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So far, Mickey thought his second adventure was going a tad better than his first. For one, there were no walking killer clocks around; secondly, no one had threatened to behead him, and thirdly, the Doctor was being an absolute idiot.
The alien planet itself was rather boring. Mickey didn't understand the point of going to an alien planet if it wasn't going to be more - well, alien, and not just another Earth, to which the Doctor had given him an exasperated sigh and told him he was asking the wrong questions, then beamed at Rose when she informed Mickey, unprompted, that human space colonisation had really taken off around the 32nd century. Which was interesting, probably, but less interesting to him than how Rose had barely looked at the Doctor even as he'd praised her for always asking the right questions and being a quick study.
"Have you been here before with anyone?" she'd asked instead, rather pointedly, and Mickey had nearly punched the air in triumph.
The Doctor blanched. "Um, yes, I think. Once, but it was a completely different time. It's like saying going to Shakespeare's England is the same as going to your current day one."
Rose had simply nodded, and he'd savoured that look of hurt on the Doctor's face when she had chosen to do a guided tour of the nearby palace rather than go with them to the local markets, even after he'd argued that he was a superior tour guide than anyone. Rose had just pointed to Mickey and said something about kissing strangers in Paris, leaving behind a sulking alien and a rather smug boyfriend.
You don't get it. She knows you're just a regular bloke now, he wanted to gloat. Another bloke with a list of exes and emails he didn't want Rose to read, albeit metaphorically (or not, Mickey wasn't sure about what Time Lord technology included).
The Doctor was rather subdued as they trawled through the market stalls, though he had bought Mickey some alien equivalent of an ice cream and explained how the currency worked. Mickey wasn't too bothered, honing in on all the displays until he eventually found what he was looking for: a necklace with a crystal pendant, and it just happened to be shaped like a flower. Man, the universe really was on his side today. Gleefully, he handed over the money and pocketed the necklace.
"You should have haggled for that," the Doctor said behind him, almost making him jump. "And you'd be better off with a pair of earrings. When was the last time you saw Rose wear a necklace anyway?"
"Yeah, 'xactly. Thought she might like it," replied Mickey. "I dunno if you know this but girls like to do that sometimes. You know, get all dolled up. Especially if they come from an estate and not - royalty. Or something."
The Doctor sniffed in reply and poked around another display, a particularly weird one with glowing parts and a plant that actually hissed at him. It was a clear sign for Mickey to leave the Doctor alone, which he had no intention of doing.
"Didn't know you were such an expert, anyway. You buy a lot of jewellery for your companions?" he said, quick to notice the way the Doctor's jaw clenched before he muttered something about never getting Rose anything like that. "Probably for the best. They tend to give the jewellery away when you dump 'em anyway."
"I do not dump my companions," the Doctor snapped, giving up on the stall display to swivel around and stare at Mickey, his eyes cold and fiery the way they used to be, albeit brown instead of blue.
Fighting back a smirk, Mickey just shrugged, holding his palms up. "Sorry, mate. Just thought that sounded better than 'abandoned'. Or is it more like we're your employees and you fire us? Always told Rose you were the boss 'n you weren't as equal as she thought. D'you want me to start calling you that?"
The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh, his mouth contorted into a frown and his eyes flickering with something like hurt. Eventually, he turned back to the stall, and said, "If you must know, they're usually the ones that leave me."
Music to Mickey's ears, that.
He couldn't help but grin, though it quickly slid off his face when he realised that leaving sounded a bit euphemistic. How many times had he told Rose not to go back to the Doctor, that being with him would more likely get her killed than not?
"What do ya mean leave?"
"I mean just that. They choose to go back home, which usually means back to Earth. Or we'll be travelling, some alien planet somewhere usually, and they find somewhere they want to be, where they think they belong," he replied, sounding surprisingly wistful. "Or someone. So they stay. Get married, have kids. They're happy."
"What, and you just let them?" said Mickey, his temper starting to flare. "What about all those people at home they leave behind?"
"Mickey, it's not a prison ship," the Doctor answered, with that tone of exasperation he seemed to reserve specifically for him. "Of course I let them stay, if that's what they really want. I check in on them sometimes, too, even if they don't recognise me."
Mickey didn't reply, not wanting to think about whether Rose would ever be like that, whether the Doctor would even bother to let him or Jackie know. But the fact that Rose hadn't already left was surely a good thing - she'd always come back to Mickey before, even after the stuff with Trisha Delaney. She said she'd missed him. Surely if, when, she got bored with the Doctor, or the Doctor decided it was time to move onto the next thing, she'd just come back to Earth? He could at least pick her up from Aberdeen. Not for the first time, he entertained the idea that she'd come with him when he left the TARDIS, which would probably be sooner rather than later.
Breaking out of his reverie, Mickey looked up to see the Doctor stuffing his face with some kind of jelly eclair-looking thing, and made a face at the sight.
