Discordant -- Story 1 of the Blind and Bound series (11/13)
Title: Discordant -- Story 1 of the Blind and Bound series (11/13)
Author: sinecure - My master fic list
Character/Pairing: Rose, Pete, Mickey, Jackie
Rating: Adult
Genre: AU, Action/adventure, mystery, drama, angst, romance
Summary: Rose Tyler traveled through universes to get back to the Doctor. What did she see in those universes, and how did they affect her?
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Thanks: to momdaegmorgan for the beta, and the prompt, and the constant inspiration to finish this thing.
- Prologue, - Chapter 1, - Chapter 2, - Chapter 3, - Chapter 4
- Chapter 5, - Chapter 6, - Chapter 7, - Chapter 8, - Chapter 9
Readying herself for her jump the next day, Rose cautiously observed everyone and everything around her. Pete had called her early that morning, telling her to come in for her jump as usual, that he'd been able to hold Santiago off for at least another day, but he wasn't sure just how much longer he'd be able to do so.
This could very well be her last jump. And she intended to make the most of it. She'd call the Doctor, and-- clicking the fasteners on her flak jacket, she glanced up when she heard footsteps, startled to see Ryan approaching her.
He stopped in front of her and stuck his hands in his pockets, peering at her through his dark-framed glasses. "Rose."
Returning her eyes to her flak jacket, she un-clicked and clicked the straps again. "Hey."
"I haven't seen you since the other night," he muttered, leaning closer with his upper body. "Doin' all right?"
The other night? When had she seen him the other night? Wracking her brain for what he could possibly be talking about, she came up blank. He'd been acting odd lately though. Just the other day he'd got all flustered when Duane asked him where he'd been the night before.
Maybe he had a new girlfriend.
Feeling the urge to chuckle, to just flat out laugh out loud, she fought her smile and turned to him, shoving her stun gun into its designated pouch. "Yeah. Fine. Thank you, Ryan. I'll see you later, yeah?" Heading over to Ari, she took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as she approached. "I'm sorry," she said right away, frowning down at the floor for a second before forcing herself to look him in the eye.
Ari observed her for a few seconds, then broke into a smile. "No apologies necessary, Rose." His eyes slipped past her to Ryan as he went back to the computers, then crossed the room to Pete's office. "You were attacked in there. I'm sorry I wasn't able to back you up. For the record, I believe you completely."
Breathing a sigh of relief, feeling some of the weight sloughing off her shoulders, she cleared her throat and positioned herself for their jump. "Thank you, Ari. Santiago is-- I just, I feel like he's got it in for me, and I can't figure out why. What I did to him."
He pooh-poohed her words away with a wave of his hand, scoffing at the idea. "Santiago is a good doctor, but I see it too. He's got you in his sights, and he won't stop until he either sees this fog himself, or the Doctor lands his little green box--"
"Blue," she corrected with a grin, nudging him with her arm.
"Right. Blue box. Right there," he told her, pointing toward the corner of the lobby, where a large, fake potted plant sat. "Can't wait to see that."
She snickered, picturing the plant being surrounded by the TARDIS and the Doctor staring at it in confusion. He'd leave it there too, she knew. Just leave it there and it'd become one of those things, like the coat rack. Well, he called it a hat rack. Sometimes a scarf rack.
"Ready?" Ryan called out.
Looking over to him, she saw his eyes quickly dart away from hers and down to his monitor. There was an awkward feeling spreading between them. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it was definitely making things weird. "Yeah."
"Yep." Ari occupied himself with his own flak jacket, checking his equipment, pulling things free, and shoving them back in.
"You're good to go," Ryan told them, tapping rapidly on his computer, paying no more attention to them.
Rose pulled her jumper free and looked to Ari quickly before pressing it. There was the familiar pulling, tugging, and displacement, then she was surrounded by bright sunlight. Glancing around, she took in everything in a single glance and knew right away that this wasn't her universe. The buildings were different, shorter, more like adobe huts than London flats. There wasn't a blade of grass, a single tree, anything living.
A red tinge covered everything, all the houses, the buildings, the cars, even her and Ari. Squinting into the sun, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. It was actually sort of pretty here.
Ari staggered beside her, holding his arm up to block out the light. "Bloody hell that's bright! And hot."
Rose chuckled and shrugged, turning around slowly for a more leisurely look. "I don't know, I kind of like it here. It's soothing."
"I take back what I said earlier, Rose. You're extremely mental." Shoving his sunglasses onto his face, he looked around and held up his jumper. "Let's get out of here."
"Gimme a second to call the Doctor." Pulling her phone free, she flipped it open and checked for reception. There wasn't any, but she hit send anyway, calling the TARDIS. Static.
A sense of urgency went through her and she hung up and dialed again. This could be her last chance ever.
She tried again. Still nothing.
Grunting in disappointment, she shoved her mobile back into her pocket. Feeling the sense of urgency kick up another notch, she shook herself. What was wrong with her?
Ari stumbled to the side, ducking down behind a car with a modicum of shade. She frowned at him, not quite sure why he was acting like it was a thousand degrees out.
"Oi, old man," she taunted. "When'd you get so sun-shy?" Spinning around with her arms spread wide, she laughed at the warmth tickling her skin. "It's nice out here!"
He turned, still hunkered down, gaping at her. "Rose, get out of the sun."
Blinking at him, surprised by the serious tone of his voice, she frowned. His face was red, sunburnt, starting to blister. And he didn't look too good. Seemed to be having trouble breathing as well.
"Ari?" She quickly crossed to him and knelt down. Holding her hand to his forehead, she pulled back at the heat radiating off his skin. "You need to get out of here." Glancing back up at the sun, she squinted behind her glasses and pulled her jumper free. Turning back to him, she saw that he'd sat down on the street and there was smoke coming up from where his hand was resting. "Let's go," she urged him.
He heaved a ragged breath and reached for his jumper, but his hand dropped uselessly to his lap before he even touched it. "Can't breathe," he gasped.
Shoving his arm aside, feeling that panic surface in her again, she dug into his jacket pocket and found the jumper. Pressing it into his hand, she depressed the button on his and pressed her own at the same time, catching, just out of the corner of her eye, a familiar, silver insignia on the car in front of them as it faded from view; a wolf.
Falling, swirling, being yanked and pulled apart, then she was on the marble floor, holding Ari.
Dropping her jumper, she grabbed him as he slipped to the floor, catching himself with his un-burnt hand. "I'm good," he told her, pushing into a sitting position. He breathed in a few times, deeper each time until he was finally breathing normally. But his face was still a bright shade of red, and his hands and neck were as well. Pulling his sunglasses off, he blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the change in lighting.
