Amrit
By TwinEnigma
Disclaimer: I do this for fun and not profit, obviously I don't own Doctor Who.
Warnings: Spoilers for Journey's End, Pete's World, angst, character death, pairing: Rose x Metacrisis Tenth
Characters: Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor (10.5, 10.2, Handy, what have you).
Bad Wolf Bay, take two, had been simultaneously one of the best and worst days in the history of everything. All that tension and worrying, exacerbated by the impromptu interrogation and certain knowledge that this was to be forever this time, had made the entire affair something of an endurance trial in emotional pain. At the same time, there was the certainty of knowing this time and those words, those three little words that always hung tantalizingly out of reach with leaden seriousness, had now been uttered. There was no taking them back or the kiss that followed.
They were left behind with the promise of a fantastic life to be had, exactly the length of her forever and with all those little adventures previously denied. To get a mortgage (well, not really, the Tyler fortune was fantastic), to do the life domestic, to have the freedom to love and be loved, and maybe save the world before bedtime (sometimes twice, if it was a busy day at Torchwood): all this was now theirs to share.
The Doctor and Rose, together, forever.
...Except, not really.
In the chaos of the Daleks and the haste of the original Doctor's departure, something had been overlooked. A little thing, hardly noticeable at the time, and certainly not anything anyone might have had any cause to suspect, given the unusual circumstances. In fact, it was years before anyone began to really notice that there might have been something a little off.
They'd both been blissfully unaware of the issue for the longest time. There were other things to worry about, bad guys to thwart, a planet to save and dates – real proper ones, with dancing and holding hands – to be had. They were in love and blissfully happy having a fantastic, brilliant life.
It was some ten years after Bad Wolf that the idea of their forever began to crumble.
The reflection in the mirror had not changed, not one bit.
All around, people are getting older, changing, aging. Tony is now nearly an adult. Pete and Jackie are starting to wear their age far more obviously. And then there's Rose.
She hides it well, beneath makeup and has never stopped with the hair dye, but he knows what must be beneath the foundation and eye shadow: fine, tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. More will come. Her hair will turn grey and thin, her muscles will wither and her bones will become brittle.
And the Doctor must watch, changing very little in the decades to come.
It was the ultimate cheat, a cruel cosmic joke.
They had been promised forever and they were so sure they'd been given an astronomically impossible, trillion-to-one chance of a lifetime to actually have that forever. They'd spent months getting used to the idea even as they struggled to relearn each other and fall in love all over again with the people they were now. They fought, fantastic house-shaking rows, and made up in timid, awkward moments. They made it work, because they did love each other, when all was said and done.
As it turns out, it was nothing more than a fleeting dream, doomed to fail from the start by something so small, something that should have been obvious.
He may have popped into existence with one heart and a little bit of human in him, but he was – is still as Gallifreyan as they come in some respects. He ages slower than humans, far, far slower. He will only just be starting to look forty when Rose is long dead and buried.
The idea sits on his mind, never leaving, and he thinks, bitterly, how cruel the universe is to leave him here, where he must watch all he loves crumble to ash again.
Rose finds out eventually. She knows him too well, really. She holds him and runs her hands through his hair with every ounce of her affection and they just sit, trying to stretch a moment into an eternity. She kisses his forehead and then she surprises him.
It's her idea to repair the Dimension Cannon and send him back across the void. They work on it together, in secret, and she makes him promise to use it. Human lives are short and frail. She could get sick, she could die in combat or in a car accident. A zeppelin could explode and fall on her head. She doesn't want to worry about what will happen to him when she's gone. She wants to know he'll be safe, with the other Doctor (or, barring that, Jack, even though he insists that being in the company of the Time Agent in question would definitely not be safe, least of all for him).
She laughs and kisses him and makes him promise again.
He lies as he promises.
He owes her.
He's left her behind too many times, and though it'll hurt to watch as she grows old, he will stay and cherish every fleeting moment with her for the gift it is. One day, when she dies an old woman, he will take the improved (and infinitely safer) Dimension Cannon, fire up the trans-parallel hyperbolic tracking device, and launch himself back to the other world. He will find himself again, punch him in the nose, and then run until his body gives out. He's always been good at running.
The end comes sooner than expected.
It's business as usual on Saturday night – an alien invasion in downtown London. The invaders are an obnoxious blue and look something akin to the natives of Metablaxis III in the other world. They're here for any one of the top three reasons anyone invades Earth – resources, general nefariousness, or humans got their attention. He doesn't know and he doesn't care anymore because Rose is bleeding from her stomach and it just won't stop.
She stills, his name the last breath on her lips.
He doesn't remember what comes next, but he has ash and blue-green ichor on his hands when he finally comes back to himself. He then realizes she's dead and he's on an elevator in Torchwood. A blue-green smear on the buttons tells him he's pressed the button for the floor where the Cannon's kept. Slowly, he sinks back against the wall and begins to weep.
It's not fair.
It's just not fair.
When it finally stops, he stumbles out and makes his way to the lab where the Cannon waits for him. It sits, silent and leaden with happy memories in the darkness. Kisses shared over open circuits and burnt fingers teasingly played with tousled hair, laughter, laughter, golden hair and it's all red, bloody damn human red now, fading like pictures in the sun.
The tracking device that will deliver him back to his creator takes a minute to fire up and he can hear it ding softly as the light goes green. A part of him hopes that it will fail, that he will die in an instant, or that the other him will deem him a monster to be destroyed when he gets there and sees the blood on his hands. He doesn't think he wants to survive.
He raises his hand.
All he has to do is press this button.
He closes his eyes and she is there, gold and red intermingling as she whispers his name one last time.
A hand settles over his.
He opens his eyes and she is there.
She is a frightful mess, but she is there, warm, smiling and impossibly alive.
"Are you real?" he asks.
"I told you once, Doctor," she says and, for the first time, he sees the unchanged lines of her face, stark in the dim light. "You're not leaving me behind."
He lunges forward then, pulling her into a tight embrace. His fingers tangle in her hair and he drowns in the scent of her and dried blood, alien and human. "Never, ever leave me again," he whispers.
"Never again," she agrees. "Forever, you and me."
AN: "Amrit" or "Amrita" - "that which is immortal"
Bet you thought it was another 'Rose is immortal, back to teh Original fer her" story. ; )
Subversion and played straight, with a side of averted.