Mysterious Ways, part 9 of ?
Nov. 16th, 2008 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aenariasbookshelfTitle: Mysterious Ways, part 9 of ?
Author: Aenaria/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
io_aenaria
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Gemma (an OC), with appearances by Jack, Martha, Donna, and a bunch of other OCs
Rating: This part is PG, however rating is more than likely to go up by the end of it...
Summary: The Sonnetsverse reunion. "She's been lost, found the key, unlocked the door to the universe, wandered about, took a detour, stopped, stopped some more, then started again. Now, finally, Rose Tyler is on her way home." Has gone totally AU after 'The Unicorn and the Wasp', so is safe for people avoiding spoilers for the end of s4.
Disclaimer: Alas, no.
a/n: Many, many, many thanks toanepidemic and earlgreytea for doing the beta on the next few parts of this. They've helped me out so much, and it's always appreciated.
Previous parts of Mysterious Ways and the rest of the Sonnetsverse found here.
Thanks for reading!
Nine: She Moves in Mysterious Ways
“It’s all right, it’s all right
It’s all right
She moves in mysterious ways.”
U2, ‘Mysterious Ways’
The most intriguing thing is the man sitting a couple of steps below her, staring at her as if there’s nothing more important to him in the universe than her. And oh, this time she knows him. He’s got his own mask on, simple black satin that obscures most of his eyes and nose, with his really great hair poking out in all directions. Rose looks down again, and sees his hand grasping her left one, his thumb stroking over the very visible ink marks on the back of it.
Rather suddenly the man whips his mask off, revealing more pale face with big brown Bambi eyes staring right at her. His lips move, saying something, but there’s a sound like rushing wind in her ears and she can’t understand. His eyes are so familiar, deep and old, and all she wants to do is fall right into them and keep falling.
The urge to fall...
“Oh God!”
“Marion!”
“Shit, someone catch her!”
“Rose!”
The next thing she knows is that she’s sitting on the marble steps, with her head down and gasping for breath. She can feel the ache in her eyes, and knows that if she opens them they’ll be glowing again. Rose takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and regain some sort of composure.
“Hey, look at me, look at me,” she hears Martha say, feeling one of her hands cupping the side of her face. With an almighty mental push she forces the green glow down, back behind her eyes and into her brain (where it’s always taken up residence? Because it feels old, older than the Earth itself). When she feels ready, Rose opens her eyes to see Martha’s silver-masked face close to hers. “Can you tell me what happened?” Martha asks, her professional doctor’s persona coming to the forefront even though she’s currently sporting a flowing, light grey and white strapless dress that brings to mind goddesses of olden days instead of a trained medic.
“Got dizzy for a moment there,” Rose says, staring at the sea of concerned faces around her. Gemma’s pushed her way to the forefront of the mass and is clutching onto the edge of her sari, her teeth worrying her lower lip. It’s a bit jarring with the flittering fairy look she’s got going on, a short dress in various shades of purple and a rough edge at the bottom, and her black wings bob nervously. “Bit of vertigo, I guess.”
“Have you been feeling like that lately?” Martha continues, gently pulling at her eyelids through the mask to check her pupils. She shakes her head no, and it’s true. Of all of the odd things that have been happening to her of late, even the time when she had deliberately attempted to make contact with the TARDIS, none of them have felt like this, this sudden shock like she’d been plunged headfirst into a snow bank. Martha purses her lips, thinking quick. “Could just be dehydration or low blood sugar levels, but there’s no way to tell without more extensive tests,” she says. “Maybe you should rest here for a minute, get your feet back under you.”
“I’ll be all right,” Rose says, using the banister to haul herself to her feet. “Every second that goes by I feel better and better. Besides, they’re expecting us outside.” Gemma slips an arm around her waist, giving her that extra little steadiness which is just what she needs right now.
“If you’re sure,” Priya says doubtfully. “However, the minute you feel dizzy again you find the nearest one of us, either Martha or I, and we’ll get you upstairs and check you out.”
“Sounds good,” Rose smiles, taking a tentative step downwards. As her footing gets surer, the small crowd moves down and out of the stairway, weaving through tables and underneath the overhang. When they get outside, the two doctors unanimously agree that Rose needs to sit down for a few more minutes with some water, so she finds herself sitting on a padded bench in one corner of the receiving area, away from the torches that push away the deepening night and slightly out of the way of the building crowd.
