Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC and Russell T Davies and all those lovely, lovely people in England. Which I am not.
Summary: Set during 'Human Nature.' Instead of 1913, the TARDIS falls through the Void and lands in Rose's alternate world… but the Family is close behind, and things won't be anywhere near easy for everyone involved.
Notes: My first foray into Doctor Who! I'm terribly excited. Anyway, some things to keep in mind:
- Time progresses slower on "Pete's World" than in the original timeline;
- The clichéd plotline of Rose being preggers is involved, which leads to…;
- Rose and the Doctor being intimate. At any time. But after the regeneration;
- Jackie likes the Doctor; none of those silly "OMG he's an alien!!" moments. Re-watch the beginning of "Army of Ghosts" if you don't like that;
- Finally, I shall try to avoid Martha-bashing. Funny thing is, I like Donna more than Martha after one episode, so… I'll try. No promises.
Synchronicity: the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events (as similar thoughts in widely separated persons or a mental image of an unexpected event before it happens) that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality.
Rose's bare knees hit the marble tile of her bathroom floor hard. She ignored the pain, as the nausea rolling about her stomach was a pressing concern; she pushed the toilet seat up smoothly, a practiced move, and lurched forward, emptying the contents of her breakfast.
Cool hands smoothed back her natural, brownish hair, from her shoulders.
Resting her flushed face against the cool porcelain of the loo, Rose sighed in pleasure and murmured, "Thanks Mum."
Jackie Tyler cooed a noise in return. "Better now, Rose?"
"Mm, a bit."
"It's been three months of morning sickness… is that…" Jackie paused. She didn't want it to come out wrong.
Rose shuffled from her knees to her side, her arms trembling slightly. She wearily opened her brown eyes and looked up at her mother, still with the dyed blonde hair and dark eyebrows, with slight shadows under her eyes from her own pregnancy. "Go on, say it Mum – is it normal?" Rose frowned slightly, blindly reaching for the lever and flushing the toilet. "I haven' the foggiest."
Jackie frowned, running a hand across Rose's forehead. "I'm just worried. I don't want there to be complications."
"I know," replied Rose wearily, glancing up. She nodded once at her mother, and together they rose from the floor, with Rose leaning against the bathroom cabinet. Jackie handed Rose a face cloth and Rose ran it under the cool water tap, eager to press her face into the towel.
Who would have thought that she, Rose Tyler, at twenty, would be a mother?
When she had said her goodbyes nearly seven months ago, she hadn't known about the baby. Her mother was already three months along with the next Tornado Tyler, eager to start her life again with Pete. It wasn't until a month later that Rose had thrown her lunch up at work, causing her assistant to fly into a fit. Abigail McMaster had called Pete down from a board meeting with the Prime Minister; Mickey and Jake were recalled from a scouting mission with Torchwood 3 in Cardiff and flown back; Jackie left her yoga class.
Four hours later after a hysterical Abigail refused to let Rose out of the ladies' toilet near her office in the Department for Extra-Terrestrial Research & Development, which Rose was the Head of, Rose was bundled up and taken to the local hospital for a check-up.
And there, she learned, she was pregnant. Rose had given the doctor her best "what are you on about?" look; especially as Mickey confirmed that they had never gotten back together after what they all privately called "Doomsday."
Pieces started falling into place and Pete made a few phone calls; Mickey hacked into the hospitals' records and Rose Tyler had never been to St. Mary's and the doctor who treated her was quickly reassigned to another hospital in Scotland.
By late that evening, Torchwood's own doctors were on Rose's personal staff and the truth was revealed; somehow, Rose was nearly nine months along.
"Excuse me?" blurted Jackie, in shock. Everyone in the room turned from looking at Rose's mother to Rose's midsection, which had a barely noticeable bump: it was gently round but a lack of exercise and too many chips could easily be blamed. "That's not nine months along!"
Jackie looked down at her rounded tummy, pointed and exclaimed: "That's seven! Seven! See?"
"That's what the readings say!" argued back Nicholas Evans, one of the few original Cybus scientists to survive the "upgrade" process a year ago. He was also one of the few who could be trusted, despite having been a Cybus Industries employee – he had earned his keep numerous times for Pete before Rose and Jackie arrived.