She removed hers as well, feeling something wrong. Something completely off. Standing up, she glanced around the lobby, feeling something burning inside her, feeling that urgency again. Something was happening.
Duane and Pete rushed over to Ari, and Rose backed away.
"What happened?" Pete asked, dropping beside Ari, holding his burnt hand up for inspection. Tia and Ryan were peering past the computers, watching them as Duane helped Ari up. "Severe burns, and sunburn," he mumbled, turning his attention to Rose.
She backed away a few more steps, hearing her pulse pounding in her ears and feeling her palms becoming damp with sweat. Eyes darting around the room, she searched for one man in particular, knowing he was coming.
"You're not sunburnt," Pete said in disbelief. "The readings were off the charts. What happened to--"
"Santiago." She stared at Pete, unable to believe he'd betrayed her.
Pete shook his head as Duane helped Ari toward the infirmary. "He's not here, Rose. Dr. Bilson is on duty. Santiago isn't--"
"Here," she said angrily and slammed her hand down on her jumper.
Tapping a few final keys, Ryan straightened up from his computer with a sad smile.
"What'd you do?" Tia hissed, eyes darting from him to his computer, then over to the jump area. Footsteps sounded distantly as Ryan sighed and sat down, pushing his hands through his hair.
"Put in new coordinates," he said simply, straightening his glasses. "Giving her one more chance."
A moment later, Santiago walked into the lobby with Dr. Brons and three other men and Pete stared at the spot Rose had just been.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Rose landed hard on the ground, unprepared for the jump this time. She felt grass beneath her fingers, tickling her palms. Glancing up, she realized she was on the lawn of the Powell Estates, just outside her own building. Santiago might be coming to take her away from the project, or shut it down completely, she wasn't sure which, but she was determined to get in as many jumps as possible before that happened.
Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she looked at the building, seeing the familiar crack in the door, the break in the sidewalk, the dirt beside her where the lawn was worn down, and the dented rubbish bin.
Running quickly to the right, she stared at the basketball court and the spray painted Bad Wolf that still graced the wall. Excitement pumped through her, though she tamped it down. She'd been disappointed so many times before that one more might just break her completely. Running again, this time to the park where she'd landed the last time with the Doctor, she spun in place, staring at all the familiar things at once, drinking it all in like a man dying of thirst.
The swing that was crooked because a chain was missing from the link, the broken roundabout that wobbled dangerously close to the ground on the north side.
A couple of kids went down the slide and she smiled at them, wishing, for a brief moment, that she had that life back again, but then she shoved that thought aside. She wouldn't give up the Doctor for anything, not even the simplicity of youth.
A young couple walked by, bundled against the cold, and she realized, by their red noses and cheeks and the way they huddled against one another, that it was a rather cold day, but her excitement and the adrenaline pumping through her didn't allow her to feel the cold; in fact, she was actually sweating. Down at the other end of the park, she saw a boy and his father flying a kite.
This looked so much like a nice, idyllic place, though not far from here, things had gone horribly wrong more than once.
If this was her home, then there, up on that balcony, she thought, looking toward her old building, the Doctor had burned with regeneration sickness. That stairwell was where she'd chased him down, got him to talk to her after he blew up Henriks.
And this park, she thought, losing her smile, turning toward the small playground, was where she'd seen the Doctor during one of her last happy moments with him.
Before it all went pear-shaped.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she flipped it open and thumbed through the numbers, staring blankly at the screen. This was it. This might be her last jump ever. If she didn't get home now, she might never do so.
Eyeing her jumper, she wondered if she could just press it then immediately press it again and be gone on another jump, another Earth, another chance before Santiago and Brons stopped her.
Wondered if she would ever make it back to the Doctor.
Turning her gaze back to the kite, she watched it soar for a minute, noting the lack of zeppelins dotting the horizon. It was always a nice sight, the empty sky.
Well, no time like the present.
She was just about to press the send button when she heard a familiar voice. Achingly familiar. Her finger slipped from the button, her heartbeat sped up, and she froze in place.
In the distance, not quite near enough for her to hear more than a few mumbled words, she could hear him. Could hear him talking to someone, thanking them.
Snapping her mobile shut, she shoved it back in her pocket and ran toward his voice, legs and heart pumping in rhythm with her pulse. The world shook with each step, vision blurring through her tears. But it was him, it was the Doctor! Pushing herself harder, faster, she rounded the corner of the building and came to a stop.
There. At the end of a street near the Powell Estates, was one of the most beautiful sights in the world-- no, the universe. It was absolutely breathtaking. Just a hundred meters away, the TARDIS stood, parked carefully out of the way, tucked into a nook around the corner.
"Oh, you're gorgeous!" she crowed, doubling over with laughter, bracing her hands on her knees as she struggled for breath.
Inside her head, there was a tickling feeling, something crawling around and then suddenly it burned and it was wonderful. The TARDIS recognized her, knew her, was humming in her mind.
She began to laugh again, choking on the cold air around her, breathing out bursts of fog.
Then she sobered. The fog. She needed to talk to the Doctor, needed to find him, to stop the fog from devouring Pete's world. Looking around desperately, she searched for the one man, the only man she wanted to see right now. The only one she ever wanted to see again. Where was he?
She'd heard him, she knew she had. He was around here somewhere.
Spinning in a circle, she examined every person, looking for the familiar. Kids, a couple, father and son. A woman walking her dog. An elderly man sitting on a bench, a woman with a pram, and--
There.
He was there. Walking down the street toward the TARDIS, pulling out his key. Such a familiar sight, so much so that her heart felt like it was breaking at seeing the familiar black leather jacket, jumper, and jeans.
That daft smile that she knew was always there, ready to break out across his face.
Big nose, big ears, and... she loved him. Loved him so much that she felt tears spilling down her cheeks. She'd found him. She'd found the Doctor and the TARDIS and everything was going to be okay again.
Her life wasn't on hold anymore.
Running toward him, she began to shout his name, to call for him, anticipating one of his huge bear hugs and the warmth it would bring inside and out. She planned on snogging him as well, finally snogging him and doing everything she'd never had the nerve to do before.
But then she felt something tugging on her insides.
No!
Something grabbed her stomach and twisted it, stopping her in her tracks, still a dozen meters away from him. Not close enough.
Not now! She wanted to scream--to rail at Santiago--that she'd found him, she'd finally found the Doctor, and he could help them all, but Santiago wouldn't believe her, never had before.
