Chapter Text
She always sat three seats behind him, two to the left. She took the 8 o'clock in the morning and the 5:15 in the evening, same as him. She was almost always by herself, although every now and then some bloke would sit beside her, her boyfriend, probably. Whenever he got on she'd call out his name, Mickey or Rickey, something like that, and wave him over. But he never heard her name and, coward that he was, he never got the courage to sit anywhere closer to ask her for it.
Which was fine, really. She was at least a decade younger than him, definitely in her early twenties, and they probably had nothing in common. He could be charming, but his sister Donna said that he had an unstoppable gob and almost nothing good came out of it. He would bore her to tears with facts about stars and theories about time travel.
And really, it wasn't like seeing her was the highlight of his day, that'd be a bit much. She just seemed... nice. And yes, very pretty, and kind of cheeky from the snips of conversations he overheard. But not someone he should be getting this worked up about.
But then she would smile and he would almost get up and risk it, just for a chance to talk to her, to have that smile directed at him. Nothing ever happened, though. He'd stay put and look away, making excuses that he didn't really have time for dating, and that she wouldn't look twice at him anyway.
Life continued like that for six months, and the only differences he saw were fewer Rickey appearances and maybe, just maybe, she threw a few more glances his way as the weeks went on.
So really the zombie apocalypse was a blessing in disguise. Well, for him at least.
He didn't think anything of it at first. No one did. There were more and more absences in his classes, sure, and he was being called on to substitute for other professors who couldn't make it in. He just put it down to a bad flu epidemic and went about his week.
The news covered it extensively, though, and it scared Donna enough to pack up her twins and husband and head out of London with their mother and gramps. She called him, demanding that he come with them. He rolled his eyes, telling her that it was fine and it would all just blow over, but he would head up there this weekend if it would make her feel better. She was still mad, but considering that they'd spent nearly their entire lives with her annoyed at him for some reason, she agreed.
He got on the bus that Friday morning, his brows furrowed as he noticed how empty it was. The bus driver was looking a bit peckish himself, his face pale and drenched with sweat. Worrying a bit more than he should, he looked down the aisle and sighed in relief when he saw her there, sitting with her legs up on the seat and reading a magazine, perfectly healthy.
The only other passenger was an ill-looking man sitting in the middle, covered head to toe in several jackets and muttering to himself. Making a wide berth, he walked around him and sat near the back, placing himself between her and the strange man. He clutched his briefcase closer to him and watched as the man became more erratic. He started huffing and twitching, his feet clattering on the aisle's metal floor.
Even stranger noises came gurgling from under the man's coats, and something that sounded suspiciously sounded like a growl reverberated throughout the bus. Coughing and sneezing could be heard coming from the driver up front as well, but the bus steadily moved forward.
“You think he's alright?”
He jumped in his seat and turned towards her voice, which was very, very close. She had moved forward, sitting in the seat across the aisle from him, her face concerned as she watched the poor man continue to move around and grumble.
He blinked, not knowing what to say. Of all the conversations he thought of having with her, the deteriorating health of a fellow passenger was not one he prepared for.
“Uh,” he started, frowning at his eloquence, “I'm not sure.”
She nodded, her hoop earrings swaying along with the motion. He had the most irrational urge to trace the earring's shape, so he tightened his grip on his briefcase. “It's that flu,” she said, and he forced his eyes back to the man. “Everyone in our building's been gettin' it, 'cept me and my mum.”
He hummed in agreement, his concern growing as he watched the man try to stand up. The man was clearly very ill, and although his strength was probably next to nothing at this point, he did not trust the strained, crazed look the man was shooting in their direction. Subconsciously he found himself sliding along his seat, his feet getting ready to run.
He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder, and he looked down to see her hand. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asked, her faced etched with worry.
“Me? Oh I'm alright!” he said, “I'm always alright. Really, constitution like a fox, me. At least that's what my father always said. Never knew why he picked a fox. I think the phrase is actually meant for an ox, but that's what he chose,” he jabbered, wincing in his head when his mouth wouldn't stop moving.
She smiled that smile at him, the one where her tongue poked out of her teeth, the one he'd been watching for months. “Guess that makes you foxy, then,” she said.
“You think so?” he asked, smiling back at her.
She blushed a very lovely shade of pink. “A bit, yeah,” she agreed. Her eyes drifted to her hand on his shoulder, her blush growing even deeper as she quickly dropped her hand to her lap.
He felt a swell in his chest, his grin practically hurting at this point, and he was just about to ask if she liked chips when the bus violently swerved to the left. She came tumbling at him and he found himself full of a very warm and curvy blonde, her head jammed into his neck and her hair spread across his face.
“Ow,” she said, gently disentangling herself from him, her hoop earring caught in a loose thread on his brown coat.
He was helping her to loosen the thread, his fingers stumbling whenever they brushed hers, when the bus swerved again, this time towards the right.
“Oi, mate!” he yelled. “You alright up there?”
There was no answer as the bus slowly came to a stop.
Her earring finally free, the two of them stood up. The man in the middle of the bus had gone still, standing like a statue in the middle of the rows. A loud keening noise came up from front, the driver clearly in pain.
One by one, the coats the man had on came off, and a strong, sickening stench filled the small compartment. The man still had that look in his eyes, but now he was practically shaking, drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. He took a lumbering step forward, his arms reaching out for both of them.
He found himself reaching for her hand, his briefcase forgotten under his chair. Feeling her fingers intertwine with his, he began to move themselves towards the back exit.
“Sorry,” he said, watching the man coming towards them, “not the right time, but what's your name?”
“Rose,” she breathed, her own eyes widening as the man began to speed up.
“Rose,” he repeated, the name fitting her perfectly. “Right, nice to meet you Rose. Now, run!”
The man let out a loud growl as he jumped at the pair. He pulled at her hand as they flew out the back door, running as fast as they could away from the bus.