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Entry tags:
Unforgettable: 1/?
Rating: Teen
Pairing: 10/Rose/Jack
Series: This Could Be A Little More Sonic
Category: Romance, Comedy, Drama
Summary: Coming soon!
Author's Notes:
![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=87.2){kind=small}
kelkat9, onabearskinrug and who_in_whoville are the best betas in the world. All hail the Cult of Eljay!Prologue
The one thing the Doctor could never understand was why Rose insisted on dressing the part. He was standing in the wardrobe, up to his ankles in discarded garments, sending wave after wave of psychic apology to the TARDIS for the mess Rose and Jack were making. They were like a couple of ridiculous kids in their granny’s attic. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, leaning against a column while his companions played dress-up.
“There are actual things to see out there,” he whinged, kicking a wad of cloth that he was pained to discover was a Regency-era hand-beaded silk gown. He picked it up and put it back on its hanger. “Also, this isn’t a fancy-dress shop! These are actual period clothes from throughout time and space – you’ll want to be a bit more careful with them.”
“How about this?” Jack asked, sliding out from behind a rack of clothes in a bright green zoot suit complete with gigantic hat and spats. The chain hanging from his belt nearly touched the ground. He gave it a twirl, sticking his other hand in his pocket. “Daddy-o.”
The Doctor tried to keep the ‘I am not amused’ look plastered to his face, but a smile nearly won out. “No,” he said at last. “And ‘Daddy-o’ would be a complete anachronism for this period anyway.”
“What about me?” Rose asked. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, a gray off-the shoulder peasant blouse and a beret. The Doctor slapped his hand onto his forehead and sighed. “That’s a bit too French Resistance or…you know…prostitute for 1940. Oh, shift. I’ll pick something for both of you. Jack, I’m surprised you can’t dress yourself for the period.”
Jack shrugged, still twirling the chain. “This is prewar America. I wore a uniform on the other side of the pond. I don’t have the foggiest idea what they wore back then.”
“Time agent?” the Doctor asked.
Again Jack shrugged. “Incognito was never my thing.”
“Nor is it mine,” the Doctor conceded as he rifled through the disaster they’d made of the racks. “You do know these are organized first by planet, and then era, don’t you?”
He pulled a smartly tailored woman’s suit off the 1940s rack – brown, with light blue pinstripes – and handed it to Rose with a grin. She gave him a knowing smile and held it up in front of herself to look in the mirror. The Doctor came to stand behind her and gave her a light kiss on the neck. “You’ll be quite fetching in that,” he murmured into her skin.
“You could wear yours and we’d be all matchy-matchy,” Rose said, reaching back to put her hand on his cheek.
“Oh no,” he said with a melodramatic sigh as he went back to the rack. “I’ll play along, just for you. That suit’s cut is far too modern, I suppose. Even though I feel as comfortable in it as if it were my jim-jams, and these suits are all itchy and cut wrong in the shoulders and…hello! I forgot about this. Brilliant!” he snatched an ensemble for himself and pulled the next suit he touched off the rack to toss to Jack. Rose left the wardrobe to change in privacy, and both men watched her leave. They looked at each other after a moment, realized they were both leering after her, and went back to what they were doing.
“Oh, this is nice,” Jack said, admiring the soft black wool of his suit. “You do have the best taste. Speaking of, you know that suit you gave Rosie?”
“What of it?”
Jack waggled his eyebrows and slid his eyes up and down the Doctor’s body. “I bet it would be quite fetching on you, too. Cut from the same cloth?”
The Doctor scowled. “We are not.”
Jack eyed him again. “You sure about that?”
He pushed Jack towards a changing room. “Find a fedora, and get out of that monstrosity as soon as possible – you’re burning my retinas.”
“Can I keep the chain?” Jack called as he went to change.
