#ten2

Rose placed a hand on his arm.  “We'll just have to be careful, Doctor.”

He glanced at her.  “No, that's not what I mean.  Well, I mean obviously I'm worried about the telepathic influence, yeah.  But... limited range?  How limited?  Because people have been having fear attacks all over this boat, according to what Mallory said.  And I haven't exactly seen Captain Levy wandering around the ship.”

Rose sat up straighter.  “Oh god, you're right.  A ship this size...”

“Rose, how do they reproduce?”

“I don't know.  They're a synthetic species.  I don't suppose the sontarans created them with reproduction in mind.  I mean, do they reproduce at all?”

“They might have evolved a way.”

“Still though, there was only one of them.”

“Self propogation.  Like earthworms.”

Rose swallowed and swiped a stray lock of hair out of her face.  “Okay, Doctor, let's not get ahead of ourselves.  Maybe their telepathic range is larger than we think.  There haven't exactly been thorough studies on them.”

“Yes, but think about it.  Why wouldn't it have known where Helen was?  Why did it insist on having us followed around?”

Rose chewed her lip.  “Okay.  Let's work on that theory then.  Multiple volchaski, infecting enough people to exert influence over the entire ship?”

The Doctor and Rose both glanced at Helen.  She stared back at them.

“Oh, you can't possibly think...” she said as the Doctor jumped up, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and scanning her up and down.  “I think I'd know if a worm had crawled into my ear!”

“No secondary life forms detected,” the Doctor said, flipping his sonic and tucking it away again.  “At least we know Helen's in the clear.”

Helen sighed and glanced at the ceiling.  “Right, so what are we going to do about all this nonsense then?”

“If Captain Levy is still in control of the ship's crew, that implies there's a heirarchy of sorts,” Rose said.  “So he's still our primary concern.”

The Doctor frowned.  “Wouldn't it be nice if there was a Fright Night effect with all of them?  Destroy the leader, the rest of them fall like dominoes...”

Helen furrowed her brow.  “Fright Night?”

“There's no Fright Night in this universe, Doctor,” she muttered.

The Doctor looked aghast, then put his face in his hands, shaking his head.  “Blimey, 'course there isn't.  All my pop culture references are useless here!”

“Wait, you're from another universe?” Helen asked, then shrugged and rolled her eyes.  “Why am I surprised?”

“There's still Underworld,” Rose encouraged.  “And the Beatles... Oh!  And Led Zeppelin—on an actual Zeppelin!  Remind me to show you that later.”

The Doctor brightened.  “Ohoho, brilliant!”

Rose grinned.  “Tell you what.  When this mess is over, you and I are gonna lock ourselves away for a week and binge watch all the most important cultural events of this universe's last century.  You'll be back to your old self in no time.”

Helen leaned forward aggitatedly.  “Hello, excuse me?  Alien invasion happening!”

“I beg your pardon!” the Doctor said indignantly.

“She's talking about the worms, Doctor,” Rose said, play-slapping his arm. “Besides, you're human now, remember?”

“Well, half human.”

Helen stared at the Doctor, palming the top of her head.  “You're half alien.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” the Doctor said defensively.

“Look,” Rose said.  “Why don't we just finish breakfast so we can move on. We're getting distracted.”

They ate mechanically in heavy silence for a few minutes, avoiding the now cold eggs in favor of scones and fruit.

“You know,” the Doctor said through a bite, swallowing as he poured a warmup on his coffee, “I think we should revisit this idea of security cameras.”

“To find Scott?” Rose wiped buttery fingers on her napkin.

“Yes. And although it didn't pan out at the restaurant, I suspect the ship's security system is a digital one, and it's bound to save backup files to a hard drive.  Liability purposes.”  He poured more coffee for the two women.

“True,” Rose conceded.

“How are you going to manage that though?” Helen asked.  “They aren't just gonna let you waltz in and access their systems.”  She chased her words with a large gulp of coffee.

“Oh, I have my ways,” the Doctor said, bouncing his eyebrows.

“But Doctor, they've seen you,” Rose said.  “I don't think psychic paper will be enough.”

“Psychic paper?” Helen asked.

