Composed of Nows 3/4 and 4/4
Jun. 21st, 2008 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indiana_jAuthor:
indiana_j[Unknown site tag]Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Rose/Jack, Mickey, Pete, Jake, Jackie, Alt!Sarah Jane Smith, Alt!Ianto Jones
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,098 / 824
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the characters within, sadly, do not belong to me.
Summary: Sometimes it takes someone else to point out that forever is simply composed of nows.
A/N: Spoilers for all the way through Season Two of DW and sometime in Season One of Torchwood. Many, many thanks to my beta reader
aura_wolf who did a fantastic job despite the fact that I flailed at her. A lot. :D And thanks to deathpixie who took a quick look at the addition for me. I've decided to post the epilogue along with the 3 part since the epilogue is shorter than the other bits combined.Prompt: #27. Fresh Flowers
~~ The white noise wasn't white noise any longer. It was a song within the bone-shuddering noise of the TARDIS' landing. It was a million stars exploding at once. It was beautiful and painful and it wouldn't let her go. She was screaming into the void as golden light formed around her, searing everything closed. There was no white light for her, no tunnel; just a golden speck that had burrowed its way so far into her DNA that when the rest of it had been forced out, it had stayed behind, forgotten and overlooked. Hidding and sleeping, so small that it hadn't had a chance to change or do anything - until the shock of the first death had woken it. It was an act of self-preservation that forced it into the open, changing and rewriting DNA code like a virus. Now, the process took only minutes; then, oh so much longer. It was a painful process and somewhere in the back of Rose's mind, one that was cracking and reforming under the weight of life, Bad Wolf howled. The noise was half pain and half triumph. If she joked and laughed it off, Rose was fairly positive she was less likely to end up in a ball on the roof of the Torchwood complex. It was tempting, though. As a ball, it would be awfully easy to ignore the past hour, all the pain and confusion. "I thought you were dead," Jack said, staring out into the skies of London above their head. "Twice, I might add." She joined him on the edge and followed his gaze. "So did I. You, I mean, and not twice. Jus' the once." That was one too many times for her liking. She'd lost two of the most important people in her life in one day, her first Doctor and Jack. And in some weird twist of fate, she'd gotten them both back, just at different times. Her hand stole to the spot where the bullet had passed through her and rubbed at the healed flesh through the borrowed clothes. Ianto had lent her his not quite as white shirt (he'd been rather horrified at the mess, but she hadn't let him wander off to find a cleaner one) and when she and Jack had hit the roof, she'd found the great coat being placed around her shoulders. She shook her head. It never hurt after the fact – the actual act did but not the original spot of the injury. They'd barely talked and Rose squared her jaw. Ianto was downstairs for two reasons. He was reporting to Pete everything that had happened, but he was also stalling any worried person from bursting through the roof door. They had about an hour before anyone interrupted. Ianto was nothing if not fantastic at his job. Spinning on her heel, Rose faced Jack and opened her mouth, only to be interrupted. “Are you my Rose Tyler?” he asked simply, ducking his head so he could see into her eyes. She countered with, “Are you my Jack Harkness?” They stared at each other for a moment and she saw something dark and lonely pass through his eyes. Then he was taking the three steps that seperated them, scooping her up in his arms and her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder and neck. This was how she'd always imagined a reunion to be (this one's broader, more human, slightly more grope-y than the one she'd imagined, but she wouldn't give this up for the world) and not how it went earlier; spinning hugs and laughter that echoed off the roof, not death and seeing her blood dripping down his fingers as he stared at her with pain filled eyes. Jack's arms tightened to the point that she felt her spine pop, and then he drew her back far enough to grin in her face before he kissed her. At times, she still dreamt about that first, and at the time, only kiss upon the Gamestation. Mostly because it was the last time she'd seen him, touched him before she believed him to have died – but also because it had warmed her from the tip of her head to her toes. This one blew the last one out of the water. It said everything that he couldn't find the words for. Missed you; so many years alone; why, hello there; lovelovelove, always. She responded by pouring her own grief, fears, and rejoicing to find him alive, all of it back into him. They parted again and she rested her forehead on his as she realized he'd picked her up, her feet dangling inches above the rooftop. “Thought we lost you at the Gamestation,” she said, her voice ragged and