“No!” the Doctor shouted. He swapped his blue suit for a pair of khaki pants, layered a banana-yellow sleeveless jumper over a shirt and tie, and finished the ensemble with a tweed sport coat. He put the trainers back on. Rose came back into the wardrobe in her stocking feet and gave him a little twirl. She’d pinned her hair up, done her makeup in pristine 1940’s style and found a hat that went with the ensemble perfectly. His hearts quickened their pace at the sight of her.
“Do I look all right?” she asked.
“You look lovely,” he said, grinning. He went on grinning at her for quite a while, until Rose couldn’t help but giggle.
“Doctor?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, still grinning. Suddenly a thought broke through the dreamy haze and he pointed at her. “Stay right there!” he ran off to another part of the wardrobe and came bounding back moments later, holding a shoe box under one arm. “These will be perfect.” He took her by the hand and led her to a bench so he could help her into the shoes; brown babydoll pumps with a strap at the ankles. She slid her foot into the first shoe and he buckled the strap, placing a kiss on her ankle as he did. He looked up at her, still holding her leg.
“If Jack weren’t here, you and I might not make it out of this wardrobe for several hours,” he purred, kissing his way from her ankle to her knee.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Jack said as he approached. He’d found a black fedora with a white band, and a gleaming pair of black and white spectator wingtips for shoes.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You’re a tommy gun shy of a gangster movie with those shoes.”
Jack pulled a coin out of God-knows-where and began flipping it and catching it, cocking his head to one side. “Now look here, see. I’m gonna give yous guys ‘til da count of ten to get up off the floor before I fill ya full of lead,” he crowed in his best impression of Edward G. Robinson.
“Aaand we’re going,” the Doctor said, helping Rose to her feet. She took his arm and they headed out of the TARDIS and onto the bustling lot of RKO Pictures. There were several massive sound stages all around them, and people running in every direction, dressed in everything from feathered showgirl outfits to shabby beggar’s clothes. The Doctor beamed, giving Rose a twirl as he led them through the colorful throngs until they came to a soundstage with a sign over the door.
“RKO 281: Closed set. No admittance,” Rose read, looking up at the Doctor. “What’s this?”
“Citizen Kane,” the Doctor answered, giving Rose a squeeze. “I’m such a fanboy. Always wanted to come and see the magic as it happened. See the actors in person, in color. ‘Course, the film wouldn’t be the same in color. I’m glad I was there to stop Ted Turner is all I’m saying.”
“Sometimes there are words coming out of your mouth that make absolutely no sense,” Jack said.
The Doctor grinned at him. “Brilliant, when that happens, isn’t it?” He looked at his two companions expectantly, bobbing his knees up and down for a moment. “Well, come on! Isn’t anyone going to ask me how we get in if there’s no admittance?”
“Sonic screwdriver,” Jack answered with a shrug.
“Psychic paper,” Rose added.
The Doctor snorted. “Oh, you two are no fun at all any more.” He popped the lock on the soundstage door with the sonic and let Jack and Rose inside first. They were promptly stopped by a guard, who waved them past when the Doctor showed him the psychic paper and they walked towards the set.
“What did it say?” Rose asked, taking the folder so she could read the handwritten note on the paper. Please admit these three people, as they are personal friends of mine and have been invited to the set. –O. Welles “Very nice, psychic paper.”
They were filming a scene between Kane and Susan Alexander in the Kane mansion, and the Doctor, Rose and Jack stopped in their approach to crane their necks at the enormity of the mansion set. The filming was between takes and the actors were talking as Orson Welles stalked about the set in his old man makeup, barking orders at anyone who would listen.
“Oh, this is brilliant,” the Doctor said, barely able to keep his voice at a whisper. “That’s Orson Welles – the Orson Welles. Standing right there, at the height of his genius. I love genius – reminds me of me. The woman with him is Dorothy Comingore – she’s playing Susan Alexander, Kane’s second wife. Scandalous. Oh!” he pulled on Rose’s arm and pointed at another group of people milling about. “Agnes Moorehead! Joseph Cotton – the one drinking the coffee. I just can’t believe it. You know, I’m trying very hard not to have an orgasm right now as I stand here.”
