Author's Note: This is new. Actually, for me it's old, but for you, it is new. This is a Doctor Who drabble, based on the BBC revival. This is takes place after the second trip to Bad Wolf Bay.
Yeah, that's right. As usual, I want to break your little hearts, mwahahahahaha!
Something is missing from her world. A distinct tang in the air, a scent? Perhaps it is a color. A shade of blue or grey that just made the sky a little brighter on a brisk morning. The taste of spices that no one on earth could ever dream of growing. Or maybe they could dream it, but it's nowhere to be found.
A strain of music. A melody. The simple sound of a whirring machine. No other sound on this earth could match it. It was the other rhythm to her own heart beat. Perhaps it was her second heart, that she was meant for him.
Her breath hitches, and a stinging tear falls to the end of her nose.
She knows he's out there, beyond her reach, billions and millions of stars and worlds divide them. They were made for each other.
And so was I.
I was made for her, to be a tangible part of her life. I am him. He is me. I am everything he was. Still, every once in a while, I see her stare out the window, looking. Just looking. For him. Or she pauses every once in a while and listens.
I'm here, and I love her. But I'm – he – is out there and she loves him also. That's what makes this difficult. I'm here, and I'm staying. But he's out there, on her earth, her home, saving the planet five times a day.
We do the same here, but it's not the same. We both know it.
Here, there is no TARDIS, no stars and planets for immediate exploration. No one knows of the Doctor except the few.
"Rose," I whisper to her.
She's still in disbelief when I speak to her. I can see her heart leaping, for me, for him. For the voice. For the scent. Every woman knows the scent of her man.
I am he. I love the way that she relaxes or tense, depending on her mood. She relaxes into my arms when I whisper her name behind her ear and she'll continue her work as she leans against me, her curves settling along every inch of me. Or she'll tense up into an arch when she wants more than simple touch.
I'm amazed at what I can do to her with a simple whisper, with a simple touch. I remember what our bodies did to each other when I was still a Timelord. The electricity wasn't as devouring, but it was miraculous to be there at all.
"You're beautiful… for a human," I'd once told her. She'd be devastating as a TimeLord.
But now, I'm drawn to her. She looks, perceptibly, exactly the same. But her smile makes me weaker and stronger at the same time. The simple matter of finally being human makes her all the more intoxicating. I remember every moment of our previous life, for it really was I who shared it with her. To love her fully now is worth more than those moments on the edge of the cliff. Waking up next to her leaves me just as breathless.
I guess it's difficult to love two of the same person. How can I convince her that it is indeed me that she loves? I'm still myself. But I'm not. We both know The Doctor, the Timelord is off having adventures. I am everything he was. I am he. I want to be everything she wants in all the universes.
When I catch her, when we're caught up in the moments of delight and of passion, I can see that she believes it. The she believes that I'm here, and I'm here for her.