Title: Life After Dying
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, its characters, or anything else about it.
Rating: R-sex, but not too grqaphic
A/N: I know that the "reunion fic" has been used and abused. But, once the bunny bites...... I just hope that it doesn't suck.
My name is Rose Marion Tyler. I have already told you of the story of how I died. This is the story of how I lived.
After the Doctor and I said goodbye in Norway, I spent about six months staring at walls. Torchwood was not only my job, it was my sanctuary. I would take my lunch to the Ghost-shift Room and stare at the stark white walls for hours. Mum and Dad really feared that I had gone mad. I hoped above all hope that he would return to me or I would find a way to him. When I was not being morose, I threw myself into my work analyzing alien artifacts and looking for cracks in reality. I would be lying if I said that I enjoyed those days.
Six months after goodbye, I snapped out of my gloom. My love had once told me to have a fantastic life for him and that is what I set out to do. I turned in my resignation to Torchwood that very day.
The first step was getting my A-levels. Granted, it was a lot of work, but the work was easy. My A-levels were earned quickly.
Applying to university got a bit tricky. For my application essay, I wrote about traveling with a friend. So far, so good. I did have to go to places like Barcelona, the city, not the planet, Australia, not Woman Wept, and North America instead of Raxacoracofalapatorius. My application was accepted without question and without an application interview being requested. The Tyler name was important here.
All the while, Mickey was on the side-lines. Offering me support and holding my hand. He even tried to get me to marry him. I politely refused all proposals. He and Jake were best mates. I suspect that they were more, but I have no proof to this day. I think that marriage to any woman would have left Mickey very unhappy.
Classes at uni were difficult, more difficult than I expected. More than once, I caught myself wishing for the Doctor; he could explain this for me so that I would understand. I sought assistance from my peers and professors and got through. Four years after starting, I graduated with a degree in genetics.
I began teaching biology at an East End secondary school. I found a flat of my own and found I was more comfortable living alone. I had changed since moving here and needed my privacy. Being with young people every day kept me busy. However, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of or miss my love.
I did miss the Doctor, but I didn’t pine away for him. I dated and took the occasional lover. No one lasted for long. David, my last boyfriend, told me that I was never there, with him, but always seemed far away. He left me at the door to my flat one night with a kiss and a request to call when I finally got over “him”. The real problem was that “he” set a standard for me that no one could meet.
Toward the end of my first year teaching, I decided to continue my education. I applied and got accepted to this universe’s version of Cambridge University. I even was allowed to design my own course of study; PhD work in exobiology. If I could successfully defend a thesis, I would be the first person to have this degree. I taught by day and studied and researched at night. As time went on, it seemed that I needed less and less sleep than I needed previously. Everyone thought that it was because I was excited to be doing what I was. Don’t get me wrong, I was. But as I learned much later, there was a lot more to it.
At the age of thirty, I walked across the stage and accepted my PhD. My advisors felt that my thesis was intriguing to say the least: The Possibility of Alien Life: a Biologist’s Perspective.
I wrote of the Forests of Cheem, The Face of Boe, the cat people of New Earth and the Raxacoracofalapatorians. I knew that they existed in my old universe, I had met them all. From a scientific perspective, I proved that they could exist. My published thesis became a bestseller and was translated into 35 languages. It became required reading at Torchwood and in many philosophy and science classes. As I walked across the stage to receive my PhD, I wished my Doctor were there. I’m sure he would have been proud. But, despite all the work I put into it, I knew that it was trite and simple compared to his knowledge. Still, I had earned the title Doctor. Doctor Rose M. Tyler, Alien Expert.
My newly earned credentials opened many doors for me. Torchwood wanted me back; sci-fi conventions invited me to speak as well as schools of all types. My secondary school wanted to keep me on staff. I wasn’t sure what to do.
Upon the advice of my family, I decided to stay teaching. I loved teaching more than any job I had in the past. Torchwood offered me a position as an on-call consultant as I didn’t want to go back full-time. With the stipulation that it wouldn’t interfere with my teaching duties, I accepted.
Torchwood called me when their staff experts were stumped. A Sycorax skull, a Slitheen claw, a piece of Dalek casing; all of these were more than enough to make my mobile ring at all hours of the day or night. By now, I was sleeping only 3-4 hours a night and looked no older than 25.
Very early one Sunday morning, I was grading my student’s work in anticipation of the end of the school year. I had two days to submit term grades and wanted to finish that day. The sound of my Torchwood issued mobile phone surprised me. I knew there were no invasions going on. There were no new artifacts in the labs that were unknown. I answered it curious to learn what was going on.
The voice on the other end simply said, “We have something for you to look at.” The caller then hung up.
I quickly dressed and made my way to Canary Wharf, Torchwood headquarters.
Tags: doctor who, rose tyler, tenth doctor
Current Location: Home
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: TV in other room