Rose looked questioningly at him and took a slight step away. Jack took a step closer.
“If you need any help with that,” Jack whispered.
“Bugger off,” the Doctor shot back. “I’m having a moment.”
Jack shrugged, put his hands in his pockets, and wandered away. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice, as he was too taken in watching the scene being set up.
“The woman in the scene with Orson is playing Susan Alexander, who was a nobody Kane just ran into one night on the street. She liked him without even knowing who he was, and he was so amazed that someone would like him just for being himself without knowing he was a billionaire newspaper magnate that he sort of fell in love with her. Well, eventually. Sort of. If you would sit down one night and just watch this movie with me like I’ve been begging you to do for months, I wouldn’t have to explain all of this,” he whispered to Rose as the crew began setting up for the next shot. It was going to be a dramatic one; there was a camera mounted on a long, angled track that went up nearly all the way to the ceiling. Orson Welles suddenly stepped off the set and started walking in their direction. As he passed, the Doctor made a squeaky little noise in his throat and clutched Rose’s shoulder. He was on his way to speak to a thin man with an even thinner moustache.
“Gregg Toland,” the Doctor hissed, clamping down even harder on Rose’s shoulder. Rose’s eyes crossed and she tried to knock his hand away. “Another genius! There’s so much intelligence in this room, I don’t know how they managed to fit the furniture. He’s the cinematographer. Come on.” He pulled Rose along so they were standing as close to Toland and Welles as they could get without either man taking notice.
“It’s not going to work, Orson!” Toland said, slapping the script. “You can’t get any lower than that. Can we just focus on this shot right now? We should start the crane at the bottom and run it backwards, then reverse the film. It’s safer.”
“It has to go the other way,” Welles insisted, waving his hand. “Just…everything will be fine. That track is perfectly safe. Now, that shot in the campaign headquarters. It has to be lower. Can you get another camera?”
“No!” Toland shouted. “Orson!”
The Doctor sidled up behind Orson, giving Rose a huge, giddy fanboy grin as he did so. Then, he turned his head so he could whisper to Welles’s back.
“Dig a hole,” he said, and led Rose away. He saw Orson’s eyes light up as the idea took root. When they had retreated to an unobtrusive distance, the Doctor did a little dance from foot to foot. “I just did that! Oh, I shouldn’t have, and I know that, but I did! Go me!” He spun on his heel and gave Rose a hug.
“You’re just havin’ a ball, aren’t you?” she asked, laughing.
“I never get to be the one having fun,” he said. “I mean, we always go places I’ve been before and they’re boring to me, or something terrible happens before we can truly enjoy ourselves. You know, before you came along, trouble was just the bits in between. Lately the fun stuff has been the bits in between. You are excessively jeopardy-friendly, my beautiful girl.”
“And you love it,” she said, stretching up to kiss his cheek.
“Ohyes!” he cried, answering her kiss with a more heartfelt one on her lips.
“Oi,” she said, pulling away. “You’re gonna get my fabulously 40’s red lippy all over yourself. And you already did.” She reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a handkerchief, wet it with her tongue and began dabbing at his mouth and cheek.
“Stop that - that’s disgusting!” he cried, ducking away. She grabbed his face and held it still so she could clean him up. He held still at last, glaring upwards.
“I kiss you with this very same mouth,” she said, sighing. “You’re like a five-year-old, and you look like you’re wearing lipstick, so hold still.”
When she’d finished he jerked away and scrubbed his mouth with the sleeve of his sport coat, sticking out his tongue. “Do not like. Don’t do that again!”
Rose pointed to the set. “You’re gonna miss your movie, Doctor.”
The crew began shouting for quiet as he and Rose came even closer to the set. The camera was in position at the top of the angled track with two men sitting on it, looking through the eyepiece. Welles and Comingore began going through their scene and the Doctor was transfixed. He should have been looking out for Jack.
“I wonder if this was the take they used,” he whispered to Rose, pulling her close to him. “Seems like it.”
