The Other Side Of Me
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Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the characters of said show do not belong to me, no matter how hard I've wished for it. No infringement meant on the owners, nor BBC. Honest.
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A/N: A special thanks as always to Catharticone, who has guided, suggested, and corrected. Words cannot express my humble gratitude.
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Chapter One
Where It All Began
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She sat on the curb of a street she didn't know the name of, stretching the leg muscles thoroughly abused during her morning run. It was a cool morning, the air dry and crisp, and she'd felt so good while running that she hadn't realized how hard she'd pushed herself until her body literally began protesting her actions.
She was lost in thought - so much so that she found herself in a park, not realizing how far she'd actually gone. She'd been thinking of things that now eeluded her, and being honest with herself, she couldn't even remember when she'd started running or from where. It was so easy to let her mind wander - the temperature was just right; her mood was calm and relaxed. Her thoughts took her into scenarios of a story she'd read not too long ago, she was sure. A story that seemed to remind her of something, although she wasn't able to figure out what. It was like something was perched just on the edge of her memory.
Then her left calf had begun to cramp, abruptly ending those musings. She decided she'd rest for a bit then stretch her abused muscles with a nice, gentle walk.
She sat on the curb for the longest time, amazed at the tranquility of this place she'd just happened upon quite by accident. There hadn't been a soul around nor a car on the nearby road. Only the chirping of birds and the barking of a dog down the road to let her know that the world had not stopped simply on her behalf.
"Hello, Rose Tyler."
She jumped, startled by the voice behind her. She was on her feet in mere seconds, turning to face the man who'd spoken.
Her jaw dropped, and she could feel the blood literally draining from her face. She felt his familiarity, yet she also felt as if he were a complete stranger.
It couldn't be. He wasn't real. But he was. Wasn't he?
"I'm real," he said as if reading her mind.
"No, you - you're not. You can't be." She could hear herself saying the words, but it felt like she wasn't the one talking.
"Take my hand. I'll prove to you that I am indeed very real."
"No."
"No?"
"No." This was surreal to her. Like watching yourself on the telly. It was her image she watched, her image she felt, but it didn't seem real at all to her, like she never remembered playing the part. Still, she couldn't stop herself as the role continued.
"This isn't like you," said the Doctor.
"How would you know?"
"I've always known."
"I must've hit my head. Taken a fall durin' my jog and hit my head hard enough to cause concussion, because you are not real." But he was, wasn't he? She could see him breathing, the calm confidence that shone off him in waves brought down a notch by his rapid intake of air and a look of uncertainty that she read easily.
He took two steps towards her, walking cautiously so as not to scare her with his presence. He held his hand out toward her invitingly as his body shaded her from the sun. "Remember me." It wasn't a question. Not a suggestion. Just a gently spoken command.
She couldn't stop herself from reaching for his hand. She felt him when their fingers touched, her mind suddenly blinding her with flashing images. Images of her. With him. Impossible images of times she'd never known. It was as if she were reliving someone else's memories.
"Oh my God," Rose spoke quietly.
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The Doctor stopped his work and pulled himself from beneath the console, Roses sudden lack of something to say in the midst of their conversation causing him concern.
They'd been talking about things from sports to desserts as he worked tirelessly on his TARDIS, trying to figure out why the ship was acting so sluggish and utterly ... well, odd.
They'd returned from Uberrhaust after an exhausting eight kilometer run, escaping not from its inhabitants, who were more than friendly towards them. No, they ended up running from the visiting Pellanthors, who were none too happy to have their quiet little vacation disturbed by the prattling Time Lord and his companion. The Doctor and Rose ran from promises of giving The Oncoming Storm the gift of silence, something neither he nor Rose could possibly fathom.
That had been almost three hours ago. In their haste for escape, the Doctor had set the TARDIS coordinates for the Void, and she'd jerked them thoroughly around the console room in weak protest, because really, she could have done much worse to them in her sudden state of duress. For some reason, she had lurched into the Vortex and simply frozen there. The Doctor couldn't make her budge. And although it was a relatively safe place to be, he didn't fancy spending an extended amount of time there. He'd tried almost everything to make her move, but her resistance prevailed, which lead them to now - he working on the ship and Rose keeping him company.
He'd been talking to Rose and she'd been talking to him, and then her words came to a halt as did her restless pacing around the console, which he thought even odder than his ship acting the way it had. He'd heard her footfalls stop at the same time he'd asked her a question about her favorite Earth season, still unanswered as he stood above the grating from where he'd just been working.
"Rose? Is something wrong?" Another question gone unanswered as he carefully approached her, noting her rigid posture.
The Doctor stood in front of her, watching her solicitously as he lined himself up to meet Rose's glazed stare, yet she still did not seem to see him. No, it appeared she was looking right through him, and he itched with a niggling of fear, knowing this certainly was not normal.
"Rose?" The Doctor waved a hand in front of her face, noting it did not distract her from her oblivious stare.