“Dizzy?” Gemma asks, standing in front of the bench as Rose carefully sips at her lime-spiked sparkling water.
Rose takes a quick look around, making sure that the others are out mingling with the arriving crowd, sipping at champagne, munching on hors d’oeuvres, altogether distracted from her for just a moment. “More like déjà vu, really,” she says. “It’s like, as soon as I stepped in that stairwell I had such a feeling that I knew that place, that I’d been there before. Think it overwhelmed me a bit.”
“Your eyes went green again,” Gemma says. “I could see it through your eyelids. Don’t think anyone else noticed though. Someone would’ve said something.”
“Thought so,” Rose nods. “I could feel it when I sort of came back to myself. And you’re right, someone would comment on that. Probably say that I’m an alien,” she says ruefully.
“Did it feel the same as the other times?” she prods a little more.
“Not really.” Rose frowns briefly and stares out at the canal that glints and waves in the lamplight, seeing the boats with their dolled up passengers riding along past the magnificent palaces, rowdy spots of unexpected color appropriate for this crazy night. “Come to think of it, none of them have felt exactly the same.” She turns her gaze back to her sister.
Gemma bites her lip and sits down on the bench next to Rose. “It all started with that weird dream at Christmas, right? Did anything happen to you at Christmas that might have made all this happen?”
Rose just keeps looking at her sister. There’s one small thing she’s been keeping to herself for a while. She doesn’t really know why. Maybe it was the fear of being looked at as if she were really losing her marbles this time. Or maybe it was one of those little, precious things that she held close to her heart to warm her in the times when she was feeling most alone. But this is her sister, the one who’s been there for her through all of her good moments and some of her worst. Even though she’s quite young and doesn’t always understand what’s going on, she’s always managed to make Rose feel better in her own, inimitable way. If anyone deserves to know what’s happening, it’s her. “I think it may have started earlier than that,” Rose says slowly. “And not just in dreams.”
“What d’you mean?”
She thinks back, searching for the right example to illustrate her little trick. “You remember when we first got to this universe? We had to take the taxi in the Faeroe Islands to get us off the beach.”
“Yeah,” Gemma says slowly, not quite seeing where this is going.
“Do you remember what the driver was saying to us?”
“That was almost three years ago. ‘Course I don’t remember. And anyway, he was speaking some sort of language, wasn’t English though, that’s for sure.”
Rose nods, her point slowly being proven. “He had asked us if we’d heard about what had happened on the TV a week before, something about an alien hoax that led to both the American President and the Prime Minister of England being assassinated within minutes of each other.”
Gemma wrinkles her brow, not quite seeing it yet.
“When he spoke to me, I heard him speak quite clearly in English,” Rose clarifies, watching the enlightenment and then the puzzlement overtake Gemma’s face.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she says, which makes Rose smile just a bit.
“Normally, it wouldn’t. However, it was one side effect of TARDIS travel – she manages to get into your head, acts as a translator. Do you think I’d managed to learn all of those alien languages for every planet I went to in this universe?”
“I just thought the Doctor played tour guide for you,” she shrugs.
“A tour guide that ends you in gaol and then fleeing from near-mortal peril, maybe,” Rose smirks. “But that’s the first thing that I noticed – ever since we got back here I’ve been hearing everything in English, like it’s still being sent through a translator.” She motions to a group of Japanese girls standing around in neon-coloured costumes. “What do you think they’re saying now?”
“No idea,” Gemma says.
“It’s actually rather boring. They’re talking about the glassware they bought on Murano earlier this afternoon.”
Gemma looks back at Rose. “So you’re hearing them in English now?” She nods. “So does that mean that you’re sort of still hooked back into the TARDIS somehow?”
“I think so,” Rose nods, sipping again at her water. “I have the very strong feeling that every odd thing that’s happened, all of those strange dreams, the translating bits, are all because of the TARDIS. Somehow. I haven’t figured out exactly why yet though.” There’s a bit of a suspicion that it has something to do with the time she used that big yellow truck to rip open her heart, god only knows what could have happened then. But without something definite she can’t be sure, and there’s only one person in all the universes who could answer that for her.
“That’s so weird,” she says, sounding like the almost ten-year-old she actually is instead of the current sisterly support system.