"It's lovely, you should try one," the Doctor explained through a mouthful, suddenly all cheery again. "Cherry-blossom jelly, a Spring delicacy." He frowned suddenly. "Which is odd, because based on the scanner this planet should be in Summer. S'pose it's possible they haven't switched calendars yet, they don't do that until the King gets deposed. See, the antiquated calendar is based on your Earth, but the orbit of this planet is all wrong. The tilt, too. Actually -"
"And this rebellion would be when, exactly?" Mickey interrupted, significantly more concerned by the likelihood of his head being severed from his body than by the orbit of this particular alien planet.
"Oh, 5546, 5547? It was sometime in the Spring. Can't remember, been a while since I read up on mid-56th century history."
"I hope it's 5547," he said. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him.
"And why is that, Mr Mickey?"
"Because that big banner behind you says Spring Fair, 5546," he replied. Polishing off the rest of his weird eclair thing and licking the remaining jelly from his fingers, the Doctor turned around to stare at the banner for a few, increasingly long seconds.
Eventually, he turned around, visibly uneasy, and declared, "Nothing to worry about. After all, the chances of arriving on the exact day are slim. Slimmer than slim, really. We'll be fine."
Which was the exact moment the ground beneath them started to rumble, a boom echoing out from one wing of the palace, screams erupting around them.
The Doctor was in front of him one moment and gone the next, sprinting towards the palace on his freakishly long legs. Not that it got him very far, seeing as the gates to the palace were now blocked by four people holding, and enthusiastically pointing, rather crude-looking weapons at anyone that seemed close to approaching them.
"Can you go anywhere without something exploding?" Mickey snapped at him, less heated than he'd like as he only managed to get it out between pants as he gasped for breath, his hands shaking as he watched a plume of smoke arise from one half of the palace. He wondered if he was going to be sick.
The Doctor didn't even seem to hear him, his eyes trained solely on the guards in front of them. Slowly, he stepped forward, starting to break away from the crowd, before Mickey grabbed onto his coat and pulled him back.
"What are you doing?" he hissed. "Just, I dunno, stun 'em or something. The TARDIS is nearby - you have weapons, don't you?"
The Doctor's eyes were blazing as he looked at Mickey, his jaw clenched. "This is a fixed event. I can't interfere. I just need to negotiate to get Rose back."
Reluctantly, Mickey let go of the Doctor's coat, allowing him to move closer towards the guards, raising his palms when they aimed their weapons at him. Immediately, he plastered on a disarming grin.
"Hello! Lovely day for a rebellion, isn't it? Was just saying it seemed like a good day to overthrow the monarchy, wasn't I?" There was, predictably, no response from the guards other than a few bemused glances at each other. "May I ask what the goals of this specific rebellion are?"
There was a pause, and a few more glances, before eventually one member coughed and replied, "Execute the king and force the Humanistic Galactic Assembly to recognise us as an autonomous and sovereign planet."
"Ah, classic and straightforward, can't go wrong, really. Well, actually, if I had to nitpick, it'd be about your use of the words 'execute' and 'force'," the Doctor replied, tugging on his ear. "How do you plan on 'forcing' the Assembly to recognise you, exactly?"
One of the guards smirked. "There are tourists inside, aren't there? Would hate for something to happen to them." If Mickey didn't know better, he'd say a tiny whimper escaped his mouth hearing that, and he found himself unable to stop from picturing Rose's body, bloodied and broken. He looked to the Doctor, finding all cheeriness drained from his face, replaced instead with cold fury and something like contempt.
"Executing tourists is a violation of intergalactic law," he stated simply and quietly. "Let them go. They're not part of this."
"Anyone who comes here knows what they're getting into," the second guard scoffed. "Why do they get to walk around freely when we're practically enslaved, forced to work constantly just so all our money can go to the king. People like you watch people like me get tortured and executed for fun. You destroy our lands every time you come here. Well, no more, not after today." Around them, people began to yell and clap in agreement.
"But we didn't know!" Mickey burst out suddenly, fighting the urge to shrink back as the crowd focused on him. "Our travel agent is, um, pretty lousy."
"Your ignorance is not our responsibility," the guard sneered, shifting his aim between Mickey and the Doctor with more intent.
"Listen to me," the Doctor commanded, "you're right, I agree with you, viva le revolution. But if you let the tourists go I'll make sure that the Shadow Proclamation recognises you. They're higher than any galactic assembly."
"Oh good, another committee for those corrupt cowards to not listen to," replied the first guard, rolling his eyes. "Those tourists aren't going anywhere. If they wanted to go back home, they should've stayed there in the first place. Now shut it, or we'll let you become the first dead tourist, seeing as you feel so strongly about it."
The Doctor clamped his mouth shut, his expression hard as he stared down the guards. He glanced back at Mickey, and Mickey felt all his hope that the Time Lord secretly had some sort of master plan drain away, replaced by anger instead. He was going to get Rose killed, the way Mickey had always said he would, and not only that he was going to allow it to happen, simply because he was too much of a coward to fight for her, or break his own rules. Mickey had never cared less about mucking up his own timestream, or whatever nonsense it was the git spewed. He just wanted Rose alive.
