mtemplar_fic: (Ten II/Rose b&w)
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Ambush fic! *grins* I could still use another beta or three, but I did want to get my Halloween-y fic started before we get to the actual holiday. :)

Title: Contagion
Author: [ profile] mtemplar
Rating: Adult
Characters: The Doctor (Duplicate Tenth), Rose Tyler, various Torchwood characters, OCs.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Doctor Who' and am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, NON-CON element.
Spoilers: Journey's End, if you haven't seen it by now. :)
Author's Notes: This story follows the end of the 'Moments' series. It isn't necessary for you to have read that series of shorts to enjoy this tale, but if you're interested, here's a link to the timeline:
Betas: Many, many thanks to [ profile] garpu and [ profile] ladyprydian!

Summary: A rash of disappearances in Pete's World leads Rose's Torchwood team to an encounter with dangerous alien foes... and they've set their sights on one half-Human Time Lord. This time, the Doctor may be in way over his head - will Rose be dragged down with him?

Previous Chapters: none


"Not another one!"

"Sorry," Rose Tyler muttered as she dropped the file on the desk in the darkened office of Torchwood's medical officer. "The police just brought him - 's not like we've been busy or anything. You want to take a look or not?"

Dr. Owen Harper leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't suppose it's too much to ask that you came to my office for something else," he muttered under his breath. "That makes... five now? Or is it six?" he added, loud enough for Rose to hear.

"Six," Rose responded. "If it matches the others, that is."

"Do you think it does?" he asked.



An hour later, Rose found herself in the Torchwood autopsy suite, gowned and gloved from head to toe. Owen was similarly outfitted and already examining the body. It was a male, in his mid-twenties as best as she could tell, and appeared to have only recently been deceased. She stared at the prominent bruising at his neck. It stood out starkly against the waxy paleness of his skin. A sharp elbow nudged her in the side.

"C'mon, we don't have all day. Shake a leg already!"

She gave Owen her best glare and picked up the camera.

"Lesse... test, test." Rose waited quietly as Owen's dictated words flashed up on the computer screen.

"This is Dr. Owen Harper, dictation on Case 653. The deceased is identified via prints as Jonathan Bryce, age 27, missing for the last two weeks. Body transferred from county morgue for autopsy, transfer papers and authorization in order." He gave the papers a cursory glance, and Rose rolled her eyes.

"The deceased measures 182 cm in height, weight is 79 kilos, average build. Clothing at the scene as described by police. Skin is pale, no evidence of livor." Rose watched as he attempted to lift the man's arm away from the stainless steel table. It finally gave with a creak.

"Rigor mortis fairly pronounced. Rectal temp is...." Rose shuddered and looked away as Owen made a grab for the thermometer. "Consistent with a time of death of eight hours prior. External patterns and markings... pause dictation. Rose? Thought you were supposed to be my assistant here - don't tell me you're getting all pervy over a rectal temp," he said with a laugh.

"Stoppit," she muttered, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about what I was doing eight hours ago. Do you ever get used to this?"

"I suppose not," Owen replied, a tired look suddenly crossing his face. "But it still has to be done. The local police asked for our help, and we're going to do our best to do just that."

"I still don't understand why the police want us involved," Rose said. "Murder cases really aren't our forte."

"Oh, I think I've figured out why we were called in," Owen muttered cryptically.

"Why's that?"

"Haven't you noticed?" he said, gesturing to the body. "This man's been dead for nearly 8 hours. There's no livedo."


"That's the mottling of the skin you see after death - the heart stops pumping, so the blood settles in dependent areas, starts to break down and pigments the skin."

"Meaning what?"

"This corpse - there's absolutely no livedo at all," Owen said, tipping the man's body on the metal support of the autopsy table to more closely examine his back. "He must've been completely drained of blood before he died."

"Oh," Rose said in a small voice.

"And," Owen continued with a dramatic flair, "take a look at his neck. If you take a really close look at that nasty bruise, you might notice the punctures. That's some hickey."

Rose blanched. "Vampires? I met a werewolf once."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Dunno. Could be just someone playing, but that's up to us to find out. One of the PCs I talked to said some of the prior victims had this black tarry shit on their skin - no idea what it was. I've requested the autopsy samples, but they haven't arrived yet, of course."

"Black tarry stuff like this?" Rose pointed to a small black gooey patch on the man's left thigh.

