Cold Hard Ground

There's a little bit of strong language in this one, but nothing too much. Also, the second half of the chapter has a trigger warning for mental health. It's nothing too strong, but just in case.

One month after saying goodbye to the Doctor.

It had been busy at Torchwood recently. Rift activity had rocketed since early November, and the amount of Weevils roaming the streets was just below average, leading the team to believe something big was coming- something really, really big. The team itself had changed, too, two new faces and an old friend buried six feet under. Everyone apart from Jack had been left confused by the first girl, having seen nor heard of her before. Working with the apparent-immortal, that shouldn't have been considered strange, but the look in her eyes told them all that she had seen far too much for someone her age.

Her name was Rose- Rose Tyler-and she had been miserable when she first came two months ago; never leaving the room she'd been given by Jack at the opposite side of the compound. With only a few bags of belongings and a blue box in tow (literally, Jack had ordered in a truck to bring it from London according to Ianto), suspicion had been high.

Then Jack told them why she was here, and they all knew how it felt to lose the person closest to them. Apart from Suzie, of course, but Suzie was a psycho who didn't really care about anyone other than herself, as they all discovered three days ago (but that's a story for later).

Tosh had been assigned to working with Rose at first, and the two of them spent each and every day for two weeks in the office, only emerging when Ianto brought in that days chosen takeaway.

(Owen, you've met Rose. Rose, this is Owen. Owen is a prat who keeps ordering food under the name Torchwood, which as you proberly know, is a secret bloody organisation!)

(Owen was also the one to start cracking jokes about what Tosh and Rose were doing in the office, earning him a smack over the head from Jack when he forgot that the older man was behind him.)

Until suddenly, they weren't in the office anymore, at all. Tosh was back at her desk, relieving Ianto from proberly the only job he couldn't actually do impeccably, and Rose was the newest field member. Owen earned another smack over the head when he stared joking about how she only got the job thanks to her "close relationship with the boss."

(Sometimes, he thought, Jack had been born in a century were humour was less desirable than the bubonic plague.)

The fuss around Rose died down once Gwen Cooper arrived (thankfully, according to Rose).

Having discovered Torchwood after witnessing a wild weevil bite off a man's head, it was inevitable that Jack would take some kind of action in order to block her memories. The retcon, however, was like a bitter pill. It would leave an aftertaste in a way, a faint itch at the back of your mind that some people could ignore and some people couldn't. Gwen, it seemed, was one of those who couldn't.

Especially when encountering Suzie Costello pointing a gun at her head in the middle of the bay, before the lunatic committed suicide.

Of course Gwen would then start working for them. Once she'd found out the constant threat Cardiff was in, how could she not?

So now it was December the twenty fourth. Tosh, Owen, Gwen and Ianto had all gone home- Gwen to Rhys, Owen to his latest conquest, and Ianto & Tosh to empty flats and microwave meals for one- leaving Rose and Jack alone in the Hub with their Christmas dinner and a flying dinosaur.

The Hub was where all official (and lots of unofficial) Torchwood business went on. Several miles deep and almost as old as the institute itself, the area had been kept secret for over a century. Through alien-origin earthquakes and terrible weather-origin floods, the hub had remained, being buried under rubble only to be modernised by the next generation of Torchwood 3 employees.

No-one even knew why they were still called Torchwood 3, being the only remaining members of the institute.

Torchwood 1 had been based at Canary Wharf, run by Yvonne Hartman. That had been decommissioned after the deaths it had caused (deaths which Rose felt guilty for- Torchwood, she'd discovered, wouldn't even be in existence if it wasn't for her and the Doctor's little meeting with Queen Victoria).

Torchwood 2 was somewhere in Northern England, but it had been lost- same with Torchwood 4 in Edinburgh. Rose had asked how you could "lose" an institution, never mind two, but Jack had shook his head, and told her that she was "better off not knowing".

Torchwood 5 in India had been shut down Jack himself a while ago due to "problems with the government". Again, Rose had wondered about the specifics- after all, Jack didn't look much older than he had when he'd been travelling with them, five years at the absolute most- but looking at him, she decided to wait to ask until another day, an easier conversation than the history of something they both resented.

