A/N: Seriously, words cannot describe how much grief this fic's been giving me. I first thought of it straight away after Flesh and Stone (Which is why I sort of imagine this being set then.) but it took me until mid-July to finally get past the planning stages and figure out how I was going to write this. And then it was going rather well until I hit a huge wall of writer's block near the very end. (Grrr.) I really, really wish I could have gotten this out there before the finale, since I think the few explanations and resolutions we got in TPO/BB kind of ruin some of the emotional impact of this, (Don't let that throw you off! It's just me overreacting.) but at the moment I'm just glad this is finally finished.
Right, so on a slightly more important note, this might be pretty confusing for people whose minds don't work like mine. (AKA the rest of the universe.) I'll put an explanation at the bottom of the fic, and I'm handing out shirtless pictures of Matthew Waterhouse to anyone who gets what's going on before they get there. (...That was a joke. Thankfully.)
And finally, (I know, I'm rattling on a bit, aren't I? I like to think of it as one of my more likable traits.) as a rule I try to only write fics that haven't ever been done before, and come up with original ideas. Unfortunately, I haven't been reading many fics this summer, so I honestly have no idea if this has been done before, and I'm really, really, really sorry is it has. If you or someone else has already written something like this, please send me a link to that fic; I'd absolutely love to read it!
~M&M
Disclaimer: Rose and 10.5 belong to RTD. And all the emotional arcs going throughout this fic are inspired by plot arcs in Season 5, which belongs to Steven Moffat.
Pairing: 10.5/Rose, with references to 10/Rose. (Obviously.)
And as a slightly obvious side-note, italics indicate flashbacks.
("I dreamt I was slipping through the cracks in the universe...slipping so hard and searching for love with more than my eyes.")
And as those final words echo across her subconsciousness and die, Rose Tyler wakes up.
She jerks to life, flinching at the sudden wave of morning light that seeps through the thin blinds and gather in pools of sunshine around her feet. Somewhere, far off, an alarm clock is buzzing angrily, and she squints tiredly in a vague attempt to stare at her surroundings in blatant confusion. "How...?"
She's home. Not that her apartment is a particularly bizarre place for her to wake up in, but she's sitting in the large armchair that seems to take up about half of her tiny flat, legs curled up underneath her and a cramp in her neck from sleeping in such a strange position. Her fingers sprawl across the words that lie across her lap; a large, open textbook that hangs off of where her knees end, on the very verge of tumbling to the floor. Now utterly, if not completely confused, she draws in a deep, sleepy breath, and tries as best as she can to figure out why nothing seems to make sense this morning.
This is...odd. Isn't it? She clearly remembers that she stopped trying to understand any of the rubbish scribbled down in these heavy-bound books ever since it stopped mattering to her, and she hasn't slept in this chair ever since her last excursion to Bad Wolf Bay. None of it ever really seemed like much of a priority anymore, not since she'd finally managed to accomplish what she'd begun pretending to read all those books for. Well, sort of. And last night...she definitely hadn't fallen asleep here last night. Definitely. Because last night had been...
She smiles, absentmindedly inflicting a tiny rip on to the page beneath her fingers. Last night was not something she'd forget anytime soon. It had been nice. Nice and important. It had felt like things were finally beginning to fall into place, and beginning to make sense for the first time in a long while...
Continuing to smile, despite the sudden oddness of it all, and carelessly pushing the textbook to the floor, Rose rises from her seat, shuddering when her bones creak from her unnatural position. The flat is still around her, as if she's the only person living here. Shaking her head at the absurdity of her life, and beginning to jump to the conclusion that she's been victim to a certain someone's strange sense of humour, she gives the chair one last bemused look before heading for the bedroom.
"Hullo?"
Long, powerful fingers draped themselves over hers, cool skin gripping her tightly as the wind relentlessly buffeted them. She let her hair waft across her face, staring down at his hands, and flexing hers within his grip while frowning.
"Your skin's still colder than mine." Her voice sounded faint, and was nearly drowned out by the roar of the waves.
Obviously trying not to upset her any more than she already was, he bent his knees as far as they could go, leaning down to reach her height. The wind blew her hair further over her face, masking her through fine tumbles of flaxen gold, so he continued to bend down until he was looking straight up at her. She peered back through the locks that hid her tearful eyes, and he shot her a painfully familiar smile. "Still half Time Lord."
She swallowed timidly. "But only half him."
He didn't reply, and by the time the corners of his mouth had twisted downward, and he moved his free hand to join the one already holding hers, she was already backing away. He let her slide gently through his fingers, which slowly curved around the briny air as if to cup an imaginary cheek.