"Just give me one," the Doctor said quietly, and something in his voice made the guards pay attention (and, Mickey realised, made him slip a little further into the crowd, as if part of him thought the Doctor might offer to trade him for Rose). "Do whatever you want with the rest."
The guards looked at each other, not quite sure what to make of the Doctor, until one of them said, "And what's in it for us?"
At that, the Doctor smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, gesturing to their weapons. "Those are recycled laser shooters, are they not? Made out of Metebellius crystals, I assume, scavenged from the palace. Pretty rare and pretty pricey, and very difficult to replace. For all your bravado, it'll be tough to take over a country with such finite ammunition, especially if the Humanistic Galactic Assembly gets wind of it all and sends in troops of their own," he said.
Taking the guards' silence as confirmation, he nodded to himself. "I can help. Quick modification to your laser shooter and the crystals never burn out. So, self-sufficient, infinite weapon in return for a single hostage. How's that for a deal?"
Weirdly, it had never been on Mickey's bucket list to walk up a compost chute, albeit one that led inside a palace. Good to know that the sadistic and corrupt royals were keen on ensuring that their food didn't go to waste, it probably made the slug-pigs (or whatever the Doctor had called the subterranean farm species) very happy, but they could have at least cleaned the damn thing more frequently. As it was, he was still reeling from the fact that he had willingly climbed into what was essentially a giant drain pipe that was very dark, very smelly, and very slimy.
"So what's the plan?" he whispered, hearing Matlock, the guard that was accompanying them, speaking into his radio. Most of the palace guards and servants had been keen to join the rebel group, but the king's private guard were rewarded well in return for their loyalty. It was unclear whether the homemade bomb had been detonated as part of the planned assassination attempt, or as a last-ditch effort to try and take out some of the private guard in a kamikaze mission. The bomb had also messed up with the radio communication, so the "safe" option had been to sneak into the palace to make the trade, rather than go in through the front door.
That all sounded like a bunch of rubbish to Mickey, frankly. He thought the pricks were just testing their "commitment" to the cause. Still, if it got Rose back…
"Weren't you listening?" sighed the Doctor, the jab half-hearted. Mickey just thought he sounded old. Really old. "I did explain it before. Keep up, Mickety Mick."
"Yeah, but I mean the real plan. I mean, you're you. You're not just going to hand anyone an infinite weapon and call it a day, are you? This is probably all a trap, anyway. Would be in any decent video game."
Mickey waited for a reply and was met with silence instead. He heard Matlock swear as his walkie-talkie went unanswered again, and then they resumed trudging up through the pipe. He'd seen the Doctor kill people before; every time he'd seen him, in fact, whether it was those creepy shop window dummies, blowing up the Slitheen, and more recently, the Sycorax and those freaky bat things. But they'd all deserved it in some way, hadn't they, cause they'd killed people first. But surely a bunch of snobby tourists was different? Mickey couldn't believe that the Doctor would throw their lives away purely to save Rose. Then again, he had that whole thing about "fixed events", even if this did seem to be one event the Doctor had apparently fudged a bit on his Time Lord history exam.
Eventually, light started to seep through the dark tunnel and they reached a hatch. Matlock peered out of it before pushing it open, all three tumbling out of the chute with varying degrees of grace. Mickey found himself sprawled on a tiled floor, his eyes adjusting to the light until he made out a posh, spacious kitchen. The Doctor helped haul him up, and the trio covertly ducked around corners and tiptoed down corridors until they started to hear voices. Loud, rather angry voices.
"I assure you, he has my full trust and complete faith."
"Well, I'd probably find that more believable had he not already sabotaged my mission. Or should I ask for permission to speak frankly, sire? That's your title, after all."
Matlock hesitated at the door then, glancing back at the Doctor and Mickey, knocked three times and pushed them through, standing somewhat awkwardly to the side of them. It was an elaborate room with multiple overhead chandeliers, polished floors and painted walls decorated with gold-leaf, and some odd-shaped furniture that looked like it had been handmade, though it was currently piled up in some aborted attempt at a bonfire or barricade. Ahead of them were two men and one woman, the rest of the militia scattered around the room, looking rather bored. One man was dressed in honest-to-god tights and yet, somehow, and much to Mickey's irritation, did not look nearly as ridiculous as he should have, while the other man and woman were dressed in military fatigues.
"Comrade Matlock, what is the meaning of this?" the woman asked, eyeing the two strangers curiously.
"Comrade," Matlock replied, saluting her, "these two tourists wish to trade one of the hostages in exchange for knowledge about upgrading our weapons so they achieve self-sufficiency. I brought them here for you to make your final decision."
The man dressed in fatigues scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Can none of you stick to a bloody plan?"
"That's enough, Charles," the woman replied, then focused her attention back to the Doctor and Mickey, running a calculating eye over the both of them. "I'm Comrade Laurie, and you two would be?"
"Leave me out of this," Mickey said quickly. "It was all his idea."