"Ms. Tyler is pregnant, and according to her hCG levels… she's nearly nine months along. Rose has got nearly 117,000 mIU per ml, which is normally found between thirty weeks to the actual birth. And thirty-five weeks, which Rose is at, equals about nine months. Give or take, of course, given the… uh…"
"Father," supplied Mickey helpfully, his eyes riveted on Rose's midsection. "I always knew you two were close, Rose, but wow…"
And from then on, Rose had been taken off any galactic meetings with aliens, any hostage situations, and anything to do with space travel. She was promoted to the ET R&D department, and found herself running the low-budget, forgotten archive rooms. She staffed nearly fifteen people, all loyal to her, and all incredibly curious about the world out there. Their job was to identify alien technology, artefacts, and figure out alien history.
For the most part, Rose found it exciting. It was almost like exploring with the Doctor again, but without the 'running for their lives' part. Abigail was her assistant, dealing with meetings and liaison-ing between departments and the CEO room where Pete lorded over Torchwood 1. Abby was also godsend: as she kept order around the office, she also kept order for Rose, especially in those first few months at Torchwood in which Rose fell into a deep depression that had all employees at Torchwood 1 on alert.
With the majority of London reeling from the affect of John Lumic's Cybermen, those who went rogue like Pete, Mickey and Jake became the core of the People's Revolution and rebuilt London to their image. Torchwood once again flourished, but this time without the cloak and dagger routine that the alternate world favoured.
By the time London had recovered, the Cybermen had disappeared (and reappeared following the Genesis Ark into Jackie and Rose's parallel universe) and Torchwood was turned into a proper authority without ulterior motives. When Jackie Tyler mysteriously appeared, with Pete Tyler's daughter no one knew of in tow, secrets were revealed and somehow everyone in Torchwood 1 knew just who Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler and Rose Tyler were.
And more importantly, they knew Rose Tyler's experiences with a famous Doctor, an alien who travelled through time and space in a machine called the TARDIS, saving the world and human lives, one adventure at a time. And somehow, with that knowledge common-place within Torchwood 1, a sense of unity was created. A community, as you have it. Those who helped to rebuild London in the days after the Cybermen and locking the plant down at Battersea found themselves part of a small family. They had experienced the same horror and fear as loved ones were turned into cyborgs, and felt the same hope and awe as they became the heroes of the day.
So, it was no exception that these people wouldn't band together to re-create Torchwood. And since these people kept each others' secrets, knew their friends' weaknesses and strengths, Pete Tyler found himself, alongside Mickey and Jake, running Torchwood and surviving. Always surviving.
With Rose and Jackie in "Pete's World", though, Pete and Torchwood had nearly limitless information and experience at their disposal in Rose. She had travelled the universe and through time, and knew species of aliens that the budding world never even dreamed existed. So it was then that Pete found himself surprised as the London Torchwood employees – a measly one-hundred-forty-two from the original three-hundred plus pre-Cybermen – closed rank around the Tyler heir.
Every employee knew about Rose Tyler, the Doctor's companion. Every employee knew about Game Station 5. Every employee knew about Bad Wolf and the Heart of the TARDIS. Every employee knew how much Rose loved him, how much she did to save him. Every employee, even the most cynical amongst them, wished that they could re-open the Void and send her through, if only to be with the Doctor again.
It was all a bit romantic, Abby had once remarked to Jake in an elevator, the Doctor, a near Immortal wanderer and the London shop-girl who dreamed big but lived small. They met, saved each other, and fell in love.
But he never said it back, argued Jake. Abby just shook her head.
Didn't you read the file? She would reply, and the subject was closed.
So the employees, those lovely, wonderful, loyal and trustworthy employees, kept hoping and waiting and dreaming that their Rose would one day meet the Doctor again. Just once, maybe, to have real closure… a proper goodbye. Or maybe, once more so he could sweep her away, to the stars.
But nearly a year later, the 14th of May, 2007, the Doctor hadn't reappeared and Torchwood, and Rose Tyler, kept on surviving.
With a plus one growing in Rose, of course: the baby of Torchwood, the most precious of all within the organization. And each and every employee would give their life for Rose and the Doctor's baby – because, after all, what makes a better story than the lonely Prince and his lovely, humble companion?
Five months after Rose's first doctor appointment, she was finally waddling around her office, and some of the Torchwood employees resorted to Voodoo and as many forgotten and pagan religions as they could find, if only to have their prayers answered.
