A/N: I miss Nine. I do. I said it. Happy?
Anyhoo, this was an idea I had when I heard a line in that Shakespeare episode whose name I don't recall at present. "Because that name keeps me fighting." More or less. My memory is NOT good. So...I have a new multi-chappter fic in mind, but it will cause me to rewatch lots of s2. Which isn't bad, but I don't really have the time right now. But I will post the prologue up soonish. And NOW I will stoping rambling...
The Doctor had resolved to hit his head against the console so many times so that eventually all his brain cells would die and he would never live on to regenerate. However, the remaining of his brain cells knew that this was entirely impossible, and even if it did happen then he would just regenerate anyway. It might change the timelines, though, if it happened this way instead of whatever way it happened originally---if you could describe it as original, it hadn't happened yet. His 'Third Thoughts,' to take a leaf out of Terry Pratchett's book or three, told him that he was wasting time—Time! He scoffed—arguing with himself about brain cells that may or may not die that may or may not cause an impromptu regeneration that may or may not alter the timelines. With this in mind, the Doctor ceased banging his head and set the coordinates on the TARDIS to September first, two thousand and five, London, England, Earth, the Solar System.
The day he met Rose Tyler.
Rose, naturally, was curious. He would really have to stop bringing along such clever, inquisitive people on his travels. "Why can't I go with you?" she asked from the Captain's chair.
"Because you might alter the timelines, and create a paradox, and remember what happened last time?" explained the Doctor, studying his reflection in a tiny compact mirror he had found in wardrobe. Was his nose really that big? And those ears—he'd really scored badly this regeneration. And his next was just a pretty boy—it was one extreme to the next, wasn't it?
"Oh, and yeah, 'cause you know exactly what you're doing and there's no chance whatsoever that you could create a paradox," said Rose, overly sarcastic.
"Truer words never spoken," quipped the Doctor, and he set down the mirror on the console, snatching up a pair of sunglasses in the same movement. "Ta-ta, Rose!" he called as made his way to the TARDIS doors.
"Can you at least tell me what're ya doing? A hint?" Rose asked of his retreating back.
The Doctor turned halfway as he paused, which, by the way, is a quite different action from hesitating. If he had hesitated, that would mean that there was a slight possibility that he would tell her the truth. No, this moment before he left was a mere instant of reverie, of things to come.
He glanced up back at her while a wide grin. "Nope," he declared, and then he was gone, outside the TARDIS doors.
Rose, immediately, jumped from her seat to bang on the aforementioned doors, willing them to open. They did not.
"You're an idiot," the Doctor told the man.
"Oh, I'm fully aware of that," he replied, back still turned to the Doctor.
"Well, not just that," said the Doctor as he strolled up to stand beside the man, "You're watching an explosion with no sunglasses on," he tapped a pair of his own, "Bad for the eyes."
"So I'm guessing you're not the him, because if you were you'd be blowing up Henrik's right now. Well, I guess you could be, but then I'd really be screwing the timelines up."
The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, I'm in his near future." The older version of himself said nothing. The Doctor supposed that his future self had no way to explain himself, to glaze over his intentions with some techno babble that might confuse humans, but not himself. The Doctor can never hide from himself. So he said, "Look, I know some things. I know Rose, and I know the War, so I understand you better than the others." He was now looking directly at Ten, who was returning his steadfast gaze. "But what you're doing is just dangerous. You're gonna give in."
"Isn't it ironic," said the other him, "That just when I've healed more or less from the War, the universe takes away the very medicine that helped me?"
The Doctor scoffed. "Is that what this is about? You're mad at the world because they took away your plaything? Yeah, well, dipping in and out of time just to see her won't fix anything. Whether it be my incarnation, or yours, or even before Rose Tyler met the Doctor, you're gonna give in and it's not going to be pretty. You need to stop."
"Oh, I will."
His brow furrowed. "How can you be sure of that?"
The other him laughed. "I actually did find a way to Rose, but it wasn't my Rose. It was Rose in the future, working at…well, an institution you will come to know. She was with me, which confuses me. They were doing domestic. She told me to go back and remember this encounter, so that I would keep fighting until we met again."
"You'll find each other again, and you'll be happy," said the Doctor, and then turned to walk back to his TARDIS. The future, it seemed, would hold so much grief, and yet some happiness as well.
Rose was rather completive after the past Doctor left her and her husband to their work.
"You lied to him," said John Smith. He only called himself John Smith because of technicalities. He would always be the Doctor to her.
Rose turned around, and sunk down into the chair beside his. She scanned her eyes over some new plans that Jake had told her would be crucial to a new strategy of extraterrestrial interaction. If one had asked her, Rose wouldn't have been able to relate one single detail.
"He's going to be disappointed when he realizes what you did," the Doctor prompted.
"Yeah, well, I had to preserve the timelines," Rose defended herself.
"See, I've lost you once, Rose, and I can't imagine what it's like to lose you again. And what you just did is like twisting a knife in his hearts."
Rose exhaled angrily. "Well, I'm never gonna see him again. The walls are closed, and that's not my life anymore." She met his gaze. "I have a different, happier one now. With you." She smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back.
Bittersweet.
It was a very odd word in itself, he decided; an oxymoron. 'Oxymoron' was an odd word, too. 'Oxy' was fun to say, and 'moron' ticked on the end of it just made most giggle. But that wasn't the point.
As he trudged back to his TARDIS through the sand of Bad Wolf Bay, his mind returned to that encounter he had experienced with the older Rose when he was so weak. That moment as she pressed her hands to his: it had saved him from despair, kept him fighting so he would meet her again. Her name was the medicine that allowed him to be strong. She had lied; gave him the wrong impression to preserve the timelines.
Bittersweet was the wrong word for this emotion. It was much darker than that.