Chapter Text
“You’re a punk!” Rose had said, laughing, in another world, a long time ago. “That’s what you are. A big old punk.”
When he’d first regenerated, the TARDIS desktop had been so bright. She’d always tried to match how he looked. The Doctor was soft, now, approachable; the quirky kind of twenty-something-year-old that kids loved and their mothers adored. No threat to anyone. Likewise, the TARDIS could’ve been confused with the most inviting kind of children’s playground: bright, expansive yellows and oranges, glass arches and windows. She’d become an adventure palace, a bouncy house, a cottage made of candy.
But after losing Amy and Rory to a place they couldn’t follow, after falling into a deep, depressed isolation high in the clouds above Victorian London, the Doctor and the TARDIS had changed together, once again. He’d switched out his bright suit for a darker one, deep purple, to match the TARDIS’s solemn blues and dimmed lights.
He’d always tried to move on. But this wasn’t like all the other times. He’d sworn off companions, for good this time. He couldn’t do it anymore. The Doctor wouldn’t let anyone else die for him, not ever again.
But without someone else to show the secrets of the universe, the Doctor and his ship hadn’t been able to shake off the loss. It was like they were wearing black armbands, mourning not just the Ponds, but a life they could no longer lead.
Today, he hadn’t even asked the TARDIS to turn on music. That was the thing- she just knew.
The Doctor sat, suspended in a swing seat, underneath the TARDIS console. He had his coke bottle goggles on, jacket discarded in a corner, a welding torch in hand. His bow tie and his suspenders dug into his skin, slightly, but it was almost reassuring. A reminder that he was here, alive, still going.
“I wish I was special,” he sang along, “but I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here…”
He yanked a wrench out of his belt and banged it against the bottom of his shoe, matching the beat.
“Darling,” he calls to the TARDIS, “make a note that I need to grab you a new axiomator. This one’s been rusted to bits.”
The TARDIS’s cloister bell rang out with a sour note, as if to say, And who’s fault is that?
The Doctor swung over to the nearest wall, stroking it in apology. “I know, I’ve been neglecting you. You deserve a new one, sexy, you’ve just got to remind me to go out and get it.”
The TARDIS hummed in response, pleased.
Radiohead blared on. The Doctor echoed it, terribly off-key.
“Run, run, run, run, run…”
Right on cue, the bit of the console above the Doctor’s head exploded in a shower of bright-white sparks.
“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, squinting above to get a glimpse of what had happened. “We were doing so well!”
The Doctor pushed his goggles up his forehead impatiently, bounding up the stairs.
“Sexy,” he began, warning colouring his tone, “if you’ve blown the photon accelerator coils again just to get me to refurbish them for the second time this week, I’ll have to-”
The screen closest to the Doctor was lit up, flashing red. A glittering arrow flashed on and off, pointing at the nearest lever.
The Doctor glanced at the ceiling, bemused. “What are you doing?”
The TARDIS had already set up the coordinates for their next journey. He sifted through the swirling rings and circles she’d set for him to read, frowning.
“Tiaanamat?” he muttered. “Why d’you want to go back to the rings of Akhaten, old girl? We haven’t been there in ages.”
The rest of the screens lit up, all showing arrows of different sizes, all of them pointing at the same lever.
The Doctor laughed. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
He skidded across the console, pulled the lever, and held on tight as the TARDIS took him off into the unknown.
Seven worlds orbiting the same star. All of them sharing a belief that life in the universe originated here, on that planet.
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and basked in the light, for just a moment. The atmosphere was singing with the memory of thousands of years of hopes and prayers, all directed at this one point. The Doctor could nearly taste the hope and camaraderie in the air.
As he headed inland, he started to hear the sounds of life. Thousands of people chattering and bartering and selling in the massive marketplace. You could find nearly anything at these bazaars; they only happened every thousand years, after all.