“I always wanted to be an actress,” Rose whispered back. “You think I could do it?”
He smiled down at her. “You would be the most brilliant actress the world has ever seen, Rose Tyler.”
The camera on the track began inching towards the scene. Dorothy Comingore was positioned at the bottom of the track so the camera could do a slow zoom in on her reaction from its dramatic angle. Suddenly there was a loud, metallic snap and the camera broke loose and rocketed down the track so fast it came off and smashed directly into the actress. There was a distinct and horrible snapping sound as the collision compound fractured her right tibia.
In that instant the Doctor’s vision went completely white and he bent forward, clutching the sides of his head as hot, stabbing pain shot through his skull. The pain was over as quickly as it had come, swift as a neuron implosion, and the Doctor slowly stood back up, pressing his fingers to the side of his head to steady himself. He noticed that every other person in the room seemed to be recovering the same way that he was, as if they’d all gotten the same headache at the same moment.
His vision was a little blurry and he immediately realized that his sense of time was burning with a new development. The order of the universe had been altered; subtly, not enough to call the reapers, but nonetheless altered. It made him want to throw up. He looked at Rose; she was sitting on the ground, massaging her forehead, but seemed otherwise all right.
Jack staggered over from wherever he’d been and put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “What just happened?” he asked, gasping. “It felt like a bomb went off inside my head.” The three friends went unnoticed as the cast and crew surrounded the injured woman and the demolished camera.
“Where have you been?” the Doctor snapped, wincing at the renewed pain his anger caused him.
“I…” Jack looked back at the bedlam on the set. “That might have been my fault, a little.”
“What did you do?” the Doctor demanded. Rose was still sitting on the ground, holding her head.
Jack looked slightly terrified. “I…might have noticed a kink in the cabling that the camera was rigged to on that track, and I might have tried to un-kink it before somebody got hurt. In doing that, I might have accidentally broken the cable.”
“And caused a cultural paradox,” the Doctor finished with a sigh. “That’s just brilliant, Jack!”
The crew was helping Dorothy to her feet, but the Doctor could see a little bit of bone sticking out of her leg. He rolled his eyes and pointed her injury out to Jack before turning to help Rose again.
“That is why you don’t mess about when time traveling. That’s your fault,” he muttered, then crouched down in front of Rose. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Rose answered. “I just had a slight headache there for a moment.”
“Cultural paradox,” he explained, offering her his hands. “Want some help up?”
“Thank you,” she said, taking his hands. The second time she spoke he was certain he’d noticed a change in her voice. He helped her to her feet and peered into her eyes. She gave him a demure smile and tilted her head away.
“You certain you’re okay?” he asked. “Those things can be a bit jarring, even for me.”
“I’m fine now,” she said, dusting off her suit. “Goodness, I do hope Dorothy is all right.” For some reason her charming, slightly chavvy cockney accent was gone. She sounded posh.
The Doctor’s left eyebrow began climbing his forehead. He leaned back away from her to get a better look. “‘Goodness?’ Rose, I think-“
“Oh, Rose, you’re here!” a deep voice cried from the set as Dorothy was taken away. The Doctor turned to see Orson Welles walking towards them, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. When he reached her, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now. Did you see her leg? We’re going to have to re-shoot everything. I hope you’re ready to work.”
Rose shook her head. “It’s not the way I wanted the job, Orson. It truly isn’t. Dorothy is such a good friend.”
“Wot?” the Doctor cried, looking from Rose to Orson and back again. “Hold on a moment, please. Rose, how is it that you know Orson Welles?”
Rose looked at him as if he were a stranger, and a rude one at that. “Our years working together in New York. The bigger question here is who in the world are you?”
“This is a closed set!” Orson cried, stepping up to posture in front of the Doctor. “How did you get in here – the both of you?” he pointed at Jack, who was staring at Rose with the same horrified look that was on the Doctor’s face.
“Wait,” Jack said, taking a step towards her. “Rosie, honey, don’t you know us?”
“Know you?” she snorted. “I’ve never seen either of you before in my life.”
