back office to put her things away. “What’s wrong?”
Iris followed her to the back and sat at the desk. When Rose had first starting working at Helio the back office, as well as the back room, had been spotless. Now the desk was covered in papers and invoices, and shipping boxes were stacked up against the walls. Rose already knew that the back room was just as chaotic. As fast as they tried to put out new merchandise, new orders came in. Many had been marked “do not open”, and those Iris had been forced to set aside for Mr. Troy to deal with. The entire situation was making her frazzled.
Rose shoved aside a box of stockings and perched on the chair in front of the desk.
Iris frowned slightly at the mess. Coming from any other woman, that slight frown would have been a ferocious scowl.
“Mr. Troy is coming in this morning. He wants to discuss some of the renovations.”
“Will they be finished soon?” Rose couldn’t help asking eagerly. “It’s crazy around here.”
“He says there’s about two months’ more work to go.” Iris toyed with her pearl necklace and did not sound excited about this.
“How can there be two more months? Just last night I saw workmen in here after hours.”
Iris shook her head. “You couldn’t have. The men Mr. Troy hired are finished with that.”
Rose tilted her head, puzzled. “We saw lights inside here. And we heard noise.”
“Nothing’s been done since we left yesterday,” Iris responded, and before Rose could argue the point, they were interrupted by loud pounding on the shop’s front window.
“What on earth?” Iris stood up and hurried to the front, the skirt of her powder blue shift swirling around her knees. Rose followed, her eyes on Iris’s matching, powder-blue shoes with a modest heel.
“About time!” Jim said impatiently, shouldering his way in through the door. “I get a call saying I need to be here as soon as possible, and -” He stopped as he looked around, glancing from Iris to Rose. “Troy’s not here, is he?”
“Not yet.” Iris checked the time and locked the door again. The shop wasn’t due to open for another twenty minutes.
“I’ll just set my things down, then.” Jim strode to the back of the shop where his current project, custom-built shelving for folded men’s dress shirts and ties, was in progress. The large plastic hangings that protected the shop’s merchandise from the dust and dirt of the renovations were pulled back, at the moment. Rose and Iris watched as he paused to drag his black leather jacket, revealing his working outfit of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt in faded grey. Iris hastily turned away as Jim turned back to them.
Rose rolled her eyes. Iris was acting like she was in school again instead of a grown woman allowed to have feelings for a man.
Maybe the women’s movement needed to start a little earlier, Rose reflected. A little girl power wouldn’t do Iris any harm.
Since she couldn’t say any of that out loud, she smiled at Jim. “Were you part of the crew last night?”
“What crew?” From somewhere among his things Jim had produced a thermos, and now proceeded to take a long drink of whatever was inside. The morning sunlight touched his head and made his blond hair shine. Rose was distracted by the color - it was a sharp reminder that she really needed to do something about her own hair. It had grown out a bit and while she had been limping along with some temporary color hair dyes, she was anxious to cover up her dark roots. She was not as anxious to try out the permanent hair colors of this time period, though, despite the Doctor’s assurances that she would be fine. Jackie had taught her too much about the way hair coloring used to be done.
“The crew who was working here last night.” Rose forced her thoughts away from highlights and potential shades of blonde and toxic dyes being tested on innocent bunny rabbits.
“Rose, I told you that no one was here after we left,” Iris reminded her from the counter, where she was setting up cash in the till.
“None of my crew were here.” Jim leaned against one of the couches sitting in front of the dressing rooms. “We left when you did. Besides, they’ve all got a holiday this week and next while I finish up these displays. No one would have been here last night.”
“I know I heard noises coming from here last night,” Rose said stubbornly.
“Perhaps it was the cleaning crew,” a voice said smoothly from behind them, and Rose jumped in surprise.
Iris was calmer, since she’d been expecting Mr. Troy’s arrival.
“Good morning!” she said.
Jim simply sipped his drink and watched Mr. Troy.
“Good morning, Iris. Rose.” He nodded to Rose and looked beyond her to Jim. “You’re here bright and early, I see.”
Jim straightened up and nodded. “As you requested.”
“Good.” Rose’s employer shot back the cuffs of his shirt to examine his gold watch. “We have some time before opening. Will you all join me in the office.”
Iris winced at the mention of the office and glanced at Rose in agony. She worked so hard to send a professional image, and the office was a wreck.
Hector Troy didn’t seem to notice. He simply stepped over some boxes to sit in the leather chair behind the desk. He watched as Rose and Iris took the other two chairs in the room. Jim shoved aside a packing case and leaned against the wall.
“I see some of our new freight is arriving.” Mr. Troy sent an approving glance around the room, as if he actually appreciated the mess of boxes and packing tape surrounding him. “Lovely. We should be able to put it all away shortly, Iris, so don’t worry about the continued disorganization.”
Iris smiled faintly. “Of course not.”
“If it’s unpacking you need done, I can help with that,” Jim offered, gesturing to one of the boxes marked “do not open”. “I could have the boxes emptied out with an hour.”
“No,” Mr. Troy said, somewhat more sharply than Rose would have thought necessary. “Leave them be for now. They’re not on the sales floor, and I have plans for this merchandise.”
Jim shrugged, clearly feeling that if the shop’s owner wanted to live in such a mess it was his business.
