Chapter Text
Rose stumbles into existence, blinking quickly to clear her vision. She’s landed herself in the middle of what looks like a giant mall -- crowds and crowds of lifeforms stream past, none of them giving her a second glance. She’s nothing they haven’t seen before.
Rose can work with that.
She straightens her jacket and starts to walk, trying to look like she knows where she’s going. First step is figuring out when -- and where -- she is with respect to Earth. Then she can look for signs of the Doctor.
Halfway past a big stall that seems to be selling large, squishy fruits, she spots something promising. Walking briskly through the other side of the crowd is a human-looking woman with big curly hair.
Roes pivots immediately.
“Hey,” she calls out, struggling against the flow she’s just turned against. “Hey-- can you understand me?”
Half the crowd turns and gives her a weird look, so-- fair enough, the mall has its own translation matrix. At least the confusion makes it easier for Rose to push her way through and catch up with the woman.
“Excuse me,” Rose says as she reaches her, slowing down to keep pace. “Excuse me, I know this might be rude, but-- you wouldn’t happen to be human, would you?”
The woman slows down, giving Rose a flirtatious side-eye. “A lady never tells.”
“Right.” She doesn’t have the time for this. “You’ve heard of humans. Do you know how I can check the news on Earth?”
The woman blinks. “Earth? Darling, her sun exploded on her several hundred years ago. Where have you been?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I’ve seen my fair share,” says the woman, vaguely. She examines Rose. “Are you human? I thought there was only the one left.”
Rose blinks, surprised. “Sorry, do you mean Cassandra?”
The woman asks, “Is that her name?” She looks faintly amused. “Somehow, that’s never what I remember about her.”
Rose snorts. “I can’t blame you.” She shakes her head. “No, I’m not Cassandra. It’s-- it’s a long story. I’m another human. I’m just trying to figure out what year it is.”
The woman’s eyes light up. “Oh, are you?”
...no one’s ever responded to her questions like this. Slowly, Rose says, “Yes?”
“You’re a time traveler!” the woman says, grabbing Rose’s arm. “I’m fascinated by time travel. Did you know, I’m an archaeologist? In a way, we’ve got opposite professions.”
“Okay,” Rose says, doubtful. The last time someone spotted her this quickly, it was Jack Harkness, and he turned out to be a Time Agent. Speaking of which, she should check--
Rose feels her face split into a smile. “Okay,” she repeats, looking up to lock eyes with the woman. “Your vortex manipulator would have nothing to do with anything?”
The woman freezes, glances at her wrist, and pulls it back quickly. Then she glances at Rose. “I suppose that gives me away?”
“I suppose it does,” says Rose, entertained. “When are you from?”
“Oh, here and there,” says the woman. She looks Rose over. “You?”
“A long time ago.”
“And far, far away?”
Rose shakes her head, grinning. “Come off, admit it. You’re from Earth.”
“As much as I’m from anywhere else,” says the woman, coy. She points at Rose’s wrist. “And you’re not using a vortex manipulator.”
“Nah,” says Rose. She consciously doesn’t reach into her pocket to feel the dimension cannon -- she spent her time in the TARDIS getting pickpocketed too many times. “Listen, really -- I need to figure out where I am. Can you help me?”
“Yes, of course,” says the woman. She glances around at the throngs of lifeforms detouring around them. “Just as long as we find somewhere more secluded.”
They settle at a bistro on the second level of the mall. The woman refuses the menus and orders full meals for them both. As the waiter leaves, the woman leans over the table and says to Rose, “They make the galaxy’s best Andorian stew here. The best part is, no one figures it out for another two years.”
“Are you a food critic?” asks Rose. “Scooping the best restaurants before they know they’re being reviewed?”
The woman laughs. “No, but that’s a brilliant idea for a business.” She offers her hand across the table to Rose. “Professor Song. Time-traveling archaeologist. Please, call me River.”
“Nice to meet you, River,” says Rose, shaking her hand. “I’m Rose.”
“A pleasure,” says River, with a warm smile. “How can I help you?”
“I’m-- it’s a bit unusual,” says Rose, “because I’m trying to figure out if I’m in the right universe.”
“Universal travel?” muses River. “Tricky.”
“Don’t I know it,” Rose says, with a nervous laugh. “My team and I have written a few questions, trying to determine if I’m in the right universe.”
“Ask away,” says River.
Rose takes a deep breath. “Does the word Dalek mean anything to you?”
Without the TARDIS, language barriers cause a major problem. Rose has only managed to ask this question on thirteen jumps so far. Every person she’s spoken to has frowned and asked her to repeat herself.
