Chapter Text
The first time Rose Tyler had an encounter with a helpful stranger, it was the summer of 2004, and she was six months out of a toxic relationship with Jimmy Stone. She was back in her Mum’s flat, which was really many steps up from the squalor in which she and Jimmy had resided. She had a job at Henrik’s to pay off the debt incurred by her ex, and she was mired in day to day living. Get up, go to work, beans on toast, Eastenders with Mum and Mo. Perhaps she'd go out with Keisha and Shireen but she really had no taste for clubbing and pub crawls any more. That was how she had met Jimmy.
She was dating Mickey now, a safe choice, she supposed. There was a nagging feeling that she was settling but after the hell that had been been Jimmy, maybe settling wasn't a bad thing. Mickey was sweet, after all. She'd known him forever. The sex situation had been a bit awkward at first, and not all that great. However, he was safe. He'd never hurt her, not like Jimmy.
There was another nagging feeling, one that was becoming harder to ignore. She knew that she wanted more than the life that she was living, but she was unable to figure a way out. She hadn't even gotten her A levels. Whenever she mentioned she'd like to try for them Mickey shut it down. “Why the ‘ell would ya go back to school? You got a job, ain't ya? You're better off than some.”
Rose might have been better off, but as for happy, well, that was debatable.
On this particular July evening she was hauling a bag of groceries and a gallon of milk from the shop down the street from the Estates, after ten hours on her feet at Henrik’s. Five of those hours had been spent in customer service processing returns. She'd been the target of disgruntled, entitled customers, and that had worn her down. She was exhausted, and as she stepped out, distracted, she didn't see the kid on the bike coming.
“Watch it, slag!” the teenager snarled, dodging out of the way enough to miss Rose’s body but he clipped the groceries and they spilled onto the ground.
The sight of the eggs smashed and the strawberries burst out of the plastic container, coupled with the teenager’s nastiness, was enough to break Rose. The tears that had been threatening since mid-afternoon fell, and she dropped to her knees to pick up the strawberries. A passerby managed to step on five of them before she could, and the person shot a dark look at Rose.
“Oi there!” a male voice called out from behind her. She glanced back to see a man hurrying over to her. She wasn't sure he was speaking to her until he stopped by her side. He crouched down, and she found herself looking into a pair of very kind green eyes.
He was young, maybe just a few years older than Rose, with fringe that flopped down into his eyes and a large chin. He stared at her as if he couldn't quite believe he was looking at her. She rocked back on her heels a bit to put a little distance between them, but the day had one more indignity left for her. She began to lose her balance and he immediately reached out to grab her hand. She didn't fall.
And he didn't let go right away once she was safe.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He looked like he might be some sort of professor or something, with his tweed jacket and bow tie.
Rose finally found her voice and said, “Yeah. M’fine.” She let go of his hand then and she caught of flash of something (disappointment, maybe) as he pushed his fringe back from his forehead.
“Can't believe the nerve of some humans,” the man scoffed. “They never fail to live up to my expectations.”
She smirked. “You say that like you're not one of the humans.”
He gave her a small smile, eyebrow quirked. His eyes were full of mischief. “Looks like you lost about half your strawberries.”
“Oh, bollocks. And like I've got the cash to spare to buy more,” Rose groaned.
“Be right back. Stay there, and don't you wander off!” He dashed into the shop before she could protest. Surely he wasn't going to….
But there he was not a couple minutes later, with a bag of groceries. He tucked the small bag in her larger one and handed her a bunch of bananas.
“Can't have strawberries without bananas. Hope the rest of your day is better. It’s time Rose Tyler was treated like the brilliant human she is.” He said this as he backed away.
Rose had two thoughts, nearly simultaneously. She hadn't thanked him yet, or offered what little money she had to repay him.
And when did she tell him her name?
Rose looked back behind her.
The man was gone. It was as if he'd never been there. She whirled around, bewildered.
She was distracted by her mobile buzzing. It was her mother, worried about why Rose was so late.