“Hmm... right...”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “I'll need a disguise then.”

Rose arched an eyebrow.  “Don't tell me you're gonna wear a fake mustache...”

The Doctor wrinkled his nose.  “I don't think we need to take measures as extreme as that.”

“Excuse me—psychic paper?” Helen asked again.

“It's...” the Doctor began, “...well, sort of like a fake ID for all occasions.  It tricks the person's brain into seeing what you want them to see.”

Helen slowly shook her head in wonder.  “God... this is... just, is this really happening right now?  Or am I having a mental breakdown?”

“Oh don't worry, you're perfectly sane,” Rose said with a smile.

Helen blinked, nodding.  “All right then, excellent...”

“Perfectly,” Rose replied.  She turned to the Doctor.  “Well, what should me and Helen do while you play secret agent?”

The Doctor sighed.  “Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but... I think you'd better call Torchwood.”

Rose dropped her napkin.  “You... want me to call Torchwood.”

“I know,” he replied with a sigh.  “I won't pretend to be happy about it, but I think this might be more than we can handle on our own.  We'll need their help with containment.  Just... make sure they know what they're up against.  The sooner they can get here the better.  For now, we're in the happy position of the volchaski being stuck on this boat, but once we hit land in... what, 20 hours? There's a huge risk some of them could escape.”

Rose nodded.  “The closer we get to land, the greater the risk.  Even if we managed to keep them from dropping the gangplank, they could steal lifeboats—some of them might even try to swim for it.”

“Exactly. And there's no knowing how many are on board.”

Rose sighed.  “Well, I can't call them from our suite, they might be listening in.  We'd be asking for trouble.”

“My room's out too, obviously,” Helen said.

“What about Mallory?” the Doctor suggested.

Rose glanced between Helen and the Doctor.  “Yes, good idea.  Have you still got his card?”

“On the nightstand,” the Doctor said, tossing his head towards their room.

“Okay, I'm gonna get dressed then,” Rose said, pushing her chair back.

“Me too,” said Helen, following Rose's example.

“Me too, too,” said the Doctor, popping his eyebrows with a manic grin and a little shake of the head as he stood.

Rose shimmied into a thick sweater as the Doctor stripped off his jimjams and pulled on some jeans.  He pulled more clothes out of the closet. “Whatcha think?” he said, turning to Rose.  “This?” he held up a blue t-shirt that read, Actual Genius.  “Or this?”  A red t-shirt: Because Science.

Rose laughed.  “Does it matter?”

“Think computer expert.”

“Then Actual Genius, definitely.  Besides, in your case it's true.”

“Why thank you, Rose Tyler,” he chuffed, tossing away the rejected red shirt and shoving his arms into the sleeves of the preferred blue one, plowing his head through the neck hole.

“How are you going to keep them from recognizing you.  I mean even if you wear a disguise, won't they be able to tell it's your mind?”

“Only if they're infected.  Besides, I think I've enough mental control to tweak my psychic frequency a bit—enough to throw them off the scent.”

“Your face though.”  She pulled on some jeans and buttoned them, slipping on some boots and grabbing her coat.

“Well,” the Doctor said, putting on his glasses.  “There's this.  And... well, I think I'll trim the ol' sideburns.”  He ran his hands across them.

Rose's face fell.  “Not permanently, I hope.”

He grinned.  “I've always wondered if you liked them.”

She grinned against her tongue.  “And how,” she swayed flirtatiously.

He laughed.  “No worries, then.  They'll just temporarily take one for the team.”

“Just don't do anything to that hair of yours.”

“Nope!” he said, popping the P.  “I've got this.”  He whipped out a rust colored beanie with an atom embroidered on the front, pulling it over his head.  “Whatcha think?  Will it work?”  His fringe poked out from the top of the hat, covering his eyes slightly.  He hadn't cut it since he'd come to this universe, and it was getting rather long in the front.

“Hmm... actually, I think that might work.”

“Plus, I've got these!”  He bounded to the closet and pulled out a red and yellow plaid wool shirt and a gray hoodie.

Rose laughed.  “When did you start wearing hoodies and plaid?”

