London was a gorgeous city. Rose had never known another, not really, until she ran away. There'd been one field trip in Paris, and the occasional visit to her grandparents in the countryside when they were still alive, but London had been Rose's home city for so long, that even when traveling, it'd always had a mixed emotion to Rose about it. Home, gorgeous home, and hated cage. Most people out of London wanted to move there, and somedays she could understand it, she really could. It wasn't like she could have grown up in Cardiff or Manchester, or Glasgow and still have been Rose Tyler.
Before Pete's Universe, she always thought it was Powell Estates that was in her bones more than even being British. And this coming from the girl who got caught in the London blitz with a Union Jack across her chest, who witnessed the coronation of the Queen in the 1950s... on the telly like everyone else, but still. Then again maybe that was why it was London, not just the Estates anymore. Even as a child the Estates hadn't been as big as they seemed. Tall. Good for sitting on the roof and talking with the bloke she brought back home a year late from traveling, to be sure. But cramped flats, fire hazards, broken elevators, gated windows, and don't even get her started about that damn cat flap. Powell Estates was where she grew up. Even when she ran away and moved out the first time, she still came back to those bloody estates. It defined her more than she'd wanted to admit, and then she just embraced it.
But even Powell Estates had never been big enough for Rose. How many times had her Mum gone crazy from Rose running all over the rest of London? Taking doubledeckers sight seeing since she was old enough to board one alone. How many times had she gone out to the Thames and dreamed of crossing it?
Living in Pete's mansion the first few nights had been torture. Not because it wasn't the Estates, but because it wasn't the TARDIS.
But it was still London.
Same smell, same overcast skies that were bloody hard to see stars from. Same streets. WHich was kind of funny given the different Universe and all the zeppelins and things that should have been different.
It wasn't the Doctor's Universe, but it was still London. It was still the river they'd all but swum as ghost half-fish aliens for the feast.
Almost NONE of the bands were the same, but it was still the center of rock'n'roll, especially punk, and it was a comfort to know that somehow the Beatles were universal.
It was still the center of counter fashion, punk rock and jeans, dyed hair and mohawks, clashing Paris' attempts at elegance.
It was still the city of nightclubs and chippies and double-deckers, -- even if that latter also included a term for hot air balloons in this crazy world.
It was London, and she didn't love it, could never, would never be able to shake the feeling of being trapped in it, but it was beautiful.
She couldn't walk over the same streets she once ran hand in hand with the best friend she'd ever had, better even than Mickey, though she wouldn't tell him that and risk hurting him, even if she suspected he must have known by now. But she took the bridges and lanes at a jog, smiling to anyone who recognized her, and hiding the hurt when she hit places that reminded her of him. Two different faces, blue eyes that stopped her cold in her tracks, and fantastic fluffy hair just meant for fingers to get lost in. A corner here, a building of flats there. Fortunately London was just big enough to get lost in, and lose some memories to.
London was her city.
Now, more than ever. Because she could no longer travel those roads. No longer sail the stars. She remembered Sarah Jane's advice and complaint about returning to a normal Earth life after traveling with the Doctor. Nothing would ever be the same again. And Rose didn't want it to be! She wondered sometimes which part Sarah Jane missed most. What it would take for Rose to be willing to move on and settle in the city, her city the way she told her Mum she was trying -- and meant it too!
She needed London, but London needed her too.
She needed to be needed. To tell herself that there was something she could do no one else could, even if that was just existing. Once it had just been holding the Doctor's hand. And she desperately longed to do that again, and dreamed of it every night, flying in the stars, just holding his hand...
But she was making the world a better place. One day at a time. One mission at a time.
It was hard.
She missed him, she wanted to be selfish again. To go back to flying. She was grounded and it was difficult. He would hear him call her name in her sleep, but wake alone, trying to fight back the tears.
London had always watched over Rose. She wondered sometimes if it wasn't the Doctor going backwards to watch over her himself like the time he got her her favorite bike for Christmas. She could definitely imagine him watching her from the shadows. Like a skulking ghost. London was just big enough he would have blended in, though not around the Estates.
But now in Pete's Universe she was still be watched from the shadows. Not in a malevolent way. Instead the kind of way that no other planet in the universe held. Only London.
The lights of buildings reminded her of eyes and windows to the soul. The Doctor's blue eyes before regeneration had always seen straight to her core in a way that couldn't be replicated. London's eyes were like a wary animal, but just as gentle. Nowhere near as ancient as the Doctor's, but just as capable of being terrifying as the Oncoming Storm.
Most people's blue eyes she could look straight into, fearlessly, always moving onward.
Most people's.
And she could face London's eyes head on, they were like the Doctor's, and she wanted to heal the pain in them, hurting from more than just cybermen and wars. Like the Doctor's.
But there was something about Ian's that unsettled her in a way she couldn't put her finger on. A glint of something she either wanted to imagine, or thought wasn't there that should be. Like a window with shades drawn. She knew it wasn't polite to look when people made it clear they didn't want to be looked in on. It wasn't even just that it was rude. It filled her with an ache deep inside she was scared he would see if he looked back into her eyes.
The longing to travel.
Trying to substitute the roads for home.
She told herself over and over that the Doctor would be fine. He'd had friends before Rose like Sarah Jane, he would again after her -- a thought that didn't actually comfort her in the least.
She'd forogtten that she didn't just hold his hand for his sake, but hers as well.
London was a lot of things, bigger now, and the zeppelin lights at night were strange and wonderful enough she could almost trick herself into believing she was sleeping under some strange alien sky, not London again. But even if the strange eyes of London were watching over her, they weren't a hand to hold.
And so she couldn't go over the same bridges and roads she'd run while holding his hand.