River’s face, on the other hand, drains of all color.
Rose feels herself start to smile, slow but sure. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“Daleks?” repeats River. She begins to draw herself up. “You’re smiling-- it’s good news that I’ve heard of the Daleks?”
“Yes, I’m--” Rose catches sight of River’s expression and realizes what this must look like. “Oh! Oh, no, of course not. I’m-- I’m really no friend of the Daleks.” She puts both hands on the table, trying to demonstrate sincerity. “Sorry, I’m just-- I’m looking for a universe where they exist. No one’s ever answered yes before.”
“A relief for the multiverse,” River says shortly. “How do you know this one’s yours, then?”
“Well--” says Rose, heart starting to pound. “We’ve done some research. It seems like my universe is really, truly, the only one who has a specific feature. That’s my next question.”
“And that feature’s not the Daleks?”
“Not the Daleks,” Rose confirms. “It’s-- I suppose you could say it’s related, though.”
River’s face softens. She can probably see how nervous Rose herself is getting. “You can ask me, you know,” River says. “Even if I’ve never heard of it -- that doesn’t mean this isn’t your universe. I can help you do some research, if you’d like.”
“Right,” says Rose. She takes a deep breath and meets River’s eyes. “Here goes nothing.”
River reaches across the table and squeezes her hands. “Nothing to be afraid of,” she says, with a warm smile.
Rose asks, “Have you ever heard of a time traveler called the Doctor?”
River’s bright expression dims. She says, “Ah.”
Rose’s heart drops. “He’s here?”
“What? No, of course he’s not here.”
“No, but--” Rose breaks off, overcome. “He’s here.” She puts one hand to her mouth, overcome. “In this universe. This is my universe?”
“It-- it would appear so,” says River. She’s frowning at Rose. “What did you say your name was?”
“You know the Doctor?”
“In a manner of speaking.” She squeezes Rose’s other hand. “Really, it would be in your best interest to tell me. Your full name?”
Rose looks into her eyes and sees a familiar desperation. “I’m Rose,” she says slowly, hope filling her chest. “Rose Tyler.”
River releases her hands and sits back, heavily, in her seat. “Rose Tyler,” she repeats, then jerks forward as the waiter arrives. “Oh, dear-- the food. Thank you, Jonas.”
“My pleasure, madam,” says a tremulous waiter, setting down two bowls. “Will you be requiring anything else?”
“Two glasses--” River takes a deep breath. “Four glasses of Corellian brandy, please.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
Rose asks, “Have you really heard of me?”
River’s hands are shaking as she unfolds her napkin. She says, “Yes.”
“But we’ve never met.” River’s gaze shoots up to meet hers. Rose says, slowly, “I just meant... you didn’t recognize me.”
“No, I didn’t,” says River. She picks up her spoon to take a delicate sip of her soup, the muscles in her wrist flexing.
“But you knew him after me?” Rose asks, feeling stupid.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me,” says River, “it’s impossible to mistake a Doctor who’s known you with a Doctor who hasn’t yet had the pleasure.” She smiles up at their returning waiter. “Thank you, Jonas.”
“Of course, madam.”
River hands Rose one of the glasses and keeps one for herself. “Cheers,” she says, quietly. “To first meetings.”
Rose feels too nauseous for alcohol, but she sips at the drink anyway. “You’re not giving me very much information,” she says once she’s swallowed. “Why won’t you tell me anything?”
“I’m not in the habit of giving people straight answers.”
“I’m sure the Doctor loves that.”
River gives her a thin smile. “It’s his favorite part about me.”
They spend several minutes sitting in silence. Rose picks at the alien texture of the food and watches River Song eat with gusto.
“You’re not hungry?”
“Not much of an appetite.” Rose tries to smile apologetically. “I don’t do much fine dining.”
“It takes a specific palette.” River probably meant that to sound less pretentious than it did. “Ms. Tyler -- I know there’s information you want from me. I’m sorry I can’t give you much.”
Rose asks, “Do I make it back?”
River freezes.
“I don’t care if the Doctor ever mentioned me,” Rose says. “I don’t even-- I don’t even care that you’ve never met me before. I just need to know. Am I ever gonna see him again?”
“I don’t think--”
“What don’t you think.”
River pauses, sets her spoon down carefully. Says carefully, “I don’t think it’s my place to say.”
“Who told you it wasn’t?” Rose demands. “It’s my life. I’m telling you, it’s your place to say. I need to know.”
“No,” says River. “No, no, it’s--” she shakes her head, cracks a smile that looks pained. “It’s not about permission. It’s just-- I’m not particularly in the business of telling people their own futures.”