“Don’t forget the eye thing as well,” Rose says, waving a hand in the direction of her face. “It’s the same colour as the TARDIS rotor as well.” Her other hand clutches the cool glass in her palm. “I think I was even once able to directly contact the TARDIS, about a month ago or so. It was just mentally, like a meditative sort of dream or something like that. But it felt so much like her, it couldn’t have been anything else.” She shrugs. “I tried to get her to pass a message on, to say that I was here and I was back, that I was going to find him, but all I could understand from her was ‘give it time.’ Not exactly a paragon of clarity, that. It was exciting at the time, like we’d finally had some success in this long trip we’ve been on, but now I’m wondering if I just dreamed the whole thing.” A little bit of scepticism is healthy, she has repeatedly told herself. That scepticism however can’t shake the feeling in her bones that she’s getting close, closer than she’s been in years.
“But anything connected with the TARDIS is good, right?”
“Most certainly.” Rose stares into the distance again, some more flashes of her vision on the stairs flying past her eyes. “This time though, what I was seeing on the stairway that made me slip, the Doctor was definitely there in the vision. Staring right up at me, looking exactly like he always did.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Gemma asks, stealing a sip of water from Rose’s glass. Her face crinkles up as the bubbles from the water go up her nose briefly.
“Dunno,” Rose shrugs. “I did say I had the feeling that something was coming.” Oh, there’s that hope coming out again.
“Him?” she says incredulously. “And now? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“It never does,” Rose says solemnly, although there is a bit of a twinkle in her eye. “I think you’re right though; he’s not going to be here tonight. You and I are going to have a bit more searching to do. We’ll just have to pick up the trail again. How does New Zealand sound?” She thinks of the TARDIS key sitting upstairs on the dresser with a grin and the two girls share a decisive nod.
Neither one of them remembers the old adage that things happen when you least expect them to.
* * *
Donna, champagne glass clutched in one hand, sidles over to Martha through the crowds. “What do you think of her?” she asks, nodding her head in Marion McCrimmon’s direction, watching her and her younger sister sitting on the bench in the corner.
Martha tilts her head, subtly tugging at the strapless neckline of her dress to keep it from moving. She’s far more used to wearing a practical jacket and trousers than this floor length dress. “She seems nice, for all of the five minutes we got a chance to talk. Pree’s always had good judgment when it comes to people though.”
“But there’s just something…” Donna trails off, sipping her champagne and hoping that she doesn’t drop any onto her own dress. The short purple frock she found in the wardrobe of the TARDIS is absolutely perfect, and she doesn’t want to take the chance of getting it wrecked. Hell, there is the distinct possibility it could have come from ancient Rome itself; the gold clasps at the shoulders look awfully authentic. She isn’t going to let one bad experience in Pompeii spoil her fun with Romanesque clothing. “I don’t know how to describe it. Wistful, maybe? Slightly out of step with the rest of this crowd here?”
“I think wistful works,” Martha says. “But there’s something more, you know?”
“Yeah…or maybe we’re looking for mysteries when there aren’t any,” Donna frowns. “And whose fault is that? Still, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Speaking of which, I’m going to go see if he’s shown up yet,” Martha says, turning around in a swirl of skirts and heading back inside. “I just hope he remembers we’ve got invites this time, no breaking in required.”
Donna nods after her, her gaze still drawn to the McCrimmon sisters. While she rationally knows she’s most likely seeing things that aren’t there, part of her wants to dig just a little further. And if nothing pops up, well, then she’ll know that she’s seeing things. Which may not be a bad thing in this case. Quickly, she fills up a small plate with various sorts of nibbles and brings it over to Marion. “Here you go,” she says, offering up the plate. “Thought it might make you feel a bit better.”
“Thanks,” Marion replies with a smile, and takes the plate from her. Her fingers hover over it for a few moments until she settles on a piece of raw tuna.
“So if you don’t mind my asking,” Donna continues, dragging over a chair for herself, “where are you two from? I know you met the girls in Boston, but you sure don’t sound like you’re from the States.”
Marion swallows her tuna and shakes her head. “No, we’re from London actually,” she says. “Left after our parents passed though.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Couldn’t stand to be in the house after that, so we took our inheritance and decided to travel about a bit, show this one here all the sights out there.”
