Monday Fic, part five
Monday Fic: Butterflies & Hurricanes (yay! a title)
Doctor Who
Nine, Rose, Jack
Spoilers -- Through "The Doctor Dances"
Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" and all related characters and elements are owned by the BBC and are used here without permission.
All previous parts here
***
When Rose woke the next morning (or afternoon, or evening, or whatever part of the day you preferred to call it, given that one part of 'day' was as completely irrelevant on the TARDIS as any other) she felt particularly muddled. More muddled than usual, and seeing as she'd nearly died before she was born, huddled in a cupboard in 10 Downing Street while it blew up, ripped open the fabric of time, and danced on an invisible spaceship during the Blitz, that was really saying something.
As she'd slept her mind had tried to process a question she had no way of answering, and the resulting twists and turns her brain had taken to sort it out left her confused and not a little bit uncertain. She'd told the Doctor she had a question for him, but now that she'd slept on it, she wasn't sure she was up to the task of asking it.
There was only one thing for it -- strong coffee. Yes, strong coffee could help clear her head. Very, very strong coffee.
Off in search of coffee, her mind now occupied by that very sane, very sensible, very comprehensible goal, she didn't notice the Doctor lying in wait until she'd almost trod upon him.
"'Morning, Rose," he smiled brightly at her and waved a cup of the sought after coffee under her nose.
She eyed him warily, and not a little bit suspiciously, for a moment and then took the proffered cup and followed him into the console room.
"So," he prompted, dropping down onto the room's only chair.
"What's on the schedule for today?" she asked with a yawn, wondering if he'd give her a chance to sort her brain before going after that question.
"We'll go see about Jack's friends, I think."
"Sounds good."
He raised an eyebrow and sat back. "Mmhm."
"What?"
"I don't know. What?"
Rose sighed and leaned back against the console. "How do you do that?"
"Centuries of practice. Ask your question."
"I don't ... I mean," she stuttered to a halt and frowned down at her coffee. "I don't think it matters. Not worth bringing up."
"Must be, especially if you needed to sleep on it. You can ask me anything, you know?"
"Well, yeah, but ..."
"But?"
There was no use dodging him, and if she was honest with herself, as uncomfortable as it might be, she didn't want to dodge him.
She looked up and directly into his bright, intense gaze. "It's about the Time War. Well, sort of."
The skin around his eyes tightened and his mouth thinned slightly, but he nodded at her and offered a weak smile. "Go ahead."
"You sure?"
"Rose."
"Alright. I just ... how long ago was it you knew Professor Wilson? I mean, for you?"
He stared at her for a moment then drew in a long, slow breath. "'Bout two hundred years, I guess."
"So, before the Time War? Before ..." she faltered and looked away from his pained stare.
"Yes. Before it all."
"She remembers you."
"So you said."
Rose frowned again, or maybe she was still frowning, she wasn't entirely sure, and pondered how best to proceed. She wasn't even sure she understood the question, let alone that she knew exactly what she might be looking for in an answer. And the more she stumbled around, the worse it would be.
Sighing, she took another sip of her coffee and stared back across the room, considering the gracefully curving support beams, and the murky shadows they cast on the recessed floor.
"Could you go back in time and meet yourself then? I mean, not that it would be a good idea, or maybe it wouldn't matter, or, whatever, I just mean, theoretically."
"Hm, yes. I could." His reply was simple, his face was carefully neutral now, and she both appreciated that he was letting her find her way through this question, and annoyed that he wouldn't jump in and save her from her own blundering ignorance.
"So ..." she let the word trail off and tucked her tongue thoughtfully into the crease of her lips. "You said you knew you were alone now." She winced and gave him a sympathetic smile. "But, if you went back and met yourself, the you then would still know the other Time Lords were around, right? Except they're not, right?"
He nodded slowly and continued to watch her with an even sort of look.
"I don't get it," she summed up finally. "It doesn't matter when you go, it's still ... uh, not there." She was trying to be delicate, but rather suspected she was failing. "But the you before all that, is still around. I just don't get it."
They stared at each other for a moment, and then the Doctor smiled. Rose sighed as quietly as she could, relieved she hadn't mucked up his mood too much.
"Good question. Rambling question, but a good one," he told her, sitting forward to pat her knee in kind approval.
She snorted softly, rolled her eyes, and tried to make a joke of the substance of the question. "Right, 'cause you never ramble."