"Oh my God." She spoke the words but did not return to him from her apparent catatonic state.
Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he called her name once more, softly, hopefully, and still got no response. Worry was clear in his voice as the Doctor lifted the instrument and aimed it towards her, wanting to know what was wrong. But when she began to sway he jumped towards her, dropping the screwdriver and grabbing hold as he fell with her, cushioning her rapid descent to the hard floor with his own body.
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The Doctor checked Rose over thoroughly, his worry worn quite clearly on his features as he ran test after test on his unconscious companion.
At first he'd suspected neuroleptic malignant syndrome, but she hadn't exhibited enough of the symptoms to confirm his diagnosis. There was no elevated temperature, no rigidity in her limbs, and no real delirium to speak of.
Still, her continued catatonia had him perplexed, and more than a little scared.
He thought back to their trip to Uberrhaust. It was possible that she'd come into contact with some sort of chemical that was toxic to her system, but so far nothing was showing up on his tests. It was also possible that perhaps the Pellanthors had done harm to her in their haste to quiet him. Though nothing had shown up, it certainly didn't mean he would stop looking.
The Doctor's focus was quickly drawn to the couch where Rose lay. A subtle twitch of her hand caught his peripheral vision. When her head inclined slightly towards the left, he instantly moved to stand beside her.
"Rose? Rose - come on now. Can you open your eyes?"
She could feel a cool hand on her, rubbing her cheek with gentle swirling motions. Up and down. Cheek to forehead. Forehead to cheek. Swirl. It was ... kind of enticing. It was ... The Doctor. He was calling to her, but why?
Rose opened her eyes and looked around the Infirmary, recognizing it immediately. Then she closed her eyes as pain forced itself dominantly into her awareness.
"Rose? What's wrong? I need you to stay alert and tell me what's going on." His voice carried a tone of utter concern and she couldn't help but open her eyes again to look at him, not wanting to cause him any worry. She was relieved to discover the pain she'd felt before had diminished.
"Why'm I in here?" she asked, lifting herself to lean on her elbows.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don' know? How'd I get in here?"
"I carried you, actually. How are you feeling right now?"
"I, um, I feel fine. You carried me? What happened?"
"Well," the Doctor began, sitting himself beside her hip on the couch. "I was working on the TARDIS, and you were wandering around the center console. We were talking and then you simply froze in place. When I came to you, it seemed you were in an almost trance-like state."
"I don' remember any of that."
"No, suppose you wouldn't. Like I said," he began, staring into her eyes very closely, "you were a bit out of it." He looked at her intently. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"I ..." she paused, looking up at the very white ceiling for a moment. "Bananas."
"Beg your pardon?" the Doctor asked, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
"We were talkin' about ice cream - you were busy doin' whatever you were doin' under the console, and you said you wanted some vanilla ice cream with hot fudge drippin' all over it. And I remember thinkin' you must be really busy under there because you didn't once say anythin' about wantin' some bananas with it all."
"Hmm," was the Doctor's only reply as he looked at Rose closely, staring intensely. For a moment she felt a bit uncomfortable - but only for a moment. She watched the Doctor as he continued looking into her eyes, leaning over her closely. It seemed he did it for an eternity, and when he blinked it actually startled her. "Well, no signs of brain washing or mind control."
"How can you tell?" Rose asked as he placed a hand under her shoulder, helping her to sit up properly.
"Oh, I have my ways," he said as he jumped to his feet. "Think you can stand?"
"Yeah," and she did, noting that he kept a hand on her elbow to steady her. She must've scared him pretty good, because he obviously wasn't taking any chances. She figured he'd be taking her to one of the examination tables, but instead he walked her out into the hallway.
Somehow they ended up in the kitchen, which surprised Rose further.
"What're we doin' in here?"
"Why getting some tea, of course. And some juice for you as well. You're a a little bit dehydrated and your electrolytes are low."
"So you think that's why I passed out up there?"
"Nope. Just noticed those things while I was examining you," he told her almost too cheerfully as he set down a cup of tea and a rather large glass of juice in front of her, "and there's no reason to ignore them."
He sat down in front of her then, reaching over to the counter for the tea he'd prepared for himself.
Rose sipped at her juice then set the glass down. "How long was I out?"
"Oh, about a half an hour or so, give or take a few minutes. Thing is, I don't know yet what caused it. I ran extensive tests on you while you were in the Infirmary and found nothing to explain why you collapsed like you did."
"Nothing?"
"Not a thing. But don't worry. I will figure it out." The Doctor gave her his most winning smile, his determination clear. She couldn't help but smile back at him.
He eventually lead her to her room, allowing her to rest within its comforts as opposed to the Infirmary, for which she was grateful. Whatever ailed her, she was sure it was simply due to their running back to the TARDIS, and rest was probably the only cure she needed. She as much as told him so.
The Doctor, however, wasn't quite so convinced.
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