The Doctor smiled to himself. Here he was, halfway across the universe from Earth, and the people were all the same. Whether they called it Pancake Tuesday or the bicentennial gladiatorial race or the festival of offerings, people loved to come together and celebrate.
It made sense that the TARDIS had pushed him to come here. He’d almost definitely be able to find her a new axiomator, and a few other spare parts and treats that were sure to lift her spirits.
The Doctor caught sight of a glowing blue basket a few yards ahead, and bounded forward.
“Ooo!” He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the objects.
“Exotic fruit!” he exclaimed. “Right. Non-toxic, non-hallucinogenic, high in free radicals and low in other stuff, I shouldn’t wonder. You want to-“
The Doctor cut himself off.
No one was listening.
He should really get a move on.
The Doctor kept walking, picking up lots of the interesting objects he came across, and just listened.
The Doctor picked up a strange looking instrument, a red cylinder with beads strung on either side. He shook it, a little, and smiled at the noise.
“No can do,” one of the merchants was saying, voice grumbling and deep. “I don’t know where you come from, but the currency in this part of the galaxy is psychometry only. Bits of paper and metal aren’t valuables, sweetheart. I can only accept objects with a psychic imprint on them, and that’s final.”
The Doctor heard the customer stamp their foot in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of system is that, eh? How do I know you’re not just swindling me into overpaying for a few bits of outdated tech?”
The instrument fell from the Doctor’s lifeless fingers.
He turned, very slowly. He caught a glimpse of that blue leather jacket and almost fell to the floor, right there in the middle of the market.
It was Rose, alright. But not his Rose. She was wearing that jacket, which meant this was Rose from years ago, the one that jumped between dimensions and all across the universe trying to find him. This was Rose before the Daleks, before the biological metacrisis, before the Doctor had taken her back home and left her there, like the coward he was.
This was Rose before she reunited with the Doctor, her Doctor, still wearing pinstripes and travelling with Donna Noble. She had all that to come.
The other dimension’s Torchwood tech had probably just locked onto the TARDIS’s energy signature, but hadn’t kept the timelines in mind. She had found him, but it wasn’t the right version.
The responsible thing to do would be to turn right back around, keep walking, get in the TARDIS and leave. But the Doctor’s feet refused to move.
“Excuse me,” he said, inching toward Rose. “Anything I could help you with?”
Rose glanced at him for a split second, her eyes sliding right off his face. “S’fine, thanks. I’ve got it.”
She didn’t recognize him. Of course she didn’t. Why would she?
“Er,” the Doctor cleared his throat, ducking his head, fidgeting in place. “If you’ve got any personal tokens that you wouldn’t mind parting with, even if they seem insignificant to you, they might be a fair exchange for whatever you’re trying to buy.”
Rose looked between the Doctor and the merchant, conflicted.
“He’s not putting me on, then?” Rose asked. “You really do need to pay with something that matters to you?”
The Doctor grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
Rose narrowed her eyebrows before stiffening, seeming to come to a decision.
“Won’t matter once I find him, will it,” she murmured, quiet enough that the Doctor was sure he wasn’t meant to overhear.
She reached inside her shirt and grabbed a long chain, pulling it over her head.
“Right,” she said, holding it out to the merchant, “will this do?”
The merchant plucked the necklace from her hand, holding it out to study it. The Doctor barely managed to muffle his exclamation of shock.
It was her TARDIS key. She’d kept it, this entire time, around her neck.
The merchant made an appreciative noise. “This is extremely powerful. Such joy and wonder. Vestiges of adventure, mixed with strands of despair and longing for-”
“Does it work or not?” Rose interrupted.
The merchant frowned, but nodded.
“You can’t give that away!” the Doctor cried. “What are you even trying to buy? It’s absolutely not worth the price of your- of that key!”
Rose cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “Listen, mate, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions. Could you kindly bugger off and let me finish my business here?”
