A/N: Hello everyone! First of all sorry I just want to say sorry it's taken me so long to get this story out! I'm almost completely done with it however so updates should be rather frequent, I hope. It's a sequel to my story Alternate Meetings and will probably be really confusing if you haven't read that. But if your going to try anyway, what you need to know is that the Doctor and Rose met alternate versions of themselves that were role-reversed, and eventually in a Doomsday-esque style, John fell and is now trapped with Rose and the Doctor in their world. Okay, last note, this story is rated T, but their will be light M moments in the future that I will be sure to give an advance warning for so please keep a lookout for that if you're looking to avoid such a thing. Thank you!
Chapter 1: Indebted
"Fuck," John hissed to himself, as he dropped to his knees by the unconscious girl. There was blood, so much blood, and he felt his heart racing double time (as if he had two, a small voice whispered), as he covered the gushing wound with his hands. They came back coated in the red, sticky substance and his mind stumbled over itself, searching for an idea, a plan, anything that could help.
"C'mon Rose," he whispered. Unsurprisingly, she didn't respond. He took off the oxford he was wearing and bunched it up to press against the wound. His voice was scratchy and hoarse as he called out for help.
John had been traveling with the Doctor and Rose for nearly a year now. It was still hard being separated from his home, from his Doctor, but he'd long since learned to at least keep himself busy enough in their adventures to not allow the crushing grief of their unwelcome separation to drag him down into that dark place again. The goodbye, the last time he had ever seen her, while painful, gave him a small thread of hope, a reason to keep going. She was going to say it. He had to believe she was going to say it. He also had to believe that she hasn't given up on him yet, in the way he hasn't given up on her.
He proved himself useful enough to Rose and the Doctor, he thinks, in their various adventures...if a bit reckless at times. This time, however, he had been too slow. The gun had shot off before he could stop it, and the coward who had shot her had fled before John could do anything about it.
When they had landed here just a few short hours ago, they had been thrown straight into a civil war. The place where he and Rose had found themselves in was in no small way a wasteland. The stench of death hung heavily in the air, and bodies bloodied and decaying, littered the ground. It was obvious that the rebels were losing and becoming more desperate by the minute. The man who had shot her, one of the few surviving rebels judging by his ragged clothes, had took their only slightly more posh appearance to mean they were the enemy. In a half-mad, frantic move, the man had quickly, shakily picked up one of the guns scattered across the ground and had fired it before John had even registered what was happening. She had screamed as the bullet pierced her delicate skin, tearing ruthlessly past flesh and muscle, and John thought that sound might be etched permanently on his eardrums. The man had then dropped the gun and stumbled backwards like he couldn't quite believe what he had just done. Then he fled.
John's voice was hoarse from yelling and he knew that if he didn't get her wounds attended to soon that things would start getting very serious, very fast. Her heartbeat was already so weak and she still wouldn't wake up. There was so much blood...
He took off his other shirt and the belt he was wearing, and was able to create a make-shift wrap around the wound. It wouldn't last long as his oxford was almost entirely soaked through, but it was better than nothing. He would need to hurry if he hoped for her to make it. He hoisted her in his arms best he could, running on pure adrenaline alone as he tried to remember where the Tardis was parked. It was so hot, and he hadn't drank in so long. His head was pounding and his vision was shaky at best. He grunted under the weight of the unconscious girl in his arms.
"Stay with me Rose," he gritted out. She didn't answer and he pushed his aching legs harder in what he hoped to be the right direction.
The familiar blue box mercifully came into focus and he pushed himself a little harder, tightening his arms around her body to avoid dropping her. John's vision was beginning to blacken around the edges and he wasn't sure how much longer his legs could could support his and her weight, but still he ran. Just a little bit further, a little bit longer, he told himself. It was quite possible the Doctor was still confronting the corrupt dictator on this planet and so it would be up to him to treat her wounds. She was counting on him.
The door opened automatically to him and the console room felt blessedly cool on his sweat soaked skin. The med bay was close and he thanked the Tardis as he sat Rose down on the metal table that occupied the room. He knew how some of the equipment worked as well as a bit of basic first aid, but not nearly enough, he feared, to treat a wound of this caliber. The Tardis already had set out the supplies he would need, but he knew he wasn't qualified to treat her, especially in his wobbly state. Panic flooded him as he looked at his blood stained hands and the blood-covered shirts that were hastily wrapped around her body. "Oh god," he whimpered.