“Well, technically I haven't...  I borrowed them from your mum last minute. Started packing and realized I didn't have any winter clothes.”

Rose laughed again.  “She loaned you Pete's clothes for warmth?  God, she's practically your mother in law already!”  Her voice caught on the words.  There was an awkward silence, the Doctor's eyes shining as the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry smile.  “Er, I'm surprised she didn't give you mittens,” Rose added in a rush, cheeks flushing hot.

“S-she did,” he stuttered.  “Well, gloves.  Nice ones.  And a really warm scarf.”

“Did she give you the hat too?”

“Nope, that's mine.”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Same place I got the Star Wars shirts.  I quite like it.”  He grinned, running his fingers along the edge of the hat.

Rose bit her lip.  “You're not... I mean... you know... not all the time?  It's just you have, you know, really great hair... be a shame to cover it up...”

“Nah, I'll just keep it for special occasions.  You know, birthdays... and, er... weddings...”  He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh god,” Rose squeaked, turning a deeper crimson.

The Doctor grinned, pulling off the hat and tossing it on the bed, wrapping his arms around her and propping his chin on top of her head as she buried her face in his chest.  “I would, you know.”

“Me too.”

“Let's get off this boat in one piece then, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled back, lifting her chin and brushing hair out of her face, his expression now quite serious.  “Rose, please... be careful.”

“You too.”

He helped her into her coat, then spun her around one more time and pulled her tightly into his arms, kissing her fervently.  She kissed him back desperately, pressing her forehead to his when their lips parted.

“I'll meet you back here as soon as I can,” he said breathlessly.

“You'd better.”

“I love you, Rose Tyler.”

“Love you back, you crazy half-alien man.”

He wandered over to the hideous pink sectional and sat down with a plop.   He was exhausted.  Sure, his body was asleep now, but his mind was supercharged, full of apprehension and circular thoughts.  What if? What if the Volchaski gets Rose?  What if she isn't careful enough?   What if I can't save her?  What if... what if... what if...

He was no stranger to loss.  He had experienced it so many times he couldn't even keep track anymore.  But the prospect of losing the same person twice... and not just any person, but the one who mattered most.

He started imagining a domestic life without Rose Tyler.  He'd be lonelier than he'd ever been.  He'd have to find a job, with no credentials.   Probably end up working in a shop somewhere, counting down the days until the weekend, getting hooked on evening soaps, battling depression with too much ice cream... well, maybe not that last one.  Well, maybe if it were banana ice cream.  Well, maybe it could be vanilla if there were bananas sliced on top...

His thoughts inevitably shifted to Donna.  Her absence was conspicuous.  He'd been trying not to think of her with everything that had gone on in the last twenty-four hours.  But she had been eerily silent.  In fact, she hadn't spoken to him since the last time he'd dreamed of the TARDIS.  And even then, it was a corrupted holographic message.  Not the real Donna.  And he couldn't quite remember what she'd been trying to say.

He sighed, sinking lower into his seat, legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed.  He noticed randomly that tonight, his subconscious had dressed him in his old brown pinstripes.  He almost smiled.  He did miss that old suit.  Rose always fancied it.  Now his thoughts were on Rose again.  What if... what if... what if...

He groaned in frustration and sat back up, rubbing his face.  A bit scratchy.  He needed a shave.  Random details.  His brain was an odd duck.

Where is Donna?  He glanced across the room to the door and found it closed.  So probably not at the console again.  A relief.  After last time, he wasn't sure he was up for another encounter with the TARDIS, subconscious or otherwise.  His chest began to ache at the memory.   Touching the console in his dream.  It had felt so real.  So excruciatingly real.

He stood up again, fighting to rein in his thoughts.  Blimey, it was shaping up to be a long night.  He wandered over to the nearest bookshelf, the one near the fireplace.  It's where he'd kept all his favorites.  An eclectic assortment.  Rowling and Tolkien shuffled in amongst Verne, Christie, and Austen.  Mass market thrillers sharing a shelf with the likes of Shakespeare and Salinger, Charles Dickens and Harper Lee.  Kurt Vonnegut and Philip K. Dick cavorting with the Brontë sisters.  He hadn't read any Wilkie Collins in a while.  That might do for a diversion.  Ah, here it is, The Moonstone, sandwiched between...

