Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be.

A/N: Yma2 requested a Heroes/Doctor Who crossover. Ask, and ye shall receive, though what ye receive may be dreadfully dreadful dreadfulness.

More Than the Seeing of Sights

© Scribbler, May 2007

Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. -- Miriam Beard

"Well they're not proper chips, but I suppose they'll do."

"I thought Americans invented chips." The Doctor examined one floppy French-fry, and so missed Rose's disparaging look.

"You can rewire a cosmopolitan route-finder thingy -"

He raised a finger. "Cosmotropolitan Navigation Device."

"Whatever." She waved a hand as though dispersing cigarette smoke – ridiculous, as this diner prohibited smoking. "You can do that, but you still miss the finer points of British cuisine."

"Cuisine. Ooh, aren't we being all posh." He shrugged and popped the fry into his mouth, chewing experimentally. "It all tastes like starch and trans-fats to me."

"You're spoiling this for me," Rose pouted, taking a fry from the basket between them.

"Spoiling what?"

"My victory feast."

"Victory? All you did was bop that thing on the head while I was … incapacitated."

She raised an eyebrow. "Incapacitated? Is that the new buzz word for 'out cold and dangling over a pit of evil scorpion monsters'? You're allowed to say thank you, by the way. I broke three nails dragging you to safety – and I bumped my head."

"I would've been fine. I was handling the situation."

"Pfft. You're just embarrassed that you knocked yourself out by walking into a girder. How did you not see that, anyway?"

The Doctor hunched in on himself, and Rose peered at his sulky face with glee. It wasn't often he couldn't bamboozle his way out of embarrassment by blinding her with science. For once, she was right, he'd messed up, and she was going to savour every second of it.

"Excuse me."

Rose blinked. She could've sworn they were alone in their little corner, but suddenly one of the diner's employees was standing by their booth. In each hand he held a bottle, and stretching his mouth was the biggest grin she'd seen since the Doctor's old face.

His old face. It was the easiest way to think of it, like changing 'dead' to 'gone' when thinking about her dad. The Doctor's old face, like he'd had plastic surgery instead of a complete personality overhaul.

"Salt and vinegar," said the employee, pronouncing each word painstakingly. English obviously wasn't his first language. "I hear your accents and thought you would be liking some."

"Brill!" Rose accepted them gratefully. "I knew I liked this place the moment I spotted it. Cheers."

"Cheers?" For a moment he looked puzzled. "We do not have a licence to serve alcohol – oh, that is what you call a 'Britishism', yes?"

"Yeah. It means 'thank you'."

"Dōitashimashite." His smile grew even wider. "That means 'you're welcome' in Japanese. Now we are having both learned something."

Rose grinned up at him. His smile was infectious, like a little kid's. She knew she could understand every word he said in English or Japanese, thanks to the TARDIS's messing with her mind, but it was fun to play along. Evidently the TARDIS thought so too, as it was letting her get a few words in the original language. Since becoming one with the TARDIS she'd questioned its make-up, often wondering whether it had a sense of humour all its own. Whatever the answer, right now she was grateful. She felt like an ordinary tourist instead of an inter-dimensional time-traveller. "You've definitely earned your tip, mate."

"Dōmo arigatō."

"Oh, I know that one! It means 'thank you', right?" 'Domo arigato, Mister Roboto,' that was what Uncle Harry used to say all the time when she was a kid – until he died of a heart attack the day before her thirteenth birthday.

The employee nodded. "You are fast learner."

Rose buffed her imperfect nails on her fleece – done up despite the heat, since a scorpion stinger had torn such a large gash in her top that her bra was totally exposed. Heroing always made her hungry for chips, though, so this handy diner had been their first port of call instead of the TARDIS – and the Doctor couldn't really argue, either, since she'd saved his life after him endangering it so embarrassingly and all.

Another diner employee blew past. She balanced four plates of food on her arms and looked as frazzled as this chap did chipper. "Hiro! We're backin' up everwhichway on orders out there." Her accent was the same as all the other people around here; as Southern as molasses and plantations.

"Oh!" The smile fell from the Japanese man's face, to be replaced by a look of absolute contrition. "I am sorry, Charlie! I will help you!"

"Don't be helpin' me, sugar. Get to helpin' in the kitchen - Table Nine've been waitin' for their order nearly twenty minutes, an' cook's goin' slow as a cat eatin' a grindstone today."

"I will! I will!" He bowed to Rose and the Doctor and whirled on his heel.

"Ki o tsukete," the Doctor said suddenly, in perfect Japanese.

The man stopped and turned to look back at them. His forehead puckered. "You have very good accent, sir."

The Doctor shrugged. "Is that smoke?" He gestured at the door marked 'Kitchen Personnel Only'.

The man gave a shrill yelp and dived through. Beyond, Rose made out a frying pan in full flame and saw him yank an extinguisher from the wall before the door swung shut.

"Nice bloke." She examined the bottle of vinegar. "Wow! This is real malt, and made in Birmingham, too! They must import it for tourists."

"Hm." The Doctor was staring at the kitchen door and looking pensive.

Rose disliked this particular pensive look. He had several, and she was slowly reconciling herself with each. This one was Number Four: Future Tragedy I Already Know About.

"Have you met him before?"

"What?"

"That bloke who served us. Hero, or whatever that lady said his name was."

"As a matter of fact, I have." The way he said it was irritating, as Rose also recognised the intonation as 'And That's All I'm Willing to Say on the Matter'. He hated it when he used that tone; like she, of all people, wasn't ready for the big bad truth. With all she'd seen, felt, and endured since fighting off killer mannequins at the London Eye, she could handle any unpleasant truths he could dish out. She was sure of it.

"Does he die? Become evil? Ransack with world with his death ray of doom?"

The Doctor looked straight at her. "He can't save someone he cares about." He says it … not sadly, but glumly, as though he wishes there was something he could do about it.

Rose shrinks a little. 'can't save'; she can figure out what that means, no problem. "Oh. But … he's just some diner worker in Nowheresville. If he doesn't threaten the world, what's the big deal? How would you even know about something like that?"

The Doctor picks up another French-fry and studies it. "You'd be surprised what people from Nowheresville can accomplish when they're given the right tools." He eyes her. "Like a TARDIS. Or a devilishly handsome guide and mentor."

"Or a Cosmotropolitan Navigation Device."

He frowned. "It was dark. Don't tell me you've never walked into something in the dark."

Fin.