Author's Note: This started as a companion to my first fic, A Second Chance, but from the Doctor's perspective. It grew a bit beyond that, though, spanning most of the episode Rose. I love Nine and wanted to return to him again - really hope I do him justice (and really wish he was returning for the 50th). Please review! : )
Earth. Again.
He snorted in derision as he set the coordinates. Jeopardy-friendly planet - he'd never be free of them. Blasted nuisance, always either in trouble or causing it.
Though to be honest, he welcomed almost any kind of distraction these days. Humans certainly provided enough of that, what with their messy and often unnecessary wars, reckless dabbling in things they didn't understand (okay, so he grudgingly admired that at times), and being a far too tempting target for alien invasions. But they saved him even as he saved them - from the pain, from the nightmares, from the pits of self-loathing and hatred and loneliness. Only temporarily, mind, as distractions usually are, but still.
So here he was. Again. Just off to set that charge on the roof. This him seemed to have an affinity for destruction. He felt the coldness creep through his hearts, knowing how well that suited. Destroyer of worlds, of his own kind. Not especially cautious this go-round, either - not that he'd ever been, really. But now he just didn't care all that much if he walked away. Sometimes he wished he wouldn't.
But then he felt her. Well, he didn't know it was a her yet, obviously, but someone was still in there. Cursing under his breath, he tore his way back down to the basement. Stupid apes. Building should've been empty by now; he'd already been too late for one poor bloke.
She wasn't screaming. Odd. Females of this species (and a good proportion of the males as well) tended to have that response in the face of death, but not this one. Especially surprising given how young she looked - eighteen, maybe nineteen.
Her hand felt surprisingly nice in his - small and warm. He hadn't had much contact, hadn't allowed himself to be that close to anyone since... He didn't deserve it. But time was short - what choice did he have?
She turned to see her savior, her big brown eyes wide with surprise and relief. He grabbed her hand securely, hoping she would trust him. "Run!" It was almost an invitation and she accepted willingly, her survival instinct kicking in. She was obviously terrified, yet she seemed to relish the experience, too. Asking questions (ooh, she was clever; he liked that), thinking, instead of collapsing into a helpless puddle. These days he lived for the adventure, for the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, making him feel alive. He had forgotten how nice it was to have someone to share that with.
"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life." Half reluctantly, he sent her off to safety and went to finish the job. But the memory of her warm gaze, the feel of her hand in his, haunted him. He was going barmy - obsessing over some silly little human he hardly knew. He'd been alone too long... that's all this was.
Okay, that was rude, of course she had to live somewhere, but he'd been surprised, hadn't he? Following the trace on that plastic hand, only to end up peering through a door into those eyes. Again. What was it about this girl? Sort-of pretty as humans go, he supposed. Not that it mattered. He would never... he was ancient, scarred, tortured. Imprisoned within his mind, his own private hell. He should really let her be. But he couldn't seem to get away from her.
And she seemed intrigued by him, too - following him out of the flat, barraging him with questions, almost flirting with him. Well, 'course she was. Fascinating, him, especially compared to the simple humans she knew. Doors, mortgages, beans on toast. Hang on a sec. Was he really encouraging her? He couldn't... fascinating, yeah, and dangerous and bitter. A monster. A murderer.
But it had been so long, and he drank in the curiosity and caring peering out of those surprisingly warm, open eyes. He told her the truth, at least a portion of it, knowing it would intrigue her even further. That she wouldn't be able to just forget him. And a small, shameful part of him held that close, the knowledge that there was someone out there who knew about him and cared for him, even a little.
Again? Honestly, this girl was a magnet for trouble. Once more her composure and courage amazed him as she tried to get people out of the cafe, safe from the plastic not-boyfriend. He already didn't like the boy, even though he'd never properly met him. And wasn't that odd? If he didn't know better, he'd say he was... But that was utter rubbish. He had no reason to feel that way, and besides, Time Lords did not do petty human emotions.
But she was so stubborn, bearing admirably with his impatience and surliness until he opened up, and then putting the pieces together. Though he really should've seen that bit about the London Eye and all - plain as the nose on his face, that was. Then they were running again, and it felt so ridiculously nice, so right, having someone's hand to hold.
Not just someone, though - her. He wasn't daft enough to think that just anyone would have done. She seemed to enjoy it, all of it, just as much as he did. She had accepted him so easily, taken to it so naturally. He enjoyed talking with her, admired her boldness and persistence, felt an ease and joy in her presence that wasn't part of the facade.
Hold on.
