Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Recycled Rose ❯ Recycled Rose ( Chapter 1 )

I do not own Doctor Who as the copyright belongs to the BBC. If I did, Ace and Rose would have been viciously killed in the first episode in which they appeared. Ace especially. This story was written for fun, not profit.

 

Re-cycled Rose

 

Running her tongue over her teeth, she noticed that they felt as if they were covered by a fine layer of fur. Her mouth felt gummy as did her eyes. Generally, she felt like crap.

 

Blearily opening an eye, she looked around to try to work out where she was. The room was unfamiliar and she wondered where she had ended up this time or why she had ended up anywhere. It wasn't the Tardis, or home, and it smelled like an overenthusiastic hippy had burned a whole week's supply of sandalwood incense. Not that she minded the smell of sandalwood, but preferred a more subtle use of the fragrance. The way she was feeling, the odour made her stomach churn.

 

As her mind began to slowly clear, vague images began to form and she sat up, clutching at her skull as her brain threatened to escape through her forehead.

 

It was the Doctor's fault! Yesterday, was it yesterday, he'd been playing with his sonic screwdriver for hours and wouldn't talk to her. She had opened her mouth to suggest that the item was his surrogate penis, but shut it quickly. For the last few days he'd been irritable and a comment like that might see her returned to the housing estate and normal life. Ever since he'd changed into his new form she had felt slightly anxious when she was near him. He was now much better looking and even more unpredictable than before, if that was possible. Sometimes she felt like he wasn't listening to her as she spoke and that made her feel even more annoyed than ever. But that didn't matter right now. Where was she?

 

Vaguely she remembered that he'd suggested they have a holiday from saving the Universe; a time to relax, forget about Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarins and the other foes who never seemed to give up or die. Hopefully, she'd suggested some of the places on Earth that she'd always wanted to visit, like Ibiza, but the Doctor had tutted at her choices and chosen a resort on some planet she'd never heard of: Azure.

 

“You'll like it, Rose. It's a place where only single people are allowed, no families, no couples,” she felt her face fall as he mentioned the last. Again her hopes to get closer to him were dashed.

 

“No weapons are allowed. The main rule is there are no rules as long as you don't hurt anyone. I mean you can, if it's consensual.”

 

Rose's eyes widened as she wondered if the Doctor was hinting at something kinky. Did he like S&M? That was a side to him she had never thought about and while she had played with the idea on a few occasions, to spice up the predictable sex with Mickey, she had never followed through. Would she like to be tied up by the Doctor? How deviant were his tastes? Shaking her head she ignored the memory and tried to work outr where she might be. Her vision was still not very clear and she blinked hard and rubbed her eyes. The movement made her head ache even more and giving up she lay down again. A few minutes more sleep and she'd feel better. An hour and she'd be able to think. A day and she might feel human.

 

Waking again she noticed she was not alone. Hoping to see a familiar face, she quickly turned and looked at the person lying next to her. Disappointment swamped her as she realised it was not the person she hoped it would be. Sighing, she noticed that at least it was a he and he looked human. Short blond hair, in his 30's, eyes shut, apparently sleeping soundly. They'd had sex at least twice from the used condom packets she could see on the floor. At least they'd practiced safe sex twice. She hoped it had only been twice.

 

His face triggered a memory of the night before. After booking in to the resort the Doctor had insisted that they go to a club and she had been separated from him very quickly. Attractive men kept insisting she dance with them and he urged her to enjoy their company. Returning after a couple of drinks and a few dances she couldn't find him. She was considering searching for him, but one of the more alluring men again grabbed her by the hand and she was again in the middle of the dancing writhing throng.

 

A few hours later, feeling slightly unsteady on her feet after all the drinks that had been given to her, she left the club, clutching at the walls as she tried to make the way back to the room where she was staying. It was then she met the man lying next to her.

 

“Hi there. Do you need help?” he asked as he walked past. He sounded concerned and smiled at her uncertainly.

 

“Help me find the Doctor, or my room,” she tried to say. It didn't sound very clear and the man frowned at her.

 

“The Doctor? Are you feeling sick?”

 

Rose tried to shake her head, but it only wobbled on her shoulders. “My..” she began and then stopped. What was the Doctor to her? Didn't matter. “He's my friend,” she said as clearly as she could.

 

“Ah, a friend called the Doctor? I know a man called the Doctor,” he said with interest. “Let me buy you a drink, I think perhaps something that counteracts the effects of alcohol, at least at first,” the last four words were said very quietly.

