Chapter Text
It’s a strange change in routine, having someone else with them on the ship. A funny shift in the norm.
Especially during downtime.
She’s got into a habit of exploring the depths of the ship, when they’re not off exploring some other time or planet. Lot of gardens she’s been through, since she’d first noseyed at as many of them as she could find. The swimming pool once—though it’s since vanished somewhere else in the depths of this daft ship—some kind of odd gallery and even a small gym.
But it’s what she has to scrabble into as the copper walls groan and shift to one side that has her pause on the threshold; monitors. A whole wall of them, scattered across its scuffed surface.
As she steps inside, the door slams shut behind her.
Jumping, she turns, tries the handle. It rattles. And beyond it, something rumbles. Vibrates enough, she can feel it through the soles of her feet.
“‘Course you’d lock me in,” she mutters to herself, brushing blonde hair out of her eyes.
Might as well work out what’s going on with this place. Find a key or something, if she’s lucky.
The room’s cast all in silver, dull—like it’s straining to be something more futuristic than it actually is. ‘Cause the set-up just beneath those screens looks anything but: they’re a clunky mess of switches, buttons and levers. There’s even a chunky old keyboard that reminds her a lot of the one set into the central console. All covered in dust.
Curious, she taps a couple of keys on it, then presses enter.
There’s a purring hum, and two monitors flicker on.
She blinks, stares at the sight of a long corridor on one screen, spiralling off into the distance, and a cosy space on the other that screams miniature library, complete with a fireplace and small bookshelves.
“Been spying on us, have you?” she mutters. The lights flicker, and she snorts. Glances up at the ceiling. “How long’s this been here for? Looks like it’s straight out of the 80s.” She taps another key. And she’s not sure if it’s her or the TARDIS that makes another couple of screens flick to life.
This time, cream and silver fill one of them—a living room she’d lounged in once. Then that’d gone walkabout somewhere when she’d next tried to locate it. The other is just… plain.
No furniture, nothing. Just an empty white room. Not even any corners to it, it’s just… round.
“Weird,” she mutters, leaning in to study it further. “What's anyone s'posed to do in there?”
Something slams against the door.
She yelps, whirling around to stare at it, heart pounding.
It bangs open and Jack stumbles through, flopping to the floor with a gasp.
There’s a flash of the corridor beyond, twisted to one side. The ceiling’s glaring at Rose.
Then the door slams itself shut again.
She hurries over to help Jack up. “Shoulda warned you about the corridors. They keep moving. Gets mental just trying to find the bathroom some days.” Not often that happens, but god it’s a nightmare when it does.
“Think it’s got a thing for me,” Jack grins as she pulls him upright. Smoothing down his shirt, he eyes the monitors. “What’s with them?”
“No idea.” She shrugs. “S’ old, though. All dusty. Looks like it hasn’t been used in a long while.”
Following her over to them, Jack hums, plants his hands on his hips. “Surveillance system. Early-eighties to look at.” He taps one of the thick screens, still dead. Below it, Rose can just make out faded lettering, now that she’s looking for it.
“Panasonic?” she reads out, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup, retrofitted ones too. Pulled out old components and put something far more sophisticated into these old shells.”
“Wonder if he’s ever used this place?” Rose asks, stopping beside him, considering the empty, white room again.
“The Doctor? Doesn’t seem like his style.” Jack tilts his head, studying what she’s looking at. There’s a creasing about his eyes, a curious sharpness to them. Then he shifts his weight, and flashes her an impish smirk. “Shall we see what else these cameras have to offer?”
With a quiet laugh, she grins back. “We shall.”
Together they flick through screens, their hands occasionally brushing as they tap through keys. Rooms in copper, brown, cream and silver flash into being, some clearly old, abandoned bedrooms, others presenting them with storage spaces, a laundry room, even some kind of observatory, complete with glittering constellations scattered across the walls.
Until, on the far upper-left… a brown-copper room pops up. Gadgets of all sorts litter scuffed wooden benches, wires splattered between them like leftover spaghetti. But it’s what’s in the middle of the mayhem that has Rose and Jack pause: a familiar leather jacket, a form hunched over one particularly scratched-up bench…
It’s the Doctor. Looks like he’s tinkering with something; a cobbled together device that reminds Rose somewhat of a mini-hoover, just… with loads of circuitry attached.
“What’s that he’s got on his face?” Rose asks, squinting at the screen. It’s a bit grainy, even for something that’s supposed to be high tech with old-fashioned trimmings.
“Looks like a soldering mask,” Jack replies, amused.
Drawing the thick mask up, the Doctor raises the device, turning it to and fro in the light.
“Hang on,” Jack murmurs, reaching for the keys, “let me see if I can…” With a couple of clicks, white noise fizzes through the room.
Rose snaps her head around to find the source. And catches it: a boxy little speaker, tucked away into one corner, near the ceiling.
Jack presses a button, leans forward and says, “Nice soldering work, Doc. You just don’t see that kind of rustic charm on a particle siphon these days.”
Giggling, Rose slaps a hand over her mouth. Then jabs him with her elbow. “Jack,” she warns.
This is punctuated by a sudden clatter from the speaker. On-screen, the Doctor’s fumbled the device, dropped it onto his workbench. “What?” he exclaims, scanning the workshop for a moment, before his gaze fixes on the ceiling. A frown creases his brow. “Jack, is that you?”
“The very same.” Jack winks at Rose with a grin.
She snorts, leaning forward. Jack presses the button, activating the hidden microphone. “An’ he’s not the only one in here,” she says. “Looking good, Doctor.”
"Rose?" The Doctor's voice pitches higher than usual as he tugs the mask off, dumping it beside his makeshift machine. “What are you— Where are you?”
Jack sniggers and Rose shoves him in the side. "Some kinda surveillance room?" she replies. “Dunno, really. The TARDIS changed up the corridor on us. We’re kinda stuck in here.”
Shoving his chair back, the Doctor gets to his feet. “Right. Don’t,” he jabs an index finger towards the ceiling, “mess about with anything else. I’ll get you both out.”
“Who knows?” Jack drawls, his grin going crooked. “Might have found us both an exit by the time you turn up.”
Static hisses through the speakers, but it’s not enough to drown out the Doctor’s mumbling. Head ducked as he makes for the door.
Even with all that interference going on though, it sounds fond to Rose’s ears.