When she opened her lips to try and speak, the feeling of salt against her tongue was as overpowering as it was oppressive, and it stopped her before she could utter a word. And standing there, staring into the clone's wide, fearful eyes, the truth suddenly hit her. He understood her. He knew her. Every thought and fibre and every little detail that made her Rose Tyler, he knew it; more than herself, or any other person she'd ever met. And it was only once this dawned on her that she realized that if it were him-if it were really him-then she wouldn't have felt so afraid.
She giggles to herself as she tiptoes up to the door, wondering if his superior Time Lord senses he claims to still have will realize that she's there. Somewhere, deep down in the depths of her mind, it occurs to her that she's standing outside her own bedroom door, as if she's waiting for him to let her in. He's the most domestic thing to have happened to her since she arrived in this universe. She'll have to do something about that, and soon.
The old, beaten up rucksack lying next to the door in her front hallway will do nicely. It's already packed and ready to be used whenever either of them needs it. She's had it long before he reentered her life, and has put it to good use whenever the pace and stress of everyday life began to suffocate her. She's kept it there, just in case the same thing ever happens to him.
Deciding that this is her own room, and she has every right to march in whenever she wants, she pushes the door open. She grins cheekily, opening her mouth to greet his sleepy face with a good morning, but stops once she enters, smile fading. There's no one there. Instead of a lanky Time Lord, she finds herself gazing at an empty bed; sheets uniformly smooth and flat against the mattress, as if no one's slept here for a long time.
Her hands were shaking. Perhaps a little too much for her to maintain the mask of a sophisticated Torchwood executive she'd been building up over the years, but under the current circumstances Rose thought she was doing rather well.
Tea bags in the sink. Several books covering her favourite armchair. A pair of trainers hanging from the doorknob. She all but ran from one side of the flat to the other, her trembling hands making it nearly impossible for her to tidy up. He just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at her as she zigzagged around him with an expression she couldn't quite place, and made an effort not to look at.
Eventually, she came to a halt in the middle of the apartment, clutching a thick book in her quaking hands and glancing fretfully around the tiny room while she tried to remember where she usually kept it. He just smiled, and didn't even look at where he was pointing when he jabbed a long finger in the direction of the book shelf hanging above her TV.
She dodged around him nervously, pushed the book into a hollow in the top shelf, and turned around, ready to tell him where he could sleep. She jumped, however, when she realized that he'd managed to silently sneak up behind her while her back was turned, and was staring up at the row of books in horror. "Advanced temporal physics?"
She gave a casual shrug. "Had to try and learn something if I was gonna get back to you...him." He gazed at her, raising an eyebrow knowingly, and she stared at the ground. After a second or two of shuffling her feet nervously, she finally sighed. "There's a copy of Bridget Jones' Diary stuffed behind them."
She could almost hear his smile. "The book?"
"The...film." She fought the urge to smile back and quickly changed the subject. "Sorry it's so messy here." She dragged her gaze away from the carpet, and when their eyes exchanged a fleeting look, the next sentence just seemed to slip out. "I wasn't really expecting to come back."
His smirk faded, and she flinched at how bitter she'd sounded. After all, it wasn't his fault he was only a copy of the man she'd used to roam the universe with. Then again, it wasn't exactly her fault he'd been pretty much forced to stay at her place by her slightly desperate mother. "There's...there's a chair over there you can sleep in. Tomorrow I'll talk to Pete and we'll try and get you your own place."
By the time he could even bring himself to say anything back, she was gone.
He confuses her. And sometimes it seems like he goes out of his way just to weird her out, but this is a new one. And, unlike his typical antics, she honestly can't see the funny side to this.
Rose sits down quietly on the edge of the bed. Beside it, the entire bedside table has been cleared of all his belongings, and a quick peek into the drawers where he stashes the assortment of alien gadgets she manages to smuggle back from work for him is the exact same; empty.
Something's not right. "Theta?" she ventures, trying unsuccessfully to stop her voice from shaking.
There's still no reply; no high-pitched moan asking what she wants now, none of that maddening creaking as he tromps around their flat. No him. She repeats herself, this time managing to speak louder than before, but there's only silence.
An unearthly shiver runs down her spine, and she can feel the goosebumps creeping up her arms as she rises instinctively to her feet. On the opposite side of the room stands their closet, and she strides meaningfully towards it without thinking. Her hand shoots out, grabbing the door and swinging it open with a low creak that only makes her skin crawl even more.
