Fic: Cheating Time, by Gillian Taylor and WMR 1/6?
Story: Cheating Time
Authors:
dark_aegis and
wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, others
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no matter how much we beg, they're still not ours...
Summary: He's saved the universe over and over again. He's lost everything, including his own race. Doesn't the universe owe him something in return?
With thanks and hugs to
nnwest and
aibhinn for their incomparable BRing skillz.
Cheating Time
by WMR & Gillian Taylor
Chapter 1: The Lure of Temptation
She’s there. Just as he remembers, strolling around the market where they bought the bazoolium, admiring the brightly-coloured fabric and jewels. He’s - the earlier him - off rummaging through a spare-parts shop. He told Rose he’d be back in half an hour or so.
As it happened, he was gone almost an hour. Plenty of time.
Not that he’s going to do anything. Certainly not speak to her. Just watch, hiding out of sight. See her, remind himself of her face, her smile, the way she walked. A quick glimpse, then back to the TARDIS and the same old life.
The last of the Time Lords, reduced to a stalker.
They all leave. Curse of the Time Lords, he told Rose once: that people he cares for wither and die, leaving him to live on. It’d be something if he even got to keep them around that long.
Rose, stolen from him by Torchwood and the Void. Martha, left him to go back to her own life - but, really, that was his own fault. Jack, putting his responsibility towards his planet before his own inclinations.
And the Master... In death, he claimed victory. Though it was probably for the best - had he really imagined that the two of them could ever coexist in any kind of accord? Had he actually believed that he could stop the Master trying to take over the universe again and again?
They all leave him, and he’s alone.
Here’s Rose, though, still happy with his younger self, neither of them with any clue as to what lies ahead of them. Oh, he had a premonition - that storm coming he scared both of them with - but by this day they’d both put it out of their minds. They were happy, carefree, on a shopping trip before heading back to London to visit Jackie.
Back to London, summer 2007, where all hell broke loose and he lost Rose. Lost Jackie, too, and had to confront his worst enemy yet again.
Her smile’s bright as she chats to a green-skinned vendor, fingers smoothing over a piece of silk in bright jewel tones that she’s admiring. She’s not going to buy it - he remembers her telling him about it later. Gorgeous colours, luxurious texture, she said, but what would she do with it? And it wasn’t the kind of thing her mum would wear, either.
She’s laughing with the vendor now, and a lump swells in his throat as he watches her. It’s been so long since he’s heard her voice, her laugh. More than two years in linear time, counting the year that never was.
If he gets closer... yes, there’s a group of young women, this planet’s equivalent of teenagers, out for a day’s browsing. They’re standing at the next stall over to Rose, and they make a perfect barrier to hide behind. Even better, they’re not talking much right now, seeming content to point at things and grin.
“Yeah, ‘m not from round here,” she’s saying to the stallholder. “Just passing through, with my friend. We’re travellers.”
Incredible that he’d almost forgotten what her voice sounds like. Yet now it feels as if it’s only yesterday that he heard it last.
She’s looking lovely today. Did her roots the night before this, he remembers: she disappeared into her bathroom for a couple of hours with a new hair-colour she found when they visited the thirty-eighth century. It seemed better than her usual colour, more naturally blonde, she told him. She was so pleased with the result she made him promise to take her back to get more - only they never managed it.
Still wearing too much mascara, of course. That’s one big difference between Rose and Martha: Martha does wear make-up, but it’s subtle, and she knew how to get ready in a hurry, too. Comes of being a medical student, of course - patients won’t wait while she slaps her face on. Rose... well, he always thought she’d grow out of the black-eyed look one of these days, and until then he was happy to accept it as part of her.
“No. ‘S lovely,” he hears her say. “Beautiful. But I can’t.”
“Forty zonecs?” the stallholder offers.
He expects her to laugh and move on. She told him she liked it but didn’t want to buy it. So the look of longing that crosses her face surprises him. “Can’t,” she tells the vendor. “Only got ten zonecs left.”
She pats her pocket with an expression of regret, and begins to move on.
He stares. She really did want it? He’s edging past the teenage shoppers, hand in his pocket, before he realises. What is he doing? He can’t buy it. Can’t give it to her, and he certainly can’t leave it in the TARDIS for her. How would he - the other he - explain it? And anyway, it wasn’t in the TARDIS waiting for them when they came back before, so he didn’t buy it.
Yet he still hands over the forty zonecs, barely taking his eyes off Rose as he does it. It’s a reminder, something she touched; something she wanted. And maybe, one day, if he does manage to do the impossible and get to see her face to face once again, he can give it to her.
Stuffing the tissue-wrapped silk in his pocket, he hurries after her, not yet ready to let her out of his sight. Another few seconds, that’s all, and then he’ll leave.
It’s a memory to savour, a reminder of better days. After the last year - oh, to have a day like this again.