rough even to her own ears. “Thought the same with you, babe, after Canary Wharf,” he responded. “Haven't seen the Doctor since the Gamestation...” Worry suddenly bloomed in his eyes. “He does know you're safe, right?” She nodded, gently knocking their heads together. “Yeah, long story, that. Jack, there's no way back. The Doctor had ta shut the Void. That was the end of the battle.” They were going to have to investigate how he managed to get through at all but that was later. They had time. Jack gently set her back down on her feet but kept her close. “And you managed to get stuck on the wrong side?” “There was an accident--” Years ago she'd stopped blaming herself for not holding on tighter. No force on earth could have held her without the lock being in place. “--nearly ended up in the Void before dad popped in an' saved me. Mum's here, same with Mickey.” The look on his face made her laugh. “You mean Mickey the Idiot is this war hero?” he demanded, shaking his head as Rose smacked him lightly in the chest. “What is the world coming to?” He sobered up. “When did you discover that you couldn't die?” Jack trailed fingers down the side of her face as if he were still trying to convince himself that she was there. Real, solid and fantastically alive. Her eyes shifted away. “Seems the universe likes tryin' ta even things out,” Rose said softly. “There was this car when dad and I were out shoppin' this once. He had this vase, the driver hadn't seen him, yeah? I shoved him clear out of the way...” She'd 'woken' back up in Pete's arms as he waited for an ambulance, nearly twenty minutes later, screaming loud enough to hear for blocks around as her body knitted its broken and shattered self back together. She hadn't been able to keep it from her family and she'd opted to let a select few at Torchwood know as well - the ones who weren't likely to try and lock her in a room and run nasty experiments on her. Though she'd like to see them make the attempt if only to watch Pete in action – the look on his face when he thought she'd died had spoken volumes of his growing attachment. “Hey, hey...” A hand cupped her jaw and she found her face drawn up to look into Jack's. For the first time in years, she let the walls drop and he could see her fears clear as day. What would she do when her family and friends passed away around her? When she buried her little brother at the ripe old age of ninety? Would it last so long that she would watch England change and morph into something not even she would recognize? Would she change into someone she didn't even recognize anymore? Up until then, Rose hadn't been able to face those questions because the answer always ended badly for her. Alone and the only constant thing in the world. The Valiant Child that would never die. She wouldn't wish this eternal life on anyone, but it seemed as if Jack hadn't had a choice either. Something like hope shook itself off in the back of her mind as she buried her face in his shoulder. “What're we gonna do?” she asked. She felt him shrug. “Don't quite know, babe, but we've certainly got the time to accomplish whatever our grand scheme is going to be.” Despite herself, Rose broke out laughing and he soon joined her. And if it had a touch of hysteria and shock from everything that'd gone through, it still felt good to laugh. Mickey had been the first through the door – only, he later said, because he'd purposely tripped Pete to get up the stairs – and he had damn near passed out at the sight of “Jumpin' Jack Flash” in the flesh. Rose had about died at the expression on her oldest friend's face when Jack gleefully planted one on the other man. Jake had promptly demanded an introduction and it hadn't taken much for either of them to fall into a cycle of flirting. Pete had taken one look at the scene and simply brought the mobile over to Rose so she could give Jackie a call. He had planted a kiss on the top of her head and cuddled her close to his side while she did so. When Rose had introduced Jack to her the Torchwood team she was going to move to Cardiff with her, she couldn't figure out why he was laughing so hard. But she gladly took his tip about where to go fetch one Gwen Williams. And then she later had to explain to Jack exactly why she'd accidentally shot him in the foot when she first saw Gwen up close. It seemed that not opening and closing the rift in 1869 had unexpected results in heritage. Rose had stolen Gwen away from the local police force – but she'd checked before sending her to Cardiff for any psychic abilities, latent or otherwise. It didn't take long to figure out that they were slotting Jack in that team (Pete had figured it was either that or press charges for breaking in and how do you press charges against someone who doesn't exist yet in the world?), as well, which suited both Jack and Rose just fine. “Do you remember hopping for our lives?” A month after Jack had broken into Torchwood, the pair found themselves in Norway. He'd taken her to meet the family that had found him that day he'd come tumbling from the sky; she'd taken him to Dårlig ulv stranden to see where the Doctor had gotten the message through to her. They'd spent some