As her insides were pinched and spread apart, she screamed out her frustration and saw the Doctor turn, startled, looking directly at her for a split second before she was torn from him yet again. It was Canary Wharf all over again.
When she landed, she felt herself retching, although she wasn't sure if it was from the use of the retrieval device or because of her anger and disappointment. She huddled where she was for a moment, just a moment, just long enough to get her stomach under control before jumping to her feet and spinning to face Santiago.
He was there, as she knew he would be, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. Brons was there as well, and Pete and a few other men she didn't know. They were arguing, accusations and insults flying back and forth.
She didn't bother with any of it, just turned to Ryan and told him to set the coordinates for that jump again. "I found him," she said loudly, talking over the man that was practically yelling at Pete. "I found the Doctor. Send me back. Please, Ryan, before he leaves Earth. Send me back!"
Ryan looked back at her sadly, shaking his head with regret. "I-- I can't, Rose. They've shut it down." He gestured to a man standing between him and Tia.
Oh, god.
Panic settled in her, fluttering in her chest and she noticed that her head felt empty again, alone without the TARDIS there. "I don't care, Ryan, you've got to send me back."
"Send her back," Pete told Ryan, hurrying over to Rose, checking her over. "You really found him? It was your universe?"
She nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into sobs. This wasn't fair, it was happening again. She was being torn from the Doctor! "Send me back!" she screamed, and the entire room went silent.
But she didn't care, she was past that now. All that mattered was getting back to the Doctor. Then solving the fog problem. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Brons stopped in front of her.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Tyler, but he can't do that." He put his hand on her shoulder and she jerked away from his touch.
"Why not? Just start it all up again. Just one jump, that's all."
"One jump, then five," Santiago said, sighing. "We can't be sure you got back at all, now can we, Rose?" He paced toward her, looking down on her briefly before reaching into her flak jacket and pulling her jumper free. "Look at yourself, Ms. Tyler." He shook his head sadly, handing the jumper to one of the other men as Rose cursed herself for not thinking about that. For not just grabbing it and immediately hitting the button to get back. "You're so far gone that you've forgotten how to use the dimension cannon. You've cost this company a lot of money in your search for a man you're infatuated with. Isn't that right?"
Scoffing, she stepped back, away from him and his fake concern. "I-- that's not what this is about." Glancing at Pete, she gestured to him. "Tell them, Pete. This is about the fog. It's dangerous and it's coming--"
"Told to us by a woman who will do anything to return to her lover," Santiago said sadly, turning to one of the men with him. "Sir, this is costing the company untold billions, just so she can find this mysterious Doctor. She hasn't really found him. This is just another one of her delusions. Or a false statement to get her father to keep the project alive."
"You don't know anything, Santiago!" she screamed, shoving at him. "I found him." Turning back to Pete, she grabbed his lapels. "Please, Pete, you have to believe me. I found him. He was there. He can help us. Just send me back."
Pete tore his eyes from her and glanced at the man Santiago had addressed. "Sir, let me just send one of my men to check out her story. If she's right, if she's..." he inhaled and his eyes flickered away from her briefly, "if she's not hallucinating again, then, we will know one way or another."
"No, Pete, I told you, you're no longer in charge here." He nodded to the man beside him, who moved toward Ryan. At least he looked unhappy at the turn of events, Rose thought.
But, Pete wasn't giving up just yet, and she felt a swell of love for him. "Just one trip, sir, it won't take but a moment--"
"I said no, Mr. Tyler! This project is over. The cash we've been hemorrhaging is coming to an end. Grab her."
Rose snapped to attention, backing away from Santiago, who made a move to reach out for her, but his hands closed on air. She darted to the left, backing further away and was grabbed from behind by two strong arms. Something was shoved into her upper arm, and she felt a pinch, then something liquid shooting into her veins.
"Stop it," Pete yelled, "you don't need to sedate her. She's not dangerous."
"On the contrary," Santiago said in a low voice, "you have no idea the danger she's brought to you, Pete. This project is being shut down, and you're being replaced as head of Torchwood's London offices effective immediately."
"This is ridiculous!" Pete yelled and Rose tuned him out, barely able to hear him anymore.
His voice drew out in long sounds, and the colors and shapes around her were beginning to blur and blob until she couldn't tell one thing from another. The arms loosened from around her and she slipped to the floor in a puddle. Pressing her hands to the cold marble surface, she tried to push herself up, but couldn't seem to make her arms straighten out and work. Her eyes were closing, slowly, so very slowly, and she felt unbearably hot.
There was a warmth that swept through the room, dragging her down with it, making her want to just curl up and fall asleep, not caring what was happening anymore.
All her worries drifted away, and her concerns about the Doctor faded. She'd found him, she thought, smiling to herself as she slid the rest of the way to the floor, closing her eyes.
She'd found the Doctor.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Mickey turned the lock on Rose's flat, feeling like an intruder as he pushed the door open, hesitating in the doorway. This was her home and he was invading it. He shouldn't be here. But apparently Pete didn't have a problem with little things like invasion of privacy. Pressing the door open further, Pete stepped inside and stopped after a few feet with an indrawn breath.
"Bloody... hell," he muttered.
Bracing himself, preparing for anything, Mickey stepped inside Rose's flat and stopped dead, not in any way prepared for this. Just about anything but this.
This was categorical proof.
Proof that his best mate, his ex-girlfriend, the woman he still loved, was mental. Rose Marion Tyler was completely mental.
There were folders covering every available surface, some stuffed with crinkled papers, others empty. Scribbled words covered the front of most of them, chaotic writings that barely resembled Rose's handwriting:
Identified
Non-Identified
Opening one of the nearby folders, he saw a crude pencil drawing of a Slitheen complete with scribbled stats below it.
"God," he whispered, feeling sick. He moved further into the lounge, turning in a slow circle. The walls were covered as well, with pages upon pages of her own alien files. The drapes were hanging by just a few hooks, the furniture grouped into a small cluster. Amid the pages on the walls, there were newspaper clippings; taped up, tacked, some shoved onto crooked nails.
"What are these?" Pete mumbled, turning on a lamp.
Lifting a file aside, Mickey read the piece. "Fog. They're all about fog. Weather reports... from all around the world." Heart sinking, he pushed more aside. "And wolves." She'd drawn wolves on the plain white wall as well. "Bad wolf."
"What's that?" Pete asked, moving toward the kitchen, brow furrowed, mouth tight. "What's bad wolf?"