Time to go. One last look, and then -
She’s turning around. Too late to duck out of sight. How the hell’s he going to explain this?
“Doctor!” A delighted grin on her face, she’s running back towards him. “Didn’t think you’d be back this soon. You’re always ages at those scrap-metal places.”
She thinks he’s... Okay. This can work. And this way he gets to spend a few minutes with her, talking to her. That’s far more than he hoped for.
“Oh, they didn’t have anything I wanted.” He grins back at her; it’s so wonderful, so brilliant, to see her and talk to her. Just as long as she doesn’t notice anything wrong, anything different about him. He’s not been the same since she left, has he? And she’d notice.
Just keep smiling, and it’ll be fine. Dare he risk a hug? But they always did hug. A hug will be fine.
He opens his arms, and she runs into them. Just like always, she fits perfectly against him. He’s tempted to lift her off her feet and swing her around, but for an absence of half an hour or so that’d be excessive. She’d definitely notice something wrong if he did that.
Just a quick hug, then, and he holds out his hand to her when they let go. She takes it, just as if they’ve never stopped holding hands. Of course, for her they haven’t.
“You’ve changed your shirt,” she says, a question in her voice. “And your tie. You were wearing a blue shirt earlier.”
Oops. Just as well he’s got the brown suit on. The blue one would be difficult to explain. “Got oil on the blue one. And the tie. Went back to the TARDIS to change before coming to find you.”
“Oh.” She grins impishly. “What’d you do? Knock something over?”
“I’m not that clumsy, Rose Tyler!” he protests; it’s so easy, frighteningly easy, to fall back into this banter with her. It’s as if he’s never been apart from her - and yet he has.
Walking with her now, though, wandering between the stalls, the last two years feel like a nightmare he’s just woken up from. Torchwood and the Daleks. Losing Rose. More Daleks, and Martha making him talk about Gallifrey. Jack, turning up again in all his wrongness, making him confront his own behaviour, the way he just ran away and ignored what had happened to a good man, a friend, a man who was willing to sacrifice his own life for the universe.
And the Master. Of all the Time Lords who could have survived the War, it had to be him.
When he closes his eyes, he can still see the so-called Toclafane, those mutants who were once the last survivors of humankind struggling to survive at the end of the universe. He can smell the Earth burning. See Martha’s family degraded, reduced to servants at the Master’s whim. And watch Jack being tortured and killed over and over for the Master’s entertainment.
He can still smell the flames of the Master’s funeral pyre.
But now he’s got Rose’s hand in his, as she chatters about the things she’s seen at the market and the present she bought for her mum. And it’s so very tempting to pretend, even if it’s just for a few minutes, that everything he’s lived through since this day is nothing more than a nightmare. Rose’s hand is in his, and all’s right with the universe.
He even manages to chat in return, laughing and people-watching together, her shoulder brushing his arm as they stroll. “How about that couple over there?” he asks, pointing and nodding his head in the direction of two people standing together, not touching and barely speaking.
“Married,” she declares. “She’s pissed off because he doesn’t want to be here and keeps asking when they’re leaving.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, disagreeing with her assessment. “They barely know each other. They’re just waiting for the people they came with. What they don’t know is they’ve been abducted by aliens.”
It’s an old game, played more for the fun of the histories they can invent for the people around them than because they’re really trying to get it right. And it’s so very easy to slip back into that routine with her - just as if they were never apart.
“So, we going, then?” She’s looking up at him expectantly, and his hearts skip a beat.
How can he not have thought this far ahead? Of course she thinks he’s the version of him that she’s travelling with. Telling her the truth would be tricky, even if she does understand timelines and the danger of knowing her own future so she should - should - avoid asking questions. If he makes an excuse, tells her there’s something he’s forgotten to do, then it’s all going to come out as soon as she sees the other him.
He could find the other him and sort things out that way - but that’s dangerous, too. The him that’s with her now may be aware that he’ll lose her some time, but it’s incredibly, incredibly dangerous to risk him finding out any of the details.
“Well...” he begins, stalling, hand tugging at his ear.
She pulls a face. “Need to use the loo. And I’m not using the ones here!”
There’s no problem with walking with her to the TARDIS, is there? Easy enough to leave her there, make his escape while she’s in the bathroom. And then... well, she or the earlier him will guess at the truth, but it can’t be helped. This is a meeting that shouldn’t have happened, but it has, and the consequences will just have to be dealt with.
He’s leading her towards the far side of the market, where he remembers parking the TARDIS the first time, when she breaks away from him suddenly, running to the left. Staring after her, he recognises the flash of blue.
Damn.
His TARDIS, the one he arrived in. Why didn’t he park it further away from the market? At the very least, he should have been more aware of his surroundings.