 

“No. Wanna another drink,” Rose slurred, even though she really wanted a long drink of water. She'd grown tired of people telling her what to do. Why did everyone think they knew better than her?

 

The man had led her to a nearby lounge and pushed her into a comfortable settee. Rose fell onto it drunkenly, relieved to feel the support. At least it would be hard for her to fall any further.

 

A large blue drink was placed in her hand. “That will make you feel better,” the man advised.

 

Rose sipped it, enjoyed the flavour and downed the glass. Suddenly her mind became clear and the man asked many questions. She didn't remember what they talked about, or how long they talked. She vaguely remembered another drink, a yellow one being placed in her hand which she also drank quickly, the taste again tempting her. It had been a pretty colour, the colour of freshly cut lemons. On Earth she never accepted drinks from strangers, but this wasn't Earth. This resort was meant to be safe, at least that was the guff she had been told when they booked in.

 

The evening became decidedly peculiar after that. Rose recalled that this resort had a physic tattooist and, the alcohol talking, insisted she wanted a tattoo, tonight.

 

“You think about how you want the tattoo to appear, she'll tap into your mind and then lay her hands on the skin where the tattoo is to be placed. No pain, no needles and perfect detail,” she told him.

 

Originally she hadn't been interested in the idea, but on reflection decided it was too good to be true. The man tried to persuade her that perhaps it would be better to wait until the next day, all the while smiling at her. The smile was the deciding factor. It was obvious to Rose he didn't think she was serious. Either that or he was trying to tell her what to do, again.

 

She insisted and finally he agreed to accompany her. “You can change your mind when we get there if it seems a bad idea,” he said.

 

The main problem that she faced when she got there was what she wanted permanently pictured on her flesh?

 

“Think about the thing you desire the most, or the person you admire the most,” the tattooist said, smiling as Rose slurred out her dilemma.

 

Remembering this, Rose sat up startled. She'd had a tattoo placed on her stomach, so she would be able to see it, and now she couldn't even remember what it was. Thinking of the advice she had a bad feeling about her choice.

 

Pulling down the sheet, she saw a face and torso pictured on the flesh there.

 

“No. I didn't. I couldn't have. Is it permanent? It can't be permanent, I don't believe it's permanent,” she rubbed the skin, but the tattoo remained stubbornly in place.

 

“Noooooooo,” she wailed loudly, not caring if she woke the man. “This is wrong! I can't have his picture there; he might see it and then he'll know.”

 

“Oh, now you don't want it. You were quite insistent last night. I think it's a rather fetching picture of this Doctor friend of yours,” the quiet voice interrupted her despairing cries.

 

“I've got to get rid of it. You've got to help me,” Rose said, hoping that her appeals would be answered. If the tattoo was removed she promised she would never let a strange man pick her up and talk her into doing things she normally shied away from.

 

“It will cost,” was the only response. He gave her a quizzical look. “I'll pay, because of our nice little chat last night. We can go now, if you want.”

 

Relief flooded her, but she still couldn't recall their nice little chat. What had they talked about? Glancing down at her stomach she decided it wasn't important. Until the romanticised image was removed from her skin she would have to avoid the Doctor and consideration of other things would have to wait. Though she had never seen him without a shirt she didn't believe the Doctor had a six-pack or such well developed shoulders. The picture was acutely embarrassing, but it would be removed, soon. This man had told her he'd help. Suddenly she still realised she didn't even know this mans name.

 

“Of course I want it removed! Who do I thank? What's your name?” There was no point in trying to guess, or play games. He had not mentioned his name, she was sure of it.

 

“Well, Rose. Why don't you call me the Master?”

 

A.N.

 

Soundtrack

`Doctor ?” Orbital

`Future Proof' Massive Attack

`I Don't Need a Hero' Concrete Blonde

 

S&M in this instance is Sado Masochism, not Sailor Moon. That would be too wild, Rose thinking about Sailor Moon!

 

This is a result of a challenge from Bastion. The challenge was to write a story in which Rose learns something. Being a killjoy, Bastion made the proviso that she was not to die. *Shakes fist*. Just wait, Bastion! Rose must die! By the way, if it hasn't dawned on you yet, hapless reader, I don't like Rose.

 

This is a one-shot. No continuation, second chapter, or further interludes between Rose and the Master. Hehehehe. That was fun. Maybe I could write a romance between Davros and Rose. They'd be perfect together.

 

Review. I like reviews.