Mickey shook his head. "Rose is. Well, was. Way I understand it she became... something else when she was with the Doctor. The first Doctor. But that's gone now. She's just Rose again." Flicking a folder open, seeing the frantic writing spread across the sheet of paper, he swallowed hard. "I thought so anyway."
Pete flipped the kitchen light on and sighed. "Maybe that's what's wrong with her. Maybe whatever happened with her when she was with the Doctor, made her--"
"Much as I'd like to blame the Doctor for this, we can't just assume that's what's going on." There was a tea tray on the kitchen counter with a cup half full and another mostly full, both were moldy. Beside the cups was a plate of biscuits; they were covered in mold as well. "This could be something different." Much as he hated to believe it, this might all be on Rose, because he'd met a former companion of the Doctor's and she hadn't gone mental.
And if there was even a tiny chance that the bad wolf thing could have driven Rose insane, the Doctor would've told her, would've done everything possible to keep it from happening. He loved her, Mickey knew that. The Doctor loved Rose just as much as she loved him, maybe more, and there was no way he'd allow her to get hurt.
Frowning at the microwave turned on its side, bits of its insides spread out on the counter, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
His heart was breaking with each new sign of her mental instability. How could he not have seen this? How could all of them, but Santiago, have missed the obvious?
"Didn't you visit her recently?" Pete asked, and Mickey was relieved to see the pain on the older man's face. He knew Pete cared about Rose too, but how much had always been a mystery. "She told me you came by just a few days ago."
Mickey shook his head and left the kitchen. "Haven't been here in months," he said, feeling regret fill him. If he had, if he'd insisted they come here, instead of going out to eat all the time, he might've been able to see it in time. He might've--
A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. "Don't beat yourself up. It's on all of us. We all should've seen it."
Shrugging, Mickey went into Rose's bedroom and saw the damage she'd done there. The walls were in the same condition as the rest of her flat, drapes on the floor in a puddle, file folders on the chair, the bed, the nightstand.
The closet door was open and inside hung a dozen brown pinstriped suits, all completely put together, all in a row. Lined up neatly beneath them was a row of Chucks, laces tied, brand new, just waiting to be worn.
Moving toward the nightstand, he picked up a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. They looked just like the Doctor's.
Beside them were a couple dozen foil packets of condoms.
Feeling nauseous, he fled her bedroom, fled her flat, running out into the hall, gasping for breath. He leaned against the plain white wall across from her door, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he drew in lungful after lungful of air. "Rose," he whispered, impatiently swiping at the tears burning in his eyes. His throat felt tight, chest even tighter, and he wanted to scream.
To shout out his frustration and anger. Burning in him was an anger at Rose. He wanted to go to her and grab her, to scream and yell and shout at her until she was sane again.
Curling his fingers into fists, he stood up straight and turned to face Pete, who was standing in the doorway watching him.
"All right?" Pete asked.
"No," Mickey said, shaking his head and taking one last deep breath before heading back into her flat. "I am so far from all right with this, Pete." Grabbing the folder nearest to him, he picked it up and flipped it open, showing the phony files to Pete. Then he grabbed another folder, and another and another and another until he was grabbing and tearing at each one, each loose page, each file. "Rose was going insane right under our noses." Fisting the folders, he threw them to the couch. "Why didn't I see it? Or you? Or Jackie?"
"I dunno, mate, she hid it pretty well." Pete frowned, staring at the wall beside the telly. "Isn't that...? It's the Doctor's ship. The---" he snapped his fingers, "what's it called?" he muttered, moving closer, running his hand down the blue rectangle of wall.
Mickey slid his eyes from the crudely painted drawing, not wanting to see--not caring to see--any more proof of Rose's obsession with the Doctor. "The TARDIS." It made him think he was going mental. For not seeing, not understanding. He'd believed her about the fog. Believed she'd talked to the Doctor. There hadn't been a single doubt in his mind before now.
Rose had been locked away for two days now, and though she was strapped to a bed, raving, he'd been sure it was the drugs making her that way.
Now he knew the truth.
She'd been slipping down a stretch of insanity for a year. Since their first jump, at least. Maybe even before then.
Crossing to the kitchen, he picked up the tea tray and dumped the whole thing in the bin. Slamming the tray back on the counter, he opened the fridge, prepared to toss out everything in there as well.
It was filled with steaks; packages and packages of steaks, stacked one on top of the other. On the shelves, in the door--yanking open the freezer, he saw them there as well--stacks and stacks of steaks.
Opening a cupboard, he saw boxes of energy bars and individual bottles of juice. Nothing but juice and energy bars.
Going down the row of cupboards, he opened all of them, peering inside: dishes, a pile of newspapers and a sheaf of paper, pens, crayons, file folders. There was nothing else. Nothing more inside any of the cupboards.
Slamming them shut, one after another, he leaned against the counter and took a deep, calming breath.
"Mickey."
Pushing away from the counter, he left the kitchen behind and stood in Rose's bedroom doorway. A chair was on its side next to her bed, the only thing made and neat looking in the entire flat. Pete was standing by the closet, with the door shut.
Mickey joined him and they stood side-by-side staring at the door, pasted top to bottom with calendars.
The pictures had been torn from them. Dates were circled in black marker, some he recognized. He pointed to one marked on the 25th of December 2005. "That's when he regenerated." Another circled repeatedly on the 4th of November 1987. "That's when you--er, her dad--died back in our original universe.
There were more years, and more circles, all from when she'd done something with the Doctor, he assumed. Some he couldn't be sure about. Most he was just guessing on.
But scattered over all of the calendars were numbers, scribbled every which way, covering all dates, all months, all years. Long strings of numbers that meant nothing to Mickey. They were everywhere, written in red marker.
"What are they?" he asked, looking at Pete.
Pete shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck. "I don't know. Could be-- but... how could she know them? They're stored in the retrieval devices and the computers. She doesn't actually see them. None of you do."
"See what?" Mickey asked, following a string scrawled along the entire top of the door. It carried over to the wall, slanting at an angle as it went by the hinges and then down the wall to the skirting board. Pulling his mobile out, he took several photos of it.
"Why're you doing that?"
Mickey shrugged. "Dunno. Hoping she's not crazy, is all." Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned around, examining the room more closely. "What if they're coordinates?"
"That's what I was thinking," Pete said, righting the chair by the window. Dropping into it, he put his head in his hands. "I still can't believe this." Glancing up at Mickey, he shook his head. "We haven't even told Tony. Jacks is... inconsolable."