Rose is already inside the TARDIS when he gets there. She glances back and grins sheepishly as he follows her. “See you moved the TARDIS. Back in a minute. Bit desperate.” She disappears through the door into the rest of the ship.
Now what?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Now he’s going to have to tell her the truth, get her out of his ship and send her back to the him she’s travelling with - all without letting her know how soon their separation is coming.
Slowly, he walks to the console, drumming his fingers on the panel once he’s there.
Does he have to tell her yet? Can’t he have a bit more time with her first, a few more minutes to indulge the fantasy that he never lost her? He could take her away with him, maybe. A quick trip somewhere, a bit of adventure and running, and then bring her back here a few minutes after they left? She’ll still go back to the other him, no harm done.
No. There are just so many reasons why that’s impossible, and nobody knows that better than he does. But it’s not fair; it’s so damn not fair. Martha’s got her family and that doctor she just oh-so-casually happened to mention in her last phone call. Jack’s got his team. Sarah-Jane’s got the kids she’s looking after. Rose - the Rose he lost - has her family, and Mickey. Everyone’s got someone, but he’s left alone.
He has to let her go. Anything else isn’t an option.
Closing his eyes, he swallows and prepares to explain why she has to leave. She’s coming now; he can hear her footsteps in the corridor. A couple of seconds later, she pushes open the door.
“Rose - ”
“Sorry.” She’s still looking a bit embarrassed, despite her grin. “Couldn’t wait.”
“That’s okay.” He smiles at her, because he can’t help it; she could always make him smile, particularly in this regeneration, and being with her again’s like a dream come true.
“So, where next? Can we go an’ see my mum now? It’s been a few months and you know she’ll be worrying.”
“Rose,” he begins again. What to tell her? I’m not your Doctor. I’m from a few years in my future, from a time when you’re not with me any more. Right. And she won’t have a whole list of questions from that, will she? You’ve got to leave. I can’t explain why. Just go. Yeah. And Rose was so good at obeying instructions without question.
He glances down, and realises that his fingers have been setting coordinates, without him even being aware of it. This has to stop, now. She’s got to leave.
But would it really be so bad if...?
He shakes his head. This ends here. It was a mistake, from start to finish. He never should have come here - seeing her again, talking to her, holding her hand, just makes it all the more painful when he has to say goodbye again. Which is what’s going to happen now.
“I’m sorry, Rose,” he begins quietly. “This was wrong. It shouldn’t be happening.”
“What shouldn’t?” she asks, coming to join him by the console. As she always did, she links her hand through his arm, leaning into him. Her presence is so familiar it hurts.
“This -” he begins, and then breaks off. Turning to look down at her, he smiles. His Rose. The two of them, invincible, inseparable, travelling through time and space together. No, the last two years never happened. They can be wiped out right now, just like that, with one touch of a lever.
With his free hand, he flips the dematerialisation switch.
***
Something's wrong. She's been around him long enough to see the signs. There's the way that he keeps running his hand through his hair, as though he's fighting against himself. There's the clenching and unclenching of his jaw whenever he's not looking at her. And, when he is looking at her, she thinks she can see desperation and something almost like longing in his gaze.
Then again, she feels it too. There's something telling here that this can't last, much as she wants it to. There's a storm coming, just like he said, and she knows what that means. She's going to die.
The Valiant Child who will die in battle so very soon.
A shiver runs down her spine as she releases his arm, moving to settle into the chair as he putters around the console. Is it any wonder that he's a bit desperate? She's seen what he's capable of when she's in danger. Hell, she knows what she's capable of when he's the one in danger.
They're a matched set, aren't they? Desperate to hang on to each other, when the universe itself seems to be dead-set on tearing them apart. She stifles laughter as she leans back into the chair, letting the soothing hum…
Not so soothing, actually. She blinks as a discordant note enters the normal background noise of the TARDIS. "Doctor?" she asks as that note deepens. It's almost a warning.
She thinks the Doctor is muttering something like 'not now, old girl' when he hits the controls with his soft rubber mallet. "Oh, it's nothing, Rose. The old girl's just got -" He hits another part of the console with the mallet. "- a bit of indigestion in the neutron polarisation circuit." Another hit and the hum smoothes to its usual tones.
She rather thinks that's a lie, but she doesn't call him on it. Rose knows exactly what he'll say if she even so much as suggests he's lying. Something about his always being 'all right' tossed in with a 'nothing's wrong' at the very least.
"So where are we going?" she asks.
The Doctor looks almost guilty for a moment before the expression is erased with his usual grin. "I was thinking Barcelona. We never got there, did we? Never saw it before…" He clears his throat. "Right. Barcelona! Oh, and before I forget, this is for you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls free a tissue-wrapped package and hands it to her.
Confused, she unwraps it and finds the silk scarf that she had been admiring in the market. "You bought this for me?" she asks, astounded. He's never done that before. Well, he's given her things before, yeah, but this feels different. Special, almost.