"Brilliant. Let's get a sample."

Rose took a few pictures of the man's leg, in addition to some close-ups of his neck while Owen was grabbing a specimen container. She did see at least one puncture mark within the bruising and shuddered. Vampires don't exist in this world either, she told herself.

" - many are missing now? Rose? Hello?"

She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked you how many were missing."

She thought back to her earlier interview that day. "Minus the six bodies that have turned up, that'd be 41 still missing. Both men and women, but the bodies that've turned up have all been male."

"Someone's got a fetish."

Rose watched as Owen carefully removed the black goo and deposited it in the container. The man's thigh was mottled purple and green beneath where the unknown substance had been. "Does everything always have to be about sex with you?"

"For the record, yes," he said off-handedly, tapping his forceps on the side of the container to dislodge the goo. "Speaking of sex, don't keep me in suspense. How was it?"

"How was what?" Rose mumbled, totally lost.

"Sleeping with him, stupid. What else?" He set the specimen container on the counter before leaning back against it, crossing his arms over his apron.

"What?" she exclaimed, taken aback. "How did you know about me and... and him?" Good Lord, was it written on her face for all the world to see?

"I heard you talking with Gwen this morning. You know, the part where she asked you if you'd finally slept with him last night?" Owen then did a wicked imitation of Rose's response that was accurate right down to the stammer and the blush. "'Oh, no! W-We're just friends! It's not like that at all!'" He chortled. "You're a horrible liar, Rose. When I heard that this morning, it was all I could do to not grab someone's arm and start shouting, 'My God! She finally went to bed with him! Look at her face!'" Then his face clouded a bit. "You weren't going to tell me, were you? I'm hurt, Rose."

"Shut up!" she yelled, staring at the floor and blushing hotly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come now. You don't think that's going to stop me. You didn't have... problems, did you?"

"Problems?" Her eyes snapped back to his. "What in the world do you mean?"

"Well, your 'Doctor' is part-alien, right? Does he not have all the right... bits?"

"What? You - you're horrible!"

"But you love me anyway," he smirked behind his mask.

"As if."

"So? I'm going to assume there were problems, which, of course, I'm going to blab about all over unless you spill."

"I hate you, Owen. But for the record? No problems at all." Rose couldn't hold back a smile of pure feminine triumph. "He was lovely."


Rose blushed hotly while Owen dissolved into fits of laughter at her understatement. "All right," Rose admitted, "enough already. It was fabulous. Fantastic. He was so good I thought I'd die. Why couldn't anyone just hit me in the head and tell me what I'd been missing all this time -"

"Seems to me Gwen tried. Repeatedly," Owen pointed out with complete accuracy. "But for the sake of completeness, I'd be willing to oblige if you need a comparison - "

"I never thought I could feel this way about anyone else," Rose interrupted, sobering suddenly. "Not after what happened on that beach. I'm... I think I might be in love with him."

"Oh, God. Don't ruin it with that. The dreaded 'L' word." Owen gave a mock shudder as Rose punched him in the arm. "But really," he added. "I'm glad you're happy, Rose."

"Well, don't start throwing rice just yet," Rose warned.

"Oh? Is there trouble in paradise?"

"I... I don't know." She swallowed hard. "It's early days, but it still seems like I'm always saying or doing the wrong things around him, and he just... he clams up." Rose blurted out everything, including the terrible look that would appear on the Doctor's face whenever she mentioned his other self. "Plus, he still wants nothing to do with Torchwood. He is part Time Lord - he used to be able to go anywhere he pleased in time and space. Maybe this," she gestured around the room, her arms spread wide, "isn't enough for him."

"Maybe he needs time to adjust?"

"He's been here for over 6 months, Owen! Maybe if I'd accepted him from the beginning, things wouldn't be so uncertain -"

"Women." Owen shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "You analyze everything to death."

"Yeah, I suppose," Rose mumbled.

"And I'll be waiting here for you when he decides to dump you."

"Stoppit," she laughed. "Let's get back to work already. My feet are killing me."

"Yeah. I want to be out of here asap, too. I was going clubbing tonight," he said, knitting his gloved fingers together. "The bruising to his neck and thigh are the only markings I see, let's get a few more photos of those. Plus I think he's got something in his mouth. Make yourself useful, sweetheart. Resume dictation -"

Rose rolled her eyes and picked up her camera again. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

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