Title: Puzzle Piece
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Season/Settings/Spoilers: Post Doomsday - also, one needs to at least know what Torchwood (the show) is..
Rating: G
Summary: ...She's been trying to put back the pieces, but she's knows she can't ever complete it. Not without him.
A/N - This is my first Doctor Who fic. YAY! Be kind. I know EVERYONE does Doomsday fics... but you can all deal with one more:D PLEASE don't forget to review. Silent readers makes the Doctor cry!
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When Rose finds Jack again, he looks at her like maybe she is a ghost. His mouth agape from a dozen paces away, she can almost see the gears working in his head.
She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't see him. Someone, somewhere, has messed up royally. And it's probably his fault.
Quite calmly, she moves towards him, ignoring the confused and curious stares of his team. Without preamble, without words, questions, hesitation, she folds herself into his arms, closing her eyes as his wrap automatically around her. She breathes his scent deep, her body crying, relief that she is home... well, almost. She hasn't dared to dream she'd ever see him again and it's like an extra present at Christmas from a friend you thought had forgotten you.
His questions come thick and fast, but she isn't interested. She's made it back, but it isn't enough. Not by half. She tells him the bare minimums, and then begs him for his help. Now that he is here, she isn't sure how she would have done it without him.
Jack's phone has been jiggery-pokered. It can call anywhere, anytime.
She holds it in her hands, heart hammering on her tongue. So many years, so many nights, dreaming, hoping. Fantasies and so much longing. Memories come pouring out and she can't steady her fingers to dial. It's been so long, and yet, no time at all, their moments happening right now, yesterday, a thousand years from now. Her life is a jumbled up jig-saw, but at the moment she only has half of it.
Slowly she's been trying to put back the pieces, but she knows she can't ever complete it. Not without him.
Swallowing without any moisture, her mouth as dry as cotton balls, she continues to stare at the phone. Jack, kindly, takes it from her, and she watches, her eyes opened in a sort of childlike trance as he dials for her. Waits. And his voice is hard as he speaks.
"It's me... She's here. Doctor... Rose is back."
It isn't even a heartbeat later. And she can hear it. She can hear him. The recognizable whir of the TARDIS materializing fills her entire head with sound. She can't breathe for the anticipation. The wind from nowhere picks up, swirling stray papers, her hair, Jack's long jacket he never bothered to take off. She can't think, just watching, and suddenly she can see the first faint outline. So memorable. She aches to touch it. The seconds tick over, and the outline of the TARDIS becomes sharper, clearer, falling into focus. The whirring sound dies. The pulsing blue light stops, leaving the Hub somehow darker. Grayer. Her eyes are glued to the door but her feet won't move. Her brain won't function. It seems like days, years, a lifetime or two as the quiet settles over them all again and the TARDIS looks like it's been occupying that space since the beginning of time.
And then the door flies open and the Doctor all but tumbles from his spaceship, his feet barely hitting the ground. In seconds she's in his arms, they are wrapped so tightly, so securely, so familiarly around her. She can feel his body tight against her's, the rhythmic beating of both his hearts against her own chest, his voice, whispering her name over and over again. She knows she's crying, her fingers running through his hair, still so thick and full standing up at all angles. In her long time with her Doctor she's never been able to tame it.
Finally he pulls away, his eyes bright as he studies her. She's still crying, with disbelief and joy and love for the man before her. His hands are still on her, holding her, making sure she's real.
"Oh Rose." He says her name the way only he ever did, and she speaks before he can say anymore.
"Doctor... The day on the beach. At Bad Wolf bay. What were you going to say?"
She's been dying to hear it. She's needed it, so desperately. Half a life time for three words. Her last puzzle piece.
The Doctor is grinning his manic grin. His eyes are shining, and she's shaking under his touch. She can feel his breath against her, the warmth of his hands on her, "Rose Tyler..."
And then, horrifyingly, sickeningly, he starts to fade. She gasps, he frowns, words forming on his lips, but before he can say them he's gone. Even as she see's him, never takes her eyes from him, he's disappear into nothingness. The TARDIS follows, quicker then it rematerialized, then Jack, his team. The Hub. It grows dark, towards her, swallowing her. She screams, but there is no one there to listen.
Rose wakes up with a start, still screaming. Her hand flies to her arm; she swears she can still feel where The Doctors hands had held her. But next to her bed is Mickey, his wan face a mask of sympathy and her room that is not hers, a mock-up in this alternate reality she's forced to call home. She literately crumples in anguish as Mickey gathers her in his arms, but she has no tears left for her torment. So real are her nightmares, and so constant, all she has now is a bleak hole of despair, constantly growing.
She thinks one day it's going to swallow her whole.