The Tardis suddenly, forcefully swamped his mind, keeping his panic at bay and filling his mind instead with instructions. Medical knowledge. If the situation wasn't so dire, he might have had more time to be shocked. As it was he simply did not question it and got to work.
Rose had been his one saving grace since he had been trapped in this universe and he would be damned if he let her die. The Tardis helped to steady his mind and showed him what he needed to do, fighting off his fatigue and worry, so that he could focus on the task at hand. It was the most interaction the Tardis had ever had with him, barring that time so long ago when he had ripped open the heart of the Tardis in his old universe to save his Doctor.
When he had the bullet out and the wound cleaned and bandaged, he set her up on some IV's and connected her to a heart monitor. Her heartbeat was still sluggish, but it was steady. He sighed in relief, his hand dragging across his face to wipe away the beads of sweat that had gathered there. The Tardis assured him she would be okay and John slumped over exhausted...
Then, promptly collapsed to the hard, cold linoleum floor.
He awoke, groggily, to the sound of quiet murmuring. His head ached and his muscles felt sore, deep to the bone. It was hard to get his eyes to cooperate and open against the harsh light and he fought to get his dry mouth working to ask what was going on to the mysterious voice. "Doctor?" he asked blearily. "Doctor?" Was she okay, he wondered? He remembered there was blood, so much blood. Her blood or his?
His own face swam in his vision when he got his eyes fully working and he flinched back in shock. "Shhh. Hey, just me. Don't strain yourself."
John took in deep gulps of air and looked up at the man with his face. "Where's the Doctor? Who are you? Why do you look like me? Where am I?" John's eyes danced frantically around the unfamiliar room. The man in front of him looked suddenly pained.
"It's hard to explain. Just give it a moment, you're memories will start coming back. And here take this. It'll help with the headache." John hesitantly took the white pill from...himself. The man in front of him next proffered a glass of water and John was unable to resist the allure of it and he greedily drank it down.
The water helped him clear his mind and slowly his memories caught up with him and everything fell back into place. It was crushing, coming back down. For that instant he had believed he was with his Doctor again and it had, while not ideal, been wonderful. He quickly buried the hurt, like he had long since learned how to do.
The Doctor's eyes were sad as he watched John's expression. "Sorry," he said. His lips curled up in a grimace, but John merely waved his sympathy off.
"How's Rose," he asked, his voice still scratchy and gruff. He turned his head to see her lying on one of the hospital beds, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"She's stable," the Doctor said shakily, following his gaze. "She's lost a lot of blood, but she's okay. Y-you...John..." The Doctor couldn't finish the sentence, his face crumpled and tears filled his eyes. John understood, even if he was slightly startled by the tears. He was so used to the control and the tampered down emotions of the Doctor (either of them) and to see his emotions cracking like this was terribly shocking. He tried to give the other man a comforting smile.
"I'm just glad she's okay."
Silence filled the gap between their conversation before finally, haltingly the Docto began speaking again.
"When I got back, the Tardis...the old girl was frantic when I first entered her, and I ran here immediately. Both of you were covered in blood and unconscious. You were passed out on the floor." John swallowed. Over the course of his time traveling with them, things had been...not tense, but certainly uncomfortable between him and the brown-haired man. The Doctor seemed to be almost wary of him, for some reason. Not that they were ice cold to one another, but John wouldn't describe them as particularly close. However, the concern radiating in the other man's eyes now was unmistakable. As was the utterly sincere relief and gratitude pouring off of him.
"Someone shot her," John said, eyes far off as the memories slowly began to form in his head. "No one was around. Everyone dead. Whoever had done it, he fled and I...there was nothing...I carried her back fast as I could. There was so much blood, I tried to stop it, but...the Tardis did most of the work in the end. Stopped me from falling apart when I finally got her here. Helped me to know what to do. Afterwards, I guess I just...collapsed."
"Exhaustion," the Doctor said. "Dehydration, shock, panic. I have you on fluids and nutrients, you should be feeling better soon."
"And Rose?"
The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "John," he said, his tone so, so distraught. "You saved her life. Oh god, you saved her. She would have died."
The Doctor could barely keep himself together anymore and his body shook uncontrollably as he tried to suppress his emotions. "Thank y-you," he gasped out passed his sudden tears. John felt his heart clench in sympathy for the man, any lingering awkwardness or tension between the two of them fading to the background at this shared moment.