"I never do," he agreed. "I have a lot of points to make and English is an extremely inefficient language."
"Mmhm."
He grinned and sat back, crossing his ankles on the edge of the console. "In answer to your question -- I shouldn't exist. And I don't know why I do, Rose. I really don't."
"Oh," she said quietly, not sure what to say to an answer like that. He was right, the English language didn't really do to cover things like this.
"I wish I had a better answer for you. I wish I had a better answer for myself. Yes, I could go back and see myself before the war, before my planet was gone, but that me is just a memory now. An echo in time." He shrugged and stared at the tips of his boots. "Just another anomaly."
Rose chewed on her lip and watched him over the rim of her coffee cup. "Guess we're just lucky, then."
The Doctor hummed noncommittally and continued to consider his boots.
"I mean," Rose carried on thoughtfully, "all those things you fixed, people you saved, they're still fixed. Whatever else, yeah? Better for the universe that you're around."
Looking up from his feet finally, he smiled and nodded. "Put a lot of work into the universe."
"Yeah. No good it going all off again, right?"
He laughed and looked about to say something else when he stopped abruptly and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor with a clang. His brows drew down in a frown and his gaze sharpened.
"What?" Rose asked.
"On Sistal Novila, when you found my screwdriver, there was a bit of paper with it."
"Yeah?"
"You still have it?"
"I think so."
"Fetch it. And wake Jack, while you're at it." He bounced off the couch and braced his hands on the edge of the console, leaning forward, lost now to whatever thoughts went through a brain like that.
***
"So, what is it?" Jack leaned over Rose's shoulder, trying to get a look at the tiny scrap of paper the Doctor was studying so intently.
"Just a bit of bad poetry," Rose replied.
"Vogons, eh?"
Frowning, Rose glanced up at him and shook her head. "What?"
The Doctor raised his eyes from the paper and gave her a incredulous and somewhat disapproving look.
"What?" She asked again, and when his disapproving frown deepened she clenched her jaw. "I get the poem thing, I just ... Oh, never mind. I have read a book, you know."
"I'd begun to despair," the Doctor replied simply and Rose had to resist the sudden urge to thump him.
"So, what's the deal, Doctor?" Jack asked, leaning further over, craning his neck to peer at the paper.
"Hmm? Oh, dunno. Just a thought." He handed Jack the paper and leaned back on the chair, pursing his lips. "How do you feel about a trip to the Time Agency?"
Jack looked up sharply. "No."
"Might have to."
"No. Absolutely not," Jack told him grimly. "Whatever you need, we can get it some other way."
"And if we can't?" the Doctor queried softly, watching Jack closely.
Jack was silent for a long moment. He stepped back, away from the Doctor, and handed Rose the scrap of paper. Pacing to the edge of the console and back, his jaw worked as though he was trying to hold back some outburst.
"Look," he said finally, raising his hands. "You're the Time Lord--"
The Doctor's lips quirked in amusement. "I know that."
"Let me finish," he bit out. "What do you think would happen if you just waltzed into the Time Agency? I'll tell you what, they'll do everything in their power not to let you leave, to use you. Now, some of them are good people, but some of them really aren't. Don't do it, Doctor. Just ... don't. Anything else. Whatever else you need. I can find you Time Agents. I can find you sources. I can get you into substations and ships and ... and whatever else. Just, don't ask me this." He was nearly pleading, he'd balled his hands into fists and was anxiously rubbing the knuckles together. "Please."
"Fair enough," the Doctor allowed. "For now. No promises, Jack."
"Fine. But if you do it, you're going to leave me someplace else first."
Rose gaped at him. "You wouldn't really leave, would you?"
"Up to him," Jack told her tightly, jerking his chin at the Doctor.
Leaning back against the console, Rose rubbed wearily at her eyes. "Right, look, both of you, let's not start again today, alright? We'll just go to that space station like we planned, and then ... then just see what happens, yeah?"
The Doctor shrugged and leaned forward to pluck the paper from Rose's hand. Sitting back he began to read over it again.
"You think it's about you?" Rose asked. She'd know the thing was off the first time she picked it up, more than just its general awfulness.
"It's like you said, Rose, some things stayed fixed, but some didn't. If I can still exist, if a Dalek can fall through time, what else?"
"Do you know who it is, then?"
"Not yet. But it's somebody who knows more about me than I like."