“Rose!” the Doctor cried. His hearts were crumbling as he began to understand. Before his mind could fully articulate what had happened, though, he felt a pair of hands on his arms and he was being dragged away from her. She looked at him with a mixture of disdain and annoyance as he and Jack were led out of the building, shouting for her as they went.
“Who were they?” Orson asked, resting his hands on her shoulders. Rose shrugged as she watched them leave.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. They sure seemed to know me, though.”
Orson nodded. “Fans. You’re going to be getting a lot more of them one day soon. We won’t be shooting any more today. I have to go to the hospital and see after Dorothy, but would you like to meet for a drink later on? Where are you staying?”
“The studio hasn’t said yet. I have to go check with George. I just wanted to come say hello first. How about we meet at the Brown Derby at nine?” she said, giving him a coy smile. “I lost my purse, so I haven’t got a dime to my name.”
Orson threw his head back and laughed, squeezing her shoulders. “Your money’s no good in this town anyway, Rose Tyler.”
*****
“What in the hell is going on?” Jack cried, twisting in the grip of the guard that was pushing him towards the front gate.
“I don’t know!” the Doctor snapped, stumbling along with his guard. “But I can tell you that it’s entirely your fault! I need to get to the TARDIS.”
“Whose great idea was it to park the TARDIS on the studio lot?” Jack asked. The front gates were opened and the two men were shoved outside. The gates slammed shut behind them and Jack and the Doctor squared off against one another.
“Someone naïve enough to believe that a former time agent and seasoned time traveler all around wouldn’t be stupid enough to meddle in events and cause a paradox!” The Doctor began pacing up and down the sidewalk, scrubbing his hands frantically through his hair.
“That was no paradox!” Jack said. “There were no reapers. What happened to Rose?”
The Doctor waved his hand dismissively as he continued to pace. “Minor cultural paradox; not worth the reapers’ time. You did it – whatever’s happened to her, and I don’t know yet exactly what it is, it happened at the same moment you mucked around with that cable and broke that girl’s leg. You fractured the cultural timeline and now, somehow, the paradox is using Rose to repair itself, and it’s eaten her brain in the process. Did you see the way she looked at us? She didn’t know us at all.”
“Well, how do we get her back?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know if we can!” the Doctor bellowed. He and Jack stared at one another in silence for a long time.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack said at last.
“Like what?” the Doctor asked, frustration and annoyance twisting the question into something like an insult.
“Like you’re actually scared,” Jack said.
The Doctor blew out a hard sigh and sat down on one of the benches outside the studio gates, hanging his head. “Take a good long look, because that’s exactly what I am right now.”
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By the way - “Do not like. Don’t do that again!” had me laughing rather loudly. Mostly because I could actually picture that so clearly. Thank you ;D
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Thank you! I loved that part myself -
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Fix it Doctor!
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*HUGS*
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And I've probably said it before but i LOVE that icon!! His little head-toss is so CUTE! :D
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LOL!! It is adorable - that whole scene was funny and cute. UGH. Hate his face sometimes...*pets Eleventy*
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Also, how in the world do you upload animated user pics? I keep trying...as you see with this one there...but they never work. They just stay frozen. :(
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Well...first I make sure they are listed as gifs, that they aren't overly complicated and that they fit the frame 100x100. Then I just open them up in the Manage Userpic area and load them in, putting credit and a name in the keyword section.
*HUGS*
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This part just makes me giggle:
“I kiss you with this very same mouth,” she said, sighing. “You’re like a five-year-old, and you look like you’re wearing lipstick, so hold still.”
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And what has Jack done?!
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Sorry it took so long to reply! I was stuck in a meeting for four and a half hours yesterday and was to tired to do anything other then shower when I got back. But it was worth the wait!
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Wow, you had a busy day. Don't people understand there's fic to be read and written? Seriously, people get so pushy with this whole real life thing... ;)
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Looking forward to reading their about antics :-)
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Looking forward to seeing what happens from here!
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