Chapter Text
The sound of feet pounding was the only thing rocketing through Rose Tyler’s head. Of course, they were running, there was always running. He was holding her hand, and she kind of wished he wasn’t, because if there was one thing the Doctor was, he was faster than he
“Come on, Rose, keep up!” He said, tugging her along.
On the other hand, she supposed it was good that he was pulling her, or she would have been destroyed the moment he’d set off. It must be nice to have Time Lord reflexes, she thought grudgingly. She bowed her head and ran faster, so she was level with him.
“‘Atta girl!” The Doctor panted gleefully. They reached the TARDIS and the Doctor pushed her violently into the door, slamming the doors of the ship shut behind them.
“What’s going on?” Rose shouted, since it seemed that talking at a regular volume was not going to get to the Doctor at the moment.
He looked at her blearily for a moment, breathing heavily. "Did they see you?!" The Doctor yelled, shoving Rose farther up the ramp to the console while she was still trying to catch her breath.
"I don't know, Doctor, I don't know who we're running from!" She shouted back, falling into the jump seat, trying not to close her eyes and go right to sleep. They’d been running for so long.
"Did anyone see you!" The Doctor's voice was frantic. He searched her eyes and grabbed her shoulders.
"I didn't see anyone, so I don't think so," Rose tried lowering her voice to calm him, but there was no luck of that. He was still staring at her, eyes boring into her as though she wasn’t telling him the truth. After a moment, he released her.
He swung around the console, throwing levers and pressing buttons much more aggressively than he needed to. The only expression she could put to this behavior was panic. It was like she wasn’t even there for several minutes as he sent them into the Vortex, and she realized she was going to have to reel him back in.
"Doctor?" She tried to approach him, but he didn't seem to be seeing her. Once he sent them onto their course, he glanced upwards and let out a heavy sigh, finally looking at her again. "Never thought I’d have to use that.” He said softly, looking a little pained
"Use what?" Rose followed his gaze up to the high ceiling of the console room, where there seemed to be a large metal headset with handles on the sides. It looked a bit like a torture device, maybe for shock therapy of something, and the thought made her stomach turn to rocks. She took a step forward and linked her arm through the Doctor's, trying to get him to snap out of it. "Doctor," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "What is that? And who was following us?"
"The Family of Blood," the Doctor explained, still staring up at the contraption on the ceiling. "They basically want to eat me."
"What?!" Rose pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand and closed her eyes, trying to be calm. He sounded too bland about that, like something like this had happened before. "Care to explain that?"
"The Family doesn't live very long," the Doctor explained, pressing a button that lowered the contraption to him. He still held her arm in his, almost like it was for support. "They need the energy of a Time Lord to stay alive. And, well, they've only got one to choose from." He glanced back at her. "So we need to hide."
"Can't we just stay in the Vortex till they're gone?" Rose asked, furrowing her brows.
"No," the Doctor replied quickly. "There's no sense of time in the Vortex. Anywhere we go, they can track a Time Lord. That is," he gestured to the machine, "Unless the Time Lord isn't a Time Lord anymore."
She felt her heart plummet. She stared at the thing again, now able to inspect it closer as it was eye level. "You're scaring me," Rose said warningly, "What are you going to do?"
"Rewrite my biology and make myself human."
Rose's face went completely white. "You mean, you're gonna... Regenerate again?"
"No, no, no," the Doctor tried to reassure her. He settled the helmet like contraption over his head. "Rewrites the inside, not the outside. I'll still look like this, but I won't remember being who I am. I'll be, well, let's see, John Smith, that's easy to remember, yeah? Anyway, I'll be John Smith, one heart, completely human." He glanced at her, “The TARDIS will make me an identity beyond that.”
Rose furrowed her brows at him. "Isn't that going to hurt? Rewriting your entire biological makeup?"
The Doctor nodded solemnly. "Like hell."
She let out a long breath. "And you won't remember the TARDIS, or aliens, or anything?"
The Doctor pulled his arm from away from her and started at frantically flipping switches on the machine and reaching up to steady himself on the bars on the helmet. "No, I won't. Even if I remember anything, they'll be very strange dreams, they won't be realistic for me." He shrugged, “At least, that’s my understanding of it.”
"Will you remember me?" Rose asked quietly, afraid to voice her fear.
"Yes," the Doctor nodded, fishing something out of his pocket. "I don't know how my mind will place you, what role you'll have in John Smith's life, but you'll be aware. The TARDIS will help you out," He set what he was holding in an indent in the helmet. "This fob watch with contain my Time Lord DNA. John Smith will think nothing of it, but you must watch over it. Only open it if you have to."
Rose nodded, her panic mounting with every word.
