Chapter Text
With eyes closed, and head bowed, Pete Tyler sat in a hard plastic chair in the corridor of the Naval Military Treatment Facility in Greenwich, located in the regal -- and former -- Royal Naval War College facility on the shores of the Thames.
He opened his eyes, and stared at the picture on his mobile. This was his second-chance family: Jackie, Rose, and little Tony. He saw himself, his wife, and his adopted daughter standing behind a grinning Tony Tyler, who was readying himself to blow out three candles on his birthday cake.
Pete had snapped the picture just a few weeks before. The day had been a happy oasis in the middle of a sea of worry; the stars were disappearing, the Darkness was advancing exponentially. And then the weather changes had begun; the first time the cracks between universes had appeared...global warming. This time, violent storms were ravaging the world.
One hour had passed since The Incident, and he still hadn’t called Jackie. He knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
"Jacks, there has been an...accident. Rose has been hurt." Pete knew that something in his voice told Jackie that this time was different, because his wife said nothing in reply. She must have known that this was not just another one of the numerous sprains, strains, split lips, broken fingers or concussions that Rose had sustained during her days and nights defending the Earth.
"I've sent Jake to pick you up. He should be there in a few minutes."
oOo
"Oh God! Rose!" Jackie Tyler choked out the words as she looked through glass which separated mother from daughter. The glass was cold under her fingertips as she pressed her palms to the window, unable to speak.
Rose was motionless, save the artificially induced rise and fall of her chest. She had been put into a medically induced coma to allow her body and brain to heal from the obviously extreme trauma.
A blue sheet was draped over her torso and legs. Her arms were arranged unnaturally straight by her sides. Two intravenous lines led to numerous bags of fluid, one on the back of her hand, and the second, near her heart. Her eyes were covered with white gauze, taped shut. The skin on her face, neck, and hands was an angry shade of red, glistening from the healing ointment used for second degree burns. A tube down her throat controlled her respiration. Her dark blonde hair was frizzy and uneven, like the worst haircut after the worst perm. Bare patches on her scalp were visible where hair had been singed completely away; in other spots, the hair had been clipped to better expose lacerations and wounds, which were sutured and mended with butterfly bandages.
The flat screen monitor hanging on the wall visually indicated just how serious her condition was. Her heart rate was sluggish and erratic. Brain wave activity was nearly flat, as were muscle and eye movements.
Pete pulled Jackie into his side, and she turned into him, burying her face into his chest.
"I knew it would end this way. That bloody alien!" Jackie managed to say, though it was muffled and nearly unintelligible through her racking sobs.
oOo
Seven days after The Incident, Rose's condition had neither improved nor worsened. Jackie and Pete still remained by her side both day and night, taking turns resting so that she was never alone. But on day eight, Rose's brain activity increased -- a very good sign. Jackie and Pete smiled for the first time since the morning of The Incident.
Pete's sister, Beatrice, had driven from her home in Kent to care for Tony, and she brought the lad to the hospital to visit his mom and dad. They did not bring him to Rose's room, even though he cried for his big sister, missing her very much.
Jake Simmonds was managing the daily Torchwood operations, and reporting electronically to Pete. There had been only one team sent out on a mission since the The Incident, and they had returned to Torchwood soon after being dispatched. The alleged zombie that was terrorizing Cheswick had turned out to be a feral cat on the prowl.
Every day at four o'clock, Dr. Harper provided an update on Rose's condition, and each report had been the same. Guarded hope for a partial recovery was offered, and then came the gentle reminder that Rose's injuries had been extensive, and patience was required. Her memory and personality might be altered, and she would require physical therapy to regain the muscle tone which would be lost to the coma.
oOo
By day fifteen, while Rose remained in the coma, it was no longer medically induced. If her body and mind were ready to return, there was nothing to stop that from happening.
Pete had resumed management of Torchwood. Funerals had been conducted for those who were lost, and posthumous honours had been awarded. Now that life support had been removed, and it looked like she was simply sleeping, Tony was allowed to visit his sister.
Jackie was no longer staying at the hospital nearly twenty-four hours a day. However, most of her waking hours were spent sitting in Rose's room watching television, reading magazines or books, or surfing the Internet on the new laptop that Pete had bought for her. She brushed what was left of Rose's hair, rubbed her feet and legs like the physical therapist had taught her and talked to her daughter. Every night, Pete brought trays up from the hospital cafeteria and they ate together. He told Rose the events of the day, both good and bad.
The days were tedious, but Jackie did not want Rose to awaken from the coma, alone and afraid.
oOo
"She was removed from the respirator almost a week ago now. So glad that bloody tube is gone." Jackie pressed her pink, crystal-encased mobile to her ear as she spoke to Pete's sister, Beatrice. "You bringing Tony down later? When he touched her yesterday, she moved her fingers. She hears us Bea, I just know it."