"Let's get out of here," Mickey said, slapping him on the shoulder.
Chapter 11
Author: sinecure - My master fic list
Character/Pairing: Rose, Pete, Mickey, Jackie
Rating: Adult
Genre: AU, Action/adventure, mystery, drama, angst, romance
Summary: Rose Tyler traveled through universes to get back to the Doctor. What did she see in those universes, and how did they affect her?
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Thanks: to momdaegmorgan for the beta, and the prompt, and the constant inspiration to finish this thing.
- Prologue, - Chapter 1, - Chapter 2, - Chapter 3, - Chapter 4
- Chapter 5, - Chapter 6, - Chapter 7, - Chapter 8, - Chapter 9
Readying herself for her jump the next day, Rose cautiously observed everyone and everything around her. Pete had called her early that morning, telling her to come in for her jump as usual, that he'd been able to hold Santiago off for at least another day, but he wasn't sure just how much longer he'd be able to do so.
This could very well be her last jump. And she intended to make the most of it. She'd call the Doctor, and-- clicking the fasteners on her flak jacket, she glanced up when she heard footsteps, startled to see Ryan approaching her.
He stopped in front of her and stuck his hands in his pockets, peering at her through his dark-framed glasses. "Rose."
Returning her eyes to her flak jacket, she un-clicked and clicked the straps again. "Hey."
"I haven't seen you since the other night," he muttered, leaning closer with his upper body. "Doin' all right?"
The other night? When had she seen him the other night? Wracking her brain for what he could possibly be talking about, she came up blank. He'd been acting odd lately though. Just the other day he'd got all flustered when Duane asked him where he'd been the night before.
Maybe he had a new girlfriend.
Feeling the urge to chuckle, to just flat out laugh out loud, she fought her smile and turned to him, shoving her stun gun into its designated pouch. "Yeah. Fine. Thank you, Ryan. I'll see you later, yeah?" Heading over to Ari, she took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as she approached. "I'm sorry," she said right away, frowning down at the floor for a second before forcing herself to look him in the eye.
Ari observed her for a few seconds, then broke into a smile. "No apologies necessary, Rose." His eyes slipped past her to Ryan as he went back to the computers, then crossed the room to Pete's office. "You were attacked in there. I'm sorry I wasn't able to back you up. For the record, I believe you completely."
Breathing a sigh of relief, feeling some of the weight sloughing off her shoulders, she cleared her throat and positioned herself for their jump. "Thank you, Ari. Santiago is-- I just, I feel like he's got it in for me, and I can't figure out why. What I did to him."
He pooh-poohed her words away with a wave of his hand, scoffing at the idea. "Santiago is a good doctor, but I see it too. He's got you in his sights, and he won't stop until he either sees this fog himself, or the Doctor lands his little green box--"
"Blue," she corrected with a grin, nudging him with her arm.
"Right. Blue box. Right there," he told her, pointing toward the corner of the lobby, where a large, fake potted plant sat. "Can't wait to see that."
She snickered, picturing the plant being surrounded by the TARDIS and the Doctor staring at it in confusion. He'd leave it there too, she knew. Just leave it there and it'd become one of those things, like the coat rack. Well, he called it a hat rack. Sometimes a scarf rack.
"Ready?" Ryan called out.
Looking over to him, she saw his eyes quickly dart away from hers and down to his monitor. There was an awkward feeling spreading between them. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it was definitely making things weird. "Yeah."
"Yep." Ari occupied himself with his own flak jacket, checking his equipment, pulling things free, and shoving them back in.
"You're good to go," Ryan told them, tapping rapidly on his computer, paying no more attention to them.
Rose pulled her jumper free and looked to Ari quickly before pressing it. There was the familiar pulling, tugging, and displacement, then she was surrounded by bright sunlight. Glancing around, she took in everything in a single glance and knew right away that this wasn't her universe. The buildings were different, shorter, more like adobe huts than London flats. There wasn't a blade of grass, a single tree, anything living.
A red tinge covered everything, all the houses, the buildings, the cars, even her and Ari. Squinting into the sun, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. It was actually sort of pretty here.
Ari staggered beside her, holding his arm up to block out the light. "Bloody hell that's bright! And hot."
Rose chuckled and shrugged, turning around slowly for a more leisurely look. "I don't know, I kind of like it here. It's soothing."
"I take back what I said earlier, Rose. You're extremely mental." Shoving his sunglasses onto his face, he looked around and held up his jumper. "Let's get out of here."
"Gimme a second to call the Doctor." Pulling her phone free, she flipped it open and checked for reception. There wasn't any, but she hit send anyway, calling the TARDIS. Static.
A sense of urgency went through her and she hung up and dialed again. This could be her last chance ever.
She tried again. Still nothing.
Grunting in disappointment, she shoved her mobile back into her pocket. Feeling the sense of urgency kick up another notch, she shook herself. What was wrong with her?
Ari stumbled to the side, ducking down behind a car with a modicum of shade. She frowned at him, not quite sure why he was acting like it was a thousand degrees out.
"Oi, old man," she taunted. "When'd you get so sun-shy?" Spinning around with her arms spread wide, she laughed at the warmth tickling her skin. "It's nice out here!"
He turned, still hunkered down, gaping at her. "Rose, get out of the sun."
Blinking at him, surprised by the serious tone of his voice, she frowned. His face was red, sunburnt, starting to blister. And he didn't look too good. Seemed to be having trouble breathing as well.
"Ari?" She quickly crossed to him and knelt down. Holding her hand to his forehead, she pulled back at the heat radiating off his skin. "You need to get out of here." Glancing back up at the sun, she squinted behind her glasses and pulled her jumper free. Turning back to him, she saw that he'd sat down on the street and there was smoke coming up from where his hand was resting. "Let's go," she urged him.
He heaved a ragged breath and reached for his jumper, but his hand dropped uselessly to his lap before he even touched it. "Can't breathe," he gasped.
Shoving his arm aside, feeling that panic surface in her again, she dug into his jacket pocket and found the jumper. Pressing it into his hand, she depressed the button on his and pressed her own at the same time, catching, just out of the corner of her eye, a familiar, silver insignia on the car in front of them as it faded from view; a wolf.
Falling, swirling, being yanked and pulled apart, then she was on the marble floor, holding Ari.
Dropping her jumper, she grabbed him as he slipped to the floor, catching himself with his un-burnt hand. "I'm good," he told her, pushing into a sitting position. He breathed in a few times, deeper each time until he was finally breathing normally. But his face was still a bright shade of red, and his hands and neck were as well. Pulling his sunglasses off, he blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the change in lighting.
