Companion fic to "Dreams". However you do not have to read that to read this. I'm considering making this the second chapter to "Dreams", but I'm not sure yet.
Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't read this through real carefully.
Enjoy!
11/Rose
-Nightmares-
He was running. Running as fast as his legs would take him. He ran until he came across a wall. A plain, white wall. She had been dragged here. He knew it, he had followed the unusually fast Cybermen as they dragged her by her shirt, her arm, or whatever they could reach to get her there. He stopped running, still panting heavily, and walked to the white wall. He lifted his hand and placed it on the wall, soon putting the other hand on it, too. He stood there, grasping the wall with everything he had left. He stepped closer to the wall, as to where his face was mere inches away from it, as sweat dripped down his face. He leaned his wet forehead on the wall.
"Rose..." he whispered.
"Doctor?"
He jumped away from the wall and stared at it like it was the most vile thing in the universe. But yet it was so angelic, that voice. That voice he had come to hate as it haunted his dreams—and nightmares. He stepped up to the wall again, pressing his ear against it.
"Doctor?" she whispered again.
But this time, it sounded like it was right behind him. He spun around and saw Rose standing there, about three feet away from him. He was still breathing hard from the running, but seeing her made him stop breathing completely. He stood there, watching his Rose smile pleasantly and stare right back into his eyes.
"Rose," he whispered, stepping closer to her.
But the moment he stepped closer, she disappeared into a white cloud of nothingness. She was gone. He had lost her again. He slowly turned around to the white wall and stared at it helplessly. He walked to it and leaned his forehead on it once again. He could almost smell her sent, feel her soft skin...hold her in his arms. That was all he wanted. To hold her in his arms again. Was that so hard?
One wall, that was it. One wall separated him from the one thing he wanted most. The one thing he couldn't live normally without. The one thing he loved in this universe. And the wall was in the way.
He gritted his teeth, struggling not to cry.
His hands slowly formed into fists and he hit the wall helplessly with them. He was screaming things in languages he had forgotten he still knew. He was crying like a child. His tears fell off his face and on to his boots, creating little round droplets on them. He lifted his head off the wall, tears still falling, and whispered it.
"Rose, please come back. I can't do this anymore without you."
"Yes you can," her voice said back to him, from the other side of the wall.
This time he didn't jump back, but stared at it almost angrily.
"No, I can't. Its not the same without you. I don't know how much longer I can do this."
"Don't you have a new companion?"
He sniffed. "Yes."
"Isn't she nice?"
He sobbed slightly, and then regained his composure. "Yes," he paused, trying his best not to sob heavily and break down, "but she's not you."
With that he got a flashback of when Rose had said that to him, about Duplicate.
"But he's not you," she had said helplessly.
"He needs you. That's very me," he had replied, quite truthfully.
And he still did. With every beat of his hearts did he need her. She was his rock, and without her, he fell.
"Why can't I still have you?" he asked her quietly, a whole new batch of hot tears rolling down his face.
But she didn't answer.
"Why?" he asked again, louder this time. He hit the wall a few times.
"Why!" he yelled at it, forehead again pressed against it.
But after that the wall disappeared, and he almost fell over, having been leaning all his weight on it. But now he was in the middle of a field. And no, it wasn't a beautiful field with flowers and green grass. It was a field of dead Cybermen. They were everywhere; he looked around and they seemed to go on forever. Hundreds of thousands of Cybermen.
He stepped over one, and, looking down at it as he passed, he was sickened that it used to be a human. A living, breathing, human being—changed into a monster, by a monster. He scowled at the thought.
And then he saw her. She was standing so far away, but it was the closest he had been to his Rose for a long while. He walked a little towards her, and she just stood there. Then he started walking faster. And faster, and faster. And soon he was sprinting towards her.
When he reached her, she hardly looked her best; her hair was down and it looked more tangled than anything he'd seen; her clothes were tore up all over the place; she was nearly barefoot, only having part of her torn socks on, no shoes. But when he looked into her eyes, and she stared up at him, she was as beautiful as ever. He started crying again as he cupped both of her cheeks in his hands, and she smiled up at him.
But wait—her smile wasn't a happy one.
It seemed as though her smile was sad; like when you give something up that you loved, but knew it'd be happier there.
"Rose?" he asked, needing to know what was wrong.
She took in a breath, and a tear slid down her smooth skin as she placed her hands on top of his, which were still on her face.
And then he woke up. He woke up with a soaking wet face and a ceiling that had coldly put him to sleep. But what he didn't expect to see was Amy standing over him. She looked totally terrified and worried.
He sat up and, as kindly as he could, asked her to leave. She did, and when she was gone, he laid back down and covered his face with his hands, and when he removed them, he wiped most of the moisture off his face.
He was used to this. The nightmares plagued him.
But, in his nightmares, he always saw her face.
In the end, how was that a nightmare?