Donna smiles; she understands that feeling. She’d felt it herself after her own dad died. Maybe that was just one of the many things that had spurred her to find the Doctor after turning down his first offer. “I hear you. Been around a fair bit myself.” She turns to Gemma this time, currently stealing some food from her sister’s plate. “What’s your favorite place out of all the ones you’ve been to?” she asks her.
Gemma chews thoughtfully. “Rome was fun,” she says through a mouthful of food. “And we got to do a safari somewhere in Africa, with camping and everything. Ooh, and then there was the rose valley in Bulgaria, it smelled amazing, all of these fields of roses. And then there was the p—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, this time popping something cheesy into her mouth that Marion’s just held up.
“You’re awfully well travelled,” Donna says, missing the look of warning Marion’s shooting at her sister.
(Rose just knew Gemma was going to slip and start talking about one of the planets they’d visited in the other universe. Sometimes her little sister is entirely too predictable.)
“We’ve been travelling a while,” Gemma shrugs nonchalantly. “Got to go to a lot of places. Where’s the best place you’ve been?”
“Er…” Donna wracks her brain, trying to come up with some place that they’ve travelled to that wasn’t 1) alien or 2) 50,000 years in the future. “Well, Pompeii was a hell of a time,” she finally says.
“We almost made it there,” Gemma says. “Got a bit sidetracked on one of the islands though.” She shoots a glare at her sister, who just raises her hands as if to say it wasn’t her fault.
“Do you girls have anything planned next?” she continues, that odd feeling in her stomach calming down as they chatter on. There’s a strange sort of feeling that seems to hover around Marion, but she’s got no idea what it is. Her gut’s saying that it’s harmless though, that the world isn’t going to end, the party’s not going to be interrupted, and so they can relax and have a nice evening (for once…).
“Croatia.” “New Zealand,” the girls say at the same time. The two trade a look, and even though the mask is hiding the top half of her face it’s apparent that Marion’s look is one of scepticism. “Spin for it?” she eventually says, and Gemma nods.
“Spin for it,” she echoes.
“It’s just one of our things,” Marion says to Donna, shrugging. “Helps us figure out where we’re going.” She snorts lightly, staring out over the darkened canal. The stars aren’t visible here, Donna notes, too much light coming from below to see what’s up in the sky aside from the moon. “It’s took us this far; might as well stick with what’s working.”
“Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” Donna nods sagely.
T.B.C….
Author: Aenaria/
io_aenariaCharacter/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Gemma (an OC), with appearances by Jack, Martha, Donna, and a bunch of other OCs
Rating: This part is PG, however rating is more than likely to go up by the end of it...
Summary: The Sonnetsverse reunion. "She's been lost, found the key, unlocked the door to the universe, wandered about, took a detour, stopped, stopped some more, then started again. Now, finally, Rose Tyler is on her way home." Has gone totally AU after 'The Unicorn and the Wasp', so is safe for people avoiding spoilers for the end of s4.
Disclaimer: Alas, no.
a/n: Many, many, many thanks to
anepidemic and earlgreytea for doing the beta on the next few parts of this. They've helped me out so much, and it's always appreciated.Previous parts of Mysterious Ways and the rest of the Sonnetsverse found here.
Thanks for reading!
Nine: She Moves in Mysterious Ways
“It’s all right, it’s all right
It’s all right
She moves in mysterious ways.”
U2, ‘Mysterious Ways’
The most intriguing thing is the man sitting a couple of steps below her, staring at her as if there’s nothing more important to him in the universe than her. And oh, this time she knows him. He’s got his own mask on, simple black satin that obscures most of his eyes and nose, with his really great hair poking out in all directions. Rose looks down again, and sees his hand grasping her left one, his thumb stroking over the very visible ink marks on the back of it.
Rather suddenly the man whips his mask off, revealing more pale face with big brown Bambi eyes staring right at her. His lips move, saying something, but there’s a sound like rushing wind in her ears and she can’t understand. His eyes are so familiar, deep and old, and all she wants to do is fall right into them and keep falling.
The urge to fall...
“Oh God!”
“Marion!”
“Shit, someone catch her!”
“Rose!”
The next thing she knows is that she’s sitting on the marble steps, with her head down and gasping for breath. She can feel the ache in her eyes, and knows that if she opens them they’ll be glowing again. Rose takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and regain some sort of composure.