She removed hers as well, feeling something wrong. Something completely off. Standing up, she glanced around the lobby, feeling something burning inside her, feeling that urgency again. Something was happening.
Duane and Pete rushed over to Ari, and Rose backed away.
"What happened?" Pete asked, dropping beside Ari, holding his burnt hand up for inspection. Tia and Ryan were peering past the computers, watching them as Duane helped Ari up. "Severe burns, and sunburn," he mumbled, turning his attention to Rose.
She backed away a few more steps, hearing her pulse pounding in her ears and feeling her palms becoming damp with sweat. Eyes darting around the room, she searched for one man in particular, knowing he was coming.
"You're not sunburnt," Pete said in disbelief. "The readings were off the charts. What happened to--"
"Santiago." She stared at Pete, unable to believe he'd betrayed her.
Pete shook his head as Duane helped Ari toward the infirmary. "He's not here, Rose. Dr. Bilson is on duty. Santiago isn't--"
"Here," she said angrily and slammed her hand down on her jumper.
Tapping a few final keys, Ryan straightened up from his computer with a sad smile.
"What'd you do?" Tia hissed, eyes darting from him to his computer, then over to the jump area. Footsteps sounded distantly as Ryan sighed and sat down, pushing his hands through his hair.
"Put in new coordinates," he said simply, straightening his glasses. "Giving her one more chance."
A moment later, Santiago walked into the lobby with Dr. Brons and three other men and Pete stared at the spot Rose had just been.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Rose landed hard on the ground, unprepared for the jump this time. She felt grass beneath her fingers, tickling her palms. Glancing up, she realized she was on the lawn of the Powell Estates, just outside her own building. Santiago might be coming to take her away from the project, or shut it down completely, she wasn't sure which, but she was determined to get in as many jumps as possible before that happened.
Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she looked at the building, seeing the familiar crack in the door, the break in the sidewalk, the dirt beside her where the lawn was worn down, and the dented rubbish bin.
Running quickly to the right, she stared at the basketball court and the spray painted Bad Wolf that still graced the wall. Excitement pumped through her, though she tamped it down. She'd been disappointed so many times before that one more might just break her completely. Running again, this time to the park where she'd landed the last time with the Doctor, she spun in place, staring at all the familiar things at once, drinking it all in like a man dying of thirst.
The swing that was crooked because a chain was missing from the link, the broken roundabout that wobbled dangerously close to the ground on the north side.
A couple of kids went down the slide and she smiled at them, wishing, for a brief moment, that she had that life back again, but then she shoved that thought aside. She wouldn't give up the Doctor for anything, not even the simplicity of youth.
A young couple walked by, bundled against the cold, and she realized, by their red noses and cheeks and the way they huddled against one another, that it was a rather cold day, but her excitement and the adrenaline pumping through her didn't allow her to feel the cold; in fact, she was actually sweating. Down at the other end of the park, she saw a boy and his father flying a kite.
This looked so much like a nice, idyllic place, though not far from here, things had gone horribly wrong more than once.
If this was her home, then there, up on that balcony, she thought, looking toward her old building, the Doctor had burned with regeneration sickness. That stairwell was where she'd chased him down, got him to talk to her after he blew up Henriks.
And this park, she thought, losing her smile, turning toward the small playground, was where she'd seen the Doctor during one of her last happy moments with him.
Before it all went pear-shaped.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she flipped it open and thumbed through the numbers, staring blankly at the screen. This was it. This might be her last jump ever. If she didn't get home now, she might never do so.
Eyeing her jumper, she wondered if she could just press it then immediately press it again and be gone on another jump, another Earth, another chance before Santiago and Brons stopped her.
Wondered if she would ever make it back to the Doctor.
Turning her gaze back to the kite, she watched it soar for a minute, noting the lack of zeppelins dotting the horizon. It was always a nice sight, the empty sky.
Well, no time like the present.
She was just about to press the send button when she heard a familiar voice. Achingly familiar. Her finger slipped from the button, her heartbeat sped up, and she froze in place.
In the distance, not quite near enough for her to hear more than a few mumbled words, she could hear him. Could hear him talking to someone, thanking them.
Snapping her mobile shut, she shoved it back in her pocket and ran toward his voice, legs and heart pumping in rhythm with her pulse. The world shook with each step, vision blurring through her tears. But it was him, it was the Doctor! Pushing herself harder, faster, she rounded the corner of the building and came to a stop.
There. At the end of a street near the Powell Estates, was one of the most beautiful sights in the world-- no, the universe. It was absolutely breathtaking. Just a hundred meters away, the TARDIS stood, parked carefully out of the way, tucked into a nook around the corner.
"Oh, you're gorgeous!" she crowed, doubling over with laughter, bracing her hands on her knees as she struggled for breath.
Inside her head, there was a tickling feeling, something crawling around and then suddenly it burned and it was wonderful. The TARDIS recognized her, knew her, was humming in her mind.
She began to laugh again, choking on the cold air around her, breathing out bursts of fog.
Then she sobered. The fog. She needed to talk to the Doctor, needed to find him, to stop the fog from devouring Pete's world. Looking around desperately, she searched for the one man, the only man she wanted to see right now. The only one she ever wanted to see again. Where was he?
She'd heard him, she knew she had. He was around here somewhere.
Spinning in a circle, she examined every person, looking for the familiar. Kids, a couple, father and son. A woman walking her dog. An elderly man sitting on a bench, a woman with a pram, and--
There.
He was there. Walking down the street toward the TARDIS, pulling out his key. Such a familiar sight, so much so that her heart felt like it was breaking at seeing the familiar black leather jacket, jumper, and jeans.
That daft smile that she knew was always there, ready to break out across his face.
Big nose, big ears, and... she loved him. Loved him so much that she felt tears spilling down her cheeks. She'd found him. She'd found the Doctor and the TARDIS and everything was going to be okay again.
Her life wasn't on hold anymore.
Running toward him, she began to shout his name, to call for him, anticipating one of his huge bear hugs and the warmth it would bring inside and out. She planned on snogging him as well, finally snogging him and doing everything she'd never had the nerve to do before.
But then she felt something tugging on her insides.
No!
Something grabbed her stomach and twisted it, stopping her in her tracks, still a dozen meters away from him. Not close enough.
Not now! She wanted to scream--to rail at Santiago--that she'd found him, she'd finally found the Doctor, and he could help them all, but Santiago wouldn't believe her, never had before.