"Well, um, yeah," the Doctor replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Remembered you probably didn't have enough zonecs. Least I could do, really. And is that what you're wearing? Can't have that. Barcelona'd be scandalised. There's something in the wardrobe that'd be perfect."
She looks at her clothes and shrugs, willing to play along. If he thinks she needs to get changed, so be it. "All right," she says. As she stands, she catches his arm with her hand as he moves past her, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Doctor."
He pauses and gives her a warm smile. "You're welcome."
"After Barcelona, can we visit my Mum? Got somethin' at the market that I want to give her an' it's been a few months since our last visit. You know how she worries."
Wait. Is that panic in his eyes? She hasn't seen him panic over a visit with her mum in a long time. It's gone before she can be certain that the panic wasn't something she'd imagined. "Oh, Jackie's fine, I'm sure. Haven't you called her lately?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not the same," she replies. "Doctor, is-?"
He cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "Okay. We'll see Jackie after we visit Barcelona."
Feeling uneasy with his answer, but unsure of the reason, she simply tells him, "Thanks." With one last squeeze, she heads for the wardrobe, leaving him behind to do whatever it is he does while he waits for her.
She trails her hand along the walls as she walks down the familiar corridors of her home. The surrounding hum deepens with the contact and she smiles, feeling as though the TARDIS is saying 'hello'. However, there's still a hint of that discordant note in the hum, though it isn't as strong as it was in the console room. "What's wrong?" she asks, but the TARDIS doesn't answer. She gets the impression that the TARDIS isn't happy about something, something that is and isn't related to her.
With that disturbing thought in the forefront of her mind, she walks into the wardrobe and begins searching for something appropriate for Barcelona - the planet, not the city. She finds that the TARDIS has set something out for her in plain view - an outfit that looks like it's more suited for a trip to the desert than a planet that has dogs with no noses. The soft linen feels light and airy enough for a hot environment and the hat is something she'd more expect to see in one of the Indiana Jones movies.
As she dresses, she considers the strange behaviour of both the TARDIS and the Doctor. She can explain away one, but not the other. What if something's wrong with the TARDIS? She doesn't think 'indigestion' can explain away what she's sensed. But what does she know?
Yes, she's close to the TARDIS - closer than ever before. But this is just a little over the top, even for her. How can she possibly know what the TARDIS is feeling? That's usually reserved for the Doctor.
She'll talk to the Doctor; bring up what she's 'sensed'. It's not like he'll laugh at her. She might feel foolish bringing it up, but she's learned that it's far better to be safe rather than sorry.
When she finally returns to the console room, the Doctor is bracing himself against the console. The lighting seems darker for some reason and it's casting strange shadows on his face. It makes him look far older than he's ever looked before. She's used to seeing this face smiling and laughing, bouncing through life as best he can. It was the old him, her first Doctor, that was the dark and brooding type.
There's something in his expression that makes her heart go out to him, even as it causes her heart to beat a little bit faster. He looks like he's in pain, an almost physical anguish. It's almost as though his hands on the console are the only things that are keeping him upright.
He shakes his head sharply and she notices that he's talking to himself, but she's too far away to hear. It's like he's fighting with himself and that worries her.
"Doctor?" she calls.
At the sound of her voice, it's as if a miraculous transformation comes over the Doctor. He stands up straighter, the darkness around him seems to dissipate, and he welcomes her with a wide smile. She'd almost think that he was never hurting and that everything was fine if she hadn't seen him a few moments earlier. "Rose! Brilliant. I was just about to go and look for you."
"Is everything okay?" she asks, willing him to tell her the truth.
For a second, panic flickers in his gaze. "Fine. Everything's just peachy keen. Why? Is something wrong? Are you all right? Blimey, I should've asked if you were ready to go out again after the market. Are you tired? We don't have to go right now. We can wait until after you've slept. Not like it's going anywhere. Time machine, after all."
"Yes. No. I mean, I'm fine. I was jus' wondering if you were all right. You just seem to be a bit…" Her voice trails off as she searches for the appropriate word.
"What?"
"Distracted," she finally says, though that doesn't fit either.
"Nope! I'm brilliant. Well, you know I'm brilliant. Fantastic, too. Smaller ears make a difference, y'know. So do the trainers. The trainers are an important part of my brilliance." The Doctor grins at her so disarmingly that she feels herself give in.
"You're so full of it," she replies, laughing.
"And you love it," he counters and stops moving, panic filling his features as he looks at her.
She takes pity on him and lets it slip by without comment, instead nodding towards the doors. "So?"
"Ready to meet dogs with no noses?" the Doctor asks, holding out his 'fighting hand' and wiggling his fingers.
She slips her hand into his, entwining their fingers, and nods. "Definitely."
She'll ask him about the TARDIS later. It's probably nothing. With that thought in mind, she walks with him out into a new world.
