Lost Companions Chapter 24

Rose gazed, deep in thought, at the fantastic architecture of the TARDIS. It had been at least two hours since her talk with Rory – she had wandered among a few various floors of the ship, marveling at some of the things on board. Artifacts of alien technology, remains of evil specimens, pieces from ancient histories. She wondered if the Doctor had been present for the collection of all of this, or if it had already been cluttered before his arrival. There was no way of knowing if even he himself was aware of everything on board.
Had this been a planet, the moon would have risen already – the TARDIS had gone into nighttime mode. In the dim lighting, she hadn't seen him approach before he spoke. "Rose Tyler."
She spun, squinting in the dark. "Doctor?"
"Hello." He stepped forward, into the glow of one of the ship's lights.
She blinked in surprise, then said, "Did you and River have any luck?"
"No," he said, leaning against the side of the hallway they were standing in. "But it doesn't matter. We'll straighten in up eventually."
She nodded, staring at the floor. They were quiet for some time, until the Doctor spoke up. "So I think I have it figured out."
"What?"
"How you got back from the Void," he replied.
Her heart skipped a beat. "H-How, then?"
"Bad Wolf saved you," he said calmly. "The teleport link, the one that returned you to the TARDIS if you got too far from me. It tried to kick in, but struggled to reach you through the pull of the Void. Finally, it found you in there, and managed to pull you back."
He met her eyes.
"But the Void fought.
"By this point, you had returned to yourself – you were aware of the situation and knew what was happening. The fight for you went on and on, and you were helpless. Finally, there was a turn in the battle, and you realized that inevitably the Void would win. So you did the only thing you could."
"What?" Rose said, hearing the lack of emotion in her voice.
"You bargained with the Void. You made a deal with it, so that you could survive and return to the TARDIS." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that."
She frowned and said, with little fight, "What was I supposed to do? It was that, or an eternity in the Void."
"I'm not saying you could have done better," he replied, looking away. "But making a deal with the Void is a very, very foolish thing to do."
They were both quiet for some time. Rose looked sadly at the floor. "What was your deal?" he finally asked.
She glared at the dimly-lit TARDIS lights on the other side of the hallway in front of them. "It was simple. The Void just wants to keep tabs on me."
"So they gave you a sword and bracelet?" he asked, glancing at the accused objects.
"They... taught me how to manipulate the Void," she murmured quietly.
"How long were you there?"
"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.
He gave her a look, an almost disappointed one. "Come on, Rose. I know that time doesn't exist in the Void. I know you didn't necessarily stay there for the same amount of time that you were gone for us."
She hesitated, looking away. "Grand total," he said.
"One year, seven months and three days," she managed finally.
She saw him lower his gaze out of the corner of her eye. "You counted."
Rose managed a shaky laugh. "Course I did. It wasn't totally bad there, but... I missed the real world."
"Course you did."
"Yeah. Course I did."
She found moderate humor in the situation, but, looking up, saw his cold, hard expression, devoid of happiness, and the smile was wiped from her face. She hadn't realized how seriously he was taking this. "Hey," she said, straightening up.
He didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the other side of the wall away from them, expression unreadable. "You jumped," he said it in an observant tone, the way someone might have said, "You're blonde."
It felt to Rose like the air had been sucked from the room. She could hardly breathe, heart pounding and head wracked with hundreds of different emotions. She looked at everything except him, despite the fact that she was assuming he wasn't watching her. "I... yeah, I did."
She saw his jaw tense, as though he had something horribly unpleasant in his mouth and was trying to hide it. "Why?"
"Why do you think?" she fired up, affronted by how blunt he was being.
His eyebrows rose, expression bleak. "I had no other choice. There was no other way to do things."
"You could have told me," she shot back. "I could have spent my last days happy, with the other Doctor, instead of being alone here after he died, far from me."
"You still would have been sent here," he still wasn't looking at her. "You still would have lived, and he still would have died."
"But he would have been able to tell me how he was feeling, that he could feel the world dying. His death would have been less painful for him – he could have shared the pain with me."
His face contorted tortuously, and the Doctor said three words Rose never thought he would ever say. "I wasn't thinking."
She let off a small, soft huff, not quite believing him. "Why? Why weren't you thinking?"
His eyes narrowed, and she thought he looked like he was considering how much to say. "It was... complicated. More of a price this time 'round."
"What you mean to say," she said slowly. "Was you didn't tell me because you were being selfish. You were afraid of losing me."
He was quiet for a second too long. "Yes."
Rose knew she should be angry at him for being so stupid, so foolish, so inconsiderate, but she couldn't be. The look on his face hurt her to see. He looked like an injured puppy, beaten for chewing up its owner's best shoes. Torture and hurt, regret and guilt spammed his features. Emotions that Rose had long debated whether he was capable of or not lay as clear as day on his face, his cards laid out on the table for all to see. She should be angry. Fuming. But she wasn't.