Rose Tyler, when waddling at fourteen months pregnant, crabby and suffering from weird food cravings (just what was a Shrewiohfodsej dish anyway?), lost her temper at you – you started praying for the Doctor to end your suffering.
And on an overcast, very normal September afternoon, one employees' wish came true: the Void re-opened and a space vessel fell through; a second followed after several hours, landing several hundred miles away from the original crash site.
Rose, however, just like the praying employee, knew nothing about the dual crash. In fact, Rose – by the time Mickey and Jake were deployed out to Sheffield to the first crash location – had succumbed to tears and was sobbingly apologising to the poor delivery boy who learnt he had grabbed the wrong take-out bag.
Rose was blissfully unaware that by dinnertime, her entire safe world would be collapsing. In fact, everyone was unaware of what was about to occur… because that oncoming storm was fast approaching and things were never going to be the same again.
"You could save the world, or save the woman you love."
"You are incompatible. You will be deleted."
A woman with blonde hair and brown eyebrows, wide, worried brown eyes stares up at him, like he knows just how to save her…
"You're just going to leave again, aren't you? Never staying, always going off to the stars."
"Doctor… my Doctor…"
Another blonde; older, harsher, but just as worried. A young man next to her, staring at him sadly – no, the blonde next to him. They were hurting these people – the girls' mother and friend?
"No one's meant to look into the heart of the TARDIS! … You're gonna burn and it's all my fault…"
Oh, God, ROSE. His Rose. So much pain, loss, fear, worry…
"I see all that was, all that is, and all that ever will be… I create myself, take the words and scatter them through time and space, a message to lead myself here… I am Bad Wolf…"
Sparkling brown eyes, tongue at the corner of her mouth when she's teasing him… wide smiles that make the cheeks hurt…
"How long are you going to stay with me?"
Never say never ever, Rose.
"Martha, listen to me! It's very important—"
It was the first thing Martha Jones remembered. The Doctor's worried, clipped voice. The face appeared soon after: messy brown hair defying gravity in all directions, the wide, brown eyes with tension lines at the corners; the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; the thin, pinched lips signalling his worry…
Martha's eyes snapped open and she scrambled to a sitting position, ignoring the bite of the TARDIS' control room grates in the palms of her hands. The Doctor – oh, you can't call him that anymore, can you, Martha? – was lying near the jump seat, sprawled on his stomach with his arms akimbo. Martha crawled on hands and knees over to him, gently reaching over and shaking him by the shoulder.
"Doctor?" she winced, thinking how to correct herself. "Sir? You alright?"
The Doctor – no, he – moaned, and rolled over onto his back, hissing as weight was applied to his left wrist.
Martha eyed it critically, noting the swelling. Not broken, but at least badly sprained.
"Where…" the husky, confused murmur reached her ears. "Where am I?"
"We've had a bit of a nasty fall, I think," replied Martha, falling back on the story they had created before the Doctor underwent the process of hiding his Time Lord self in the fob watch. Martha had that in her jean pocket, its warmth a comfort.
The now-human Doctor opened his eyes, blinking at the oddly coloured interior of the TARDIS, frowning in confusion. "But… where?"
"Nothing to worry 'bout," smiled Martha, gently urging him to rise, as she would a patient at the hospital. That was all he was now: a patient that she had to care for, at least for the next three months.
Might not be too bad, she thought, we can be a lovely couple living together. Wherever here is, anyway.
Together, Martha helped the Doctor to the TARDIS' door, opening it and settling him against the blue exterior. He never looked at what was holding him up, and Martha supposed it was something the ship was doing.
Martha watched the Doctor out of the corner of her eye. He was gingerly holding his wrist, taking deep breaths to find his centre.
"I'm sorry," the man finally chirped, trying to ignore the pain from his wrist. "I don't know your name. Who are you?"
Martha felt her heart break, just a little, at the words. "Martha. Martha Jones." She paused, licking her lips nervously, refusing to look at him from the grass. "And you are?"
He didn't reply right away; apparently trying to dredge his name up from the annals of his mind. "It's John Smith."
Martha looked up now, straight at the Doctor – John Smith. "Pleased to meet you," she said, and meant every word of it.
"Likewise," he manages to reply, smiling widely despite the pain.
Martha opened her mouth to reply. She was going to suggest chips, maybe – or even pizza. God, she hadn't had pizza in ages. She was dying for a pepperoni-mushroom-onion combination.
"Oy! You two – don't fucking move!"