As her insides were pinched and spread apart, she screamed out her frustration and saw the Doctor turn, startled, looking directly at her for a split second before she was torn from him yet again. It was Canary Wharf all over again.
When she landed, she felt herself retching, although she wasn't sure if it was from the use of the retrieval device or because of her anger and disappointment. She huddled where she was for a moment, just a moment, just long enough to get her stomach under control before jumping to her feet and spinning to face Santiago.
He was there, as she knew he would be, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. Brons was there as well, and Pete and a few other men she didn't know. They were arguing, accusations and insults flying back and forth.
She didn't bother with any of it, just turned to Ryan and told him to set the coordinates for that jump again. "I found him," she said loudly, talking over the man that was practically yelling at Pete. "I found the Doctor. Send me back. Please, Ryan, before he leaves Earth. Send me back!"
Ryan looked back at her sadly, shaking his head with regret. "I-- I can't, Rose. They've shut it down." He gestured to a man standing between him and Tia.
Oh, god.
Panic settled in her, fluttering in her chest and she noticed that her head felt empty again, alone without the TARDIS there. "I don't care, Ryan, you've got to send me back."
"Send her back," Pete told Ryan, hurrying over to Rose, checking her over. "You really found him? It was your universe?"
She nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into sobs. This wasn't fair, it was happening again. She was being torn from the Doctor! "Send me back!" she screamed, and the entire room went silent.
But she didn't care, she was past that now. All that mattered was getting back to the Doctor. Then solving the fog problem. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Brons stopped in front of her.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Tyler, but he can't do that." He put his hand on her shoulder and she jerked away from his touch.
"Why not? Just start it all up again. Just one jump, that's all."
"One jump, then five," Santiago said, sighing. "We can't be sure you got back at all, now can we, Rose?" He paced toward her, looking down on her briefly before reaching into her flak jacket and pulling her jumper free. "Look at yourself, Ms. Tyler." He shook his head sadly, handing the jumper to one of the other men as Rose cursed herself for not thinking about that. For not just grabbing it and immediately hitting the button to get back. "You're so far gone that you've forgotten how to use the dimension cannon. You've cost this company a lot of money in your search for a man you're infatuated with. Isn't that right?"
Scoffing, she stepped back, away from him and his fake concern. "I-- that's not what this is about." Glancing at Pete, she gestured to him. "Tell them, Pete. This is about the fog. It's dangerous and it's coming--"
"Told to us by a woman who will do anything to return to her lover," Santiago said sadly, turning to one of the men with him. "Sir, this is costing the company untold billions, just so she can find this mysterious Doctor. She hasn't really found him. This is just another one of her delusions. Or a false statement to get her father to keep the project alive."
"You don't know anything, Santiago!" she screamed, shoving at him. "I found him." Turning back to Pete, she grabbed his lapels. "Please, Pete, you have to believe me. I found him. He was there. He can help us. Just send me back."
Pete tore his eyes from her and glanced at the man Santiago had addressed. "Sir, let me just send one of my men to check out her story. If she's right, if she's..." he inhaled and his eyes flickered away from her briefly, "if she's not hallucinating again, then, we will know one way or another."
"No, Pete, I told you, you're no longer in charge here." He nodded to the man beside him, who moved toward Ryan. At least he looked unhappy at the turn of events, Rose thought.
But, Pete wasn't giving up just yet, and she felt a swell of love for him. "Just one trip, sir, it won't take but a moment--"
"I said no, Mr. Tyler! This project is over. The cash we've been hemorrhaging is coming to an end. Grab her."
Rose snapped to attention, backing away from Santiago, who made a move to reach out for her, but his hands closed on air. She darted to the left, backing further away and was grabbed from behind by two strong arms. Something was shoved into her upper arm, and she felt a pinch, then something liquid shooting into her veins.
"Stop it," Pete yelled, "you don't need to sedate her. She's not dangerous."
"On the contrary," Santiago said in a low voice, "you have no idea the danger she's brought to you, Pete. This project is being shut down, and you're being replaced as head of Torchwood's London offices effective immediately."
"This is ridiculous!" Pete yelled and Rose tuned him out, barely able to hear him anymore.
His voice drew out in long sounds, and the colors and shapes around her were beginning to blur and blob until she couldn't tell one thing from another. The arms loosened from around her and she slipped to the floor in a puddle. Pressing her hands to the cold marble surface, she tried to push herself up, but couldn't seem to make her arms straighten out and work. Her eyes were closing, slowly, so very slowly, and she felt unbearably hot.
There was a warmth that swept through the room, dragging her down with it, making her want to just curl up and fall asleep, not caring what was happening anymore.
All her worries drifted away, and her concerns about the Doctor faded. She'd found him, she thought, smiling to herself as she slid the rest of the way to the floor, closing her eyes.
She'd found the Doctor.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Mickey turned the lock on Rose's flat, feeling like an intruder as he pushed the door open, hesitating in the doorway. This was her home and he was invading it. He shouldn't be here. But apparently Pete didn't have a problem with little things like invasion of privacy. Pressing the door open further, Pete stepped inside and stopped after a few feet with an indrawn breath.
"Bloody... hell," he muttered.
Bracing himself, preparing for anything, Mickey stepped inside Rose's flat and stopped dead, not in any way prepared for this. Just about anything but this.
This was categorical proof.
Proof that his best mate, his ex-girlfriend, the woman he still loved, was mental. Rose Marion Tyler was completely mental.
There were folders covering every available surface, some stuffed with crinkled papers, others empty. Scribbled words covered the front of most of them, chaotic writings that barely resembled Rose's handwriting:
Identified
Non-Identified
Opening one of the nearby folders, he saw a crude pencil drawing of a Slitheen complete with scribbled stats below it.
"God," he whispered, feeling sick. He moved further into the lounge, turning in a slow circle. The walls were covered as well, with pages upon pages of her own alien files. The drapes were hanging by just a few hooks, the furniture grouped into a small cluster. Amid the pages on the walls, there were newspaper clippings; taped up, tacked, some shoved onto crooked nails.
"What are these?" Pete mumbled, turning on a lamp.
Lifting a file aside, Mickey read the piece. "Fog. They're all about fog. Weather reports... from all around the world." Heart sinking, he pushed more aside. "And wolves." She'd drawn wolves on the plain white wall as well. "Bad wolf."
"What's that?" Pete asked, moving toward the kitchen, brow furrowed, mouth tight. "What's bad wolf?"