“Hey, look at me, look at me,” she hears Martha say, feeling one of her hands cupping the side of her face. With an almighty mental push she forces the green glow down, back behind her eyes and into her brain (where it’s always taken up residence? Because it feels old, older than the Earth itself). When she feels ready, Rose opens her eyes to see Martha’s silver-masked face close to hers. “Can you tell me what happened?” Martha asks, her professional doctor’s persona coming to the forefront even though she’s currently sporting a flowing, light grey and white strapless dress that brings to mind goddesses of olden days instead of a trained medic.
“Got dizzy for a moment there,” Rose says, staring at the sea of concerned faces around her. Gemma’s pushed her way to the forefront of the mass and is clutching onto the edge of her sari, her teeth worrying her lower lip. It’s a bit jarring with the flittering fairy look she’s got going on, a short dress in various shades of purple and a rough edge at the bottom, and her black wings bob nervously. “Bit of vertigo, I guess.”
“Have you been feeling like that lately?” Martha continues, gently pulling at her eyelids through the mask to check her pupils. She shakes her head no, and it’s true. Of all of the odd things that have been happening to her of late, even the time when she had deliberately attempted to make contact with the TARDIS, none of them have felt like this, this sudden shock like she’d been plunged headfirst into a snow bank. Martha purses her lips, thinking quick. “Could just be dehydration or low blood sugar levels, but there’s no way to tell without more extensive tests,” she says. “Maybe you should rest here for a minute, get your feet back under you.”
“I’ll be all right,” Rose says, using the banister to haul herself to her feet. “Every second that goes by I feel better and better. Besides, they’re expecting us outside.” Gemma slips an arm around her waist, giving her that extra little steadiness which is just what she needs right now.
“If you’re sure,” Priya says doubtfully. “However, the minute you feel dizzy again you find the nearest one of us, either Martha or I, and we’ll get you upstairs and check you out.”
“Sounds good,” Rose smiles, taking a tentative step downwards. As her footing gets surer, the small crowd moves down and out of the stairway, weaving through tables and underneath the overhang. When they get outside, the two doctors unanimously agree that Rose needs to sit down for a few more minutes with some water, so she finds herself sitting on a padded bench in one corner of the receiving area, away from the torches that push away the deepening night and slightly out of the way of the building crowd.
“Dizzy?” Gemma asks, standing in front of the bench as Rose carefully sips at her lime-spiked sparkling water.
Rose takes a quick look around, making sure that the others are out mingling with the arriving crowd, sipping at champagne, munching on hors d’oeuvres, altogether distracted from her for just a moment. “More like déjà vu, really,” she says. “It’s like, as soon as I stepped in that stairwell I had such a feeling that I knew that place, that I’d been there before. Think it overwhelmed me a bit.”
“Your eyes went green again,” Gemma says. “I could see it through your eyelids. Don’t think anyone else noticed though. Someone would’ve said something.”
“Thought so,” Rose nods. “I could feel it when I sort of came back to myself. And you’re right, someone would comment on that. Probably say that I’m an alien,” she says ruefully.
“Did it feel the same as the other times?” she prods a little more.
“Not really.” Rose frowns briefly and stares out at the canal that glints and waves in the lamplight, seeing the boats with their dolled up passengers riding along past the magnificent palaces, rowdy spots of unexpected color appropriate for this crazy night. “Come to think of it, none of them have felt exactly the same.” She turns her gaze back to her sister.
Gemma bites her lip and sits down on the bench next to Rose. “It all started with that weird dream at Christmas, right? Did anything happen to you at Christmas that might have made all this happen?”
Rose just keeps looking at her sister. There’s one small thing she’s been keeping to herself for a while. She doesn’t really know why. Maybe it was the fear of being looked at as if she were really losing her marbles this time. Or maybe it was one of those little, precious things that she held close to her heart to warm her in the times when she was feeling most alone. But this is her sister, the one who’s been there for her through all of her good moments and some of her worst. Even though she’s quite young and doesn’t always understand what’s going on, she’s always managed to make Rose feel better in her own, inimitable way. If anyone deserves to know what’s happening, it’s her. “I think it may have started earlier than that,” Rose says slowly. “And not just in dreams.”
“What d’you mean?”
She thinks back, searching for the right example to illustrate her little trick. “You remember when we first got to this universe? We had to take the taxi in the Faeroe Islands to get us off the beach.”
“Yeah,” Gemma says slowly, not quite seeing where this is going.
“Do you remember what the driver was saying to us?”
