Wonders 1/1
Story: Wonders
Author: WMR
Rated: G
Characters: Ten, Rose, the TARDIS
Spoilers: Up to The Satan Pit
Summary: The Doctor without the TARDIS... unimaginable. It’d be like half of his brain and at least a couple of limbs had gone missing. They’re that much a part of each other.
Written for
loneraven's Tenth Doctor ficathon, for
eternie, who wanted Ten loves the TARDIS, Ten and Rose's intense friendship, the horse from The Girl in the Fireplace. I hope this is at least halfway suitable.
Wonders
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.
- Albert Einstein
She’s been with him almost from the beginning, the one constant in his ever-changing lives. When the end comes, as it will, the one certainty in a life made up of twists and turns and endings turning into beginnings, of endless interlocking and diverging paths and timelines, she will be there to guide him, to comfort him, to ease his passage. And she will die with him. The two eternal wanderers, always together, never to be separated.
She has been there in times when he was one of many, as was she. The ever-present knowledge of others like them in the universe soothed and reassured, even as sometimes it irritated him. Now, in the long, painful silence, he is as much company for her as she is for him. For they are both the last of their kind.
They are not always alone. They’re frequently joined by other presences within her walls. Different species, most often human. He likes humans, and she indulges his preference by liking them too. Even though none of them really understand her, and few try. But how can they? She has no equal in their experience, in their world. She is his, and above all he is hers, no matter who else he loves along the way.
Some time after the long silence began, he learned how to be happy again in the company of two of the human creatures. One, the eternal flirt, coward turned hero, became her friend too, gained her trust and even some of her love. The other, the golden girl whom he, her Time Lord, loved, became one with her to save him. To save both of them. The girl, Rose, thinks it was all her idea. She doesn’t know that she was only the vessel.
She will not allow her Time Lord to die so long as she can save him. For he is all she has, just as she is all he has. Human and other companions are only temporary, after all. And when they leave, he is alone again. But never truly alone; not as long as he has her.
The man is gone now, left behind for good reason; they will meet again some day, but for now, for as long as time and fate allow, it is her Doctor and Rose. The Time Lord and the one-time Bad Wolf, inseparable, so they would like to believe. Nothing lasts for ever, of course. Even if this lasts for Rose’s forever, it’s just the blink of an eye for the Doctor. Yet even a Time Lord’s life is made up of moment after moment, and these happy moments with the golden girl, however brief, are to be cherished.
For one day they will pass and he and she will be alone again.
***
“You said TARDISes were grown.”
She’s leaning against the captain’s chair, watching him as he makes minute adjustments to the control panel. He did tell her what he’s doing, but most of it went right over her head and she decided not to bother trying to understand the rest. Half the time he deliberately makes it more complicated, just because he can. She just bets that all he’s actually doing is cleaning the bits he’s working on.
Half-distracted, he replies, “When did I say that?” But, before she can answer, he glances over to her. “Oh. Right. Yes, I did.” And there’s a flash of something like pain across his face, before his usual calm expression slides back into place.
“Sorry. Probably shouldn’t’ve reminded you.” The Sanctuary base. The TARDIS lost on the impossible planet. The Beast. The prediction that she would die. She’d almost forgotten herself that was when he said it.
“Nah, ‘s all right.” He gives her a quick smile before turning his attention back to his task. “All’s well that ends well, that’s the saying, isn’t it? Shakespeare, of course. Good old Will. Really must go and see him again one of these days.” One hand sweeps across the top of the console in a gentle, loving caress.
She blinks to take her attention away from him. There are times when she wonders what it would be like to have his hand on her in just that same stroking movement. He’s so tactile - always was, but even more so in this body. Long fingers, intense concentration on whatever he’s touching.
But she’s ruled anything like that out as a possibility. They’re friends - well, friends feels far too inadequate to describe what they are to each other, but it’s the best she can do. And if sometimes she suspects that the simmering attraction isn’t only on her side, she ignores it. Fastest way to bring this adventure, her time with him, to an end - of that she is very sure. He’s her best friend. That’s more than enough.
“Yeah.” She smiles to show him that she’s not dwelling on their time on that planet either. They’ve talked about the Beast, a bit; she’s decided that, since she’s always known she could die at any time because of what they do, there’s no point worrying about it. Anyway, he says the Beast couldn’t possibly know what will happen. Timelines change constantly. He sees millions of possibilities in every second. One is chosen and the others disappear. Her death in battle is one possibility out of billions. That’s good enough odds for her.
“Anyway, so did you grow it?” she asks him.
“Her.” He tuts a little. “You should know that by now. Anyway, no, I didn’t. The TARDIS is older than I am. I stole her, in the beginning... ooh, must be over seven hundred years ago now.”