“Laird... of the Mist?” he muttered in confusion.  “And... Proof by Seduction?!” his tone escalating in horror.  “Donna!  Stay out of my books!”

He scanned the titles more broadly, eyes zeroing in on several romance titles.   Goddess of the Hunt...  The Highlander's Touch...  Yours Until Dawn...  Blimey, Donna, your taste in literature is apalling!  ...Still... not fair to criticize it if I haven't read it myself, I suppose...  He snicked a paperback off the shelf.  Goddess of the Rose.  It was like she'd left that one there on purpose to tempt him.  He glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching—which he realized was absolutely ridiculous, but he did it anyway—then wandered back to the sectional and flopped down, propping his plimsolled feet on the glasstop.  He opened the well-worn cover.

Doctor...

He jolted upright, staring at the title page.  It had messy pink handwriting all up and down the margins.  Donna's writing.

 Doctor, I don't know if you're reading this.  The walls are closing in.  I have to hide.  I think something terrible is happening.   God, can't you feel it?  I thought you were supposed to be a crack at this psychic stuff!  You've got to help me!  Please!

-

The Doctor woke suddenly, feeling so disoriented that he rolled over and fell off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud and an oof, blankets and bedsheets landing on top of him in a pile.  Pain lanced through his temples, the pressure in his head so intense that it elicited a groan from the back of his throat as he fought against it.

“Doctor!” Rose squeaked from above.  He opened his eyes and saw Rose's hazy shadow hovering over him.  She climbed off the bed and knelt beside him.  “Are you alright?”

“No,” he gasped through clenched teeth.

“Where are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, no, not hurt.  Not injured.  My head.”  He grabbed at his hair, rolling onto his side and curling up in a ball.  “Something's wrong,” he rasped.  “Donna.”

“Doctor, how do I help you,” Rose said.  He could tell she was tapping into her Torchwood training to stay calm, which meant she wasn't calm at all.  Not on the inside.  He swallowed against a paper-dry throat.

“Some water.  And my bag in the loo.”

She quickly disappeared.  A light came on from the en suite, and he could hear the sound of rustling and running water.  Then she was by his side again, setting the bag on the floor beside him and holding out the glass.  He half sat up, trying to ignore the throb of pain in his head, rummaging through the bag and retrieving his Torchwood pills.  He dumped four into his palm, pushing them clumsily into his mouth and washing them down with the proferred glass of water before lying back down on the floor.  He could see Rose examining the bottle, her expression inscrutable.  After a moment, she slowly dropped them into his bag and pushed it aside.

She stood up, bent over him, offering her hands.  “Let me help you back into bed.”

He wordlessly put his hands in hers and let her pull him gently off the floor, easing him back into the bed.  She covered him and sat beside him, rubbing his back and neck, careful not to jostle him too much.   Guilt flooded his chest, overwhelming his exhaustion.  He was wide awake now.

“They're from Pete,” he finally said.  She stopped rubbing for half a moment before continuing.

“Why didn't you tell me?”  The question was soft.  There was no anger.  Only hurt.  He could hear pent up tears in her voice, and his stomach did an uncomfortable flip.

He sighed pensively, reluctant to be completely honest, but seeing no way around it.  “I didn't want you to think I was opening the door to Torchwood.”  He swallowed slowly.   “Because I'm not.”  His words were met by silence.  “I didn't even ask for them.  Pete saw I was suffering and came to me with them, saying they were still in the trial phase, but that they might help.  I wasn't even planning on taking them.  But my headaches were... are... getting worse.  As soon as we—”  He stopped suddenly, muscles tensing.  He lifted his head off the pillow and half rolled to face Rose, ignoring the wave of pain and pressure in his head.  “Oh Rose, I am so thick...”

“Doctor, what is it?”

“The headaches.  They started getting worse once we boarded the ship!  Maybe it wasn't just the TARDIS withdrawals.  Maybe I was picking up the telepathic frequency of the volchaski, only my telepathic abilities have been on the fritz since the TARDIS left, so it manifested as headaches.  I didn't recognize it for what it was!”