***
tbc
Authors:
dark_aegis and
wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, others
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no matter how much we beg, they're still not ours...
Summary: He's saved the universe over and over again. He's lost everything, including his own race. Doesn't the universe owe him something in return?
With thanks and hugs to
nnwest and
aibhinn for their incomparable BRing skillz.
Cheating Time
by WMR & Gillian Taylor
Chapter 1: The Lure of Temptation
She’s there. Just as he remembers, strolling around the market where they bought the bazoolium, admiring the brightly-coloured fabric and jewels. He’s - the earlier him - off rummaging through a spare-parts shop. He told Rose he’d be back in half an hour or so.
As it happened, he was gone almost an hour. Plenty of time.
Not that he’s going to do anything. Certainly not speak to her. Just watch, hiding out of sight. See her, remind himself of her face, her smile, the way she walked. A quick glimpse, then back to the TARDIS and the same old life.
The last of the Time Lords, reduced to a stalker.
They all leave. Curse of the Time Lords, he told Rose once: that people he cares for wither and die, leaving him to live on. It’d be something if he even got to keep them around that long.
Rose, stolen from him by Torchwood and the Void. Martha, left him to go back to her own life - but, really, that was his own fault. Jack, putting his responsibility towards his planet before his own inclinations.
And the Master... In death, he claimed victory. Though it was probably for the best - had he really imagined that the two of them could ever coexist in any kind of accord? Had he actually believed that he could stop the Master trying to take over the universe again and again?
They all leave him, and he’s alone.
Here’s Rose, though, still happy with his younger self, neither of them with any clue as to what lies ahead of them. Oh, he had a premonition - that storm coming he scared both of them with - but by this day they’d both put it out of their minds. They were happy, carefree, on a shopping trip before heading back to London to visit Jackie.
Back to London, summer 2007, where all hell broke loose and he lost Rose. Lost Jackie, too, and had to confront his worst enemy yet again.
Her smile’s bright as she chats to a green-skinned vendor, fingers smoothing over a piece of silk in bright jewel tones that she’s admiring. She’s not going to buy it - he remembers her telling him about it later. Gorgeous colours, luxurious texture, she said, but what would she do with it? And it wasn’t the kind of thing her mum would wear, either.
She’s laughing with the vendor now, and a lump swells in his throat as he watches her. It’s been so long since he’s heard her voice, her laugh. More than two years in linear time, counting the year that never was.
If he gets closer... yes, there’s a group of young women, this planet’s equivalent of teenagers, out for a day’s browsing. They’re standing at the next stall over to Rose, and they make a perfect barrier to hide behind. Even better, they’re not talking much right now, seeming content to point at things and grin.
“Yeah, ‘m not from round here,” she’s saying to the stallholder. “Just passing through, with my friend. We’re travellers.”
Incredible that he’d almost forgotten what her voice sounds like. Yet now it feels as if it’s only yesterday that he heard it last.
She’s looking lovely today. Did her roots the night before this, he remembers: she disappeared into her bathroom for a couple of hours with a new hair-colour she found when they visited the thirty-eighth century. It seemed better than her usual colour, more naturally blonde, she told him. She was so pleased with the result she made him promise to take her back to get more - only they never managed it.
Still wearing too much mascara, of course. That’s one big difference between Rose and Martha: Martha does wear make-up, but it’s subtle, and she knew how to get ready in a hurry, too. Comes of being a medical student, of course - patients won’t wait while she slaps her face on. Rose... well, he always thought she’d grow out of the black-eyed look one of these days, and until then he was happy to accept it as part of her.
“No. ‘S lovely,” he hears her say. “Beautiful. But I can’t.”
“Forty zonecs?” the stallholder offers.
He expects her to laugh and move on. She told him she liked it but didn’t want to buy it. So the look of longing that crosses her face surprises him. “Can’t,” she tells the vendor. “Only got ten zonecs left.”
She pats her pocket with an expression of regret, and begins to move on.
He stares. She really did want it? He’s edging past the teenage shoppers, hand in his pocket, before he realises. What is he doing? He can’t buy it. Can’t give it to her, and he certainly can’t leave it in the TARDIS for her. How would he - the other he - explain it? And anyway, it wasn’t in the TARDIS waiting for them when they came back before, so he didn’t buy it.
Yet he still hands over the forty zonecs, barely taking his eyes off Rose as he does it. It’s a reminder, something she touched; something she wanted. And maybe, one day, if he does manage to do the impossible and get to see her face to face once again, he can give it to her.
Stuffing the tissue-wrapped silk in his pocket, he hurries after her, not yet ready to let her out of his sight. Another few seconds, that’s all, and then he’ll leave.
It’s a memory to savour, a reminder of better days. After the last year - oh, to have a day like this again.
