Rose sighed as she strode back onto the TARDIS and gently requested that her sister go into the Vortex and stay there for a while. The human woman was still exhausted. She’d had no time to think or rest once Donna Noble had appeared in her wedding regalia. Still, she was glad to have resolved that problem even if it meant the death of the Racnoss queen and all of her young.
Rose winced at that. Killing children…it still struck her as wrong. She wished she could have saved them all. Taken them to some distant planet to begin life anew. Her human nature shouted at her that children were to be cherished, loved, and reared to grow taller than their parents. But she’d had no choice. Her hair dripped into her face and she shuddered. In a way, she had died at Canary Wharf, burying Rose Tyler forever. And this adventure that had led her under the Thames, that had led her to opening the flood gates and letting the river wash over her, had been a new baptism.
She would no longer think of herself as Rose. She was Vairë. This had been her baptism and trial by fire. Her old life was over. There were only a few loose ends to gather up. Grimacing, she asked the TARDIS to land in her old living room just two days after the Battle of Canary Wharf. She would gather those items that Mickey and her mum had urged her to pick up. Eventually, she might even bring herself to gaze upon the symbols of her old life. But, for now, she wanted to rest. She wanted to think. Slowly, ever since Pete Tyler had expressed faith in her, the words that had cut her to the soul had begun to recede. Oh, she still heard them. She still had trouble sleeping in her old room – still believed that, once she convinced the TARDIS to return for the Doctor, her room would be moved so he could be closer to Reinette – but they were growing more distant.
Part of her old life. Kind of like a regeneration only without the dying and the changing. Rose Tyler no longer existed. Instead, someone else was taking her place.
Stupid ape. Child, the Doctor is worth the monsters. Nothing but a serving girl. You are nothing, Rose Tyler. Nothing. This world will be your tomb. Not my Rose. Something cold and dark and hard. No longer human. Stupid ape. Nothing but a serving girl. Nothing compared to the most accomplished woman on Earth…
The words still nagged at her. Still cut her to the quick. Even now that she knew she far surpassed Madame du Pompadour in both education and (if the TARDIS was to be believed) beauty, she still felt like a gangly, filthy girl dressed in torn rags. Sighing deeply and willing herself to calm, Rose – no Vairë – smoothed her hands over her leather trench coat. She’d chosen leather in honor of her first Doctor. The length was in honor of her second. The simple colors – black and white – again, in honor of the Doctor who had held her hand and reminded her of how to feel the Earth spinning beneath her feet. The sophistication was in honor of the Doctor who had lain her down on his own coat on New Earth, the scent of apple-grass in the air, and laughed remembering their ‘first date.’
She loved them. She loved him. And her heart was filled with pain at that. Her love would never be returned. She was not worthy of him. He’d shown her that when he’d left her and Mickey to die on a strange space ship. Nothing she would ever do would make her worthy of his love. Slow, hot tears leaked down her cheeks as she wandered through her old home, gathering up mementos and albums. After she’d dropped Donna Noble off in front of her house and then retreated into the TARDIS, the daydreams she’d had about marrying the Doctor had flooded her mind. What a child she had been. She’d thought that eventually, the Doctor would fall as deeply in love with her as she was with him. That he’d show her the truth of what that Dalek in Utah had said so long ago. He’d ask her to marry him and the two of them would have a simple ceremony – her mum there, of course – and then they’d travel through time and space forever. The TARDIS would soon be filled with their laughter, their love, and their children. And then, one day, when they were both old and exhausted, they’d find a planet (one that looked a lot like Earth) and retire.
“What a child I was. He’s a Time Lord. Born of Gallifrey. The Shining World of the Seventh System.The eldest race. The first ones to awaken,” she muttered, remembering her lessons on Universal History. “His forever would be thousands of years. And me, a daughter of Terra,” she grimaced. “A human. Animalia Chordata Vertebrata Mammalia Theria Eutheria Primates Anthropoidea Hominoidea Hominidae Homo sapiens sapiens,” she sighed, the Greek and Latin terms rolling off her tongue easily as she recited the full taxonomic name of her species. “I’ll live, what, one hundred years? One twenty max? Humans, versatile but fragile. We may be the longest lived by the end of the universe. We may be held as the most creative and the most enduring species. But we’re not Time Lords. We’re not the children of Gallifrey. We evolved under a yellow dwarf star. We spent our infancy on Sol Three. No binary suns for us. No red grass. No silver forests that look like they’re on fire as the first star sets and the second rises,” she wept, seeing the beauty of a foreign world in her mind. The TARDIS showed her Gallifrey in all its glory. The ship was just as lonely – more so – for her home planet as the Doctor had ever been. “We do not gaze upon the Untempered Schism as children. No, we shelter our young. We teach them. We pray for them. We worry over them as they grow. And we hope that they stand taller than us. That they learn from our mistakes,” she sighed. “Not that I’ll ever have any children,” she wept.
Why not? the TARDIS asked. I would love to have your children running through my corridors. Calling me Auntie TARDIS or Auntie Maggie. I would sing them to sleep. I would show them the wonders of the universe, sister. Why do you not wish to have children?
“Honestly?” the woman who once was Rose Tyler asked. “Because…I guess, from the time I first set foot on here…No,” she whispered, “it took me longer than that. It was when we first went to Cardiff. I dressed up. I came here, to the console room. And the Doctor looked at me and said ‘Blimey! You look beautiful…for a human,’” Rose chuckled. “I could have done without that last bit, you know, Maggie. No one had ever told me I was beautiful outside of the bedroom. Jimmy Stone had, at first – that’s why I left school and moved in with him. Mickey had, but only when we were in bed and he was trying to prepare me for disappointment,” she said, throwing her head back and laughing at the way she and Mickey and fumbled with each other in the bedroom. He was such a relief after Jimmy. Jimmy had beaten her, taking his pleasure where and when he would regardless if she was ready. Regardless if she wanted him. He’d made her feel worse than worthless. No matter what the Doctor had done, Jimmy had done it worse and well ahead of him.
But Mickey had been there after Jimmy. He’d helped her pick up the pieces. He’d helped her see herself as something more than a used-up ruined woman. Until the Doctor showed up. From the first minute she’d held his hand, Rose had been lost to Mickey. The Doctor just…had this way about him. She’d thought he was a Prince Charming straight out of her childhood stories. Then he’d shown her the universe. He’s shown her time and space. He’d stared at her, tears in his eyes. “I could save the world but lose you…”
She’d thought he’d loved her. She’d thought that, once he got used to his new regeneration, he’d love her the same as she could have sworn he had before. But then…he’d left her. He’d snogged Reinette and then run after Madame du Pompadour, forgetting the little British shop girl entirely. Her Aberdeen had been a 51st century space ship. Her dreams of a pinstriped groomsman smiling at her as she walked down the aisle with her mum smiling on evaporated.
The Doctor never loved her. She was never worthy of him. But…perhaps…one day…she’d be worthy of continuing on as just his friend. His mate.His companion. And now, it was up to her to live up to that promise. To show herself worthy.
Squaring her shoulders, Vairë – who had once been Rose Tyler – tucked away the mementoes and albums from her past life and asked her sister to send her off on an adventure worthy of legend and song.