The merchant pocketed that precious TARDIS key without another word, reaching under the counter to pull out-
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed the Doctor. “A set of inertial dampers? Those are worthless!”
“Whose merchandise you calling worthless?” asked the merchant.
“Listen,” the Doctor said to Rose, “whatever you need those for, I can do it instead. You don’t need to buy from him. What’re you trying to fix? I’m pretty skilled, I could do it in a cinch without any new parts.”
“Really?” asked Rose dryly. “You’re telling me you can repair the internal mechanisms of a dimension cannon meant to break through the walls of the universe without any help?”
“Yes.”
Rose narrowed her gaze, searching his face for deception.
“Fine,” she said eventually. “Follow me.”
She got her TARDIS key back from the merchant and stormed off in the other direction. The Doctor nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to follow her.
“What’s your name, anyway?” she asked, as they made their way through the winding marketplace.
“I’m-“ the Doctor swallowed nervously. “Rory. Rory Pond.“
Rose grinned, slowly, her teeth bright against the dull browns and greys of the marketplace around them. “Where’re you from, with a name like that? Thought for sure you were going to say something like…oh, I don’t know-“
“Raxacoricofallapatorious?” the Doctor blurted out.
Rose’s smile brightened. “Yeah. Something like that.”
The Doctor stood, frozen, just looking at her. She had an air of sadness about her, but she was as beautiful as ever. His pink and yellow human. What would it be like to hold her in his arms, in this new body?
“Er-“ Rose reached into the messenger bag she had tossed over one shoulder, pulling out an unfamiliar device with a bright orange button. That was strange- back during the Dalek invasion, he remembered their dimension-hoppers being much smaller, and yellow. This must’ve been some kind of older, prototype version.
“I was trying to get to planet Earth, around 2010, their time? I ended up here for some reason, and the damn thing shorted out before I could contact home base to get the coordinates recalibrated.”
The Doctor’s hand twitched toward his breast pocket, ready to pull out his sonic screwdriver, but he stopped at the last second. That would be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it?
“Let me see.” He plucked the device from her hands, studying it with just his eyes. It all seemed to be in order, to be honest. But hadn’t Jackie once said something about a…
“Ah, yes,” the Doctor improvised. “You don’t need any repairs here. Certainly not any second-rate inertial dampers. There’s a timer on this, isn’t there? It should be a few hours, at least, before it’s ready to go again. I can see how you might think it's burned out, but everything seems shipshape, spick and span…”
The Doctor snapped his fingers, grinning at Rose. “Oh, hunky-dory! There’s another one. That’s what this is. Hunky-dory.”
Rose’s smile had slipped off her face entirely.
“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asked, trying to exaggerate his offense by tilting his entire upper body backwards.
Rose shook herself visibly. “Nothing. Sorry, Rory, you just- you just reminded me of someone.”
The Doctor handed the device back to her, reflexively straightening his bow tie. “Someone good, I hope.”
Rose’s expression twisted into something a lot more bittersweet, her gaze falling to focus on a point in the distance.
“Yeah. The best.”
Look at me, the Doctor felt like screaming. It’s me! I’m right here!
“You know,” the Doctor began, “it’s a pretty big day, here. They’re about to have a whole festival. I hear they’ve got a smashing singer. Would you want to, I don’t know, go have a listen?”
Rose shifted away from him. “Sorry, mate, I don’t know what you thought this was, but I’m not looking to-”
“No, no no no!” the Doctor hurried to exclaim, waving his hands in front of him for emphasis. “Me neither! Just more fun to do things with a friend, that’s all. I’ve got nothing on for the day, you’ve got some time to kill. Just thought it might be nice. No pressure.”
The corners of Rose’s lips twitched. “We’re friends, then?”
“Well,” the Doctor amended, “friends sounds better than ‘blonde stranger I happened to run into at the bazaar and saved from getting swindled,’ now doesn’t it?”
Without thinking, the Doctor held out his hand. Without hesitation, Rose took it.