“The Doctor does that all the time.”
River frowns. “Does he?”
“Yeah,” Rose says, shifting her weight. “I know where humanity’s going to end up in five billion years. He took me to see the sun explode.”
“That’s not the type of future I mean,” River says, delicately. “I’m talking about personal futures. When one gets promoted, for example. What will kill you.” She pauses. “If -- or when -- you reach a goal.”
“If,” echoes Rose, her nausea worsening.
River’s regarding her with something like pity. “Imagine if I told you, yes, you manage to catch Lady Gaga’s concert in London. Now you know that it happens. Everything you do is with the knowledge that you get to that concert. If that helps you get there-- perfect. That’s how things are supposed to work.” She gives Rose a bloodless smile. “But if something changes -- if that future knowledge changes your behavior, and you miss the tour? That causes a paradox.”
Rose says, “Like if you know someone is supposed to die and you save their life instead.”
“Exactly,” says River. She folds her fingers together, gives Rose a pained smile. “No matter how much they deserved to live.”
Rose lets the silence linger for too long, stuck remembering a car screeching to a stop in front of a church, over and over.
“You alright?”
Rose clears her throat. “So who’s this Gaga person, then?”
River’s eyebrows raise. She says, “You don’t know her?”
“Am I supposed to?”
River counts back on her fingers, then snaps and says, “Miscounted.” She smiles apologetically. “We loved her in 2009.”
Rose’s hackles rise. She’s sick of this woman acting like she knows better. “But how do you know about her, if the Earth might end before she gets famous?” She crosses her arms and asks, “Doesn’t you telling me about her guarantee that the stars stop going out? Doesn’t it guarantee that I find the Doctor?”
River’s smile fades.
“I’m just saying,” Rose says, shrugging. “You seem to enjoy showing off how much you know. But you can’t answer one question about my future?”
River says, “You deserve better.”
Rose blinks. “What?”
“You deserve better than me messing with your future,” River clarifies. “You don’t-- avoiding a paradox is hard enough when you’re a time traveler. Any future knowledge you have will only make things harder.”
“So what, you tell me nothing?” Rose demands, her heart pounding. “That’s not a kindness. I don’t--” She’s mortified to realize there are tears in her eyes. “I already know how unlikely it is for this to work. I don’t need to hear about all the ways it can go wrong.”
River says, “What if I tell you it works, and then that means you fail?”
“It won’t,” Rose swears. “It won’t.”
“It might,” says River, quietly. “And if I tell you it doesn’t work -- your desperation might become the reason why it doesn’t work. It wouldn’t be worth the risk. Trust me. There’s no outrunning the future. It’s better not to know what you’re racing against.”
“What if-- what if you’re lying?” She knows she’s grasping at straws. “What if what you say doesn’t matter?”
“It’s not just-- it isn’t just what I say,” says River, faltering. She makes a regretful face and says, “It could just be my presence. Maybe my friendship with the Doctor says something about your future. What you’re learning from this conversation could already be the reason that it doesn’t work.”
Rose can’t hold back the hitching sob that emerges from her throat. She covers her mouth and feels her shoulders shake once, twice, three times.
After a long moment, she swallows and takes a sip from her glass. Clutching it in both hands, she asks, “So what, I’m doomed either way? By speaking with you, I’m destined to fail?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, then.”
“Don’t ask me about your future.” River puts both hands on the table, palms-up, and waits until Rose takes them. “Don’t ask anyone about your future. Avoid any of the responsibility that comes with knowing. Fumble around in the dark, fight as hard as you can, and focus on what you want.”
“I didn’t even go looking for you,” Rose says, suddenly exhausted.
“I know you didn’t,” says River, squeezing her hands. She looks like she understands the deep grief that’s beginning to permeate Rose’s body, all over again. “It’s not fair, I know. Trust me. If anyone understands about this, it’s me.”
“Really,” says Rose. “Someone’s kept your future from you? Someone’s come from your future to tell you there’s things you just can’t know yet?”
“Yes, actually,” says River, with a half-laugh.
“And what,” says Rose, “are you telling me you were grateful?”
River snorts. “Hell no. I wanted to kill him.” Rose doesn’t have to ask who she’s talking about. “He’d left me out, and it felt like he was just making me look like a fool.” She squeezes Rose’s hand again. “That is, until he turned out to have his reasons.”
Rose knows she’s still scowling, but can’t muster up anything more polite. “And his reasons were?”
River’s smile turns apologetic. “I’m really sorry to say this,” she says. “But I’m afraid that’s spoilers.”