"That is Mickey Smith, and I'm the Doctor. Hello, I've heard some rather impressive things about you," the Doctor said, giving her a grin and a hand for her to shake, and Mickey practically saw the words 'future world leader' popping out of his head. At least this one had red hair instead of blonde. Though perhaps Rose would find that more insulting, he didn't know.
"A doctor that claims to have an intricate knowledge of weapons. Isn't that a little ironic?"
"Yes, well, you wouldn't be the first to comment on that. Anyway, now with pleasantries out of the way, do you have a Rose Tyler around? Blonde, wearing blue jeans and a hoodie? Looks, uh, well, she's about average height - well, I don't really know the average height of this planet, and I wouldn't really say anything about Rose was particularly average but, uh," he paused, running a hand through his hair as he (and Mickey) took a moment to consider the mess he'd landed himself in, "my point - and I do have one - is that it would be rather brilliant if I got to see her alive again."
"Oh, I'll dare say you'll get your wish," the man apparently named Charles sneered. "Practically no one here has died today. Your prissy little tourist will get to live, as will apparently the king, and his lordship over there, and I suppose the rest of us will starve to death or be executed as always. Business as usual."
"That was not what was discussed and you know it," the other man replied.
"Benji?" Matlock asked, and got a sheepish grin in return.
"Well, cat's out of the bag now. Might as well call me Gwaine."
"Oh, that's right. The rebel prince. Knew I was forgetting something," the Doctor muttered to himself.
"Yes, and apparently our fearless leader over here knew the entire time," Charles continued, walking back towards Laurie and jabbing a finger at her sternum. "And now all that time and planning has been wasted. The monarchy will live on."
"Oi, that is not what I said!" interrupted a familiar voice, and one piece of furniture was kicked until it toppled over, revealing Rose and a huddled mass of other tourists. A rope was still tied around them, despite Rose's best efforts to file away at it with her TARDIS key, and Mickey heard rather than saw the tell-tale whir of the sonic screwdriver before the rope magically loosened and fell away. He could tell Rose knew it too, but she barely looked at the pair of them as she simply brushed herself off and stood up, though her mouth quirked into a tiny smirk as her eyes flickered towards the Doctor.
"What I said was that you didn't need to kill 'im. You've got that moon, just banish him," she concluded. "Gwaine here already said he wasn't going to uphold the monarchy. You'll still get your republic."
"And I'm supposed to believe that after he just spent the past year lying to all of us?"
"How else was I supposed to learn the true heart of my people? All their anger and hatred. I saw the pain my father caused and I vowed to be better," Gwaine replied. "And I've kept my word! I still helped you, I just didn't need to break in. I let you in, and I made sure the servants had fled, and we still captured my father. Does he really need to die? Do the tourists?"
"Yes," said Charles.
Laurie sighed, "The Assembly has continuously refused to listen to anything other than brute force. The concern is that, even if we establish the republic and ratify it, they'll retaliate as a united front, or they'll infiltrate and destabilise our regime. They might think twice if we prove to them that we don't only play nice."
"Rose made a convincing argument that they'll retaliate if we kill all of them anyway," Gwaine said, "and that they might be more willing to hold up their end of the deal if I were here. After all, I've been dining with half of the board since I was a kid." Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey could see the Doctor beaming away at Rose proudly.
"Aaand we're back to having a monarchy again," said Charles. "Geeze, thanks Blondie. If you're so smart then explain why I shouldn't shoot you and this deceitful prick right now?"
"If I might interrupt," the Doctor said, his voice suddenly harsh again, and in a flash marched over and wrenched Charles' weapon out of his grasp. Throwing it aside, he grinned again and said, "Assuming you have proof of the atrocities you said this king committed, which I'm sure you do, we can report it to the Shadow Proclamation and have him tried. They'll also be happy to enforce any legal recognition and partnership you pursue with the Humanistic Galactic Assembly."
Rose nudged Gwaine, a bit too chummy for Mickey's liking, and she said, "Told you I knew a proper diplomat."
"And you're willing to petition the Shadow Proclamation on our behalf?" asked Laurie.
"Oh, if I have to," the Doctor grumbled. "Usually I just send them a report. But it's a very comprehensive report. Promise."
Seemingly despite herself, Laurie started to smile and looked around at all of them, tilting her head at the still-huddled (but now less trembling) mass of tourists. Eventually, she said, "We all have more to discuss, but there's no reason for us to do that with empty stomachs. And yes, Charles, that includes the hostages."
She barely finished speaking before the Doctor and Mickey both ran up to Rose, the Doctor instantly trying to wrap Rose up in a hug. She laughed but stepped out of the way, pushing Mickey away playfully when he tried the same thing.
"Not that I'm not pleased to see you two, but how did you get in here? Cos it smells like you came via the toilet," she explained, wrinkling her nose up at them.
"Nah, just the food scrap chute," the Doctor grinned at her, his eyes running up and down Rose's body, which Mickey would assume was to check for wounds, seeing as he was feeling charitable.