Martha started, and the Doctor – Smith, she hissed at herself, Smith! – actually fell to his bum, staring at the man who shouted at them.
Martha felt her cheeks burn; she didn't even check the atmosphere when she helped John Smith out of the TARDIS. Instead, she had barrelled them out of the space machine without a second thought. She hadn't even looked around the make sure they were safe!
Refraining from slapping herself on her forehead, Martha finally took the time to observe her surroundings, and felt shock settle in. She, John Smith and the TARDIS were completely enclosed within a circle of men wearing all-black, high-tech looking guns in their hands.
The man who spoke removed his visor – Martha thought they almost looked like funky Ray-Bans – and lowered his weapon. No one else followed suit, however.
The man was tall, possibly twenty-four or thereabouts, near Martha's own age, with chocolate-coloured skin and his nose slightly turned up above a scowl. Nice features though; and a nice body, all muscle and strength.
Martha raised her arms slowly, signalling her surrender.
John Smith still hadn't moved beyond staring at the man who spoke.
When the man finally glanced at John Smith, wondering why he hadn't complied, he nearly did a double-take. His mouth dropped open slightly, and then his eyes travelled to the TARDIS, and back to the fallen man again.
Frowning, he stepped forward, out of the circle. Martha watched with her heart sinking as the space was filled. They were professionals.
"Doctor?" the man gapped. Martha's own jaw dropped in surprise, just as a few murmurs began to run through the circle. They knew the Doctor!
John Smith shook his head, and winced as he struggled to get to his feet. "Erm, sorry… no. John Smith's the name."
The man frowned, as if confused. "But… that's the TARDIS."
"What is?" asked John, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes glazed over, skipping over his space and time machine. The man's frown deepened, and a hand motion caused a spiky, blond-haired man to raise a small pistol at the Doctor.
"No!" called out Martha, but the man had pulled the trigger and John Smith fell to the grass in a heap of arms and legs. "What have you done?" she screamed, turning to the leader.
Instead, he had moved over to the Doctor with long, even paces. Kneeling, he placed his fore and middle finger at the Doctor's neck, checking his heartbeat. He swore under his breath. "Jake!"
The blond-haired man loped forward eagerly. "Yeah, Mick?"
"He's got one heartbeat."
Martha frowned. Just how well did they know the Doctor? Obviously they knew the TARDIS and that he had two hearts… but where were they? And who were they? "Oy!" Martha tried, her impatience winning over logic. "Just who do you think you are? And what have you done to him? We weren't going to hurt you!"
"Shut it," snapped the one called Mick, keeping his back to the companion. "He's more important at the moment."
Martha felt stung, and completely dismissed. He had never turned around to speak to her. She tried again. "My name's Martha. I'm his girlfriend, so I demand to be told what you think you're doing!"
This time, she received a reaction. A swift, angry one.
Mick stood straight and faced Martha, a fire in his eyes, his expression set in stone.
"Careful Mickey," urged another member of the group, lowering his gun slightly.
"His girlfriend?" Mickey began harshly, "I don't think so."
Martha tilted her chin up and stuck to her story. "I am so! His name is John Smith, and we're from London, and—"
"His name is the Doctor, that's his TARDIS which stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space machine, he's a Time Lord, he's met Cleopatra and Madam du Pompadour and he takes companions with him, not girlfriends," snapped Mickey back, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Martha. "Now, Martha, just who are you?"
Blinking, and trying to regain control, Martha asked in a breath, "Martha Jones. From London. And he's the Doctor."
Mickey nodded. "Good. And how did you get here?"
Martha's shoulders slumped. God, she was in for it later when the Doctor got his memory back. "We were being followed. We just got back from answering a distress signal from this space ship when we realised we were being followed. We tried to planet-hop, as the Doctor called it, but we couldn't shake them. Finally, the Doctor figured out who it was. He called them 'the Family.'"
Mickey frowned, and Martha watched behind him as Jake and someone else lifted the Doctor onto a stretcher. They loaded him onto a black van, with an oddly shaped logo on its side: several white hexagons in the shape of the letter 'T.'
"Who are the Family?" asked Mickey.
She shrugged. "Not a clue. All he said was that they needed a Time Lord's essence and that after three months they would die. Like mayflies. So he hid what made him a Time Lord in this," she continued, holding out the fob watch, "and told me to keep it with me, to protect it. He gave me a list of things to watch out for… but we didn't have a destination in mind or anything. The TARDIS just took control and then things got bumpy and sparks were everywhere and then we fell… and ended up here."