She liked to think now the whole city was holding her hand, needing her as much as she needed them. And maybe it was true. Maybe it was.
But whether she jogged to promote Vitex or just for the feel of it again, the nights were the worst. Especially when she rolled over from a nightmare of losing him to grab his hand and go running with him, but he wasn't there.
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Before Pete's Universe, she always thought it was Powell Estates that was in her bones more than even being British. And this coming from the girl who got caught in the London blitz with a Union Jack across her chest, who witnessed the coronation of the Queen in the 1950s... on the telly like everyone else, but still. Then again maybe that was why it was London, not just the Estates anymore. Even as a child the Estates hadn't been as big as they seemed. Tall. Good for sitting on the roof and talking with the bloke she brought back home a year late from traveling, to be sure. But cramped flats, fire hazards, broken elevators, gated windows, and don't even get her started about that damn cat flap. Powell Estates was where she grew up. Even when she ran away and moved out the first time, she still came back to those bloody estates. It defined her more than she'd wanted to admit, and then she just embraced it.
But even Powell Estates had never been big enough for Rose. How many times had her Mum gone crazy from Rose running all over the rest of London? Taking doubledeckers sight seeing since she was old enough to board one alone. How many times had she gone out to the Thames and dreamed of crossing it?
Living in Pete's mansion the first few nights had been torture. Not because it wasn't the Estates, but because it wasn't the TARDIS.
But it was still London.
Same smell, same overcast skies that were bloody hard to see stars from. Same streets. WHich was kind of funny given the different Universe and all the zeppelins and things that should have been different.
It wasn't the Doctor's Universe, but it was still London. It was still the river they'd all but swum as ghost half-fish aliens for the feast.
Almost NONE of the bands were the same, but it was still the center of rock'n'roll, especially punk, and it was a comfort to know that somehow the Beatles were universal.
It was still the center of counter fashion, punk rock and jeans, dyed hair and mohawks, clashing Paris' attempts at elegance.
It was still the city of nightclubs and chippies and double-deckers, -- even if that latter also included a term for hot air balloons in this crazy world.
It was London, and she didn't love it, could never, would never be able to shake the feeling of being trapped in it, but it was beautiful.
She couldn't walk over the same streets she once ran hand in hand with the best friend she'd ever had, better even than Mickey, though she wouldn't tell him that and risk hurting him, even if she suspected he must have known by now. But she took the bridges and lanes at a jog, smiling to anyone who recognized her, and hiding the hurt when she hit places that reminded her of him. Two different faces, blue eyes that stopped her cold in her tracks, and fantastic fluffy hair just meant for fingers to get lost in. A corner here, a building of flats there. Fortunately London was just big enough to get lost in, and lose some memories to.
London was her city.
Now, more than ever. Because she could no longer travel those roads. No longer sail the stars. She remembered Sarah Jane's advice and complaint about returning to a normal Earth life after traveling with the Doctor. Nothing would ever be the same again. And Rose didn't want it to be! She wondered sometimes which part Sarah Jane missed most. What it would take for Rose to be willing to move on and settle in the city, her city the way she told her Mum she was trying -- and meant it too!
She needed London, but London needed her too.
She needed to be needed. To tell herself that there was something she could do no one else could, even if that was just existing. Once it had just been holding the Doctor's hand. And she desperately longed to do that again, and dreamed of it every night, flying in the stars, just holding his hand...
But she was making the world a better place. One day at a time. One mission at a time.
It was hard.
She missed him, she wanted to be selfish again. To go back to flying. She was grounded and it was difficult. He would hear him call her name in her sleep, but wake alone, trying to fight back the tears.
London had always watched over Rose. She wondered sometimes if it wasn't the Doctor going backwards to watch over her himself like the time he got her her favorite bike for Christmas. She could definitely imagine him watching her from the shadows. Like a skulking ghost. London was just big enough he would have blended in, though not around the Estates.
But now in Pete's Universe she was still be watched from the shadows. Not in a malevolent way. Instead the kind of way that no other planet in the universe held. Only London.
The lights of buildings reminded her of eyes and windows to the soul. The Doctor's blue eyes before regeneration had always seen straight to her core in a way that couldn't be replicated. London's eyes were like a wary animal, but just as gentle. Nowhere near as ancient as the Doctor's, but just as capable of being terrifying as the Oncoming Storm.
Most people's blue eyes she could look straight into, fearlessly, always moving onward.
Most people's.
And she could face London's eyes head on, they were like the Doctor's, and she wanted to heal the pain in them, hurting from more than just cybermen and wars. Like the Doctor's.
But there was something about Ian's that unsettled her in a way she couldn't put her finger on. A glint of something she either wanted to imagine, or thought wasn't there that should be. Like a window with shades drawn. She knew it wasn't polite to look when people made it clear they didn't want to be looked in on. It wasn't even just that it was rude. It filled her with an ache deep inside she was scared he would see if he looked back into her eyes.
The longing to travel.
Trying to substitute the roads for home.
She told herself over and over that the Doctor would be fine. He'd had friends before Rose like Sarah Jane, he would again after her -- a thought that didn't actually comfort her in the least.
She'd forogtten that she didn't just hold his hand for his sake, but hers as well.
London was a lot of things, bigger now, and the zeppelin lights at night were strange and wonderful enough she could almost trick herself into believing she was sleeping under some strange alien sky, not London again. But even if the strange eyes of London were watching over her, they weren't a hand to hold.
And so she couldn't go over the same bridges and roads she'd run while holding his hand.
She liked to think now the whole city was holding her hand, needing her as much as she needed them. And maybe it was true. Maybe it was.
But whether she jogged to promote Vitex or just for the feel of it again, the nights were the worst. Especially when she rolled over from a nightmare of losing him to grab his hand and go running with him, but he wasn't there.