***
Tune in next week, when something might actually happen!
Doctor Who
Nine, Rose, Jack
Spoilers -- Through "The Doctor Dances"
Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" and all related characters and elements are owned by the BBC and are used here without permission.
All previous parts here
***
When Rose woke the next morning (or afternoon, or evening, or whatever part of the day you preferred to call it, given that one part of 'day' was as completely irrelevant on the TARDIS as any other) she felt particularly muddled. More muddled than usual, and seeing as she'd nearly died before she was born, huddled in a cupboard in 10 Downing Street while it blew up, ripped open the fabric of time, and danced on an invisible spaceship during the Blitz, that was really saying something.
As she'd slept her mind had tried to process a question she had no way of answering, and the resulting twists and turns her brain had taken to sort it out left her confused and not a little bit uncertain. She'd told the Doctor she had a question for him, but now that she'd slept on it, she wasn't sure she was up to the task of asking it.
There was only one thing for it -- strong coffee. Yes, strong coffee could help clear her head. Very, very strong coffee.
Off in search of coffee, her mind now occupied by that very sane, very sensible, very comprehensible goal, she didn't notice the Doctor lying in wait until she'd almost trod upon him.
"'Morning, Rose," he smiled brightly at her and waved a cup of the sought after coffee under her nose.
She eyed him warily, and not a little bit suspiciously, for a moment and then took the proffered cup and followed him into the console room.
"So," he prompted, dropping down onto the room's only chair.
"What's on the schedule for today?" she asked with a yawn, wondering if he'd give her a chance to sort her brain before going after that question.
"We'll go see about Jack's friends, I think."
"Sounds good."
He raised an eyebrow and sat back. "Mmhm."
"What?"
"I don't know. What?"
Rose sighed and leaned back against the console. "How do you do that?"
"Centuries of practice. Ask your question."
"I don't ... I mean," she stuttered to a halt and frowned down at her coffee. "I don't think it matters. Not worth bringing up."
"Must be, especially if you needed to sleep on it. You can ask me anything, you know?"
"Well, yeah, but ..."
"But?"
There was no use dodging him, and if she was honest with herself, as uncomfortable as it might be, she didn't want to dodge him.
She looked up and directly into his bright, intense gaze. "It's about the Time War. Well, sort of."
The skin around his eyes tightened and his mouth thinned slightly, but he nodded at her and offered a weak smile. "Go ahead."
"You sure?"
"Rose."
"Alright. I just ... how long ago was it you knew Professor Wilson? I mean, for you?"
He stared at her for a moment then drew in a long, slow breath. "'Bout two hundred years, I guess."
"So, before the Time War? Before ..." she faltered and looked away from his pained stare.
"Yes. Before it all."
"She remembers you."
"So you said."
Rose frowned again, or maybe she was still frowning, she wasn't entirely sure, and pondered how best to proceed. She wasn't even sure she understood the question, let alone that she knew exactly what she might be looking for in an answer. And the more she stumbled around, the worse it would be.
Sighing, she took another sip of her coffee and stared back across the room, considering the gracefully curving support beams, and the murky shadows they cast on the recessed floor.
"Could you go back in time and meet yourself then? I mean, not that it would be a good idea, or maybe it wouldn't matter, or, whatever, I just mean, theoretically."
"Hm, yes. I could." His reply was simple, his face was carefully neutral now, and she both appreciated that he was letting her find her way through this question, and annoyed that he wouldn't jump in and save her from her own blundering ignorance.
"So ..." she let the word trail off and tucked her tongue thoughtfully into the crease of her lips. "You said you knew you were alone now." She winced and gave him a sympathetic smile. "But, if you went back and met yourself, the you then would still know the other Time Lords were around, right? Except they're not, right?"
He nodded slowly and continued to watch her with an even sort of look.
"I don't get it," she summed up finally. "It doesn't matter when you go, it's still ... uh, not there." She was trying to be delicate, but rather suspected she was failing. "But the you before all that, is still around. I just don't get it."
They stared at each other for a moment, and then the Doctor smiled. Rose sighed as quietly as she could, relieved she hadn't mucked up his mood too much.
"Good question. Rambling question, but a good one," he told her, sitting forward to pat her knee in kind approval.
She snorted softly, rolled her eyes, and tried to make a joke of the substance of the question. "Right, 'cause you never ramble."