“Now.” Mr. Troy straightened his tie. Rose was close enough to see that it had small yellow sunbursts on the navy background. “I have a few alterations to our plans, Jim. I’m trusting your crew to take care of the changes yourself, without having to hire outside help.”
“I thought you already had a second crew working here at night?” Rose asked before she could stop herself.
Iris winced. Clearly the shop-girl should not be questioning the owner. Jim looked interested in the answer.
Mr. Troy was a tall, commanding man in his forties. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and he had a presence about him that usually struck people silent. When he fixed his gaze on Rose, she felt all of that presence and more, and decided on the spot that she was going to be sacked.
Her employer surprised her.
“That was a temporary arrangement. Their work is finished, and now I’ve decided I want one more thing done.”
Rose sat back and decided not to say anything else. Really, what happened in the shop wasn’t any of her business. From the looks Iris was throwing her, Iris felt the same way.
“What is it you want me to do?” Jim asked. A lesser man might have added a ‘sir’ to the end of the statement. It made Rose want to giggle. She settled for a quick smile instead.
“I want a skylight put in. It should be placed right above the middle of the layout out there.”
“A skylight,” Jim repeated. “Right. How soon?”
“As soon as you can get to it, Jim. I want to start planning for our grand reopening, and the skylight will be the showpiece of the shop.”
“What sort of grand reopening are you planning?” Iris asked.
Mr. Troy smiled. “Oh, a very grand one, indeed. I want to make sure we have as many people here as possible.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll handle those details myself, Iris. Now. Why don’t we get ready to open up for the day? Jim, will you meet me in the new area in ten minutes?”
He kept Jim waiting for twenty minutes before he came out of the office, then kept him for just ten minutes to go over some last minute changes to the shelving Jim was constructing. Then he was gone.
“He’s an odd bloke, that one.” Jim watched him leave, free to speak his mind now that the shop was empty.
“He’s very busy right now,” Iris said.
Rose looked up from a pile of scarves that she was sorting. “At least he came by in person today. Usually it’s long-distance phone calls.” The scarves slithered through her hands, refusing to be folded.
“Those are pretty,” Jim said unexpectedly. He came over, picked up a light blue silk patterned with small pink flowers. “Will you set this one aside for me?” he asked Rose. He picked up another one, this time in shades of green and yellow. “And this one.”
“Sure.” Rose placed them aside, and watched with great interest as Jim’s attention returned to the pile of silk once more. Iris was watching as well, her thoughts hidden behind cool blue eyes.
Jim held a red scarf out to Iris. She took it automatically.
“That would like nice with your hair,” he said, and went back to work.
Iris blushed.
The Doctor was fighting a losing battle with himself. Despite his assurances to Rose that all would be well, he could feel the panic rising up. He had no idea if all would be well or not. All he had were a few recordings that Billy would one day put out onto DVDs for him. No assurance that it would get done or get them home.
No knowledge as to when they might get back to the TARDIS. All he knew was that he could not, absolutely not, be trapped here until the year 2007 rolled around again. To stay in one place would be absolute torture. How would he manage it? How would Rose?
But Ian worked here. Could he continue, week by week, to work beside a man he’d once traveled with? Sooner or later he was bound to say something that would make Ian curious, and while it wouldn’t be terrible, the Doctor preferred to keep his identity to himself.
As he watched his students file out at the end of his afternoon lecture, the Doctor felt more despondent than ever. He couldn’t even run away. In the very back of his mind was the warning he kept hearing over and over again. If they were trapped here for the next few decades, he could not just walk away from this job. If he left Cambridge and couldn’t go back than he would need some sort of employment, and to leave trail of bad feelings would jeopardize any other job he attempted to get.
He’d turned into a domestic type of man and it wasn’t even his fault.
Still. He might have to play domestic, but he didn’t have to do it at Cambridge. Although he was enjoying himself, the sense of entitlement and self-importance that he felt from some of his colleagues made him eager to leave. If he found a closer university he would be closer to Rose, and he wouldn’t be forced to take the train in to work at such ridiculous hours. And then, if one day he decided he’d had enough of academia, at least he could leave on friendly terms for something else.
To that end the Doctor went in search of his dissertation. The office was empty except for a single secretary, the one who’d been assigned his handwritten pages. She was kneeling in front of a filing cabinet.
“We’ve had a setback, Mr. Smith,” she said as soon as she saw him enter. “I had to go away last week so I’m a fair bit behind. Mrs. Loudon was going to give it to one of the other girls but there was no time.”
The Doctor sighed. Of course. “That’s all right, er, what’s your name?”
“Helen.”
“That’s all right, Helen. I won’t be defending it for another month or two. But I’d appreciate any action that speeds things up.”
“Of course.” Helen gave him a hesitant smile and went back to her filing. For a moment her skin seemed to shimmer, but he blinked and the shimmer was gone.
“Er...Helen?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything. She looked so normal, standing there in a pink and green striped shirtwaist dress, dark hair caught back in a pink scarf. He was seeing lots of odd things lately.
“Nothing,” the Doctor sighed. “Just too much time spent in 1969.”
Helen looked confused. “Where else would you be?” she asked.
“Oh, you’d be amazed,” he said, and left the office.
Thirty-three