“You stole her?” She stares at him. Well, the concept of the Doctor stealing something isn’t completely unthinkable; she’s seen him take things necessary for his purpose on occasion, and some of those times could count as stealing if you wanted to look at it that way.
“Did I never tell you that?” He looks around again, a proud if slightly sheepish grin on his face. And he strokes the console again. “Well, I rescued her, really. Such a long time ago. It was when I left Gallifrey - my planet. I’d finally graduated from the Academy, and I’d had enough of all the stuffed-shirts and the restrictions and I just wanted to get out and explore the universe. They were never going to let me do that. The great non-interferers, my people. I was never like that. So...” He shrugs. “I broke into the storage area where old TARDISes were kept waiting to be decommissioned. And I found her.” Again, a caress across the panels. “Poor, broken-down ship. She’s an old Type 40 - already obsolete even then. I stole the key, persuaded her to let me operate her and we escaped. Been together ever since, the TARDIS and me.”
The one constant in his life.
That’s something she’s come to realise over the time she’s been with him - well, more in the last couple of months than before. Because now she’s beginning to understand what it’s like for him. He’s known, cared for - loved, even - so many people in his life, and they’ve all left, or moved on, or grown old, withered and died. Some never got to grow old before they died.
All those losses, as well as the loss of his people. It’s no wonder he was so lost when they thought the TARDIS was gone.
“So how are they grown?” she asks. It’s a mindboggling concept. Though the TARDIS is alive. She knows that, but it takes a long time to get her head around it, all the same. It’s not just the telepathy. It’s the way the interior changes, all the time. Rooms move around, their dimensions change, their contents alter. And she’s never sure how much of it is the Doctor’s doing and how much the TARDIS.
He looks away, and she knows that this is one of those rare moments when this Doctor feels the loss of his planet, his people, in a way that goes beyond any comfort she can offer. She says nothing; simply waits. A few moments later, he turns back to her and smiles. “Complicated process. Even I didn’t understand it fully. Doesn’t matter, though. She may not have been grown for me, but we made do at first, and now we’re inseparable.” Again, his hand glides over the controls.
Inseparable. He once - the previous him - used that word to describe the two of them. Now he’s using it about the TARDIS. She’d be jealous, except... well, it’d be a bit silly, really.
It’s like when he told Captain Zach that the TARDIS is literally all he has. She knows that Mickey would have crowed over that one, but she wasn’t jealous. Wasn’t hurt. Not one bit. Yes, he still had her, and she knows that he was glad she was there. The TARDIS is different. The Doctor without the TARDIS... unimaginable. It’d be like half of his brain and at least a couple of limbs had gone missing. They’re that much a part of each other.
Which makes her ashamed, now, for yelling at him for sending her away on Satellite Five. Not because he shouldn’t have sent her away - of course he shouldn’t - but because he sent her in the TARDIS. His beloved ship. All he has. His one piece of home, and an essential part of him. Losing the TARDIS, to him, has to feel like an amputation. Yet he still did it - gave up his ship so that she could be safe.
But she won’t remind him of that now. Satellite Five, the Daleks, Jack’s death - a sensitive subject for both of them.
“Should have known she was still alive when we were on that base,” she says then as the thought occurs to her. “I mean, I could still understand everyone. Including you, I s’pose.”
“Ah, you’d always be able to understand me.” He grins. “I speak English to you.”
“You do?”
“Course I do! What did you think I spoke?”
“Well, I dunno - your own language? Gallifreyan?”
“Nah. Remember I told you I speak five billion languages? Well, okay, I rely on the TARDIS for some of those, but I speak most of them myself. When I’m in your country, I speak English. How’d you think you were able to understand me when we first met?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. TARDIS translatin’ for you?”
“No. That was all me.”
“Clever git.” She grins at him. “So, go on, then. What’s your own language sound like?”
He grins, then closes his eyes for a moment. Communing with the TARDIS - though he’s showing off now, she knows. He doesn’t need to adopt this trance-like state to talk to the ship. And then he speaks. It sounds like nothing she’s ever heard before. The sounds - she can’t call them words, because it doesn’t even sound like a language - are musical and lilting, almost hypnotic.
When he falls silent, she asks, “What did you say?”
But he shakes his head. “That assumes what I said could even be translated. Maybe it can’t. English may be a global language where you come from, but that doesn’t mean it has words for everything in the universe. Gallifreyan has a far larger vocabulary. Ooh, maybe as much as forty per cent more words.”
She grins at him. “That why you always talk so much?”