"Doctor," Rose, for a quick second, thought she had something good to say, but her words trailed off to nothing.
Far above them, in some long-forgotten, abandoned chamber of the TARDIS, an eerie, low-pitch howl moaned in a disconsolate tone, the sound carrying like wildfire across the open halls of the ship. Whether there was some troubling work being done up there, or something had gotten loose only to die in the confusing maze of the ship, or perhaps a creature had sensed the tension downstairs and knew that a sad, scene-fitting noise was absolutely necessary at that moment, we will never know.
The Doctor glanced up. "Hmm," he said.
"Hmm," Rose agreed.
He turned, facing her, but still not meeting her eyes. He pursed his lips, expression not unlike the one a person might have after being told that they'd forgotten to pay their taxes, or that their plumbing was broken. It was very unfitting of the current situation.
"Look at us," she said quietly. "Look at what we put ourselves through."
He smiled. "It would be so easy to avoid, wouldn't it?"
"Too easy," she nodded.
His smile stayed for a fraction of a second longer, then faded, turning serious again. The look in his pale green eyes was dark. "I'm sorry."
Rose looked – really looked – at the Doctor in front of her. There was no doubting it – he had changed a lot since the first time they'd met. During their time together, he would have expected her to understand when he was sorry or not. Now, he was actually telling her. Granted, they'd never come across a mistake of his this serious, or grave, but that didn't really matter to her at the moment. She felt, for one of the first times in her life, like things might actually be okay. It was like the aftermath of a hurricane – looking onto the streets of your neighborhood, and seeing everything you'd ever loved or owned in ruins. But then your mother, or your sister, or whomever you'd prefer, comes up and loops their hand into yours and you know it's going to be alright. Rose didn't know what to say.
She spend some seconds struggling with her emotions in silence, but by the Doctor's expression it became apparent that the look on her face told him everything he needed. He took one step forward, destroying the distance between them, leaned forward and undid the straps on her weapon. It fell, dissipating into nothing before it could hit the ground. Then he bent down and kissed her.
She started in surprise, and very nearly jerked away from him before remembering who it was that was kissing her and how very uncommon it was for him to do this kind of thing. Then she kissed him back.
I wouldn't want to waste your time with irritating soliloquies or unnecessary melodramas, because kissing really isn't as great or magical as everyone says it is. But, all things considered, this is the Doctor, and he's a bloody Timelord who's seen and done more than should be physically possible, so you better believe that his kisses are worth anything in the world, and filled with melodrama, so damn right I'm going to waste your time with what then proceeded to go through Rose's head.
At first it was like any other kiss. Rose had kissed Mickey plenty of times back when they'd been dating, and his kisses were sweet and loving, and this was exactly what she got with the Doctor. But, as he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer to him, she felt things change. It was like new doors had opened for her. His lips were as sweet as honey against hers, and she shivered with the rough, raw, powerful feel of them. He looked human, he felt human... but his kiss was pure Timelord.
She felt him, innocent against her, letting her control the kiss, to feel and manipulate the rhythm they were sharing. He offered her no resistance, and she gave him her all in return, feeling like a silly child when she hoped he didn't find her a bad kisser. He was sweet as hell – everything you'd imagine him to be like from staring at his face entirely too much, plus more. Had either of them been aware of the amount of fangirls they had acquired, they both would have been paying more attention to the good results they had to brag about.
The kiss went on for longer than either could remember – but again, this is a small detail I won't bother you with. When their lips finally parted, it was the Doctor pulling away. He smiled at her – I won't say dreamily, because that word just doesn't work with him, but it was indeed very dreamy. Then he walked, slow and confident, away from her in the vague direction of the console room.
Do you know that Disney movie, Hercules? If you do, then I'm sure you're probably aware of the scene when Meg sings "I won't say I'm in love," where she repeatedly attempts and fails to convince the audience that she isn't in love with Hercules. Quite obviously, this scene doesn't fit what was going on in Rose's head at all, but I feel like I could mention it because the situation – girl sitting by herself after dramatic love scene – seems to fit pretty well.
Rose watched, lips slightly parted and tingling in a friendly way, as he walked off. Her head was reeling, but this time in a good way. Her heart was also thumping, but this was good for once too. His kiss had left her wild and dizzy, but also madly invigorated – she wanted to run, or dance, or go do something immensely stupid just for the sake of doing it.
She recalled the kisses – generally short ones – that they'd shared in the past, and couldn't remember a single one he'd given her just for the sake of giving it. Sure, there were the occasional pecks on the cheek, but nothing like that, not unless he had a reason. He never kissed without a reason.
And sure, maybe in this situation guilt had been driving it, but it hadn't felt like a guilty kiss in anyway whatsoever. It was just a kiss. A (did she dare say it?) loving kiss.
Rose couldn't imagine going and doing anything normal after that, least of all sleeping. Not even exploring the fascinating TARDIS would please her wild mood. She leaned against the side of the wall and laughed giddily, feeling for the first time in a long time that things might get fun again.