This was originally part of a one-shot series, but a friend recently convinced me that there had to be more to the story, so here I am. I'm going to post a few warnings up here, so I may as well get started. This contains main character death, extreme angst, and other incredibly sad topics. If you're not a fan of having your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on, this isn't the fic for you. For those of you still reading, good luck.
His tread was heavy in the dust, sand swirling around his maroon converses, his face emotionless. His blue suit was caked with grit, chipped glasses decorating his freckled face. His usual smile was replaced by a mask, his trenchcoat ripped and torn apart at the seams. He staggered, a gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to regain his balance. He wouldn't let himself stop. Couldn't let himself stop. His wild hair blew in the breeze along with remains of the battle. He could barely remember what it was about, too focused on the weight in his arms and the holes in his hearts.
His long legs burned from running, but he didn't let himself stop. He didn't deserve it. She would've told him otherwise. To get his head back in the game, to keep trying, to endeavor, to come out on top against all odds.
But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. His head was hung. Shame, defeat, and guilt threatening to overturn him. He sluggishly continued forward, not bothering to lift his feet. Running wouldn't help anymore. Nothing would help. On first glance, not many would know that he was in pain, but the crimson stain was starting to show through his coat. The first shot had hardly grazed his shoulder, but the second has made its mark. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.
He could see his destination in the distance, a speck of blue on the golden horizon. Less than a day before, he had called that view beautiful. Called it something to be admired. She had agreed with him, a smile on her lips, her laugh melodic. They had walked hand in hand to the nearest town, oblivious to the danger until the first building went up in flames. He could still see her shocked face in his mind's eye, her brown eyes full of confusion.
He shook his head, fighting back tears. He wouldn't cry, he didn't deserve the release. He didn't know how he managed to open the doors, though he suspected his ship had known to let him in. He made his way to the jump seat, setting down the weight he was carrying.
"We made it back." He whispered, wiping his bloodstained hands on his trousers. "We did it, you and I." He leaned against the console, trying to block out the noises of discontentment his ship was making. His own head wasn't any better and he found himself pacing. He couldn't bring himself to face the reality that was currently slumped across the ratty yellow fabric. All he wanted was for her to tell him that they'd get through it, for her to hug him and let him surround her in his arms. He knelt beside her, words unsaid lumping in his throat as he tried to keep control. "You're safe now." His voice cracked but he couldn't stop the words. "At least, you should be"
He fell against the back of the jump seat, wanting to take his anger out on something, but finding nothing except himself to blame.
He looked at her still form and for a moment, he could convince himself that she was just sleeping, tired out from an adventure. Her denim jacket was soaked in her own blood, blond hair splayed around her head like a halo. Her usually bright eyes were closed, eyes that made him remember who he was when he forgot. The gunshot he could've taken replayed in his head, tormenting him to no end. She hadn't hesitated to jump in front of him, her last words making him feel sick.
Her eyes had widened, her hand clutching her chest as blood trickled through her fingers. He caught her in his arms, whispering reassuring words into her ear.
"Hold on, I can save you!" She coughed, crimson dripping from between her lips. She didn't ask him to hurry or help, she just choked out four words.
"I promised you forever..." Each word was embedded in his mind like a silver dagger, taunting him, telling him of the one person who had truly cared, and how that one person was gone.
"It was more than good enough, alright?" He hadn't noticed how fast he was sprinting until he felt her breaths become shaky and shallow. It was the fastest he had ever run, her body in his arms, his hearts pounding in his chest.
"Five more minutes, alright Rose?" Her breaths were uneven, the wounds in her chest seeping blood. A red trail behind them in the sand. He hadn't stopped running when her fingers slipped from his shoulder, nor when her eyes fluttered closed. He had stopped when breath left her lungs and she went completely slack in his arms. Even then, he had moved as fast as his legs allowed. Crying for help in the confines of his mind.
And now... there she lay. The red dripping from her chest staining the seat beneath her. Reality staring him in the face, and yet... he didn't want to admit it. Admit that time had gotten the best of him, that he had lost yet another companion. So he didn't. Slowly, he started fiddling with the console.
He had a time machine! He could save her, surely.
But the TARDIS told him he couldn't, heck, everything he had ever known told him he couldn't. He didn't care. He thought up calculation after calculation, but they would all do the same thing. They would all rip the universe apart. His ship chirped sadly, but he tuned it out. There had to be a compromise, a way for him to save her... But he knew there wasn't one. He let his hands slide down the sandy pillar as he hung his head. He looked at her once again, feeling all those tears he had locked away start pouring out of his eyes. His throat was raw from the sand, but it didn't stop the crying. His sobs echoed around the room as his ship sang a mourning song.
Jackie found him, red-eyed and shaken in the TARDIS, curled on the floor next to her daughter. She sat down beside him as his frame trembled and shook, silent sobs racking his body. She put a hand on his shoulder and cried with him, not knowing how to comfort him. Guilt gnawed at his gut, and he felt that every breath he took should somehow be hers. Nothing could ever be the same.
"This is my fault..." He choked, his voice shaky. "Oh Jackie, I am sorry I am so sorry..." That's when she noticed the dried blood coating his shoulder. She reeled back in shock, instinctively reaching for her purse to grab her medkit. He pulled away when she tried to apply an antiseptic. "I don't deserve it. Let me suffer." His words cut deep into his hearts, knowing that they were true not making him feel any better. She didn't protest, just wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and wept.
All he could think was how it was it was his fault.
"Everything is different now..." He collapsed against her side.
My. Fault.
Jackie truly wanted to blame him. She wanted to slap him into next week, but something stopped her. It was almost like she was there, telling her to stop. Telling her to look at him. The Doctor hadn't moved, though he was still shaking profusely, his tearstained face full of regret.
"I never even told her." He whimpered. Jackie hugged him tighter.
"She knew."