He laughs. “You’re impudent, Rose Tyler. Have I told you that before? About time I did, then.”
“Impudent,” she repeats, staring at him.
“Yeah. Impudent. Im...pudent,” he says, as if testing the word, listening to the sound it makes, learning its resonance on his tongue. “Im...pud...ent. Impudent, impudent, impudent... blimey, that’s a tongue-twister if you say it fast enough.”
“You’re a bloody smart-arse yourself, Doctor,” she points out.
“Oi! Watch who you’re talking to! Genius Time Lord - and your designated driver, let me remind you.” He makes another adjustment to the controls, and again she’s sure it’s only for show.
“Designated driver. Right. So, where we goin’, then?”
He smiles, enigmatic as he likes to be sometimes. “That’d be telling.”
“Oh, a surprise, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She grins. “Long as it’s not one of those, oops, it’s 1879 an’ we’ve got troops pointing guns at us kind of surprises.”
“1879, 1979. It was close.” He gives her a mock-offended look. “And, see? You’re being impudent again, Rose Tyler!”
“Yeah, and don’t you just love it?” She sticks her tongue out at him.
He ignores her. “Where we’re going now the date’s irrelevant. Well, I say that - any time within a few hundred years will do.”
Intriguing. She knows him well enough to be well aware that he’s not going to tell her where they’re going, but he does love to drip-feed bits of information to her, all the same. So she shifts to stand with her back to the console, sliding between him and the controls, close enough that if either of them moved they’d be touching. She knows he doesn’t mind - he invades her personal space as often as she does his - but it’ll be nicely distracting for him. Maybe make him more inclined to answer her. “Alien planet?”
“Not this time. Good old Earth. Third planet in your solar system, only the fifth-largest. Almost three-quarters of the planet’s surface is water - did you know that?”
She does, vaguely. “Yeah.”
“And the most widely-spoken language is Mandarin Chinese. Despite you English-speakers’ attempts at world domination, you don’t even come close. Did you know that there are twice as many Mandarin speakers as there are native English speakers on your planet?”
“Yeah, yeah. An’ I suppose Mandarin’s got a wider vocabulary than English, too?”
“It does, actually.” He grins. “Anyway, that’s where we’re going. Earth. Not China, as it happens. Even though I quite fancy trying out my Mandarin. Been a long time since I’ve had a chance to use it. Wonder how much I’ve forgotten?”
Him, forgotten a language? With or without the TARDIS to help him, she doubts it. But Earth. Interesting. She raises an eyebrow. “Anywhere we’ve been before?”
“Ah-ah.” He wags a finger at her. “Not telling you.”
She sticks her tongue out. He grins, then leans past her to adjust a control. “We’re almost there. I know it’s hard, but try to restrain your curiosity a little longer.”
He won’t let her look at the viewscreen as they materialise, sending her to stand by the rail. And then, when they get to the door, he orders her to close her eyes. As she does, he ties something soft over her eyes.
He’s really taking this surprise thing seriously, it seems. It’s not a problem, though. She trusts him not to let her trip or get hurt. So she stands and waits for him to guide her outside.
The first sensation she feels is warmth. Not heat, but it’s warm. There’s a faint breeze. And the air smells fresh, with a faint hint of vegetation. He’s guiding her with an arm around her shoulders and with directions - turning right here, going down some steps there - and then the ground under her feet is uneven, a little rough.
Finally, though it’s only a minute or so, really, he says, “You can stop now.” He takes one of her hands and places it on what feels like a railing. And then he removes the blindfold.
It’s dark. It takes her eyes a few seconds to adjust. They’re standing by the railing that she’s touching, and she can vaguely make out that they seem to be at the edge of some kind of cliff. Ahead of them, and to the sides - they’re on some sort of promontory - are large grey shapes. She can’t make out what they are.
But then, to her right, she notices fingers of yellow beginning to creep across the grey night sky. It’s coming up to sunrise.
“Where are we?”
She can hear the smile in his voice as he answers. “The Grand Canyon. Powell Point, on the south rim, if you want to be precise. In my not necessarily humble opinion, one of the best places on this planet to see the sun rise. Which should be happening in... ooh, about forty-five minutes.” He turns to her, and in the gradually-increasing light she can see his happy grin.
“And the best thing about seeing it from here?” he continues. “Because it’s so far from the main entrances, we’ll have it practically to ourselves.”
The Grand Canyon. Unbelievable. It’s a place she’s never even imagined she’d get to see in her lifetime. Even with spending her life travelling with a man in a time- and space-machine. “Brilliant!” Almost wanting to jump for joy - not very sensible on this uneven rock - she hugs him instead. He hugs her back, but then takes her by the shoulders and turns her around so she’s facing the early traces of dawn.