"She's okay now," John whispered as he tried to suppress his own tears. "C'mon, pull it together. We don't want her to wake up and see us blubbering on like babies, do we?" The Time Lord let out a choked laugh.
When the Doctor had composed himself again, dashing the tears that hand managed to slip by from his cheeks, they sat in silence, listening to the soft breathing of the sleeping woman.
"I owe you." This sudden declaration rang out into the room as a promise, but already John was shaking his head.
"More like I owed her," he countered. "Those first few months...she kept me from going insane. She saved me, really. At the time I didn't want...I was just so lost. She took care of me. I owed her."
"Rose does that," the Doctor said quietly. "Saves people." He said no more and John didn't press it. He could only hope that this latest brush with death would finally open the Doctor's eyes and give him the push he needed towards Rose.
There was a quiet moan and the Doctor shot out of his chair and towards her side as if by a magnetic pull. He took one her hands in his and then soothed back her hair with his free hand. "Doc-Doctor?" she said groggily.
"Hello." John heard the other man whisper tenderly. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore."
The Doctor immediately pulled a syringe out from a cabinet. He took her arm in his hand and gently brushed over a spot with his thumb in a feather light touch before efficiently inserting the needle into her arm. "Here," he said, "this should help with the pain."
"W-where's John? S'he okay?"
"Right here," the man in question spoke up and Rose turned slowly to smile at him, although it came out as more of a grimace as her side was pulled tenderly against the bandage.
"Seems we're in the same boat," she attempted humorously.
John tutted. "I think you're a little worse off than I am, thanks. D'you remember what happened?"
The Doctor cut in. "There will be time for that later. You should rest, Rose."
Rose suddenly looked up concernedly to her Doctor. She reached out her hand, wincing a little at the movement. The Doctor leaned down a little so she could reach him. She traced under his eyes, down his cheeks, frowning, "You've been crying," she said, taken aback. The Doctor pulled away a little, looking slightly embarrassed.
"It's all right. I'm all right. Everyone is all right," he insisted firmly. Rose nodded, sensing his need to change subjects, but she couldn't totally erase the worry from her eyes.
"Tell me what happened?" she asked. "Please."
"I will, after you've rested. Both of you." His voice brooked no arguments. John rolled his eyes, but consented. He was rather exhausted. Rose put up a little more of a fight, stubborn woman that she was, but eventually gave in as well and laid back on the bed with an exaggerated sigh that half way through turned into a loud yawn.
"We'll talk soon," the Doctor promised her. She smiled tiredly at him.
"Stay with me?"
The Time Lord hummed contently in answer and took up vigilance by her bedside, incasing her hand in his once more. Her eyes slowly fluttered shut.
John had to physically turn away, feeling slightly ill. Those small, tender moments between them always reminded him so acutely of how much he had lost. Once upon a time, he had been apart of something special like that. It was hard not to feel the pang of his loss when he saw them interacting together. Hard not to feel a little out of place, intruding in some ways. Sometimes it even became so much, that he had to bail out on some adventures just to get some breathing room from them. He was sure they appreciated the alone time as well, even though Rose still insisted that it wasn't like that between them. John assured her it was only a matter of time. It was challenging, though, watching them be so blatantly in love with one another. And even more challenging watching them continue to balance on the precipice between being friends and lovers, when John knew, knew what it was like to lose that chance forever. So much time wasted on dancing around one another. And, oh if he could do it again... But now he was forced to watch them make the same mistakes he and his own Doctor had made. Wasting so much time.
Rose's breathing evened out and John feigned sleep best he could as thoughts he had been forcefully pushing away for months now swirled familiarly around in his head; thoughts of his Doctor and all the what if's and forevers that could have been but never would be. His exhausted mind simply refused to settle down.
"Can't sleep," the Doctor asked abruptly, startling him. He flinched and turned to face the concerned man, trying to erase the expression of melancholy and heartbreak he knew resided there.
"Can't shut my mind off. Long day."
"I can give you something to help you sleep?" he offered, shrugging a shoulder. John found himself nodding, surprised and grateful at the gesture.
The cool liquid hit his veins and he blessedly went off into a dreamless sleep. It was the first night since he had come to this universe that he didn't have any nightmares of falling.