Time to go. One last look, and then -
She’s turning around. Too late to duck out of sight. How the hell’s he going to explain this?
“Doctor!” A delighted grin on her face, she’s running back towards him. “Didn’t think you’d be back this soon. You’re always ages at those scrap-metal places.”
She thinks he’s... Okay. This can work. And this way he gets to spend a few minutes with her, talking to her. That’s far more than he hoped for.
“Oh, they didn’t have anything I wanted.” He grins back at her; it’s so wonderful, so brilliant, to see her and talk to her. Just as long as she doesn’t notice anything wrong, anything different about him. He’s not been the same since she left, has he? And she’d notice.
Just keep smiling, and it’ll be fine. Dare he risk a hug? But they always did hug. A hug will be fine.
He opens his arms, and she runs into them. Just like always, she fits perfectly against him. He’s tempted to lift her off her feet and swing her around, but for an absence of half an hour or so that’d be excessive. She’d definitely notice something wrong if he did that.
Just a quick hug, then, and he holds out his hand to her when they let go. She takes it, just as if they’ve never stopped holding hands. Of course, for her they haven’t.
“You’ve changed your shirt,” she says, a question in her voice. “And your tie. You were wearing a blue shirt earlier.”
Oops. Just as well he’s got the brown suit on. The blue one would be difficult to explain. “Got oil on the blue one. And the tie. Went back to the TARDIS to change before coming to find you.”
“Oh.” She grins impishly. “What’d you do? Knock something over?”
“I’m not that clumsy, Rose Tyler!” he protests; it’s so easy, frighteningly easy, to fall back into this banter with her. It’s as if he’s never been apart from her - and yet he has.
Walking with her now, though, wandering between the stalls, the last two years feel like a nightmare he’s just woken up from. Torchwood and the Daleks. Losing Rose. More Daleks, and Martha making him talk about Gallifrey. Jack, turning up again in all his wrongness, making him confront his own behaviour, the way he just ran away and ignored what had happened to a good man, a friend, a man who was willing to sacrifice his own life for the universe.
And the Master. Of all the Time Lords who could have survived the War, it had to be him.
When he closes his eyes, he can still see the so-called Toclafane, those mutants who were once the last survivors of humankind struggling to survive at the end of the universe. He can smell the Earth burning. See Martha’s family degraded, reduced to servants at the Master’s whim. And watch Jack being tortured and killed over and over for the Master’s entertainment.
He can still smell the flames of the Master’s funeral pyre.
But now he’s got Rose’s hand in his, as she chatters about the things she’s seen at the market and the present she bought for her mum. And it’s so very tempting to pretend, even if it’s just for a few minutes, that everything he’s lived through since this day is nothing more than a nightmare. Rose’s hand is in his, and all’s right with the universe.
He even manages to chat in return, laughing and people-watching together, her shoulder brushing his arm as they stroll. “How about that couple over there?” he asks, pointing and nodding his head in the direction of two people standing together, not touching and barely speaking.
“Married,” she declares. “She’s pissed off because he doesn’t want to be here and keeps asking when they’re leaving.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, disagreeing with her assessment. “They barely know each other. They’re just waiting for the people they came with. What they don’t know is they’ve been abducted by aliens.”
It’s an old game, played more for the fun of the histories they can invent for the people around them than because they’re really trying to get it right. And it’s so very easy to slip back into that routine with her - just as if they were never apart.
“So, we going, then?” She’s looking up at him expectantly, and his hearts skip a beat.
How can he not have thought this far ahead? Of course she thinks he’s the version of him that she’s travelling with. Telling her the truth would be tricky, even if she does understand timelines and the danger of knowing her own future so she should - should - avoid asking questions. If he makes an excuse, tells her there’s something he’s forgotten to do, then it’s all going to come out as soon as she sees the other him.
He could find the other him and sort things out that way - but that’s dangerous, too. The him that’s with her now may be aware that he’ll lose her some time, but it’s incredibly, incredibly dangerous to risk him finding out any of the details.
“Well...” he begins, stalling, hand tugging at his ear.
She pulls a face. “Need to use the loo. And I’m not using the ones here!”
There’s no problem with walking with her to the TARDIS, is there? Easy enough to leave her there, make his escape while she’s in the bathroom. And then... well, she or the earlier him will guess at the truth, but it can’t be helped. This is a meeting that shouldn’t have happened, but it has, and the consequences will just have to be dealt with.
He’s leading her towards the far side of the market, where he remembers parking the TARDIS the first time, when she breaks away from him suddenly, running to the left. Staring after her, he recognises the flash of blue.
Damn.
His TARDIS, the one he arrived in. Why didn’t he park it further away from the market? At the very least, he should have been more aware of his surroundings.
Rose is already inside the TARDIS when he gets there. She glances back and grins sheepishly as he follows her. “See you moved the TARDIS. Back in a minute. Bit desperate.” She disappears through the door into the rest of the ship.