“And please note,” he says, his voice very close to her ear, “the excellent job I did of finding us a morning without cloud cover. Nothing to get in the way of the view.”
“Yeah, you’re so impressive,” she tells him.
“Course I am. And you so know it.”
She’d smack him, only he’s right. And he’s taken her here, and it’s amazing.
And so they stand, his arms looped loosely around her waist, as the sky gradually changes colour. Yellow turns to red and the streaks of flame spread out in every direction. In front of them and around them, the grey shapes become jagged rocks and cliffs and chasms shaped by millennia of erosion. Colours appear, vibrant shades of peach and orange, red and brown, as the approaching dawn casts light and shadow on the Canyon.
Slowly, the sun begins to peep over the horizon, a disc of shimmering gold that turns everything around it into shades of gold and bronze and flaming red, as well as colours she can’t even put a name to. Utterly majestic. Awe-inspiring.
“ ‘S beautiful,” she says at last. She’s been silent for so long simply because she was speechless.
She feels the faint brush of his face against her hair. “One of the most beautiful places on Earth, yeah. Course, the setting sun over the pyramids in ancient Egypt has a lot to recommend it, too. And some day I have to take you to see the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Actually,” he continues, the smile she can hear warming his voice just as the sun’s warming the Canyon, “we should make a tour of it. Seven wonders of the ancient world. Seven natural wonders - we can tick this one off the list already. Six wonders of the Parthytic galaxy. Eight wonders of the Corthaic Delta. Yeah? Shall we do that?”
He’s seen them all before, of course. Though she knows the pleasure for him in this kind of trip is in seeing her reaction.
She turns, grinning up at him. “Sounds brilliant!” And she hugs him again. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
He hugs her back, laughter in his eyes. “My pleasure. Absolutely my pleasure.”
One last look around, drinking in the view - and he was right; they’re still alone, sharing this magnificent spectacle with each other - and then they’re walking hand in hand back to the TARDIS.
He pauses, pointing down. There’s a rough, winding, gravelly trail leading down into the depths of the Canyon. “Hiking trail,” he says, sounding fascinated. “See, I told you we should have kept Arthur. We could’ve ridden him all the way down to the bottom. Right to the shores of the Colorado River.”
The river - yeah, she can see it now, winding like a narrow ribbon through the cliffs and rocks way down below. It’s kind of brown - must be a lot of mud and dirt down there.
And Arthur? Oh, right, the horse from eighteenth-century France. “You’re insane! First you make the poor thing jump through a mirror, an’ now you want to ride him down there? He’d break his neck!”
“I’d be careful!” he protests.
“Yeah, right.”
He stares at her, wide-eyed, for several moments before hanging his head, silent acknowledgement that she’s right. “Would’ve been nice,” he says wistfully.
“Come on.” She tugs on his hand, and he comes obediently.
“Forget Babylon for now - I think I’m gonna ask the TARDIS to take us to a dude ranch,” she tells him. “Obviously someone needs to satisfy their horse craving.”
He grins. “Only if you ride too.”
He’s got to be kidding. “I’ve never been on a horse in my life!”
“I know.” His grin grows wider, triumphant.
“Nah. I’m just gonna watch you.”
“Oh, no.” He wags a finger at her. “You can ride with me if you’re too scared to ride alone, but you’re not getting away without trying it.”
Oh, he’s got her there. Admit to being scared? No way. She sighs. “Okay. You win.”
“Brilliant!” He pulls on her hand and breaks into a run. “Just as long as we can find a ranch with a horse called Arthur...”
“You’re not keeping the horse!”
“But he’ll be company for the TARDIS! She gets lonely too, you know.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “She’s got us!”
He squeezes her hand. “Yeah. She does.”
***
This will end, as all before have; the girl called Rose will leave, one way or another, and maybe before he is ready for her to go. And he will mourn, as he has for all the others before her, no matter how they leave him. For his sake, she hopes that he and his Rose have many more moments together. But, even when Rose too is gone, she knows that he will survive. He will cope.
He will continue to travel, he and she together, always running, never stopping, pausing from time to time to gaze in wonder at the marvels of the universe. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others, but always together. And she will always be there for him, never jealous, never demanding, never doubting him. An ever-present comfort and companion, present in his mind as much as she physically surrounds him. His one remaining piece of home, just as he is hers.
Endings and beginnings in a never-ceasing cycle, he and she and all the wonders that are, that will be and that ever have been, the universe theirs to explore, to defend, to protect. Time both ally and enemy, until that too runs out for them both, the last Time Lord, the last TARDIS.
