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As the Doctor laughed, tossing her hand up with a gesture of ‘go on, then’, Rose tugged at her scarf before opening the door and stepping outside of the TARDIS. Even as the door opened, recognition dawned on her; was the TARDIS plotting against her? Was it just coincidence? At this point Rose wouldn’t have been surprised either way, but settled on the former explanation.
Her Doctor’s new voice felt so familiar – but it returned an ache in her soul that couldn’t so easily be soothed.
The door’s clattering closed behind her gave her a start, and her eyes fell closed: the already brilliant blaze of sunlight lit up the glass windows of the Millennium Centre, the soft roar of the water of Cardiff Bay lapped at the rocks, and a few low sounds of boat horns and bells echoed off the stone steps down to the water. The faint spray of water from the water tower behind her dampened the ends of her hair, but it barely registered in Rose’s head. Her head turned right, facing the Bay.
An overwhelming pain gripped her heart, and it hammered in her chest. While her heart and emotions would much prefer her to stay rooted to the spot, or maybe to disappear over to the little Sainsbury’s Local she knew was behind her (and should be open, if her sense of time wasn’t too off), her feet began wandering the familiar stone path down to Cardiff Bay.
The sun had been up a few hours now; it was probably around half seven or maybe even eight on this lazy morning. A few runners dotted the deck around the Bay; a few restaurants and the boat operators were the only slow movers. Rose approached the metal barriers at the water’s edge, this portion of it wooden posts with metal rope lacing through. The metal rope felt chilled, still a bit slick in places with the overnight condensation, and Rose’s hands closed over it.
Memories immediately swallowed her: Mickey’s voice chattering with Jack about something, and Jack giving a haughty laugh in return – Mickey very much uninterested in being there, but willing to do anything to get his Rose back (and knowing she had already slipped through his fingers). The clunk of Jack’s boots on the decking near Mermaid Quay… Rose’s eyes fluttered, breaking the moment, at the sounds of a man in athletic gear jogging past her. The man’s footfalls sounded eerily close to those of Jack’s.
And the Doctor’s. Her Doctor. Not that this new face of the Doctor was any less hers, but… Her heart wrenched again as she gazed toward the Bay, a hand positioned to block the sun. Hair whipping around, she turned to her left; distantly, the Norwegian Church looked beautiful, almost ethereal with the ghost of a fog lingering, not yet burned off. An automatic response, she turned to the right, a silly statue of two men in one corner of the walk… and a familiar restaurant that didn’t seem quite so familiar, on second glance.
If she thought hard enough, she could feel the flavours of her meal on her tongue, hear the echoes of stories told and laughter shared, the sudden rustling of newspaper and her Doctor’s face falling from humour to concern, after “having such a nice day” as he’d put it. The flood of memories was… bonkers.
Rose tightened the scarf around her neck, tugged her denim jacket tighter around her. Thanks, TARDIS, she frowned, ‘m even wearing the same clothes from that visit. She screwed her eyes closed, refusing to let the tears build. But again, unable to stop herself, Rose began walking toward the no-longer-familiar restaurant.
No longer a restaurant for meals, she could see a sign hanging in the windows upon approach. Coffi Co, it read. Those beautiful memories of Jack’s story and their amusement and what was the last snatch of calm before discovering Margaret’s plans… now even that was gone. Rose stopped, facing the building over the water with bleary eyes as a hundred more memories, none connected to the place itself – but to that tall man in his leather jacket and steel blue eyes – overwhelmed her. She pawed at her own eyes, rubbing them with her scarf, as a slender hand fell on Rose’s shoulder.
“Should’a known you’d end up here,” came the voice, and a small smile curved on her lips. “Coffee?”
She didn’t trust her voice, so Rose nodded as she and the Doctor finished the short walk to the door. A bell jingled as it opened and swung closed, and after a quick glance over the menu board, they both settled on cups of coffee. As Rose waited on the drinks, the Doctor sat down at a table, just outside the door, overlooking the water. As the barista prepared their drinks, Rose wondered if the memories she felt weighing her down in this place were in the Doctor’s head, too, or if she was suffering alone.
Rose took the tray of drinks, stopping at the counter’s end to pick up sugar and pour in a bit of milk, and pushed the door open. The Doctor turned at the metal squeak, and smiled beatifically at Rose as she set down the tray, and tucked herself in at the picnic table. She wordlessly offered the Doctor her drink, wrapping her hands around the mug, and turned her head to look at the water again. She felt off-kilter being here again, in these same walkways and buildings but it was ever-so-slightly off that it felt like she’d never been here before at all. Unsettling. Her fingers flexed around her cup, and a voice broke the vocal silence between them.
“Safest place in the universe.” Her head jerked fast enough a bit of coffee sloshed over the cup, and she looked over at the Doctor. “Cardiff. Wind’s coming from the east,” she added, smiling. If she squinted – not hard, given the bright sun rising up – the blonde hair disappeared, replaced with short-shorn brown hair, the softness of her face became a bit sharper, a bit longer, the eyes hardened just a bit, the dark blue cloth morphed into a dark brown leather. Her lower lip curled between her teeth. “Rose?” Even the voice sounded so, so familiar.
“Doctor?” she managed, voice cracking. She kept squinting, trying to hold on tightly to the moment.
“You all right?” came the response, and Rose sighed; the moment was gone again. The Doctor’s new, lovely smile, soft wispy hair framing her face. She set down her mug, raked a hand through her hair. “Rose?”
“Headache. It’s killing me,” she mumbled, scrubbing her face with her hands. Rose barely registered the sound of the Doctor standing up, moving to her side of the table and sitting beside her.
“I think you need a doctor.” Rose gave a choked sob before feeling soft lips upon her own.