"I take it these are the two friends you travel with?" Gwaine interrupted suddenly, giving the pair a slight bow, and Mickey preferred not to think about why he and the Doctor seemed miffed at that description. After exchanging formal introductions, Gwaine led them all to separate rooms so that the Doctor and Mickey could shower, adding that Rose was welcome to dress herself in anything she liked ahead of that evening's banquet.
"Yeah, maybe put on some tights to match his," Mickey muttered, jerking his head at Gwaine, and let out a sigh as Rose just smiled at him and told him to get cleaned up. Why was Rose always such a sucker for pretty boy?
Jealousy was something Mickey had outgrown a while ago. By the time the alien your girlfriend ran away with is sitting down to have Christmas dinner with you and her mum, you might as well declare the battle lost. Still, Mickey was sure he'd win the war, so he was content enough to watch Rose laugh and smile with her hand on the arm of a (former) prince on a distant planet.
The 900-year-old alien next to him though? Not so much.
The evening had kicked off rather well. He and the Doctor had de-slimed both of their outfits, and having both showered they now felt much more presentable. Rose had come out of her room in a rather stunning red dress, and Mickey had enjoyed the silence her entrance caused until he realised it was because the Doctor had finally managed to stop prattling, his big gob partly opened until he finally shut it and glanced accusingly at Mickey, for some reason. Gwaine had swooped in and offered his arm to Rose as he led them to the dining hall, now filled with the rest of the militia and Gwaine's (former) servants. The prince insisted that Rose sit next to him, which was irritating, but apart from that the evening was enjoyable. Mickey found he got along surprisingly well with Matlock when he wasn't pointing a deadly laser at him, and the Doctor had found himself in an animated political discussion with Laurie. Even the hostages had started to talk and laugh a bit once they saw the food they were being served wasn't poison, though everyone was being served the same thing anyway. Which was the point, as Mickey understood it.
Sure, it was hardly the best party he'd ever been to, what with the sadistic king locked in the dungeon, the Doctor explaining how the Metebellius crystal could be used as a renewable energy source for the city, and Matlock telling him about a political system for a planet he kept forgetting the name of in way too much depth. It was kind of boring, but the food and wine was decent, which put it a step above some of Jackie's historic parties; the ballroom helped, too. He couldn't even really hate Gwaine, not when he was so bloody noble and really did seem to listen to what Rose had to say. It was fun to watch the Doctor stab at his food too, practically strangling a piece of bread to death when Gwaine pushed a strand of hair behind Rose's ear.
Charles had then proceeded to burst through the door, drunk, and accuse Gwaine of being a deceitful liar (again), and something along the lines of an airheaded pillock who would ruin the planet much as his father did. "If you're so smart," he slurred, "then explain to me how it's fair that you lot, and these greedy tourists, get to eat a meal while half the people out there starve?"
There had been a pause, Mickey shifting slightly from the apparent hypocrisy, before Rose had asked, "How much? For them to get food, I mean. Would this cover it?" She undid the clasp on the necklace she was wearing and held it out to Charles, giving a sheepish grin to Gwaine and saying, "Sorry, I know it's not technically mine but, well, you did say I could have anything I liked, and that you'd be giving it away anyway."
"Well aren't you full of answers today?" Charles snorted. "Newsflash, sweetheart, the shops aren't open this late."
"No, but there's spare food in the kitchen," replied Laurie. "And assuming Gwaine is happy to keep his kitchen on staff for a while, at a fair wage of course, there'd be no harm in distributing it to people later tonight. He was saying he wanted to introduce himself to his citizens properly, now that he could as proper equals. Weren't you, Gwaine?"
Charles rolled his eyes, grumbled something like "have fun with your idealism in the real world" and slunk back into the shadows. The chatter at the table resumed for a moment, Gwaine staring intently at Rose the whole time while the Doctor glared intently at Gwaine, until eventually the former prince called for a toast.
"I would like to toast our three strangers. They have saved multiple lives here today, and I'm sure will continue to in the future," he said. "I'd especially like to thank Rose. I doubt I will ever forget Charles' face when she said the least we could give the hostages was a cup of tea."
"Hear, hear!" The Doctor and Mickey cheered heartily.
"You can thank my mum for that one," Rose smiled.
"You know, I can't help but think that any rebellion would be easier with you on our side. I have met few hearts as pure as yours. Is there any chance we could convince you to stay on? Your friends would be welcome too, of course."
"Oh, I don't know. Not sure I'd make a good politician," Rose laughed.
"Well, I'm not convinced about myself either, though Laurie here has promised to teach me," replied Gwaine easily. "But there are other ways you could fight for justice by my side. As my wife, for example."
A fork fell out of the Doctor's hand and onto the table with a clatter while Mickey choked on a sip of his wine, coughing and sputtering hard enough that he missed the ensuing conversation. He's sure Gwaine said something about giving Rose time to think about it before he and Laurie departed to give out the spare food, and eventually Matlock seemed to get up to keep watch of the hostages with some of the other rebels.