Jackie heard the rustling of sheets and a deep breath.
"Where...am I?”
Jackie ended the call without saying goodbye and scurried into the hallway. "Nurse! She's awake! Rose is out of the coma!"
oOo
Sunlight streamed through the mini-blinds, casting wavy shadows across Rose's bed. Pete sat in the side chair and leaned forward. On the other side of the bed, Jackie sat, holding her daughter's hand as tears streamed down Rose's face.
"Mickey's dead?" Rose's voice cracked, quiet from disuse and medication.
Pete nodded, making a small, stuttering movement of affirmation, successfully quenching his own broken emotions for the enormous loss.
"There was an accident. The Cannon...it...stopped working right as you jumped."
"The stars? The Darkness?" she managed to ask, with difficulty.
"All back, Rose. All of them. And the Darkness, it's either retreated or it is just...gone." Pete looked down at the industrial tile floor. "It's like it never happened.”
“He did it. The Doctor did it." Rose shut her eyes.
"That he did," Pete agreed without hesitation. "Victor says the Cannon misfire was caused by something he called a retroclosure energy wave backwash."
Rose nodded as she listened.
"The others were caught in the explosion. It was immediate Rose. No one suffered, and the only reason you didn't," Pete swallowed hard, "...die, was because you were caught for a moment in some sort of a time bubble. The energy wave that you were riding bounced off of the walls of the universe, taking out everything...everything behind you."
She nodded gravely, understanding. "Anyone outside of the Cannon room caught in the wave?"
"Everyone in the facility was killed...except you."
Rose covered her face, only then realising the weight of the loss. "Mickey?" She asked a second time.
"Yes, Rose. Mickey's gone."
Pete watched as Rose's face contorted.
"I'm so sorry," Jackie said as she stroked Rose's arm.
Rose began to breathe in and out rapidly. Her face grew pale, and her heart rate accelerated. Droplets of perspiration appeared on her forehead as she began to hyperventilate.
"Rose, you need to calm down, sweetheart! It isn't good for you!" warned her mother nervously.
Pete left to retrieve a doctor or nurse.
"Dead," she managed to say between gasps for air. "I killed them..."
"No more talking. Just breathe. Slowly...in and out...in and out." Jackie modelled slow, exaggerated breathing.
Pete returned with a nurse, who pulled an oxygen mask from the wall and placed it over Rose's nose to supplement the nosepiece already in place. He examined the device that automatically administered Rose's medication and adjusted a few settings. Soon the symptoms of stress subsided and her breathing and heart rate returned to normal.
"You need to keep her stress level down, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler. Please don't upset her again." The nurse left.
Rose looked up at the ceiling and pulled off the mask. "S'my fault," she said, her voice cracking.
"No, this is not your fault," Pete said firmly, though his voice remained quiet. "It was an accident. There is no way any of us would have known or could've prevented this.”
Rose rolled over onto her side and tucked her head under her arms, drawing herself into a ball.
"Rose, sweetheart..." Jackie said, trying to reach her daughter who was pulling into a shell.
Jackie and Pete sat for an hour, neither of them speaking. Both knew Rose was awake, but she had not spoken once during that time. When eight o'clock neared, and Rose still had not stirred, Pete and Jackie looked at each other painfully.
"We'll see you tomorrow then, sweetheart," Jackie said. She lovingly touched her daughter on the arm.
Pete wrapped his arm around Jackie, and together the couple left the broken woman to her grief.
oOo
Jackie and Pete returned to visit Rose early the next morning. Before entering her room, they spoke with Rose's nurse.
"She asked for something to help her sleep, so Dr. Harper prescribed something. Other than that, she was fine. I'd say things are looking up, wouldn't you?" the nurse suggested with a smile, seemingly unaware of how far from the truth lay Rose's reality. "Why don't you go on in. She's done with breakfast, I think. Even got up and took a shower bright and early. Me and the other nurses were just talking about it, in fact. Doesn't seem possible she would be able to do that the morning after she woke up. She needed some help walking of course, a bit dizzy from the pain killers, but she managed brilliantly, considering."
Pete frowned, unsure what to make of the information. Jackie, however, was simply happy for the progress.
As they entered, Rose greeted them with a smile. "Hello."
"How you doing today, sweetheart?" asked Jackie, relieved to see a smile on her daughter's face.
"When can I get out of this place, Mum?" she asked, ignoring her mother's question, but with lightness in her voice. "I'm going barmy in here."
"It's not even been twenty-four hours since you woke up, sweetheart," Jackie said.
Rose half smiled and looked out the window.
"You'll be home soon, Rose. Is there anything we can bring you? A book you were reading? Some magazines? Maybe your laptop?" asked Pete.
"I wasn't reading anything, and my laptop was..." Rose cleared her throat and mentally strengthened herself. "I left my laptop in my gear locker before the final jump."