“That was almost three years ago. ‘Course I don’t remember. And anyway, he was speaking some sort of language, wasn’t English though, that’s for sure.”
Rose nods, her point slowly being proven. “He had asked us if we’d heard about what had happened on the TV a week before, something about an alien hoax that led to both the American President and the Prime Minister of England being assassinated within minutes of each other.”
Gemma wrinkles her brow, not quite seeing it yet.
“When he spoke to me, I heard him speak quite clearly in English,” Rose clarifies, watching the enlightenment and then the puzzlement overtake Gemma’s face.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she says, which makes Rose smile just a bit.
“Normally, it wouldn’t. However, it was one side effect of TARDIS travel – she manages to get into your head, acts as a translator. Do you think I’d managed to learn all of those alien languages for every planet I went to in this universe?”
“I just thought the Doctor played tour guide for you,” she shrugs.
“A tour guide that ends you in gaol and then fleeing from near-mortal peril, maybe,” Rose smirks. “But that’s the first thing that I noticed – ever since we got back here I’ve been hearing everything in English, like it’s still being sent through a translator.” She motions to a group of Japanese girls standing around in neon-coloured costumes. “What do you think they’re saying now?”
“No idea,” Gemma says.
“It’s actually rather boring. They’re talking about the glassware they bought on Murano earlier this afternoon.”
Gemma looks back at Rose. “So you’re hearing them in English now?” She nods. “So does that mean that you’re sort of still hooked back into the TARDIS somehow?”
“I think so,” Rose nods, sipping again at her water. “I have the very strong feeling that every odd thing that’s happened, all of those strange dreams, the translating bits, are all because of the TARDIS. Somehow. I haven’t figured out exactly why yet though.” There’s a bit of a suspicion that it has something to do with the time she used that big yellow truck to rip open her heart, god only knows what could have happened then. But without something definite she can’t be sure, and there’s only one person in all the universes who could answer that for her.
“That’s so weird,” she says, sounding like the almost ten-year-old she actually is instead of the current sisterly support system.
“Don’t forget the eye thing as well,” Rose says, waving a hand in the direction of her face. “It’s the same colour as the TARDIS rotor as well.” Her other hand clutches the cool glass in her palm. “I think I was even once able to directly contact the TARDIS, about a month ago or so. It was just mentally, like a meditative sort of dream or something like that. But it felt so much like her, it couldn’t have been anything else.” She shrugs. “I tried to get her to pass a message on, to say that I was here and I was back, that I was going to find him, but all I could understand from her was ‘give it time.’ Not exactly a paragon of clarity, that. It was exciting at the time, like we’d finally had some success in this long trip we’ve been on, but now I’m wondering if I just dreamed the whole thing.” A little bit of scepticism is healthy, she has repeatedly told herself. That scepticism however can’t shake the feeling in her bones that she’s getting close, closer than she’s been in years.
“But anything connected with the TARDIS is good, right?”
“Most certainly.” Rose stares into the distance again, some more flashes of her vision on the stairs flying past her eyes. “This time though, what I was seeing on the stairway that made me slip, the Doctor was definitely there in the vision. Staring right up at me, looking exactly like he always did.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Gemma asks, stealing a sip of water from Rose’s glass. Her face crinkles up as the bubbles from the water go up her nose briefly.
“Dunno,” Rose shrugs. “I did say I had the feeling that something was coming.” Oh, there’s that hope coming out again.
“Him?” she says incredulously. “And now? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“It never does,” Rose says solemnly, although there is a bit of a twinkle in her eye. “I think you’re right though; he’s not going to be here tonight. You and I are going to have a bit more searching to do. We’ll just have to pick up the trail again. How does New Zealand sound?” She thinks of the TARDIS key sitting upstairs on the dresser with a grin and the two girls share a decisive nod.
Neither one of them remembers the old adage that things happen when you least expect them to.
* * *
Donna, champagne glass clutched in one hand, sidles over to Martha through the crowds. “What do you think of her?” she asks, nodding her head in Marion McCrimmon’s direction, watching her and her younger sister sitting on the bench in the corner.
Martha tilts her head, subtly tugging at the strapless neckline of her dress to keep it from moving. She’s far more used to wearing a practical jacket and trousers than this floor length dress. “She seems nice, for all of the five minutes we got a chance to talk. Pree’s always had good judgment when it comes to people though.”
