A/N: *dodges incoming rotten tomatoes* Anyway, unless you're really thick, you've realized that this is my first DW fic...which I wrote years ago, but never bothered to revise or upload. (Not that you care, lol.) And on top of that, I'm American.
Doctor Who (c) BBC. All recognisable quotes are stolen from Journey's End.
Things were tense after they were dumped back on Bad Wolf Bay. Some days, Rose wan't even sure whether the whole fiasco with Davros even happened. But then she'd wake up to the Doctor - no, John - by her side, and she wouldn't know what to think of it.
Honestly, a clone? A metacrisis? The idea of it just seemed absurd, but that was what happened, and that was where they were.
John tried comforting her the day the TARDIS left their lives, tried telling her that he was there, that they finally had their forever, that he loved her.
It was the day he finished that stupid sentence.
Rose felt a twinge of guilt every time she heard his single heartbeat, knowing that deep inside her, it would never be enough.
But he's not you.
However, he was the closest thing she had. And the Doctor himself - he had been generous to give her his human "other". He gave her his soul, quite literally. But in consolation? In guilt? Rose laughed humourlessly at the thought.
He needs you. That's very me.
And what of Mr. John Smith? It pained Rose to consider that he felt exiled to that parallel world with her. He immediately reassured her that that was not the case every time she asked, but Rose could read him better than that. How could one expect such wanderlust as that of the Doctor's to disappear so simply?
Granted, of course, it was impossible for Rose to not love John. For all intents and purposes, he was truly still the Doctor. His hands still fit perfectly with hers, he still tugged nervously at his ear, he still had that damn oral fixation. He was still the man she loved.
But two conflicting parts of Rose made coping with their relationship much harder. While she relished in the fact that this Doctor could say the words the original couldn't, she couldn't help but think about how much she longed for just that - the original. The one that could dance with such despair, but could grin a smile that stretched from ear to ear.
That daft, old Time Lord.
Does it still need saying?
Rose's heart broke with that - he truly loved her. She knew she was fortunate to have the metacrisis, to have John. The apprehensive feel between the two of them was never lost, though it lessened as they fell back into old routines. They both felt deprived of something just out of their reach. Of their freedom? Of true love? Neither quite knew.
And so they ran. Because when nothing makes sense and standing still simply hurts too much, you run.
The smell of leather, the hum of the TARDIS, the glow of the Time Rotor - she missed all of it. But she wasn't there anymore. John had told her what would presumably happen to Donna, how she would burn up. Who would be there to hold the Doctor's hand?
But she had John now.
He had his thoughts, his memories, his experiences. But did he love her because he wanted to give his one, single heart to her? Or was it because he was supposed to?
He swore he was the same man, the same Doctor. But Rose couldn't even bring herself to jokingly calling him the new, new, new Doctor. Not while everything seemed like it would fall apart with the slightest creak. Not while he insisted on being called John.
I appreciate and encourage all CC, comments, and/or flames :D