“We'll buy you a new one, won't we Pete? Just like mine. It's so thin and light, Rose, you wouldn't believe it! Nothing like that heavy thing that Mickey used to lug around."
On the sly, Pete tapped Jackie's leg, hoping she would stop talking about Rose's dead friend. He studied Rose's face carefully, and she did not flinch. Rose did, however, see his subtle hint.
"Pete, it's alright to talk about Mickey. Or anyone else who died for that matter. Our job was dangerous, yeah? None of us expected to live forever."
"I'm sorry Rose, I wasn't thinking. I've had more time to get used to the idea of Micks being gone," Jackie apologised.
"Mum, I said it's okay. Don't tiptoe around me."
After chatting for fifteen minutes, Pete went to work, and Jackie left to shop for a computer for Rose.
The moment they left the room, Rose turned onto her side, and curled back into that ball.
oOo
Rose had been hospitalised for twenty-three days when Dr. Harper cleared her to go home.
"We can bring you home tomorrow! There'll be a trained nurse of course. There isn't anything they can do for for you here that can't be done in your own room," Jackie said, animated and happy.
Rose directed a questioning look at Pete.
"No arguments, it's already arranged," he said with a hint of humour as he aimed a finger at her.
Rose rolled her eyes. "I don't know how to swallow a pill on my own, after all," she said facetiously.
"Oh, don't be rude," Jackie chided her daughter.
"M'not rude, Mum. Just tired of having people around all the time. I wanna...I just want to be alone for a while."
"Oh," Jackie replied. "You wanna be alone now? 'Cos I can go, and come back tomorrow to pick you up," offered Jackie, understanding her daughter's desire to be unbothered.
"Yeah. Thanks."
Jackie left without another word.
oOo
Five days into her convalescence at the Tyler estate, the hired nurse was no longer needed. Rose was determined to be self-sufficient, and had proven that her physical body was quick to heal. She made plans to return to her own flat over the weekend, and resume work at Torchwood the following week.
That night after dinner, Pete asked if she wanted to have a cup of tea with him in his study.
"Shut the door, would you? I don't want your mum wandering in. No offence against my wife, but she can dominate a conversation."
Rose turned to the side and snickered. "Ya got that right. What did you want to talk about, Pete? I'm sure it wasn't tea." Rose fiddled with one of the subtle scars on her left hand, a reminder of the burn blisters. It was small, and probably only she would notice it.
"I'll get right to it. How are you are doing?" Pete asked. "And please. Be truthful."
"What do you mean?" she asked with a hint of a smile smile, and a quiver in her voice.
"Rose, you know exactly what I mean." Pete asked.
She sighed. "I'm fine. A bit sore still." She moved to tuck a non-existent lock of hair behind her ear, but stopped short. "I hate my hair right now, but that'll grow back."
"I'm not talking about your injuries, Rose. Emotionally, I think you need...help. I have a friend that I'd like you to talk to. Her name is Dr. Lavinia Sandhurst, and she is a psychologist who specialises in posttraumatic stress disorder.”
“You think I have PTSD?" asked Rose, dubious.
"Just talk to her." Pete held out the psychologist's card, but Rose did not accept it.
She moved to leave.
"Rose, please. I'm not trying to show you how to run your life, but you can't bottle it up."
"I'm not bottling up anything. I'm fine. Really." Casually, she picked up her tea and took a sip.
Pete stood from his chair, and came around to the front of the massive desk that dominated the room. He crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the desktop. They held each other's gazes in a contest of wills.
Rose spoke first. "I am telling you, I am alright." Her eyes remained locked on Pete's.
"For the record, I don't believe you," Pete challenged.
"That's your choice." Rose pressed her lips together, and blinked once before retreating from Pete's study. Gently, she closed the door behind her.
oOo
Rose hauled herself over the side of the indoor pool and onto the deck. The swimming pavilion, with its sauna, steam room and hot tub, was a luxury that she was very glad her stepfather had decided to maintain, rather than shut down to save the expense of maintenance.
Most of the artwork, some choice cases of vintage wine in the cellar, the second set of silver flatware, and many antiques had been sold off to fund the establishment of Torchwood in the year after the fall of Lumic Industries and the Cybermen. The mansion was still beautifully furnished, but with furniture that was more homely, comfortable and to Pete's tastes. Jackie thought the home was beautiful, and it was nicer by far than any home in which she had ever lived.
She wrapped herself in a large, white towel and went into the sauna to dry off. Her mind began to tumble, as so often happened these days when she was not busy. She had returned to work part time, but was limited to desk work: helping prepare after-incident reports, acting as a liaison to the Army, and other dull tasks she had dumped on someone else when she was working in the field.