“But if that's what was happening, why were the pain killers making your headaches go away?”

“Because they're not pain killers.”

There was a sudden pounding on the door.  Like the flat of a fist, urgent, but muffled.  Cautious.

Rose instinctively slipped off the edge of the bed, but the Doctor rolled over and grabbed her arm before she could take a step towards the door. “Rose, no,” he hissed.  “Let me.”

She snapped her head back around, looking down at him, soft hair partially concealing her face from the orange glow of the en suite, leaving her features unreadable.   “Doctor, don't be ridiculous.  Can you even stand up?”

“I can if I must.”  He dropped his feet to the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position, clutching the mattress and squeezing his eyes shut against the pounding in his head.

The thumping on the door returned, a little louder this time.  Rose gently cupped his shoulder.   “I'll be careful.  I'll look through the spy hole first, and I won't open it for anyone that isn't safe.  I promise.”

“How do you know who is and isn't safe?” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Because I will,” she said with a smirk.  “Call it... Rose's intuition.”  She smiled and brushed a finger down his cheek, then hurried away.

“Rose!” the Doctor rasped, struggling to stand as he fought a wave of dizziness and nausea, using the wall by the bed to steady himself.  She was already out of the room, turning on lights as she went, the sudden brightness causing him to cringe.  He waited for the room to stop spinning before making his way towards the door as quickly as he could manage, leaning against the jamb when he reached it.  He could see Rose pulling away from the spy hole.  She turned a glance his way, looking troubled.  “It's Helen!” Her voice was urgent, though barely above a whisper.  Before the Doctor could say anything, she had the door open and was pulling the willowy girl into the room, hastily closing the door behind them and locking it.

The Doctor shuffled into the common, leaning on the back of one of the plush chairs to ground himself.   “Helen, what are you doing here?” he asked, voice strained, his free hand reaching up to massage his browbone where it intersected with the bridge of his nose.

“Thank god you're alright,” Helen said, her husky voice cracking slightly under the weight of her unstable composure.  She wore a black wool peacoat with the collar turned up around a thick red scarf, a slouchie black ski cap pulled low over her ears.  She shivered, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched.

“Why do you say that?” Rose asked warily.

“It's Scott.  Scott Crowder.  He was supposed to meet me for tea yesterday,” she glanced between the two of them.  “He's been on edge, even scared, and he told me he was going to try to speak with you because of all this business with my father.  When he didn't show up, I just knew something was wrong.  It's not like him at all.  He's always very punctual, and he never stands me up.  Ever.”

“Yes, we tried to ring you late yesterday afternoon, but you didn't pick up.”  Rose put a gentle hand on her arm, guiding her towards the sofa.  “Come, sit down, you'll be much more comfortable.  God, you're like ice!  I'll make some tea.”

“I haven't been back to my room since... well, after Scott didn't show up, I headed back to see if maybe he'd left me a message, but when I arrived, my door was open, and the place had been torn apart.  I could still hear people inside and... I don't know, I guess I just panicked and ran away.  I've been hiding on different decks, trying to avoid cameras, but that's almost impossible.  I don't even know if they're looking for me, but I've been wandering around most of the night.   Finally I decided I'd better come see you myself.”

The Doctor sat gingerly in the chair across from Helen.  “Why didn't you come sooner?”

“I didn't think to at first.  I just wanted to get away and hide.  But wandering around, desperately hoping to run into Scott... I began considering asking you if you knew where he might be.  It was pretty late by then.  I was debating on whether or not it was worth disturbing your sleep when it occurred to me that you might actually be in danger yourselves.”  Rose brought Helen a cup of tea and threw a blanket around the woman's shoulders.  “Thank you.”  She sipped it gratefully.

“Why do you think they were ransacking your room?” Rose asked as she sat down next to her.

“I don't know.  I mean I can't imagine a reason.  It must have something to do with Scott.  I mean I'm the captain's daughter.  No one would ever even entertain an idea like that without...”  She bit her lower lip.