Finally recovered, he wiped the tears from his eyes to stare at Rose, dumbfounded, and glimpsed the Doctor looking at her with a gobsmacked expression. Rose bit her lip, her eyes flickering between the two of them.
"Well. Big day, lots to think about. Goodnight!" she said, and proceeded to race back to her room.
"I can't take her anywhere. This is the third, yes, the third time someone has proposed to her! At least she laughed at the other two. I thought that she was lying when she said she'd agree to consider it, otherwise, I'd have stepped in, said she couldn't possibly get married because she's part of - oh, I dunno, a nunnery. Do nunneries do excursions? Perhaps a travelling priesthood. I thought we'd be back in the TARDIS by now. Blimey. Three different times, that has to be some sort of record."
Watching the Doctor pace across the dining hall was actually starting to make Mickey feel seasick. Though that might have been the notion of Rose marrying a (former) prince-turned-rebel on a distant alien planet, on the same day that the Doctor had said most of his previous companions had left to get married. And that he just let them, apparently.
"What did he just propose for anyway? One adventure and - just like that?" the Doctor continued. "Shouldn't he at least try to court her or something? Ask me for permission? Or Jackie. Or you, I suppose," he added, glancing at Mickey. "And what sort of proposal was that anyway? He could have put some effort into, made it a bit grander."
"Yeah, he could've carved a marble statue of her exact likeness," replied Mickey. The Doctor halted his pacing and glared at him. "Hey, you're the one that inadvertently called yourself besotted. Kind of told on yourself there, didn't ya mate?"
"Oh, what am I even talking to you for? I need to speak to Rose," the Doctor said suddenly, and strode off, bounding up the stairs at least four steps at a time on his stupidly long legs and leaving Mickey to chase after him. Again.
The Doctor paused outside Rose's door, more still and quiet than Mickey had ever seen him, then finally knocked. Rose opened the door, half-ready for bed, and the Doctor plastered a grin on his face.
"Hullo! Figure we'd best be going back to the TARDIS now. Wardrobe always needs a new nightgown. Come on," he rushed out, grabbing onto Rose's hand and trying to tug her out of her room and back to the ship.
Which, in Mickey's opinion, didn't seem like actually talking to her. At all.
"Doctor, what are you doing? I told Gwaine I'd give him an answer an answer in the morning," Rose said, barely budging from the doorway.
"Yes, and your absence will be a pretty clear one, don't you think?" the Doctor said. Rose snatched her hand away from him and crossed her arms, giving him a scathing look that Mickey couldn't help but draw back from.
"Rose. You cannot be serious," the Doctor said. She just raised an eyebrow.
"Look, babe, I get you're annoyed about France, but isn't this sort of overdoing it?" joked Mickey. The Doctor shot him a confused, not to mention irritated, look and barely managed to stop Rose from slamming the door in both their faces, wedging his foot in and shoving his shoulder against the door until Rose relented and let them in, sitting down on the bed with a huff.
"May I remind you that Gwaine is part of a group of people that threatened to shoot you today?" the Doctor immediately started.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Says the man who offered to build them an infinity weapon. We also just had dinner with them because they're nice, their cause is good, and oh yeah, I'm alive! Gwaine didn't want to shoot me, anyway."
"Oh, well then! That changes things. I'm sure him not wanting to shoot you would have been a great consolation as he watched Charles execute you. Might as well marry him," the Doctor said. "Does it help at all if I remind you that neither Mickey nor I have ever even considered shooting you?"
"That might be relevant if either of you had ever proposed to me, yeah," replied Rose, causing the Doctor to let out a very indignant splutter and some sort of choked-out declaration about "nineteen being very young" before he fell silent and plonked onto the room's settee, looking rather like he was about to have an aneurysm.
"Rose," tried Mickey, "do you really want to be on an alien planet for the rest of your life? You heard Gwaine, it's not like you're gonna get to live in the palace. You're not marrying into royalty or nothin', not really. All of this is gonna get redistributed soon."
"There's also going to be four cyclones, two earthquakes, and a massive drought and famine in the next twenty years," the Doctor added.
Rose looked between the two of them, suddenly seeming more hurt and upset than a moment ago. "Did you even listen before? He said I was good at helping people. I'm not considerin' staying because I thought it'd be easy, or because I think he's fit or something, or all the other things I can tell you're thinking. I'm thinking about staying because I thought I might do some good here. Something meaningful. And I liked that Gwaine thought I would, too."
"But we help lots of people," said the Doctor, frowning, and Rose nearly snorted. Mickey just wanted to kick him; it was one thing for him to be made to feel like the tin dog, but to make Rose feel like one too, especially over some French woman he'd only known for a day? He suddenly wished Jackie was there to slap him.
She shrugged, barely looking at the Doctor as she said, "It's not the same. You always help people. With Gwaine…I dunno, just felt like he needed me. I mean, Laurie clearly knows way more than me, but he seemed to listen to me. Maybe we'd do something really good together."