For everything has its time, and everything ends.
END
Author: WMR
Rated: G
Characters: Ten, Rose, the TARDIS
Spoilers: Up to The Satan Pit
Summary: The Doctor without the TARDIS... unimaginable. It’d be like half of his brain and at least a couple of limbs had gone missing. They’re that much a part of each other.
Written for
loneraven's Tenth Doctor ficathon, for
eternie, who wanted Ten loves the TARDIS, Ten and Rose's intense friendship, the horse from The Girl in the Fireplace. I hope this is at least halfway suitable.
Wonders
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.
- Albert Einstein
She’s been with him almost from the beginning, the one constant in his ever-changing lives. When the end comes, as it will, the one certainty in a life made up of twists and turns and endings turning into beginnings, of endless interlocking and diverging paths and timelines, she will be there to guide him, to comfort him, to ease his passage. And she will die with him. The two eternal wanderers, always together, never to be separated.
She has been there in times when he was one of many, as was she. The ever-present knowledge of others like them in the universe soothed and reassured, even as sometimes it irritated him. Now, in the long, painful silence, he is as much company for her as she is for him. For they are both the last of their kind.
They are not always alone. They’re frequently joined by other presences within her walls. Different species, most often human. He likes humans, and she indulges his preference by liking them too. Even though none of them really understand her, and few try. But how can they? She has no equal in their experience, in their world. She is his, and above all he is hers, no matter who else he loves along the way.
Some time after the long silence began, he learned how to be happy again in the company of two of the human creatures. One, the eternal flirt, coward turned hero, became her friend too, gained her trust and even some of her love. The other, the golden girl whom he, her Time Lord, loved, became one with her to save him. To save both of them. The girl, Rose, thinks it was all her idea. She doesn’t know that she was only the vessel.
She will not allow her Time Lord to die so long as she can save him. For he is all she has, just as she is all he has. Human and other companions are only temporary, after all. And when they leave, he is alone again. But never truly alone; not as long as he has her.
The man is gone now, left behind for good reason; they will meet again some day, but for now, for as long as time and fate allow, it is her Doctor and Rose. The Time Lord and the one-time Bad Wolf, inseparable, so they would like to believe. Nothing lasts for ever, of course. Even if this lasts for Rose’s forever, it’s just the blink of an eye for the Doctor. Yet even a Time Lord’s life is made up of moment after moment, and these happy moments with the golden girl, however brief, are to be cherished.
For one day they will pass and he and she will be alone again.
***
“You said TARDISes were grown.”
She’s leaning against the captain’s chair, watching him as he makes minute adjustments to the control panel. He did tell her what he’s doing, but most of it went right over her head and she decided not to bother trying to understand the rest. Half the time he deliberately makes it more complicated, just because he can. She just bets that all he’s actually doing is cleaning the bits he’s working on.
Half-distracted, he replies, “When did I say that?” But, before she can answer, he glances over to her. “Oh. Right. Yes, I did.” And there’s a flash of something like pain across his face, before his usual calm expression slides back into place.
“Sorry. Probably shouldn’t’ve reminded you.” The Sanctuary base. The TARDIS lost on the impossible planet. The Beast. The prediction that she would die. She’d almost forgotten herself that was when he said it.
“Nah, ‘s all right.” He gives her a quick smile before turning his attention back to his task. “All’s well that ends well, that’s the saying, isn’t it? Shakespeare, of course. Good old Will. Really must go and see him again one of these days.” One hand sweeps across the top of the console in a gentle, loving caress.
She blinks to take her attention away from him. There are times when she wonders what it would be like to have his hand on her in just that same stroking movement. He’s so tactile - always was, but even more so in this body. Long fingers, intense concentration on whatever he’s touching.
But she’s ruled anything like that out as a possibility. They’re friends - well, friends feels far too inadequate to describe what they are to each other, but it’s the best she can do. And if sometimes she suspects that the simmering attraction isn’t only on her side, she ignores it. Fastest way to bring this adventure, her time with him, to an end - of that she is very sure. He’s her best friend. That’s more than enough.
“Yeah.” She smiles to show him that she’s not dwelling on their time on that planet either. They’ve talked about the Beast, a bit; she’s decided that, since she’s always known she could die at any time because of what they do, there’s no point worrying about it. Anyway, he says the Beast couldn’t possibly know what will happen. Timelines change constantly. He sees millions of possibilities in every second. One is chosen and the others disappear. Her death in battle is one possibility out of billions. That’s good enough odds for her.
“Anyway, so did you grow it?” she asks him.
“Her.” He tuts a little. “You should know that by now. Anyway, no, I didn’t. The TARDIS is older than I am. I stole her, in the beginning... ooh, must be over seven hundred years ago now.”