“Without the captain giving the order to,” the Doctor finished.  Helen nodded.

“Still, why not just ask you for whatever it is he was looking for?”

“He knows Scott and I are close.  I'm certain that whatever he's upset with Scott over, in his mind I'm just as guilty.”

Her remarks were met with silence as Rose and the Doctor exchanged troubled glances.

“Helen,” the Doctor said gently, “after we met with Scott yesterday, we witnessed a group of five men beat him and haul him off in a shuttle car.  We ran after them, but...”

“They'd escaped before we even started chasing them,” Rose added somberly.  “They had the car, we were on foot.  It was hopeless.”

Helen looked stricken.  “Oh my god, Scott...”

“Listen,” Rose said.  “It's too much to explain now, but the reason they took Scott is... well, he knows some things about us, and they don't want him trying to interfere.  This isn't easy, I mean, the captain is your father, but... he wants me, because of who I am, and he thinks Scott will try and stop him.  So, if what you've said is true, then...”

The Doctor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “He wasn't after something in your room.  He was after you.”

“But you weren't there,” Rose said.  “So they did the next best thing.  Looked for clues as to where you might be.”

“You really lucked out,” the Doctor added.

“But...” she glanced between them.  “But none of this makes sense.  If he wants you, why doesn't he just come get you?”

Rose glanced at the Doctor, then back at Helen.  “It may come to that.  For now, though, I think he's afraid of me.  ...Well, enough to be cautious, anyway,” she ammended.

Helen wrinkled her eyebrows.  “I don't understand...”

“It's a lot to explain right now.  But for the time being, we believe we're relatively safe here.  And as long as no one saw you come here, you should be safe, too.  Now, it's late, the Doctor's not very well right now—”

“Oh.  I'm so sorry, I didn't realize,” she glanced sheepishly at the Doctor, who was rolling his eyes at Rose.

“I'm fine,” he reassured Helen.

“What I mean,” Rose continued, “is that everyone should get some sleep.   We'll talk more in the morning and try to come up with a plan, yeah?   Helen, you can take the other bedroom.  It's got its own loo, and I'll lend you some jimjams.”

Helen sighed pensively, biting her lip, but finally nodded.  “Okay.  Thanks.”

Rose smiled encouragingly.  “No problem.  Don't worry.  We'll find Scott, and we'll help your dad.  Whatever's wrong, we'll figure it out together.  Okay?”

The Doctor studied Rose, the corner of his mouth twitching at the hint of a smile.  She'd always had a beautifully nurturing way with people.  Whenever he was wrapped up in the mystery, he often had blinders on to how it was effecting those around him.  But Rose always saw to it that no one got left behind or forgotten.  It was a trait he found supremely admirable, one he marveled at.  Rose Tyler.  You... are... amazing.

He pulled himself back into the present, realizing Rose had taken Helen into the other bedroom—no longer afraid now that she understood the hallucination was just that—a trick meant to frighten her.  Now she was bringing her some pajamas.  Now apologizing for them being the wrong size, but making sure the set had a drawstring to keep the bottoms from falling down.  Finally, Helen had closed the door and Rose was back at the Doctor's side, pulling him into a soft hug so that his cheek was against her stomach, and her fingers were gently fluffing his hair.

“How're you feeling?” she asked quietly.

“Mmm... tired... a little better though...”

“Come on, let's get you back to bed.”

She let him lean on her, though his need for support had lessened considerably.  The pills were beginning to work their magic.  He lowered himself face down onto the mattress, Rose pulling the blankets back over him.  He could hear Helen's shower running as Rose walked through the common, turning off all the lights.  The sound was muffled by the bedroom door closing, and he could hear Rose go into the loo.  The orange glow behind his eyelids went black as she turned off the light and a moment later he felt her climb into bed.

“Rose, you're wonderful,” he mumbled through sleepy lips.

“Thank you, Doctor.”  He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I don't deserve you.”

“Don't be daft.”

“Why are you with me?”

“Doctor...”

“You deserve so much more.”

“I deserve to have what I want.  And what I want is you.”

The Doctor couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just let out a contended hum as he drifted off, the throbbing in his head now of secondary importance.