For three years, she'd been impatiently working towards the goal of returning to her original universe, of reuniting with the Doctor. But when the stars began to disappear, returning to her home world became that much more urgent, and the development of the Dimension Cannon became her ticket back. And even though every being in her universe needed Rose to find the Doctor, to Rose herself, finding the Doctor, returning to him, had remained her primary motivation.
Maybe if I hadn't have been so bloody desperate - so selfish - to get back to him, they'd all still be alive, she thought to herself. My selfishness got everyone killed. He didn't need me after all. He figured it out on his own. Of course he did. He's a genius. Why would he need me? He's been around for almost a thousand years. I must have been like a blink of the eye to him. Probably doesn't even remember me...
The heat soothed her tired muscles and drew beads of sweat to the surface of her skin. Rose unwrapped herself from the large white towel, peeled off her clammy swimming suit and spread the towel over the hot, aromatic cedar bench. She turned onto her stomach, crossed her arms and rested her head on her forearms. She melted into the bench. Soon, she became drowsy in the hot room, lulled by the sound of the heating unit popping and crackling as the temperature soared to seventy degrees.
In the seclusion and privacy of the dimly lit small space, tears mingled with droplets of sweat, and Rose's resolve to be Always Alright cracked. Tears gave way to sobs, which led to sighs and finally, sleep.
Three hours later, Rose woke up in the white tiled room of the A & E with an IV in her arm to rehydrate her electrolyte-starved body.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep, it just... happened," explained Rose.
"You aren't eating, you're dehydrated...and this isn't just from falling asleep in the sauna, Miss Tyler," Dr. Harper accused.
"Dr. Harper, it was an accident. I promise."
"I'm admitting you for observation." Without further explanation, he left.
Jackie squeezed her arm. "Rose, I can't go through this again, watching you wither away. You can't let it get as bad as last time. You need help."
"You don't understand, Mum," Rose whispered through heat-chapped lips.
"You think you have a monopoly on grief? Well you don't! Other people are suffering too! The families of everyone who died are grieving the people they lost! Have you even called any of your friends' loved ones? It's been two months Rose. It's time to come out of it!" Angrily, Jackie flipped the curtain aside, and left.
oOo
Jackie and Rose stepped out of the bright beauty salon into thick rain. A short haircut had been the only logical choice if Rose had wanted to avoid sympathetic stares and questions about her singed hair from well-meaning strangers.
“You look so chic, Rose! Like Emma Watson even! Very stylish. All the A-Listers are cutting off their hair these days. Says so in Vogue you know." Her mother's words were small comfort. "Glad you go to a salon that keeps a client profile on file. They were able to match your colour from before perfectly!" Jackie cooed over her daughter's new style. She fingered the fringe that framed her daughter's eyes.
Hesitantly, Rose touched her new pixie cut hair. It made her feel anxious, queasy even. It was like her head was floating on her neck without the weight of her hair to hold it in place. The slightly weightless feeling left her emotionally dizzy. Rose felt foolish mourning the loss of her long hair, but perhaps it was paltry penance for what the others had lost. Perhaps she didn't deserve to have emerged unaltered from The Incident.
Her mind flashed to a set of ice blue eyes, and dark, shorn hair. She wondered if he, too, had cut his hair after the loss of his planet.
“I could use a cuppa. Let's pop into that coffee shop over there. Then I'm going to take you clothes shopping. You need a new outfit to go with that new hair of yours, sweetheart!"
Rose nodded lamely.
oOo
"Pete, I um, I need you to help me with something. I'll never ask you for anything ever again." Rose sat in Pete's office at Torchwood, shoulders slumped and head hanging.
"Tell me what you need," Pete replied without question.
Pete understood Rose more than she realised. He had observed how she had changed since The Incident. The woman was withdrawn and apologetic, timid and touchy. The quietest unexpected noise startled her. She had stopped eating regularly, though she exercised like a woman in training. Coffee was her drink of choice and the doctor-mandated part time hours at work had become sixty hour weeks. She rarely visited her parents' home, even forsaking time with little Tony. She and Jackie had grown reticent around one-another. When they even spoke, their conversations were composed of meaningless small talk.
Pete knew that guilt was eating away at his stepdaughter and she needed a change. Quickly. Jackie would probably kill him when she found out, but she would thank him later. When he had lost his first Jackie, he had needed to make radical changes for his own sanity. Perhaps Rose needed that same transformation.
oOo
One Month Later
Rose pulled her car into the crushed rock parking place to the right of the yellow cottage. Her short hair ruffled in the sea breeze coming through the open window of her small green Fiat. One upside to her short hair, she had admitted, was that a stiff breeze did not ruin it. White and yellow daisies bobbed their heads in the small flowerbed to the right of the porch. She gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel and read the address placard next to the very not blue, cheerful yellow door.
"This is me, then. New home. New job. New life. 56 Old Church Road, Broadchurch.”