“But there’s just something…” Donna trails off, sipping her champagne and hoping that she doesn’t drop any onto her own dress. The short purple frock she found in the wardrobe of the TARDIS is absolutely perfect, and she doesn’t want to take the chance of getting it wrecked. Hell, there is the distinct possibility it could have come from ancient Rome itself; the gold clasps at the shoulders look awfully authentic. She isn’t going to let one bad experience in Pompeii spoil her fun with Romanesque clothing. “I don’t know how to describe it. Wistful, maybe? Slightly out of step with the rest of this crowd here?”
“I think wistful works,” Martha says. “But there’s something more, you know?”
“Yeah…or maybe we’re looking for mysteries when there aren’t any,” Donna frowns. “And whose fault is that? Still, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Speaking of which, I’m going to go see if he’s shown up yet,” Martha says, turning around in a swirl of skirts and heading back inside. “I just hope he remembers we’ve got invites this time, no breaking in required.”
Donna nods after her, her gaze still drawn to the McCrimmon sisters. While she rationally knows she’s most likely seeing things that aren’t there, part of her wants to dig just a little further. And if nothing pops up, well, then she’ll know that she’s seeing things. Which may not be a bad thing in this case. Quickly, she fills up a small plate with various sorts of nibbles and brings it over to Marion. “Here you go,” she says, offering up the plate. “Thought it might make you feel a bit better.”
“Thanks,” Marion replies with a smile, and takes the plate from her. Her fingers hover over it for a few moments until she settles on a piece of raw tuna.
“So if you don’t mind my asking,” Donna continues, dragging over a chair for herself, “where are you two from? I know you met the girls in Boston, but you sure don’t sound like you’re from the States.”
Marion swallows her tuna and shakes her head. “No, we’re from London actually,” she says. “Left after our parents passed though.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Couldn’t stand to be in the house after that, so we took our inheritance and decided to travel about a bit, show this one here all the sights out there.”
Donna smiles; she understands that feeling. She’d felt it herself after her own dad died. Maybe that was just one of the many things that had spurred her to find the Doctor after turning down his first offer. “I hear you. Been around a fair bit myself.” She turns to Gemma this time, currently stealing some food from her sister’s plate. “What’s your favorite place out of all the ones you’ve been to?” she asks her.
Gemma chews thoughtfully. “Rome was fun,” she says through a mouthful of food. “And we got to do a safari somewhere in Africa, with camping and everything. Ooh, and then there was the rose valley in Bulgaria, it smelled amazing, all of these fields of roses. And then there was the p—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, this time popping something cheesy into her mouth that Marion’s just held up.
“You’re awfully well travelled,” Donna says, missing the look of warning Marion’s shooting at her sister.
(Rose just knew Gemma was going to slip and start talking about one of the planets they’d visited in the other universe. Sometimes her little sister is entirely too predictable.)
“We’ve been travelling a while,” Gemma shrugs nonchalantly. “Got to go to a lot of places. Where’s the best place you’ve been?”
“Er…” Donna wracks her brain, trying to come up with some place that they’ve travelled to that wasn’t 1) alien or 2) 50,000 years in the future. “Well, Pompeii was a hell of a time,” she finally says.
“We almost made it there,” Gemma says. “Got a bit sidetracked on one of the islands though.” She shoots a glare at her sister, who just raises her hands as if to say it wasn’t her fault.
“Do you girls have anything planned next?” she continues, that odd feeling in her stomach calming down as they chatter on. There’s a strange sort of feeling that seems to hover around Marion, but she’s got no idea what it is. Her gut’s saying that it’s harmless though, that the world isn’t going to end, the party’s not going to be interrupted, and so they can relax and have a nice evening (for once…).
“Croatia.” “New Zealand,” the girls say at the same time. The two trade a look, and even though the mask is hiding the top half of her face it’s apparent that Marion’s look is one of scepticism. “Spin for it?” she eventually says, and Gemma nods.
“Spin for it,” she echoes.
“It’s just one of our things,” Marion says to Donna, shrugging. “Helps us figure out where we’re going.” She snorts lightly, staring out over the darkened canal. The stars aren’t visible here, Donna notes, too much light coming from below to see what’s up in the sky aside from the moon. “It’s took us this far; might as well stick with what’s working.”
“Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” Donna nods sagely.
T.B.C….