"But I do need you," the Doctor said, barely audible, while Mickey said, "Like Casablanca," and nodded sagely.
"What - oh, shut up, Ricky," the Doctor said, clearly not moved by Rose's giggle. "Rose, you can't stay here and you know it. What about your mother? You want me to tell her that you're fine with never seeing her again, never having her meet the grandkids, all because you thought some posh prince you've only known for a few hours needed you more than she does?"
Mickey nearly groaned with frustration, wanting to tell the Doctor to shove off or at least go easier on her, and was unsurprised when all it resulted in was a re-angered Rose refusing to back down.
"I've got my phone! I'll still talk to her. Or here's a concept, you could come back and see me again! Take me back to visit, bring her over. But I guess that doesn't work for you, does it? Would get in the way of you forgetting all about us the second we leave your sight, wouldn't it?"
The Doctor bristled, snapping, "Oh, I don't think it'll be possible to forget you. Not if you're actually idiotic enough to stay on an alien planet where ninety per cent of the population was starving and uneducated until, oh, two hours ago? You wouldn't last two weeks before the TARDIS would get a call begging me to come pick you up."
Rose scoffed, sticking her tongue in her cheek. "Well, at least it's not Aberdeen."
"Fine!" The Doctor said, shooting up. "I'm leaving, with or without you, in five minutes. And you'll have to run to catch up. If I don't see you on the TARDIS, then goodbye Rose Tyler, nice knowing you."
At that, he stormed out of the room, his coat billowing behind him, Rose and Mickey simply watching him go. Silently, Rose began to angrily brush through her hair, visibly upset but trying to look disinterested as she commented, "It'll take him at least four minutes to walk back, anyway."
Mickey nodded and moved towards the window, peering out at the night sky. This planet's moon was misshapen, more bumpy and jagged than smooth, and idly he wondered how the former king would find living there. He could see far more stars in the sky than from the Powell Estate, at least.
"Bet we won't get tired of that view any time soon," he joked, and Rose turned to smile at him.
"You don't have to stay, you know. I'm sure you could catch up with him in time. Don't even know if they have a chippie here," she said, letting out a weak laugh. Mickey just shrugged, somewhat surprised that the idea of being abandoned on an alien planet didn't terrify him as much as it probably should. But he understood where Rose was coming from now, far more than when he'd driven that big yellow truck, let alone been kidnapped by a rubbish bin. He did want a better life, just like she did, and he didn't even have anyone like Jackie who meant he needed to keep hanging around the Powell Estate. Maybe there was still a chance he could get Rose to see that, that they could strive for a better life together.
"I, um, got you this by the way. Probably not as nice as the one you gave away but - s' pretty. Made me think of you," he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out the necklace he'd bought for Rose earlier. She thanked him, staring at it, and he was just about to offer to put it on for her when the door suddenly opened and the Doctor stormed back in, glaring at them.
"Sorry, Mickey, I must have missed the bit where you got proposed to as well. Matlock must work quickly," he said, pushing on when Mickey immediately got defensive. "Rose. You have ten seconds to make a decision. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five," he deliberately drew the word out, never breaking eye contact while he did so, then rushed through the rest, "four, three, two, one. What's the verdict?"
Rose sighed dramatically, a smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. I'm staying."
Mickey felt his heart sink, and some of the Doctor's bravado seemed to shatter. She really was going to stay, and the Doctor wouldn't and couldn't tell her otherwise, not if it's what she really wanted. But it's Rose, he wanted to say, these aren't your other companions. You can't let her do this. After all, it wasn't like his other companions had absorbed the time vortex to get back to him. But maybe Rose wouldn't do that now, knowing what she knew about the Doctor. All of that love, all of that faith Rose had had just a week ago, before she'd met Sarah Jane and or Madame de Pompadour. The Doctor truly had blown it, and he must have known it.
Suddenly, the Doctor grinned.
"Well then. Guess Mr Mickey and I are, too," the Doctor shrugged, taking off his coat and flinging himself onto the settee.
"What?" Rose asked, confused. Mickey himself couldn't help but stare at him, tempted to ask if he'd hallucinated the whole "it's not a prison ship" conversation they'd had earlier that day.
"Clearly, Mickey doesn't mind being here, and I figure I might as well stay to look after you lot, if you're stubborn enough to stay on such a difficult alien planet," he answered.
"No, that's not -"
"Besides, been a while since I went to a wedding on an alien planet. I love a good wedding," he said, starting to loosen his tie. "Any idea what colour tie I should get for the occasion? Happy to help you pick out a colour scheme."
"No, but -"
"No buts, exactly. You know that if you don't invite me, I'll just invite myself anyway. What good is psychic paper if you can't get into a wedding," the Doctor continued. "No. You, Rose Tyler, are stuck with me, as I once heard a wise person say. Ha!"
"Doctor! I meant I was staying with you," shouted Rose, finally getting to finish. The Doctor gaped at her.
"Oh," he said finally, then broke out to the biggest, most sincere grin Mickey had seen all day. "Brilliant!"