A half hour later, a relieved Jackie was helping unpack the groceries and listening to the tale of Rose’s horrible day. Suddenly, Jackie interrupted, “Why the bleedin’ hell did you buy fish fingers and custard?”
*******
It was autumn and a chill was in the air the second time Rose had a strange encounter. She was out with Shireen for the first time in ages. She really had no business doing it, after having made a large payment on her credit card. But days upon days of overtime coupled with the boredom of watching football on the telly with Mickey had Rose wanting a night out with her friend.
They spent a lot of time window shopping because neither one could really afford more. “Blimey, m’starvin,” Shireen groused. “C’mon, let's get some chips.”
That sounded so wonderful. Chips would have really hit the spot. However, mindful of her situation, Rose sighed and suggested, “Let’s go back to the flat. We might have some pizza rolls or somethin’. And it’s free.”
Shireen put her hand on Rose’s forehead. “Sure you're not feelin’ poorly? Never thought Rose Tyler would turn down chips!”
Rose batted her hand away, laughing. “No, I want the chips. My wallet says no, though.”
“Well, mine says yes. Mighta got a few extra tips yesterday….the cleavage helped,” Shireen confided, adjusting first her bra strap, then her breasts. Rose burst out laughing. “M’serious! Look, if ya don't want the chips….”
Rose considered for a few seconds. “All right, but I'm payin’ you back Friday.”
Shireen nodded in agreement and they crossed the street to the sidewalk in front of Rose’s favorite chippie. It looked like a hole in the wall but it served the best chips in the neighborhood.
They were the second in line. A crowd came in after them, but Rose paid them no attention.
She glanced at the menu, knowing exactly what she was going to order. Shireen stepped up to the counter and placed her order, then Rose placed hers. The girl behind counter rang them up, and Shireen pulled out her change purse. She rifled through the small purse, her eyes widening in panic.
“Wha’?” Rose asked.
Shireen swore under her breath. “That wanker. Jason. He got in my purse and stole the twenty quid I had in there! I know he did it! Dammit!”
“I thought you knew to keep on eye on your wallet aroun’ him!” Rose burst out.
“It ain't my fault! Besides, you're a fine one to talk.”
Rose raised her eyebrow and immediately Shireen went on the defensive. “Ain't like it’s Jimmy Stone, right? Weren't exactly keepin’ an eye on your purse, were ya?”
“What the bloody hell would you bring him up for?” Rose snapped.
The cashier cleared her throat for attention.
“I don't have enough,” Rose told Shireen. “Not even enough for me to buy one basket to share.”
Rose caught some movement out of the corner of her eye, and a tall, lanky man stepped up. He had curly gray hair and hawkish eyebrows. He was dressed in a hoodie and plaid trousers. He glared at Shireen and for a second Rose thought the man would berate both of them for holding up the line. Instead, he handed the cashier a few quid and looked down at Rose briefly. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.
“Look, you don't have to….” Rose began.
“I'll never get my chips if I don't, you lot are holding us up.” He said it kindly, but still shot Shireen a dark look, as if he was firmly on Rose’s side for this one.
“Are you takin’ the chips or not?” The cashier, who'd had enough, interjected.
“No!” Rose blurted.
“Yes,” the man said, taking her protest in stride. He handed her the chip baskets. “You shouldn't be kept from your chips, even if you have a pickpocket for a boyfriend.” The man directed that comment toward Shireen, who looked furious.
“He’s me brother!” Shireen gasped, shocked at his audacity.
“Then choose better relatives,” he said mildly. The young woman accompanying him smacked his arm. Rose thought she heard her mutter, “Doctor” but then he motioned for them to move on. Unsure of what had just transpired, Rose accepted the chips and moved out of the line.
Rose couldn't help but laugh. “Cheers. I appreciate it,” Rose told the man. “Maybe I'll see you around and buy you some chips someday.”
His blue eyes were twinkling mischievously and she found that she instinctively trusted him. She'd likely never see him again, and that was a shame.
He smirked and answered, “Could happen!”