With a shock he realized that he was full-on smiling, and that it felt very strange and new on this face, slightly maniacal and wonderful. He was enjoying himself, enjoying the adventure again. The last few decades had been all about obligation and penance and survival - the universe's, not his own. Hadn't much cared about his. And now, suddenly, it was fun again, almost like it had been. Before. All because of one unsuspecting, insignificant human girl. His dark soul felt lighter, even as his mind berated him for the weakness this indicated - clinging to another being like this, much less one from an inferior species. But he felt the need developing, growing within him, a craving for her presence; it was undeniable. She saved him from himself. And he didn't deserve her, or the happiness and vitality that flowed effortlessly from her, pouring light into the shadows of his soul.
He offered the Nestene one last chance. Had to. Not that he held much hope, either for voluntary withdrawal or for lasting peace if they did leave, but he had to try. So he wasn't really surprised by their refusal - a rather inglorious end for him, but no more than he deserved. He just hoped she could get away in time. As he struggled to get free, he shouted at her to go; his eyes kept returning to her, pleading with her to keep herself safe. Why was she still here?
Just went to show - even he could still be surprised. The way she swung down to save him, all reckless and brave and beautiful and utterly... fantastic. He watched her in fascination and fear, unable to fathom why she would risk her life for someone like him. He caught her firmly and was seized by the strangest impulse to kiss her. Of course he rejected that thought right off. They had to get out. And he could only imagine her reaction. Some reward for her act of bravery - untoward advances from a battered old alien. Besides, Time Lords didn't do that sort of thing, or at least, they hadn't. Losing it, he was. He'd just found this amazing little human, a light shining into his darkness, who for some reason seemed to incite these primitive, rather unsettling feelings in him. He would not risk losing her.
He leaned heavily against the TARDIS doors. She had turned him down.
Well, that was fine. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the overwhelming disappointment coursing through him. The darkness that she had held at bay rose up again, threatening to pull him under.
He didn't need anyone. Did just fine on his own, he did. She was just one silly little human. Except she wasn't. Not just anyone would have done what she did, even if they could.
The hardest part was that he believed she wanted to say yes, wanted to travel with him. She was sacrificing herself out of a sense of obligation to her mum and that pitiful excuse clinging pathetically to her legs. It was her choice, and he understood obligation, certainly. Yet it angered him, seeing that spark wasted on the mundane life that loomed before her. She was incredible, one of those humans that surprised him, challenged him, gave him hope. Kept him returning again and again to this pesky little planet. And he knew that they would never appreciate her as he did, never encourage her to do more, to be more.
He flipped the last lever, sending the TARDIS into the Vortex, burning his hand in the process as she showered him with sparks.
"Oi! What was that for?" he sputtered angrily. Why on Earth was the TARDIS fighting him? Oh. "Well, I tried, didn't I?" he huffed. Honestly, what else can I do? he thought. He'd finally allowed himself to care a little, opened himself up to the possibility of a bit of happiness and light again, and he'd been shot down. A more gentle yet still insistent hum tickled his hand.
"I don't do that. She said no. That's it." The TARDIS sparked mutinously again, and the Doctor jerked his hand back, indignant. "Fine." He pulled himself roughly to his feet, grumbling. He had forgotten to mention the time bit, after all, not that that would change her mind.
Yet a tiny bit of him dared to hope again, remembering the hint of regret in her eyes, the delight and curiosity that had radiated from her when they'd been together. Maybe... yeah, and maybe his hearts would break just that much more when she refused him again.
He meticulously set the controls to land seconds after he'd left. Couldn't take chances with something so potentially important. He could feel the weight of this moment, the curious impact it somehow held upon countless timelines, not just his own. As he walked to the doors, his ship hummed happily, a very self-satisfied sound. The Doctor looked up in puzzled irritation before summoning his confidence and cracking the door.
Oh, he loved that ship of his.
His hearts beat wildly at the joy and abandon on her face as she ran... to him. Rose Tyler. At last he let his mind and hearts embrace the name of the one that had brought hope and joy back to his life in a matter of hours. He'd been afraid to even allow her name in, knowing this would happen, feeling how the promise of her presence wound its way into the empty places inside him. Already the ferocity with which he needed her frightened him, though it seemed to match the other extremes within him, of despair and rage and pain.
And yet she had chosen to travel with him, coarse and moody old alien that he was. She was beautiful and brave, his Rose, and... oh, he'd have to watch that. The protectiveness, the possessiveness he already felt for her. She had accepted his invitation, the fantastic life he offered, but she was not his.
Yeah, best remember that.