"So, basically," Jack snorted around his mouthful of Tesco-bought turkey. "Torchwood used to span the entire British Empire, but thanks to its own stupidity, there are now six of us and a dinosaur called Myfawny."

"Does Owen not like me?" Rose asked, three servings and a Queen's speech later, as she and Jack sat on his bed in his room. (One of the main problems with the hub, they'd found when trying to find somewhere to eat their dinner, was a lack of recreational seating facilities.)

Shaking his head, Jack looked towards her curiously, before continuing to switch channels on his TV using his remote.

"He does too like you- why do you ask?"

"Just- he's a bit... weird towards me. Not all of the time, but it's a little creepy."

Jack sighed, throwing an arm around and pulling her closer as they settled in to watch Wallace and Gromit.

"Owen is a dick, I know that- we all know that- but he means well. His fiancée died just over as year ago- she was being operated on by Doctor's for a brain tumour, when really it was an alien parasite feasting on her brain. It messed him up for a while, but he got better once he came here. Helping people helped him- maybe not with his charming social skills- but he doesn't feel as bad as he used to. What with him being a Doctor, he blamed himself, thought he should have been able to save her."

"But that's stupid. There's no way he could have known."

"But that's what people are like, Rosie, always blaming themselves for things that aren't their fault."

"Sometimes it is their fault, though, isn't it." She whispered, thinking of how her wager with the Doctor ended up separating them, and costing her everyone she'd grown up with. If they hadn't been so cheeky, laughing whilst the Queen was terrified, then...

"Stop it," Jack said, tapping her on the nose. "It wasn't your fault, nor the Doctor's. Things happen, and sometimes there's nothing you can do to stop it. He told you about fixed points, right?"

"Yeah," she shut her eyes (be careful what you wish for don't touch the baby tell me you're sorry go to him) and ignored the single tear that worked its way out of her, trailing down her cheek before splashing onto the denim of her jeans.

"Hey don't cry, darling. Come here."

Jack pulled her into a full-on hug, shifting her like a child so that her head rested on his shoulders. She would have felt uncomfortable with anyone else, but this was Jack- ok, she might have only travelled with him for a few weeks, but those weeks with him and her first Doctor had been some of the best she'd ever had. Even when her head had been removed from the rest of her body whilst Jack looked after a caveman, she'd known she was safe and loved.*

Once she was settled down, Rose wiped her face roughly, sick of crying. Instead, she glanced at Jack, wondering what had happened to him since the Game station. He saw the question in her eyes, and laughed a little bitterly.

"Not today, Rose. Another day, maybe."

Rose was about to ask why (he doesn't trust me anymore he doesn't know me he doesn't care) when a loud voice interrupted them, causing them to spin around at the ginger in a wedding dress that stood gaping at them.

Pete's World, two years after goodbye

It was a Tuesday.

The Doctor knew this not because of any counter or device or reminder, but because he was a Time Lord- the one thing he was sure of at this moment in time. Everything else was in flux, everything would always be in flux, because that is the type of life he lived now. No stopping, not ever, and definitely no more companions.

Actually, make it that he knew two things- he was a Time Lord, and everyone he cared for was taken away and put where he could never see them.

Two years ago he'd decided to never put anyone he met in danger again, by keeping contact minimum- hello, how are you, that's nice, farewell. It was the only way to keep this planet safe and even then, there was always the trouble of one of the few he ever interacted with being hunted for even that, which was why he would never talk to someone unless they initiated it.

He hated being so clinical about his life, but it was the only way to survive without going mad.

Hacking through the vines that threatened to wrap around him, the Doctor edged slowly through the rain forest he was exploring. That was the only positive aspect of being stuck here (never going home never seeing the TARDIS never finding Rose) for the rest of his lives- everything was so different. Whilst the cities were much more modernistic, the wilder sections of the planet were just that- wilder. Focusing on their own little communities the humans had, for the most part, left the uninhabitable parts of the planet alone, only taking what they thought they needed.

He was the only creature in a good few miles, the Doctor decided, after trekking for several days until reaching where he was now. He'd started his journey near one of the tribes closer to the Amazon, before trekking south, losing himself in amongst the depths of Brazil. It was as good as he could get, stuck on this one tiny planet for a good three centuries or so. He could manage that. He'd likely regenerate a few times out of sheer boredom, but that was fine- he'd regenerated in more humiliating ways, surely. And he had a plan too, for getting back home.