“C’mon, Rose!” Shireen demanded, pulling Rose toward the door. Rose looked back over her shoulder, hoping to catch the man’s eye again, but he'd turned back toward the counter. He and the woman were joined by a bald man wearing an odd pea coat.
“Lucked out on that one. Lookit you flirtin’ with Grandad back there,”Shireen muttered. Rose smacked Shireen’s arm, hard enough to make her hand smart. “What the bloody ‘ell!”
“I wasn't flirtin’, he was bein’ nice! And the smack’s for bringin’ up Jimmy!” They bickered all the way up the street to Bucknall House, and the chips were eaten by the time they reached the door.
******
It was close to Christmas when Rose had her third odd encounter. It had been unusually snowy, and Rose found that she enjoyed the way all the decorations seemed even more festive. She was working ungodly hours at Henrik’s, but she'd managed to pay off part of her debt and set aside a little money to buy gifts for her mum and Mickey.
She'd managed to bribe Mickey to shop with her in exchange for watching football with him at the pub. It didn't take long to bore Mickey but he stuck it out in hopes, no doubt, that he'd be rewarded back at his flat after the game.
That wasn't meant to be. An hour into the game, Rose felt a miserable headache coming on, and the loud cheering from the rival team’s supporters was getting on her nerves.
“Mickey. Mickey, listen…” Apparently something good happened on the screen because Mickey hopped out of his seat, punching the air.
When he finally sat down again, he turned to Rose, “Yeah, babe, what?”
“I'm not feelin’ well. Think I need to go home.”
Mickey’s fellow fans cheered again. He was obviously torn. “Can ya wait one more period?”
The pub got loud again and she winced. “Look, I'll just walk home, okay?” She stood up, and Mickey reached out for her arm.
“Just...hang on a second and…”
The crowd roared. One of Mickey's buddies staggered over. “Where ya goin’, Mick? It’s gettin’ good!”
“S’okay, Mickey, you stay,” Rose sighed.
Mickey's friend eyed Rose suspiciously, as if he expected Rose to spirit his friend away just as the football game became exciting. “No, Rose, you'd be walkin’ alone,” Mickey protested. He glanced up at the television again.
“I'll be fine. It’s just a couple blocks away.” She kissed him and began to leave. Mickey glanced back at the television, then at Rose. Rose waved goodbye and walked toward the door. She wasn't shocked that Mickey didn't follow. On her way out she bumped into Tricia Delaney and another girl. Tricia gave her a little smirk and Rose rolled her eyes. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. There was a text from Mickey, “Text me when you get home.”
She stepped out into the frigid night air, pulling her knitted cap down over her ears. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began to walk towards Bucknall House. She'd been out later than this alone, so she wasn't worried. Perhaps she should have been, but she was more focused on the ache behind her eyes and her disappointment in Mickey. He would have come with her if she'd insisted, but he'd have groused about missing the game the whole way. Or complained that Jackie’s telly didn't get that station.
Keeping her head down, she walked. The cold air had cleared her head and she was feeling better. She debated going back, but she really didn't want any more football. And she didn't particularly feel like having Mickey’s company. She was musing on the reasons why he was grating on her nerves so much when she sensed someone coming right up behind her. She steeled herself and whirled around to face whoever was there.
To her surprise, it was a blonde woman in an long coat. Rose couldn’t tell if it was blue or gray in the dark, but she did notice the blonde’s rainbow striped shirt and cropped pants. She didn’t have time to think anything of it. The woman stopped short, but then muttered urgently to Rose, “Turn around and keep goin’ the way you were.” She had a pleasant Yorkshire accent. “I noticed the bloke back there followin’ you.” Rose chanced a quick glance behind her and she saw the one person she did not want to encounter.
Jimmy Stone was across the street, about to cross at a stoplight. If he crossed he'd be right behind her. He made eye contact with her, and he smirked.
“Shit,” Rose hissed.
“Let’s walk. Quick, now. Goin’ home?”
“Yeah, but who are…”
“I'll walk you. Safety in numbers, yeah?”
“I suppose so,” Rose said as the woman walked briskly beside her.