“You stole her?” She stares at him. Well, the concept of the Doctor stealing something isn’t completely unthinkable; she’s seen him take things necessary for his purpose on occasion, and some of those times could count as stealing if you wanted to look at it that way.
“Did I never tell you that?” He looks around again, a proud if slightly sheepish grin on his face. And he strokes the console again. “Well, I rescued her, really. Such a long time ago. It was when I left Gallifrey - my planet. I’d finally graduated from the Academy, and I’d had enough of all the stuffed-shirts and the restrictions and I just wanted to get out and explore the universe. They were never going to let me do that. The great non-interferers, my people. I was never like that. So...” He shrugs. “I broke into the storage area where old TARDISes were kept waiting to be decommissioned. And I found her.” Again, a caress across the panels. “Poor, broken-down ship. She’s an old Type 40 - already obsolete even then. I stole the key, persuaded her to let me operate her and we escaped. Been together ever since, the TARDIS and me.”
The one constant in his life.
That’s something she’s come to realise over the time she’s been with him - well, more in the last couple of months than before. Because now she’s beginning to understand what it’s like for him. He’s known, cared for - loved, even - so many people in his life, and they’ve all left, or moved on, or grown old, withered and died. Some never got to grow old before they died.
All those losses, as well as the loss of his people. It’s no wonder he was so lost when they thought the TARDIS was gone.
“So how are they grown?” she asks. It’s a mindboggling concept. Though the TARDIS is alive. She knows that, but it takes a long time to get her head around it, all the same. It’s not just the telepathy. It’s the way the interior changes, all the time. Rooms move around, their dimensions change, their contents alter. And she’s never sure how much of it is the Doctor’s doing and how much the TARDIS.
He looks away, and she knows that this is one of those rare moments when this Doctor feels the loss of his planet, his people, in a way that goes beyond any comfort she can offer. She says nothing; simply waits. A few moments later, he turns back to her and smiles. “Complicated process. Even I didn’t understand it fully. Doesn’t matter, though. She may not have been grown for me, but we made do at first, and now we’re inseparable.” Again, his hand glides over the controls.
Inseparable. He once - the previous him - used that word to describe the two of them. Now he’s using it about the TARDIS. She’d be jealous, except... well, it’d be a bit silly, really.
It’s like when he told Captain Zach that the TARDIS is literally all he has. She knows that Mickey would have crowed over that one, but she wasn’t jealous. Wasn’t hurt. Not one bit. Yes, he still had her, and she knows that he was glad she was there. The TARDIS is different. The Doctor without the TARDIS... unimaginable. It’d be like half of his brain and at least a couple of limbs had gone missing. They’re that much a part of each other.
Which makes her ashamed, now, for yelling at him for sending her away on Satellite Five. Not because he shouldn’t have sent her away - of course he shouldn’t - but because he sent her in the TARDIS. His beloved ship. All he has. His one piece of home, and an essential part of him. Losing the TARDIS, to him, has to feel like an amputation. Yet he still did it - gave up his ship so that she could be safe.
But she won’t remind him of that now. Satellite Five, the Daleks, Jack’s death - a sensitive subject for both of them.
“Should have known she was still alive when we were on that base,” she says then as the thought occurs to her. “I mean, I could still understand everyone. Including you, I s’pose.”
“Ah, you’d always be able to understand me.” He grins. “I speak English to you.”
“You do?”
“Course I do! What did you think I spoke?”
“Well, I dunno - your own language? Gallifreyan?”
“Nah. Remember I told you I speak five billion languages? Well, okay, I rely on the TARDIS for some of those, but I speak most of them myself. When I’m in your country, I speak English. How’d you think you were able to understand me when we first met?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. TARDIS translatin’ for you?”
“No. That was all me.”
“Clever git.” She grins at him. “So, go on, then. What’s your own language sound like?”
He grins, then closes his eyes for a moment. Communing with the TARDIS - though he’s showing off now, she knows. He doesn’t need to adopt this trance-like state to talk to the ship. And then he speaks. It sounds like nothing she’s ever heard before. The sounds - she can’t call them words, because it doesn’t even sound like a language - are musical and lilting, almost hypnotic.
When he falls silent, she asks, “What did you say?”
But he shakes his head. “That assumes what I said could even be translated. Maybe it can’t. English may be a global language where you come from, but that doesn’t mean it has words for everything in the universe. Gallifreyan has a far larger vocabulary. Ooh, maybe as much as forty per cent more words.”
She grins at him. “That why you always talk so much?”
He laughs. “You’re impudent, Rose Tyler. Have I told you that before? About time I did, then.”