Rose couldn't contain her own smile, starting to beam back at him. "I'm still telling Gwaine tomorrow morning. We might as well eat some breakfast before we leave."
"Oh, if we have to," said the Doctor eagerly, apparently not even trying to sound grouchy about it. "Well, I'm sure you'll sleep better having made a decision. But uh, let me know if you're thinking about changing your mind or, um, anything. Also, brilliant work minimising bloodshed while still keeping the outcomes of an historical event in place. Always knew you were the best and I, well, I appreciate you a lot. Anyway, nighty-night!"
At that, Rose waved them goodnight and the Doctor picked up his coat and ushered Mickey back out the door, his arm around Mickey's shoulders, practically whistling as they walked back towards their designated rooms.
"Well, Mickey, you must feel better knowing that's all been sorted."
Mickey shrugged the Doctor's arm off his shoulders, staring at him. "I don't think that had anything to do with me at all. And you know it." He turned around and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him without a backward glance.
Despite his overall relief at still getting to see Rose and not being stranded on a planet that may or may not have invented chips and sausage rolls, Mickey struggled to sleep that night. He'd spent a lot of nights during the year Rose was missing not sleeping, thinking about the Doctor as a thing instead of a person; the thing that took away (and maybe murdered) his girlfriend, the thing that ruined his life, the thing that was alien in every sense of a word, the thing that terrified him. And then they'd come back, Rose still the same as ever, and suddenly he had to contend with the Doctor as someone who used to tell Rose to tell Mickey to pick up a packet of shortbread creams if he was expecting anyone to answer when he knocked on the TARDIS, or who ordered things like sandwiches and sparkling water at restaurants. Impossibly ordinary.
It had been even easier to think of this Doctor as just another bloke. He seemed designed to be that way, eating Christmas dinner with them and lounging on Jackie's couch as he waited for Rose's laundry to be done. But he wasn't normal, was he? Not in the usual way he was abnormal, either. Mickey still wasn't sure what to think about him offering to create limitless ammunition to save Rose, less certain than ever that he wouldn't have done it. He wasn't even sure that the Doctor would have done the same if Mickey had been the one held hostage, and he couldn't help but shiver at the idea that both he and the other tourists would be lying in a pool of their own blood at that moment had that been the case.
And then the Doctor's reaction to Gwaine proposing to Rose. He'd said he let his companions leave if they wanted to, and Rose really had seemed to want to, at least on some level. When she got tired and decided to go back home with Mickey, would he let her? Surely, he wouldn't be able to stop her, if that's what she wanted. Would she ever want to, though? Mickey was less sure about that, too. One thing to run around with an alien for a bit when you know they're just stringing you along, another thing when said alien is apparently willing to bend whatever rules they have for you. Thinking about it for too long made him toss and turn in bed, and the night felt long.
Eventually, Rose knocked on his door to announce that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes, and he walked down to a rather meagre meal that made him feel thankful he would not be staying here, albeit guilty for thinking that. The Doctor was his usual jovial self, drinking tea and eating toast with gusto, and now quite willing to compliment Gwaine on all the things he had pointedly failed to last night. Gwaine kept looking between him and Rose, something almost amused about his expression, and Mickey couldn't help but wonder if it had even occurred to the man that he was the one who could claim to be her boyfriend, not the Doctor.
When it was time to say their goodbyes, Gwaine pressed a kiss to Rose's hand that managed to somehow make a vein in the Doctor's jaw twitch, and she returned the favour by hugging him and kissing his cheek. They wished everyone good luck with the Assembly, the Doctor assuring the group he had already sent their evidence and his own report to the Shadow Proclamation while everyone had slept, and then deliberately looked at Gwaine as he reached for Rose's hand, though she had simply brushed hers past him. Mickey just felt resigned, experiencing none of the triumph he had the previous day, not when he could already see them edging closer towards each other as they walked back to the TARDIS.
Thankfully, none of the excitement yesterday had damaged the TARDIS at all, and the Doctor practically skipped to the door, waving Rose and Mickey in gleefully, his gaze lingering on Rose, seemingly a little awestruck at seeing her back inside the ship. It didn't last long, the Doctor rushing to the console to ask them both where they wanted to go.
"Oh, I know Mickey's answer to this. 1996 Knebworth, yeah?" Rose said, giving him a tongue-touched smile. He returned it, distantly registering the ship groaning as the Doctor sent them hurtling into the vortex and told them to put on some wellies because they were in for a muddy couple of days.
"So, uh, Gwaine had no hard feelings, right?" prompted Mickey. "And you, you're not…"
"Nah, no regrets. I think he'll find someone else to inspire 'im pretty easily," she said. "And I didn't forget about your present, by the way. Just didn't want Gwaine - well, doesn't matter. But I'll put it on now. Or maybe not, seeing as I don't wanna lose it. But wherever we go next. Promise."
"All good, babe. Take your time," Mickey smiled at her, figuring that even if she did ever wear it, he probably wouldn't be around to see it.