Once the three thousand years he needed to wait until the Time Agency were up and running across the universe were up, he'd sneak into the base- he didn't know how yet, but he had three millennia to work it out- and take a vortex manipulator. He'd go back until he reached a time when the walls between universes were weak and hop into that universe along with one of Torchwood's teams, maybe even to the day at Canary Wharf.

The Doctor would do anything to stop Rose being by herself like he was, even if it meant waiting 3000 years or-

Anyway.

Until then, he'd stay here. Earth would do for a little while, and it wasn't that long until humans mastered space travel. Stealing a ship of some sort wouldn't be too hard, and he could fix up one of the more basic ones until it fit his needs. Risking time travel in it would be too risky- not even his TARDIS could get him to the right place half the time- but it would pass the time until his plan could really be put into action.

Right now, however, he needed something to eat.

His pinstriped suit was torn to shreds, so he pulled the jacket, tie and shirt he'd been wearing off- his coat had been left back in the TARDIS, and he'd finally run out of identical suits- just leaving his layered T-shirt and trousers on.

It doesn't matter; he tried to convince himself as he threw the ruined clothes away. They don't matter.

(If he changes, how will she recognise him?

Will she want to recognise him?

She didn't know him when she saw him change, how will she believe me, what if I never find her ever again stop it stop stop stop it)

Looking around the forest floor, he immediately spotted some berries that looked safe to eat. He licked one of them slightly, sure that if there was any poison in them, then his superior biology would fix it right away. And if it didn't, never mind. It wasn't like he'd know he was dead, and there was no one around to miss him.

Once he'd decided that the fruit was safe, he couldn't tell if the pang in his stomach was hunger or disappointment.

Something was going on- something was always going on somewhere in the world, of course, but the last few weeks in the forest had been the most peaceful he'd had for over a thousand years, easily.

Lights shone through the canopy above his head. The Doctor ducked through the leaves, avoiding being caught in the spotlight.

He thought they were looking for him.

It was Tuesday, again.

The Doctor hated Tuesdays. To be fair, he also hated Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. Saturdays were ok, he supposed, if a bit dull.

Several Tuesdays later, he couldn't see the point anymore.

After building a little hut in one of the natural clearings in the midst of the jungle, he didn't seem to be able to find the motivation to leave again. That meant standing still for a while, but it wasn't like there was anyone he could harm here anyway.

It also meant he hadn't changed clothes in over three months, but he couldn't bring himself to care that much. There was a river somewhere if it eventually got to be too much.

Five more Tuesdays.

And another.

And another.

Another.

The helicopters were back, yet again.

Closer this time, with a man's voice blasting over the speakers. Even his superior hearing couldn't make out distinct words over the chopping winds and screams of the smaller birds that got too close to the revolving blades that sliced through the air.

He thinks it might be Tuesday.

He wasn't sure, and that frightened him.

(As much as it was possible to frighten someone who didn't really care whether he lived the night).

He stopped looking for food a long time ago.

If he was sane right now (he wasn't), then he'd most likely have his glasses on, studying the gradual descent into madness the unshaven guy with no shirt was going through (passed a long time ago), with a fool proof plan to help him.

He wasn't sane right now, though, so that didn't really matter, did it?

He was hearing voices.

He knew that because there was no way in high Gallifrey that someone would just stumble upon a dying Time Lord in the Amazon without planning to. There was no one who cared enough to plan on finding him; therefore, he must be imagining it.

He thinks he might be dying.

What's really strange, the Time Lord who was once called the Doctor thought as he lay unconscious amongst the bushes of the Amazon rainforest, is that the voice calling me sounds suspiciously like Jackie Tyler.

The tone for this one feels a little different to me- more like its one person speaking rather than several- but idk that's probs just me being stupid. Also, the two universe prospectives were originally going to be two different chapters, but I wanted to make them a little longer. Plus, I thought that the Doctor's meltdown fitted in better when paired with reading about Rose missed him, as it showed that they both were struggling in their own ways.

*The Events I talked about involving cavemen and removed heads are canon (-ish). If you read the book Only Human with Nine, Jack and Rose, you'll know what I mean.

If you could please review, ta very much
Chloe xxx