“Impudent,” she repeats, staring at him.
“Yeah. Impudent. Im...pudent,” he says, as if testing the word, listening to the sound it makes, learning its resonance on his tongue. “Im...pud...ent. Impudent, impudent, impudent... blimey, that’s a tongue-twister if you say it fast enough.”
“You’re a bloody smart-arse yourself, Doctor,” she points out.
“Oi! Watch who you’re talking to! Genius Time Lord - and your designated driver, let me remind you.” He makes another adjustment to the controls, and again she’s sure it’s only for show.
“Designated driver. Right. So, where we goin’, then?”
He smiles, enigmatic as he likes to be sometimes. “That’d be telling.”
“Oh, a surprise, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She grins. “Long as it’s not one of those, oops, it’s 1879 an’ we’ve got troops pointing guns at us kind of surprises.”
“1879, 1979. It was close.” He gives her a mock-offended look. “And, see? You’re being impudent again, Rose Tyler!”
“Yeah, and don’t you just love it?” She sticks her tongue out at him.
He ignores her. “Where we’re going now the date’s irrelevant. Well, I say that - any time within a few hundred years will do.”
Intriguing. She knows him well enough to be well aware that he’s not going to tell her where they’re going, but he does love to drip-feed bits of information to her, all the same. So she shifts to stand with her back to the console, sliding between him and the controls, close enough that if either of them moved they’d be touching. She knows he doesn’t mind - he invades her personal space as often as she does his - but it’ll be nicely distracting for him. Maybe make him more inclined to answer her. “Alien planet?”
“Not this time. Good old Earth. Third planet in your solar system, only the fifth-largest. Almost three-quarters of the planet’s surface is water - did you know that?”
She does, vaguely. “Yeah.”
“And the most widely-spoken language is Mandarin Chinese. Despite you English-speakers’ attempts at world domination, you don’t even come close. Did you know that there are twice as many Mandarin speakers as there are native English speakers on your planet?”
“Yeah, yeah. An’ I suppose Mandarin’s got a wider vocabulary than English, too?”
“It does, actually.” He grins. “Anyway, that’s where we’re going. Earth. Not China, as it happens. Even though I quite fancy trying out my Mandarin. Been a long time since I’ve had a chance to use it. Wonder how much I’ve forgotten?”
Him, forgotten a language? With or without the TARDIS to help him, she doubts it. But Earth. Interesting. She raises an eyebrow. “Anywhere we’ve been before?”
“Ah-ah.” He wags a finger at her. “Not telling you.”
She sticks her tongue out. He grins, then leans past her to adjust a control. “We’re almost there. I know it’s hard, but try to restrain your curiosity a little longer.”
He won’t let her look at the viewscreen as they materialise, sending her to stand by the rail. And then, when they get to the door, he orders her to close her eyes. As she does, he ties something soft over her eyes.
He’s really taking this surprise thing seriously, it seems. It’s not a problem, though. She trusts him not to let her trip or get hurt. So she stands and waits for him to guide her outside.
The first sensation she feels is warmth. Not heat, but it’s warm. There’s a faint breeze. And the air smells fresh, with a faint hint of vegetation. He’s guiding her with an arm around her shoulders and with directions - turning right here, going down some steps there - and then the ground under her feet is uneven, a little rough.
Finally, though it’s only a minute or so, really, he says, “You can stop now.” He takes one of her hands and places it on what feels like a railing. And then he removes the blindfold.
It’s dark. It takes her eyes a few seconds to adjust. They’re standing by the railing that she’s touching, and she can vaguely make out that they seem to be at the edge of some kind of cliff. Ahead of them, and to the sides - they’re on some sort of promontory - are large grey shapes. She can’t make out what they are.
But then, to her right, she notices fingers of yellow beginning to creep across the grey night sky. It’s coming up to sunrise.
“Where are we?”
She can hear the smile in his voice as he answers. “The Grand Canyon. Powell Point, on the south rim, if you want to be precise. In my not necessarily humble opinion, one of the best places on this planet to see the sun rise. Which should be happening in... ooh, about forty-five minutes.” He turns to her, and in the gradually-increasing light she can see his happy grin.
“And the best thing about seeing it from here?” he continues. “Because it’s so far from the main entrances, we’ll have it practically to ourselves.”
The Grand Canyon. Unbelievable. It’s a place she’s never even imagined she’d get to see in her lifetime. Even with spending her life travelling with a man in a time- and space-machine. “Brilliant!” Almost wanting to jump for joy - not very sensible on this uneven rock - she hugs him instead. He hugs her back, but then takes her by the shoulders and turns her around so she’s facing the early traces of dawn.
