Whitechapel
The Doctor and Rose find themselves stranded in London 1888, on the night of one of the Jack The Ripper murders. However as events begin to unfold, will Rose find herself in even more danger when Jack The Ripper comes calling, and has no way out?
Notes: I owe a huge thank you to my Betas Cyrea999, Irishlullaby and Cactus Smollet. And another big, big thank you to my dear friend Kathryn; I really would not have been able to do this without her constant encouragement.
Art by Mita (LJ | e-mail | comment) and tanjetea (LJ | e-mail | comment)
CHAPTER ONE:
Silent television at three in the morning was always something Rose found to be quite interesting. Especially when she found a certain Time Lord lounging in the middle of her mother's sofa, his head laid against the back of the sofa and cold cup of tea in hand. Rose giggled as she watched him sleep, they had just returned from a planet with a deserted beach that seemed to roll on forever.
It hadn't been like Woman Wept, partly because the sand was bright red and the sea had been green rather than the blue and white shades that Rose had found on Woman Wept. This time it had been with a new Doctor, a Doctor who was not a moody Northerner.
But Rose had come to realise that no matter what the Doctor looked like, he was still the same guy, and their friendship hadn't changed. They could still enjoy each others company and have fun.
Just like they always had done.
Rose giggled again and watched as chocolate brown eyes opened. The Doctor looked at her before he yawned and stretched, the cup of cold tea almost dropping to the floor. She was not sure if it was super Time Lord tactics or not, but he managed to save it.
"Oh..." he said looking at her somewhat dishevelled appearance as she sat down next to him, carefully taking the tea cup from him. "I was not sleeping."
"Of course not," Rose said playfully, nudging his shoulder with her own. "Time Lord's don't sleep. You were just resting your eyes."
"I was just resting my eyes," the Doctor exclaimed and then laughed. He pursed his lips as if concentrating then asked, "What are you doing up at three in the morning anyway?"
"I couldn't sleep," Rose said quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I don't think I like my room anymore."
"I thought you human females were always very attached to your pink and girly rooms that you hold so dearly to your hearts," the Doctor said. "You cover it in pictures of the latest heartthrob, lay there thinking of what it would be like to snog them, and before you know it you're asleep. What's changed?"
"I don't know," Rose said, pinching her tongue between her teeth. "I think I was just far too occupied by the sleeping Time Lord on the sofa."
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and barked, "I wasn't sleeping!"
"Yeah, just like you weren't eating bananas at the curry banquet last night. Seriously, Mr. Tanguine said that only curries were allowed to be brought." Rose poked the Doctor's side, he squirmed and swatted at her hand. "So of course, Mister I'm-going-to-break-the-rules..."
"Rules are meant to be broken Rose Tyler," the Doctor said, grinning. "Besides, I didn't want to go to that thing anyway, your Mother dragged me."
"Only because you happened to mention something about never having an Earth curry..."
"No," The Doctor laughed. "I've not had an Earth curry in months. Your mother misunderstood...."
"You're nine hundred and one years old and you let yourself be hustled by a forty year old woman," Rose said, looking at him with raised eyebrow. "I really do find that hard to believe."
The Doctor chuckled and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Tell you what, when we leave here, I'll take you to Galadaramainian. They've got the best curries in the universe!" The Doctor grinned broadly, his eyes full of delight and adventure. "You'll love it, Galadaramainian is a brilliant place is ... they even have these little people..."
"They always look really graceful don't they," Rose said with a wistful sigh, interrupting him.
"What," The Doctor asked. He glanced at her face and finally noticed her attention had waned. Rose pointed to the television. She seemed to enjoy late night films, had probably spent time staying up and watching them. He had never really given much thought to period dramas but he wouldn't put it past Rose to have enjoyed them occasionally.
"Victorian dancers," she replied.
"Victorian dancers?"
"Yes, you heard right, Doctor," she giggled, cuddling into his side as she yawned.
"Oi!"
Rose and the Doctor jumped apart and looked at Jackie. Her hair stuck up in all directions. She was bleary eyed and obviously did not appreciate being awoken at three in the morning.
"I don't know about you Time whatever-you-call-its," Jackie huffed, "But some of us are trying to sleep!" She turned her gaze to her daughter. "And Rose..."
"I couldn't sleep, Mum," Rose said, trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry, we'll keep it down." Rose had tried to retain a serious expression the whole time but a small snicker escaped as soon as she finished her rebuttal.
"Fine! But don't expect me to clean that tea up," Jackie said with an annoyed grumble as she walked back towards her bedroom, mumbling about the rudeness of being awoken at three in the morning.
The Doctor watched as Jackie retreated and then settled back into the sofa once again. Rose soon joined him, lying against him and pulled a blanket over herself.
"We can go tomorrow," Rose said, her tone hushed and secretive. "Mum doesn't need the washing machine fixed now." She yawned again and the Doctor laughed.
"You," the Doctor said, his voice taking on a low, serene murmur. "should go to bed. And I should go and fiddle with the TARDIS console until morning." He got up from the sofa but stopped as Rose held onto his hand.
"Stay..." Rose whispered, her dark eyes looking up at him longingly. "Just until I fall asleep."
"Oh fine." The Doctor said, sitting down next to her, letting Rose cuddle into his shoulder again and looked back at the screen. "Victorian dancers are quite like that, you know. Well, I say they are but these films don't really do the real thing justice."
He waved his hand dismissively then continued on his previous thought, "It's all so young and single women can find the right husband. Women back then weren't that different to how they are now, really... always chatting away about the latest heartthrob and men are always attempting to figure them out. And even when they think they have, they're wrong. Honestly Rose, if we went to one of the dances in the 1800's, I bet there would be someone there trying to marry you off to their older, womanising son. And I don't think you'd like that. Would you Rose?" The Doctor looked down at Rose and saw that she had fallen asleep. He smiled softly and brought the blanket further around them.
"Sweet dreams Rose..." he whispered softly. He turned his attention back at the television, wondering what kind of adventure lay ahead of them.
30th August 1888 --
The coldness of Thawl Street ground hit Polly's body as she was thrown out of the lodging house.
"No money, no bed," the lodger yelled, slamming the door into her face.
Polly was only a day late paying her fee but the lodger probably did not care, considering how she earned her wages. He was a bit of a git anyway. So much for his "Christian kindness" she mused to herself. It looked like tonight might be one of the many that she slept rough. But then who on the streets of London didn't? Unless you were born into the right family, there was no way that you would be able to afford somewhere to live.
"Well!" she huffed with indignation. "I'll 'ave you know this bonnet o' mine attracts attention! I'll be back with enough for another month, just you wait an' see! Or perhaps I'll take me business to someone that doesn't take half me monthly wages for lodging!" There was one widowed woman down the way that only charged four shillings for a month... Polly warranted the woman just wanted company than the money.
She pulled her bonnet closer to her head and began walking. She knew she shouldn't have gone to the pub that night. She couldn't afford another night out, even though it did cheer her up. It was hard attempting to make money in a city as rough as London could be and Polly was certainly one of the women who felt it sometimes.
Polly shivered as a breeze went over her. Despite it being August, there was certainly a deathly chill in the air. It was like the tales of ghost stories that Polly had heard when she was a child. She could always remember her friend saying that the wind howled more so when there was a murderer around the corner.
It was just unfortunate that her friends word had been true that night. And at around 6:40 am Polly was found dead at the front of a stable entrance just off Bucks Row.
Whitechapel was never going to be the same again.