"The TARDIS will integrate us into a society, sometime, somewhere, wherever we'll blend in the best," the Doctor's words turned frantic. He flipped several switches and pushed the watch farther before turning to Rose. "She'll set out clothes for us, I'll be unconscious for awhile so it's Christmas all over again for you." His attempt at humor was graciously received, earning him a smile from Rose, but nothing more.
"I'll do my best, Doctor," she said, trying to be brave but also trying to let him know that she wasn’t sure she could do it.
He smiled at her. "I know you will. Now, stand back, I don't want you in the middle of this."
Rose complied, backing away to the jump seat, still keeping an eye on him.
"Oh, and Rose?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't let me eat any pears. I don't care what humans think of them, they're hardly satisfactory." He wrinkled up his nose in disgust.
She was just managing a real smile when the Doctor flipped the final switch and started screaming.
It was a fierce, blood-curdling scream, all the Doctor being ripped right out of him, and it terrified her, and she wanted to scream for him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his fingers clenched around the handles of the Chameleon Arch. He looked like his knees were about to buckle, and his teeth gritted against his cries. Rose stopped herself from reaching for him several times during the course of those painful minutes when the very essence of the Doctor was pushed into that tiny watch.
After several minutes, the Doctor collapsed to the floor unconscious. No, she reminded herself, I've gotta call him John now. The idea of that didn’t exactly fill her with any sort of pleasant feeling. That wasn’t the Doctor. And that made her feel sick inside.
She walked slowly over the console and stood there briefly. "Where are you putting us?" She asked quietly, stroking the coral wall. The TARDIS hummed comfortingly in response, though she seemed a little worried, and Rose stepped over to where the Doctor, or rather John, was lying.
She laid her head over his chest and felt one heartbeat. She never thought something so normal could sound so foreign. Moving her hand to the other side of his chest, she felt the emptiness there. Any time they cuddled or sat even a little too close, she could feel the double beat, and after time, she found it to be very reassuring.
She sighed, leaving her cheek against him for probably too long. She pulled back and sat back on her heels, watching him. After a moment, she leaned over and pressed her wrist to his forehead. He was warmer than he’d been before, as his Time Lord self had been cool and dry to the touch. She let her head hang forward and closed her eyes, trying to focus.
“Come on, Rose,” she murmured to herself, “You’ve got to do something.”
She only turned from him when two suitcases and two sets of clothes fell from the ceiling. She took one look at the old-timey ladies and men's clothing. She calculated in her head where they were, her extensive knowledge from travelling with the Doctor helping her out quite a bit.
Then the TARDIS chimed happily in the back of her head, telling her exactly where they were.
1913.
Oh, no.
"I'm no lady!" She shouted at the TARDIS. She exhaled harshly. "This'll be bloody brilliant."
It was only then that the TARDIS also reminded her what she was going to have to do.
“Oh,” she looked at the clothes and then back at him. “RIght. Yes. Change him.” She shifted to force him to sit up against the console, still slumped over. “Guess it really is like Christmas, isn’t it?” She murmured, as though it was to him, though it was more to her.
The outfit the TARDIS had put out for him was really a bit of alright. Any girl that had had a fantasy of a historical romance would melt at this opportunity, but Rose was too busy worrying. She loosened his tie, grumbling to herself. The TARDIS couldn’t pick a time period before he passed out? She didn’t think he’d like the idea of her dressing him, or rather, undressing him, even though she’d done it before.
He was so still it was like he was dead. If she couldn’t feel his breathing, than she would suspect that he was dead. She switched shirts, and trousers, and shoes. And finally, he was dressed in a tweed suit and looked quite a bit dashing, if she was allowed to say so.
There was the matter of his hair, though. It stuck out all over the place, and there would never be a place for hair like that, however fantastic, in the 1900s. The TARDIS helpfully supplied a bucket of water next to her.
“Do you really expect me to wash his hair?” Rose snapped, but she could tell that the TARDIS definitely expected that. She also realized that the TARDIS was trying to warn her that the Doctor would wake soon.
She put the towel the TARDIS had provided around his shoulders and looked at his head, all lolled to the side. She shoved her hands into the bucket and then ran her hands through his hair, wincing at the sticky pull of the gel. Once it was all out, she toweled his hair dry. It felt like taking care of a sick child, and she supposed, in a way, that was what it was.
He was sick, and she was going to have to take care of him. She stroked her hands through his hair, styling in it in a way that had been more similar to how it was when they had first set off again after his regeneration.
She blew out her cheeks and sat back, looking at his hair, fluffy and parted. Now she’d have to get him outside before he woke up. She looked up at the TARDIS ceiling. “Oh, this is not going to be easy, is it?”