“And please note,” he says, his voice very close to her ear, “the excellent job I did of finding us a morning without cloud cover. Nothing to get in the way of the view.”
“Yeah, you’re so impressive,” she tells him.
“Course I am. And you so know it.”
She’d smack him, only he’s right. And he’s taken her here, and it’s amazing.
And so they stand, his arms looped loosely around her waist, as the sky gradually changes colour. Yellow turns to red and the streaks of flame spread out in every direction. In front of them and around them, the grey shapes become jagged rocks and cliffs and chasms shaped by millennia of erosion. Colours appear, vibrant shades of peach and orange, red and brown, as the approaching dawn casts light and shadow on the Canyon.
Slowly, the sun begins to peep over the horizon, a disc of shimmering gold that turns everything around it into shades of gold and bronze and flaming red, as well as colours she can’t even put a name to. Utterly majestic. Awe-inspiring.
“ ‘S beautiful,” she says at last. She’s been silent for so long simply because she was speechless.
She feels the faint brush of his face against her hair. “One of the most beautiful places on Earth, yeah. Course, the setting sun over the pyramids in ancient Egypt has a lot to recommend it, too. And some day I have to take you to see the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Actually,” he continues, the smile she can hear warming his voice just as the sun’s warming the Canyon, “we should make a tour of it. Seven wonders of the ancient world. Seven natural wonders - we can tick this one off the list already. Six wonders of the Parthytic galaxy. Eight wonders of the Corthaic Delta. Yeah? Shall we do that?”
He’s seen them all before, of course. Though she knows the pleasure for him in this kind of trip is in seeing her reaction.
She turns, grinning up at him. “Sounds brilliant!” And she hugs him again. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
He hugs her back, laughter in his eyes. “My pleasure. Absolutely my pleasure.”
One last look around, drinking in the view - and he was right; they’re still alone, sharing this magnificent spectacle with each other - and then they’re walking hand in hand back to the TARDIS.
He pauses, pointing down. There’s a rough, winding, gravelly trail leading down into the depths of the Canyon. “Hiking trail,” he says, sounding fascinated. “See, I told you we should have kept Arthur. We could’ve ridden him all the way down to the bottom. Right to the shores of the Colorado River.”
The river - yeah, she can see it now, winding like a narrow ribbon through the cliffs and rocks way down below. It’s kind of brown - must be a lot of mud and dirt down there.
And Arthur? Oh, right, the horse from eighteenth-century France. “You’re insane! First you make the poor thing jump through a mirror, an’ now you want to ride him down there? He’d break his neck!”
“I’d be careful!” he protests.
“Yeah, right.”
He stares at her, wide-eyed, for several moments before hanging his head, silent acknowledgement that she’s right. “Would’ve been nice,” he says wistfully.
“Come on.” She tugs on his hand, and he comes obediently.
“Forget Babylon for now - I think I’m gonna ask the TARDIS to take us to a dude ranch,” she tells him. “Obviously someone needs to satisfy their horse craving.”
He grins. “Only if you ride too.”
He’s got to be kidding. “I’ve never been on a horse in my life!”
“I know.” His grin grows wider, triumphant.
“Nah. I’m just gonna watch you.”
“Oh, no.” He wags a finger at her. “You can ride with me if you’re too scared to ride alone, but you’re not getting away without trying it.”
Oh, he’s got her there. Admit to being scared? No way. She sighs. “Okay. You win.”
“Brilliant!” He pulls on her hand and breaks into a run. “Just as long as we can find a ranch with a horse called Arthur...”
“You’re not keeping the horse!”
“But he’ll be company for the TARDIS! She gets lonely too, you know.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “She’s got us!”
He squeezes her hand. “Yeah. She does.”
***
This will end, as all before have; the girl called Rose will leave, one way or another, and maybe before he is ready for her to go. And he will mourn, as he has for all the others before her, no matter how they leave him. For his sake, she hopes that he and his Rose have many more moments together. But, even when Rose too is gone, she knows that he will survive. He will cope.
He will continue to travel, he and she together, always running, never stopping, pausing from time to time to gaze in wonder at the marvels of the universe. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others, but always together. And she will always be there for him, never jealous, never demanding, never doubting him. An ever-present comfort and companion, present in his mind as much as she physically surrounds him. His one remaining piece of home, just as he is hers.
Endings and beginnings in a never-ceasing cycle, he and she and all the wonders that are, that will be and that ever have been, the universe theirs to explore, to defend, to protect. Time both ally and enemy, until that too runs out for them both, the last Time Lord, the last TARDIS.
For everything has its time, and everything ends.
END