"I never do," he agreed. "I have a lot of points to make and English is an extremely inefficient language."
"Mmhm."
He grinned and sat back, crossing his ankles on the edge of the console. "In answer to your question -- I shouldn't exist. And I don't know why I do, Rose. I really don't."
"Oh," she said quietly, not sure what to say to an answer like that. He was right, the English language didn't really do to cover things like this.
"I wish I had a better answer for you. I wish I had a better answer for myself. Yes, I could go back and see myself before the war, before my planet was gone, but that me is just a memory now. An echo in time." He shrugged and stared at the tips of his boots. "Just another anomaly."
Rose chewed on her lip and watched him over the rim of her coffee cup. "Guess we're just lucky, then."
The Doctor hummed noncommittally and continued to consider his boots.
"I mean," Rose carried on thoughtfully, "all those things you fixed, people you saved, they're still fixed. Whatever else, yeah? Better for the universe that you're around."
Looking up from his feet finally, he smiled and nodded. "Put a lot of work into the universe."
"Yeah. No good it going all off again, right?"
He laughed and looked about to say something else when he stopped abruptly and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor with a clang. His brows drew down in a frown and his gaze sharpened.
"What?" Rose asked.
"On Sistal Novila, when you found my screwdriver, there was a bit of paper with it."
"Yeah?"
"You still have it?"
"I think so."
"Fetch it. And wake Jack, while you're at it." He bounced off the couch and braced his hands on the edge of the console, leaning forward, lost now to whatever thoughts went through a brain like that.
***
"So, what is it?" Jack leaned over Rose's shoulder, trying to get a look at the tiny scrap of paper the Doctor was studying so intently.
"Just a bit of bad poetry," Rose replied.
"Vogons, eh?"
Frowning, Rose glanced up at him and shook her head. "What?"
The Doctor raised his eyes from the paper and gave her a incredulous and somewhat disapproving look.
"What?" She asked again, and when his disapproving frown deepened she clenched her jaw. "I get the poem thing, I just ... Oh, never mind. I have read a book, you know."
"I'd begun to despair," the Doctor replied simply and Rose had to resist the sudden urge to thump him.
"So, what's the deal, Doctor?" Jack asked, leaning further over, craning his neck to peer at the paper.
"Hmm? Oh, dunno. Just a thought." He handed Jack the paper and leaned back on the chair, pursing his lips. "How do you feel about a trip to the Time Agency?"
Jack looked up sharply. "No."
"Might have to."
"No. Absolutely not," Jack told him grimly. "Whatever you need, we can get it some other way."
"And if we can't?" the Doctor queried softly, watching Jack closely.
Jack was silent for a long moment. He stepped back, away from the Doctor, and handed Rose the scrap of paper. Pacing to the edge of the console and back, his jaw worked as though he was trying to hold back some outburst.
"Look," he said finally, raising his hands. "You're the Time Lord--"
The Doctor's lips quirked in amusement. "I know that."
"Let me finish," he bit out. "What do you think would happen if you just waltzed into the Time Agency? I'll tell you what, they'll do everything in their power not to let you leave, to use you. Now, some of them are good people, but some of them really aren't. Don't do it, Doctor. Just ... don't. Anything else. Whatever else you need. I can find you Time Agents. I can find you sources. I can get you into substations and ships and ... and whatever else. Just, don't ask me this." He was nearly pleading, he'd balled his hands into fists and was anxiously rubbing the knuckles together. "Please."
"Fair enough," the Doctor allowed. "For now. No promises, Jack."
"Fine. But if you do it, you're going to leave me someplace else first."
Rose gaped at him. "You wouldn't really leave, would you?"
"Up to him," Jack told her tightly, jerking his chin at the Doctor.
Leaning back against the console, Rose rubbed wearily at her eyes. "Right, look, both of you, let's not start again today, alright? We'll just go to that space station like we planned, and then ... then just see what happens, yeah?"
The Doctor shrugged and leaned forward to pluck the paper from Rose's hand. Sitting back he began to read over it again.
"You think it's about you?" Rose asked. She'd know the thing was off the first time she picked it up, more than just its general awfulness.
"It's like you said, Rose, some things stayed fixed, but some didn't. If I can still exist, if a Dalek can fall through time, what else?"
"Do you know who it is, then?"
"Not yet. But it's somebody who knows more about me than I like."
***
Tune in next week, when something might actually happen!