Mickey shook his head. "Rose is. Well, was. Way I understand it she became... something else when she was with the Doctor. The first Doctor. But that's gone now. She's just Rose again." Flicking a folder open, seeing the frantic writing spread across the sheet of paper, he swallowed hard. "I thought so anyway."
Pete flipped the kitchen light on and sighed. "Maybe that's what's wrong with her. Maybe whatever happened with her when she was with the Doctor, made her--"
"Much as I'd like to blame the Doctor for this, we can't just assume that's what's going on." There was a tea tray on the kitchen counter with a cup half full and another mostly full, both were moldy. Beside the cups was a plate of biscuits; they were covered in mold as well. "This could be something different." Much as he hated to believe it, this might all be on Rose, because he'd met a former companion of the Doctor's and she hadn't gone mental.
And if there was even a tiny chance that the bad wolf thing could have driven Rose insane, the Doctor would've told her, would've done everything possible to keep it from happening. He loved her, Mickey knew that. The Doctor loved Rose just as much as she loved him, maybe more, and there was no way he'd allow her to get hurt.
Frowning at the microwave turned on its side, bits of its insides spread out on the counter, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
His heart was breaking with each new sign of her mental instability. How could he not have seen this? How could all of them, but Santiago, have missed the obvious?
"Didn't you visit her recently?" Pete asked, and Mickey was relieved to see the pain on the older man's face. He knew Pete cared about Rose too, but how much had always been a mystery. "She told me you came by just a few days ago."
Mickey shook his head and left the kitchen. "Haven't been here in months," he said, feeling regret fill him. If he had, if he'd insisted they come here, instead of going out to eat all the time, he might've been able to see it in time. He might've--
A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. "Don't beat yourself up. It's on all of us. We all should've seen it."
Shrugging, Mickey went into Rose's bedroom and saw the damage she'd done there. The walls were in the same condition as the rest of her flat, drapes on the floor in a puddle, file folders on the chair, the bed, the nightstand.
The closet door was open and inside hung a dozen brown pinstriped suits, all completely put together, all in a row. Lined up neatly beneath them was a row of Chucks, laces tied, brand new, just waiting to be worn.
Moving toward the nightstand, he picked up a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. They looked just like the Doctor's.
Beside them were a couple dozen foil packets of condoms.
Feeling nauseous, he fled her bedroom, fled her flat, running out into the hall, gasping for breath. He leaned against the plain white wall across from her door, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he drew in lungful after lungful of air. "Rose," he whispered, impatiently swiping at the tears burning in his eyes. His throat felt tight, chest even tighter, and he wanted to scream.
To shout out his frustration and anger. Burning in him was an anger at Rose. He wanted to go to her and grab her, to scream and yell and shout at her until she was sane again.
Curling his fingers into fists, he stood up straight and turned to face Pete, who was standing in the doorway watching him.
"All right?" Pete asked.
"No," Mickey said, shaking his head and taking one last deep breath before heading back into her flat. "I am so far from all right with this, Pete." Grabbing the folder nearest to him, he picked it up and flipped it open, showing the phony files to Pete. Then he grabbed another folder, and another and another and another until he was grabbing and tearing at each one, each loose page, each file. "Rose was going insane right under our noses." Fisting the folders, he threw them to the couch. "Why didn't I see it? Or you? Or Jackie?"
"I dunno, mate, she hid it pretty well." Pete frowned, staring at the wall beside the telly. "Isn't that...? It's the Doctor's ship. The---" he snapped his fingers, "what's it called?" he muttered, moving closer, running his hand down the blue rectangle of wall.
Mickey slid his eyes from the crudely painted drawing, not wanting to see--not caring to see--any more proof of Rose's obsession with the Doctor. "The TARDIS." It made him think he was going mental. For not seeing, not understanding. He'd believed her about the fog. Believed she'd talked to the Doctor. There hadn't been a single doubt in his mind before now.
Rose had been locked away for two days now, and though she was strapped to a bed, raving, he'd been sure it was the drugs making her that way.
Now he knew the truth.
She'd been slipping down a stretch of insanity for a year. Since their first jump, at least. Maybe even before then.
Crossing to the kitchen, he picked up the tea tray and dumped the whole thing in the bin. Slamming the tray back on the counter, he opened the fridge, prepared to toss out everything in there as well.
It was filled with steaks; packages and packages of steaks, stacked one on top of the other. On the shelves, in the door--yanking open the freezer, he saw them there as well--stacks and stacks of steaks.
Opening a cupboard, he saw boxes of energy bars and individual bottles of juice. Nothing but juice and energy bars.
Going down the row of cupboards, he opened all of them, peering inside: dishes, a pile of newspapers and a sheaf of paper, pens, crayons, file folders. There was nothing else. Nothing more inside any of the cupboards.
Slamming them shut, one after another, he leaned against the counter and took a deep, calming breath.
"Mickey."
Pushing away from the counter, he left the kitchen behind and stood in Rose's bedroom doorway. A chair was on its side next to her bed, the only thing made and neat looking in the entire flat. Pete was standing by the closet, with the door shut.
Mickey joined him and they stood side-by-side staring at the door, pasted top to bottom with calendars.
The pictures had been torn from them. Dates were circled in black marker, some he recognized. He pointed to one marked on the 25th of December 2005. "That's when he regenerated." Another circled repeatedly on the 4th of November 1987. "That's when you--er, her dad--died back in our original universe.
There were more years, and more circles, all from when she'd done something with the Doctor, he assumed. Some he couldn't be sure about. Most he was just guessing on.
But scattered over all of the calendars were numbers, scribbled every which way, covering all dates, all months, all years. Long strings of numbers that meant nothing to Mickey. They were everywhere, written in red marker.
"What are they?" he asked, looking at Pete.
Pete shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck. "I don't know. Could be-- but... how could she know them? They're stored in the retrieval devices and the computers. She doesn't actually see them. None of you do."
"See what?" Mickey asked, following a string scrawled along the entire top of the door. It carried over to the wall, slanting at an angle as it went by the hinges and then down the wall to the skirting board. Pulling his mobile out, he took several photos of it.
"Why're you doing that?"
Mickey shrugged. "Dunno. Hoping she's not crazy, is all." Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned around, examining the room more closely. "What if they're coordinates?"
"That's what I was thinking," Pete said, righting the chair by the window. Dropping into it, he put his head in his hands. "I still can't believe this." Glancing up at Mickey, he shook his head. "We haven't even told Tony. Jacks is... inconsolable."
"Let's get out of here," Mickey said, slapping him on the shoulder.
Chapter 11