time on the beach but had ended up back in that field of flowers. She laid sprawled on top of his jacket and he stretched out next to her as she used one of his arms to pillow her head. When she suddenly began to laugh hysterically, he'd rolled on top of her, one arm planted above her head to brace his body, the other one ghosting over her hip. “What's so funny?” he asked, tilting his head at her. “I just figured it out!” Rose gasped, grabbing hold of his silly and endearing suspenders. He was hard and firm above her in more ways than one and she grinned up at him, tongue peeking out. “Care to share with the rest of the class, Miss Tyler?” he asked, bending his head just enough so that his lips brushed hers when he talked. “The Doctor, our first one, what did he always call Mickey?” Jack stopped short and thought back, eyebrows scrunching together as he flipped through his memories. “Kept winding good old Mickey up,” he responded, “kept calling him the wrong name. Rickey, wasn't it?” Rose nodded. “No real reason, yeah? Just windin' Mickey up?” He slipped between her legs and grinned when she gasped softly. “Yes?” “No. Well, yeah, he was. Always was a bit of a cranky bastard and--” She smacked him on the shoulder and he gave her an innocent look. “I'm tryin' ta concentrate!” “Then I'm not doing a good enough job.” Her hands reached up to cradle his face and suddenly everything around them was crisp and new. The smell of the fresh flowers nearly overwhelming, the sun a little too bright, the sound of the ocean a little too raw, the feel of his skin a little too rough under her fingers. “Before Mickey stayed here for good, there was another him, a Rickey Smith that ran with the Preachers, Jake's old group.” A shadow fell across her face briefly. “He died, Mickey stayed in his place, ages before I ended up here.” “I stopped belivin' in coincidences a long time ago, Jack,” Rose said softly. “I think that at some point, our first Doctor is gonna make his way through the Void, closed off or no, and we got ourselves a ride home.” Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones softly and he leaned into the touch. "Someone started this self-fulfillin' whatever it is, yeah? Seems only right that we close the circle when we find him again. Start this whole thin' all over again." “Our first Doctor was, as you're so fond of saying, rubbish with the exact when,” he warned, “even if this theory is correct.” The shrug of her shoulders forced her body to move against his slightly and they both murmured in pleasure. She cleared her throat and tried to think. “Does it matter? We got all the time in the world, yeah? So it seems, anyway. Might as well make the most of it an' I'd rather have a little hope, a little bit of a plan, than sittin' around with nothin'.” The kiss nearly made her forget about her thin thread of hope, nearly made her forget her own name, and the smile he gave her when he pulled back was nearly blinding. “Well, pipe dream or not, better with two, right?” One small hand slipped into the bigger one and they intertwined fingers. “Yup!” Rose said, popping her 'p' slightly. Jack lowered his head once more. “Now, let's see what I can do about making you lose some of that concentration...”
When he finally had to admit to himself that she was gone, he'd done the next best thing: he'd started to beat the crap out of this world's Ianto Jones. The man hadn't tried to fight back, just settled on defending himself, and was now being held by the throat against the wall, Rose's blood running down Jack's hands and staining Ianto's crisp, white shirt in a violent color. If Jack had his way, soon enough there'd be more than just her blood on that shirt.
Someone was screaming, and it took Jack a moment to realize that it was him. Ianto's head bounced against the wall as Jack shook him. "I swear to God by the time I'm done, you'll wish you were dead..."
Ianto's forehead made contact with his nose and he stumbled back, slightly stunned. The Ianto that had been at Torchwood One in his time wouldn't have fought that dirty - Rose'd been teaching him. The Welshman grabbed the lapels of the overcoat and shook him hard in return, hard enough that Jack's teeth rattled sharply.
"Give it a couple of minutes, you bloody American," Ianto snapped, face pale with guilt and soaked with sweat, but when he went to continue, Jack's knee suddenly became uncomfortably familiar with certain bits of anatomy.
Dirty fighter or not, this Ianto crumpled just the same as the other one. Jack gazed grimly down at the curled up figure and went to put his foot in the other man's gut...
And nearly jumped clear out of his skin when a cold hand clamped around his ankle from behind, effectively stopping the movement that would have had Ianto emptying the contents of his stomach.
Spinning around, Jack stared down at Rose as she rolled over onto her side. "S'okay," she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood as she responded to his previously murmured words, "seems neither can I."
"And so it begins again."
"I'm the Doctor, by the way, what's your name?"
"Rose."
"Nice to meet you, Rose -"
A door closes.
"- now run for your life!"
Another one opens.
Run.