The frown on Mickey's face deepened. His eyes – brown, Martha noticed absently – searched hers, and finally, finally, he nodded. "Alright. You're coming with us."
"Sorry?" she squeaked. "I don't even know who you are! And where are you taking the Doctor!"
"I'm Mickey Smith," replied the man, a small, hesitant smile on his face, "And I'm the head of the Leo team at Torchwood 1. And you and the Doctor are coming with me."
Twenty minutes later, Martha found herself strapped into a plastic seat on a zeppelin; her pulse was a rapid tattoo and she could still feel and heat from Mickey's controlling but gentle hand wrapped around her upper arm.
The Doctor had been strapped completely down to the stretcher, and locked in near the head of the seats, all which faced each other, sideways.
"So, where exactly are we?" asked Martha, her voice faint. Her head was spinning. Zeppelins!
"You're on an alternative Earth," offered Jake, looking up from the pistol he was cleaning. "You're from Mickey's London, I suspect."
Martha glanced in surprise at the leader of Leo. "You're not from here?"
He shook his head. "No. I decided to stay behind though, and not go back with the Doctor and…" he cleared his throat, shifting nervously in his seat. "Anyway, my Gran was still alive here, and I could make a difference." He gave a wry grin. "No more Mickey-the-idiot."
"Never," vowed one of the others on the team. They all laughed and Martha found herself smiling along with them.
"So how long did you travel with the Doctor?" she asked, barely noticing the lift-off.
Mickey shrugged. "Not long. Barely a couple of weeks. I joined him because my friend was with him at the time. They'd been with him… oh, maybe about two years by that point?"
"Two years!" Martha was surprised. She had barely been with the Doctor four months.
Mickey nodded. "Yeah. And you?"
"About four months," replied Martha absently, "I need to get back soon so I can continue studying to be a doctor."
"A real one?" Mickey teased.
Martha smiled back.
As Mickey eased back into the seat, he crossed a leg ankle-over-knee, and almost too casually, asked, "So how well do you know the Doctor?"
Sensing that something was up, and that she had better think about her replies first, Martha copied Mickey's movement and settled back into her seat. "Well enough I suppose."
"Have you met any of his other companions? 'Cept he used to call them assistants."
Martha shook her head. "No… it's been just us. Although, he mentioned that the last person he travelled with was gone. And that I wasn't replacing her." Bitterness crept into her voice, barely noticeable to Martha who used it all the time when thinking or talking about her. She didn't notice the Leo team sitting straighter or the tense posture Mickey adopted.
"We met Shakespeare, you know. And we were in the middle of this adventure, trying to figure it out. I guess I got a bit flirty coz there was only one bed… anyway, he was being all moody, the Doctor, and then out of nowhere, he just went: Rose would know. It's always been Rose. All the bloody time."
"I'm sure he had a good reason," suggested Mickey, but Martha didn't look up. She shrugged, and he continued: "You know, he never mentioned those who travelled with him previously. When we met Sarah Jane, things were pretty tense. I remember joking to him, 'the missus and the ex' and he got this strange look on his face…"
"Odd," replied Martha, "he mentions Rose all the time." She took a deep breath. "I mean, who was she anyway? And why did she leave him? She must be a real bitch if she just up and swanned off doing God's knows what, leaving him all alone and thinking about her day and night…"
Martha finally looked up, and paused. Despite Mickey's nonchalant pose on his seat, he, along with the rest of the team, were prepared to fight.
"What? What is it?" she asked, frightened. "Oh God, there isn't some sort of invasion, is there?"
Mickey shook his head. "You don't know him at all, do you?"
Frowning, Martha argued, "Of course I do! I know all about Gallifrey, and that he likes helping people, and then he tries to stop people from feeling pain, and that's he has to lick everything…" she trailed off when she saw she wasn't convincing Mickey and his friends.
"You don't know him at all," murmured Mickey. "Did you know he's allergic to aspirin? It can kill him. Do you know anything about the Time War? Did you know he was a father once? Was married?"
Martha's jaw dropped at the final two revelations. "What?" she gasped out.
Shaking his head, Mickey leaned forward, both feet firmly on the metal floor of the zeppelin. "Martha, you don't know him. Rose did, and that's why he's always mentioning her. Do you know anything about how she left?"