“Don't look at ‘im, I'm watchin’.” They walked on for another half block in silence.
“Thanks,” Rose finally said. “M’glad you noticed.”
“Why'd you come out this late by yourself?” the woman asked.
“Wasn't feelin’ well. so I told my boyfriend I was comin’ home,” Rose explained.
Rose thought she caught the woman muttering something like, “Quite right. The idiot.”
“Excuse me?” Rose asked.
Before they could discuss it any further, the woman grabbed her arm and pulled her into a dark alley. “He crossed and he's right behind us. Shh, now!”
“He's gonna come right in here! Kind of an obvious hidin’ place!” Rose protested.
“Wait,” the stranger ordered. Rose noticed the woman stick her hand into the pocket of her coat and had to fight the urge to bolt. The woman obviously had a knife or something hidden…..
There was a tiny buzzing noise and a loud commotion on the street.
The woman burst out laughing, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. She was quite delighted with herself. “Run!” she commanded, and both of them burst out of their hiding place, running up the street. Rose glanced back to see that the fabric awning of the business next to the pub had collapsed with the weight of the snow. Jimmy was fighting his way out from under it, covered in snow and burgundy fabric.
The women didn't stop running until they reached Bucknall House, both breathless from running and laughter. The stranger recovered more quickly than Rose. They were silent for moment as Rose’s breathing evened out. Catching each other's eye, both of the women burst out laughing again. “How did that awning come down on him? Did you know that was gonna happen?”
The woman’s hand went into her pocket, the same pocket in which she'd been rummaging when they awning collapsed. Rose glanced at it, taking a small step backwards. She was sure the stranger noticed, since she pulled her hand out of the pocket, empty. “It was inevitable,” the woman assured her. I could see it pullin’ away from the wall. The weight of the snow, coupled with poor maintenance made a perfect trap!” She smirked. “Now, you,” she cut herself off abruptly, as if she was about to say something she shouldn't. “Shouldn't you get upstairs? The bloke might not have the brains to get out right away but he will eventually. Unfortunately.”
Rose’s mobile buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, and glanced at it. “My boyfriend….thanks for helpin’ me back there. Will you be okay gettin’ home?”
“My pleasure, and yes, my home is very close by. I'll be fine.”
“So, do ya just go around helpin’ people in trouble? Who are you?”
“Yes,” was the woman’s answer. Before Rose could question her any further, she nodded toward the phone. “You'd best answer that.” The stranger slipped her hands into her pockets and began to walk away.
“Thanks again, really!” Rose called out as she opened the door. Rose waved and then began to to type out a text. The stranger watched as Rose hurried up the four flights of stairs to her floor. When Rose got to her door she looked over the railing. The woman was gone.
Rose texted her safe arrival to Mickey, who was going on about some commotion on the sidewalk. At least he was concerned, she thought.
******
The next stranger Rose met was on New Year’s Eve. He appeared drunk, and he'd told she'd have a really great year. He tried to smile but it didn't touch his eyes. She'd looked back at him, smiling, but kept on hurrying up the stairs.
Once she'd entered the flat she immediately felt guilty for having left him down there. After all, she'd benefited from the help of strangers. The man who'd helped her when she'd dropped the groceries...the other who'd paid for her chips. The woman who'd walked her home. She'd always been lucky enough to encounter just the person she needed, and here she'd missed out the chance to be the person someone else needed.
She grabbed up her hat and scarf from where she'd thrown them on the sofa and ran out onto the balcony. Looking down, she could see footprints but the man was gone. “Hope you made it somewhere safe,” Rose murmured. “I wish I'd helped you.” She scanned the area again, hoping she could catch him walking away.
He was nowhere to be seen. She went inside as the wind kicked up. She thought she'd heard a metallic screeching sound drifting on the wind, causing her to look around again. Finally she went inside, closing the door behind her.
The next time Rose Tyler encountered a stranger, she was in the basement of Henrik’s. She had no idea her life was about to change forever.
But, of course, that's a story for another day.