Now what?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Now he’s going to have to tell her the truth, get her out of his ship and send her back to the him she’s travelling with - all without letting her know how soon their separation is coming.
Slowly, he walks to the console, drumming his fingers on the panel once he’s there.
Does he have to tell her yet? Can’t he have a bit more time with her first, a few more minutes to indulge the fantasy that he never lost her? He could take her away with him, maybe. A quick trip somewhere, a bit of adventure and running, and then bring her back here a few minutes after they left? She’ll still go back to the other him, no harm done.
No. There are just so many reasons why that’s impossible, and nobody knows that better than he does. But it’s not fair; it’s so damn not fair. Martha’s got her family and that doctor she just oh-so-casually happened to mention in her last phone call. Jack’s got his team. Sarah-Jane’s got the kids she’s looking after. Rose - the Rose he lost - has her family, and Mickey. Everyone’s got someone, but he’s left alone.
He has to let her go. Anything else isn’t an option.
Closing his eyes, he swallows and prepares to explain why she has to leave. She’s coming now; he can hear her footsteps in the corridor. A couple of seconds later, she pushes open the door.
“Rose - ”
“Sorry.” She’s still looking a bit embarrassed, despite her grin. “Couldn’t wait.”
“That’s okay.” He smiles at her, because he can’t help it; she could always make him smile, particularly in this regeneration, and being with her again’s like a dream come true.
“So, where next? Can we go an’ see my mum now? It’s been a few months and you know she’ll be worrying.”
“Rose,” he begins again. What to tell her? I’m not your Doctor. I’m from a few years in my future, from a time when you’re not with me any more. Right. And she won’t have a whole list of questions from that, will she? You’ve got to leave. I can’t explain why. Just go. Yeah. And Rose was so good at obeying instructions without question.
He glances down, and realises that his fingers have been setting coordinates, without him even being aware of it. This has to stop, now. She’s got to leave.
But would it really be so bad if...?
He shakes his head. This ends here. It was a mistake, from start to finish. He never should have come here - seeing her again, talking to her, holding her hand, just makes it all the more painful when he has to say goodbye again. Which is what’s going to happen now.
“I’m sorry, Rose,” he begins quietly. “This was wrong. It shouldn’t be happening.”
“What shouldn’t?” she asks, coming to join him by the console. As she always did, she links her hand through his arm, leaning into him. Her presence is so familiar it hurts.
“This -” he begins, and then breaks off. Turning to look down at her, he smiles. His Rose. The two of them, invincible, inseparable, travelling through time and space together. No, the last two years never happened. They can be wiped out right now, just like that, with one touch of a lever.
With his free hand, he flips the dematerialisation switch.
***
Something's wrong. She's been around him long enough to see the signs. There's the way that he keeps running his hand through his hair, as though he's fighting against himself. There's the clenching and unclenching of his jaw whenever he's not looking at her. And, when he is looking at her, she thinks she can see desperation and something almost like longing in his gaze.
Then again, she feels it too. There's something telling here that this can't last, much as she wants it to. There's a storm coming, just like he said, and she knows what that means. She's going to die.
The Valiant Child who will die in battle so very soon.
A shiver runs down her spine as she releases his arm, moving to settle into the chair as he putters around the console. Is it any wonder that he's a bit desperate? She's seen what he's capable of when she's in danger. Hell, she knows what she's capable of when he's the one in danger.
They're a matched set, aren't they? Desperate to hang on to each other, when the universe itself seems to be dead-set on tearing them apart. She stifles laughter as she leans back into the chair, letting the soothing hum…
Not so soothing, actually. She blinks as a discordant note enters the normal background noise of the TARDIS. "Doctor?" she asks as that note deepens. It's almost a warning.
She thinks the Doctor is muttering something like 'not now, old girl' when he hits the controls with his soft rubber mallet. "Oh, it's nothing, Rose. The old girl's just got -" He hits another part of the console with the mallet. "- a bit of indigestion in the neutron polarisation circuit." Another hit and the hum smoothes to its usual tones.
She rather thinks that's a lie, but she doesn't call him on it. Rose knows exactly what he'll say if she even so much as suggests he's lying. Something about his always being 'all right' tossed in with a 'nothing's wrong' at the very least.
"So where are we going?" she asks.
The Doctor looks almost guilty for a moment before the expression is erased with his usual grin. "I was thinking Barcelona. We never got there, did we? Never saw it before…" He clears his throat. "Right. Barcelona! Oh, and before I forget, this is for you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls free a tissue-wrapped package and hands it to her.
Confused, she unwraps it and finds the silk scarf that she had been admiring in the market. "You bought this for me?" she asks, astounded. He's never done that before. Well, he's given her things before, yeah, but this feels different. Special, almost.