Martha shook her head in response. Did he know Rose?
Everyone ignored the loud snore that the Doctor – John Smith – gave off.
"Rose Tyler," he began, answering her question with steely voice and glint in his eyes, "is my best friend. She travelled with the Doctor who two years. I was pulled into the police station five times for being a murder suspect because they missed a year. I watched them grow closer and closer and I lost Rose as my girlfriend. I saw how the Doctor acted towards Rose before his regeneration, and I saw how he hurt her after his regeneration with the whole Madam du Pompadour thing. I was there when Rose made her decision to be with him forever, leaving me and her mum behind in this alternate universe.
"I was there when Pete saved her from being sucked into the Void with the Daleks and Cybermen. I was there when Rose cried, and I was there when she said goodbye to the Doctor, saying she loved him."
Martha hadn't known.
"And Rose Tyler happens to be my boss's daughter. My boss happens to run Torchwood 1. And it's to Torchwood 1 that we're arriving at in about ten minutes."
After the horrible incident with the delivery boy, Rose found she couldn't even stand the sight of melted cheese over a bun with several types of vegetables. The smell was causing her stomach to roll and Rose finally had enough.
She waddled. She constantly had to pee. She could only sometimes see her toes in the shower. Sometimes she still got morning sickness, but mostly, she just got tired. She wanted this baby out, and she wanted it out now.
"Abby?" called Rose, her voice wobbling. She laid her head down across her arm on her desk, the other cradling her stomach protectively.
Rose looked up and saw Mark Spanos, a middle-aged employee of hers, stick his head into her office. "Is everything alright?" he asked, glancing around the light and airy room. Perhaps the potted plants were really evil alien things? Or maybe that framed picture of her brother on her modern, all-glass desk was really a mind-control device?
She shook her head, slowly rising to her swollen feet. Mark was at her side in an instant, an arm around her.
"What is it?"
"I think I need to see Tosh," Rose murmured, giving the older man a gentle smile. She knew how everyone worried over her; hell, even the security guards at the bottom level of Torchwood Tower were eager to carry her things and give her a helping hand. And they never let her go by herself to her car.
Mark nodded worriedly, and together they shuffled out of her office. Abby wasn't at her desk in the hallway, but the phone wasn't ringing and all her filing was done.
"I'll find her for you, once you're safely at the medical wing," offered Mark, sensing her glance. He smiled down at Rose and squeezed her shoulder gently. "C'mon, Bad Wolf, let's see how Theta is doing."
Rose smiled at the endearment, two words which once ruined her life, and the recent nickname for her unborn child.
One of the scientists had come up with, under the impression that since the Doctor could travel through space and time, his offspring might be able to do so as well… and the Greek symbol theta was also known to measure the rate of time decay on a daily basis. Meaning: someone's appearance versus their true age, which is what the formula was most well-known for. Therefore, since the Doctor never aged but rather regenerated, and the gestation period for a Gallifreyan seemed to be longer than the normal, defying time, the nickname Theta stuck.
After thirty minutes of shuffling and one elevator ride later, Mark left Rose at the door of the medical wing, handing her with care to Dr. Owen Harper, who gently ushered her into the med bay.
"Gonna have to be a bit patient, Rose," said Owen quietly. "Tosh's looking at someone Mickey's team brought in."
"Oh?" Rose asked, frowning and looking up at Owen. He dark-haired man nodded.
"Apparently something crashed near Sheffield and he and Leo were sent out to examine it. They brought back two people. One was injured, brining them here and the other is with Jake down near the lower levels. Couldn't let them up, of course," the doctor continued.
"I hadn't realised that something had gone on," admitted Rose. "Anything alien I need to look at later?"
Owen frowned. "I doubt it. You know Pete's gonna shit kittens, Rose. He's going to probably send you home with Abby and Mickey."
Rose sighed, not arguing. She knew how to pick her battles. Owen smiled and together they entered the medical wing.
"You're not going to see me again. Not with this daft old face."
"Rose! Doctor! You're back!"
The sensations of a hand slipping into his; soft, warm, comforting…
"Burn with me…"
"… if there's one thing I believe in, it's that I believe in Rose Tyler!"
"A north wind blows and carries down the distant... Rose?"
Anger, strong and fierce, running through his veins…and sadness so deep he aches down to his very being: "Oh big mistake! Because that name keeps me fighting!"