"Well, um, yeah," the Doctor replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Remembered you probably didn't have enough zonecs. Least I could do, really. And is that what you're wearing? Can't have that. Barcelona'd be scandalised. There's something in the wardrobe that'd be perfect."
She looks at her clothes and shrugs, willing to play along. If he thinks she needs to get changed, so be it. "All right," she says. As she stands, she catches his arm with her hand as he moves past her, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Doctor."
He pauses and gives her a warm smile. "You're welcome."
"After Barcelona, can we visit my Mum? Got somethin' at the market that I want to give her an' it's been a few months since our last visit. You know how she worries."
Wait. Is that panic in his eyes? She hasn't seen him panic over a visit with her mum in a long time. It's gone before she can be certain that the panic wasn't something she'd imagined. "Oh, Jackie's fine, I'm sure. Haven't you called her lately?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not the same," she replies. "Doctor, is-?"
He cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "Okay. We'll see Jackie after we visit Barcelona."
Feeling uneasy with his answer, but unsure of the reason, she simply tells him, "Thanks." With one last squeeze, she heads for the wardrobe, leaving him behind to do whatever it is he does while he waits for her.
She trails her hand along the walls as she walks down the familiar corridors of her home. The surrounding hum deepens with the contact and she smiles, feeling as though the TARDIS is saying 'hello'. However, there's still a hint of that discordant note in the hum, though it isn't as strong as it was in the console room. "What's wrong?" she asks, but the TARDIS doesn't answer. She gets the impression that the TARDIS isn't happy about something, something that is and isn't related to her.
With that disturbing thought in the forefront of her mind, she walks into the wardrobe and begins searching for something appropriate for Barcelona - the planet, not the city. She finds that the TARDIS has set something out for her in plain view - an outfit that looks like it's more suited for a trip to the desert than a planet that has dogs with no noses. The soft linen feels light and airy enough for a hot environment and the hat is something she'd more expect to see in one of the Indiana Jones movies.
As she dresses, she considers the strange behaviour of both the TARDIS and the Doctor. She can explain away one, but not the other. What if something's wrong with the TARDIS? She doesn't think 'indigestion' can explain away what she's sensed. But what does she know?
Yes, she's close to the TARDIS - closer than ever before. But this is just a little over the top, even for her. How can she possibly know what the TARDIS is feeling? That's usually reserved for the Doctor.
She'll talk to the Doctor; bring up what she's 'sensed'. It's not like he'll laugh at her. She might feel foolish bringing it up, but she's learned that it's far better to be safe rather than sorry.
When she finally returns to the console room, the Doctor is bracing himself against the console. The lighting seems darker for some reason and it's casting strange shadows on his face. It makes him look far older than he's ever looked before. She's used to seeing this face smiling and laughing, bouncing through life as best he can. It was the old him, her first Doctor, that was the dark and brooding type.
There's something in his expression that makes her heart go out to him, even as it causes her heart to beat a little bit faster. He looks like he's in pain, an almost physical anguish. It's almost as though his hands on the console are the only things that are keeping him upright.
He shakes his head sharply and she notices that he's talking to himself, but she's too far away to hear. It's like he's fighting with himself and that worries her.
"Doctor?" she calls.
At the sound of her voice, it's as if a miraculous transformation comes over the Doctor. He stands up straighter, the darkness around him seems to dissipate, and he welcomes her with a wide smile. She'd almost think that he was never hurting and that everything was fine if she hadn't seen him a few moments earlier. "Rose! Brilliant. I was just about to go and look for you."
"Is everything okay?" she asks, willing him to tell her the truth.
For a second, panic flickers in his gaze. "Fine. Everything's just peachy keen. Why? Is something wrong? Are you all right? Blimey, I should've asked if you were ready to go out again after the market. Are you tired? We don't have to go right now. We can wait until after you've slept. Not like it's going anywhere. Time machine, after all."
"Yes. No. I mean, I'm fine. I was jus' wondering if you were all right. You just seem to be a bit…" Her voice trails off as she searches for the appropriate word.
"What?"
"Distracted," she finally says, though that doesn't fit either.
"Nope! I'm brilliant. Well, you know I'm brilliant. Fantastic, too. Smaller ears make a difference, y'know. So do the trainers. The trainers are an important part of my brilliance." The Doctor grins at her so disarmingly that she feels herself give in.
"You're so full of it," she replies, laughing.
"And you love it," he counters and stops moving, panic filling his features as he looks at her.
She takes pity on him and lets it slip by without comment, instead nodding towards the doors. "So?"
"Ready to meet dogs with no noses?" the Doctor asks, holding out his 'fighting hand' and wiggling his fingers.
She slips her hand into his, entwining their fingers, and nods. "Definitely."
She'll ask him about the TARDIS later. It's probably nothing. With that thought in mind, she walks with him out into a new world.
***
tbc