Inside the wardrobe she finds all her clothing; her hoodies are hung next to the uncomfortable suits Pete bought her within a week of joining Torchwood and her are jeans folded smartly on top. But they're not mingling with someone else's clothes, or slid to one side of the closet like they usually are after her Mum pops in for an intrusive visit. They're spread out, filling up the entire wardrobe as if there's nothing missing.
She's panicking by now, breaths bursting out in forceful rasps as she fights to choke back the tears that she knows will hit her sooner of later. A quick rummage through the closet doesn't provide anything useful, but it's when she glances at the door that her heart truly breaks. Laces tied in a knot, and bumping against each other from when the wind from the unlatched window cuffed them, Rose's trainers hang from the doorknob. And his converse-which have always hung from the same knob as hers since he discovered her strange habit-are gone.
He's gone.
A few weeks later she was still sleeping in her bedroom, largely due to the fact that she couldn't get the half-alien that was living on her armchair to leave. It wasn't either of their faults if there just weren't any decent apartments in the area, but she still couldn't help but feel frustrated every time she looked at the clone. He looked like him. And that made things so very complicated.
She slipped out of bed, wriggling her toes in the frigid morning air while she yawned. As she walked across the bedroom, the floor was silent beneath her feet-a skill she'd developed back when she'd needed to sneak out without waking up her mum. The clone, unfortunately, didn't posses such an ability, and the heavy creaking that filled the flat whenever he walked anywhere could easily send her mad. But now that she thought about it, him just being there was making her crazy, causing her to feel more and more annoyed every day. The creaking might not have anything to do with it at all.
Still yawning, she plodded into the living room and, sticking to her usual routine, remained silent. That was the way it worked now. He'd watch her from where he was curled up, and she'd say nothing as she tried her best not to look at him. Like usual, no sound came from her guest, but when she sneaked a quick, unavoidable peek at him over her shoulder, the silence seemed more poignant than ever.
He was still curled up on the armchair, but this time he lay faced away from her, and Rose could see his back trembling through his thin shirt. His hands were clenching his hair in silent frustration, knuckles turning a bloodless white while they shook. For a few minutes her eyes remained glued to his shivering form, and it was only when the first sob fell from his hidden lips that she approached him.
Unable to even stop herself, she flew to the clone's side and, finally realizing what she was doing, tentatively placed a hand on his back. Besides the only slightly weaker cry that greeted her, his only response to her touch was to turn his head deeper into the cushion at his side as he continued to shake.
"It's okay..." she gasped out, now on the very verge of tears herself, but still unable to think of anything useful to say. "I'm here. It's okay...it's alright..." The weeks she'd spent judging him fell away as he wept, and she had to fight the urge to repeat those three haunting words from Bad Wolf Bay, knowing only too well that once she said that there would be no going back. As his sobs persisted it all became clear to her; he was scared. He was trapped in this snare of a universe, a feeling she was only too accustomed to. But while she'd had a loving mother, a sort-of-father and an ex-boyfriend to help her through her adjustment, he had no one. Just her.
Her.
And then the true tragedy of his situation hit her, filling her heart with grief and her stomach with dread. He was born in the fires of the TARDIS, while she'd stood hand in hand with the real him, unable to realize what was really going on. His existence had begun with the regeneration, so he'd missed their reunion; that desperate embrace and cheeky exchange about the dimension cannon. Without even realizing it, she'd never even said hello to him, yet she'd spent all these weeks trying so hard to say goodbye. And he'd been caught in the middle of her emotional turmoil without any chance of escape, or any opportunity to explain himself to her. She'd never even given him a chance.
Curling herself around his thin frame, Rose reached out with a free hand to comfort him. She pressed her palm into his shoulder, fingers wrapping around the material that encompassed it. On her other side, his skin was cool beneath her fingertips, the lean arches of his ribcage pulsing against them every time another sob wracked his body. He was real.
And he wasn't going anywhere.
Her chest pounds as she runs to her closet, and roots through her coat pocket for her mobile. She dials the number from memory, trying to calm her trembling hands as she pushes the phone against her ear and slides down the wall until she's sitting on the carpet next to the bed.
"Rose?"
"Mum!" The word comes out like a wail, and she can't help but begin to cry at the sound of the familiar voice.
"Rose? What the 'ell you cryin' for? What's the matter sweet'art?"
"'H-He's left me Mum...he's g-gone," she sobs.
"Who 'as?"
"Th..." She pauses, kicking herself for almost saying that name. Frustration builds up inside of her, causing Rose to only cry harder. "The D-Doctor."
There's a long, surprised pause on the other end of the phone-line, interrupted only by her own whimpers, and then Jackie speaks. "Rose, sweet'art...that was a long time ago. Thought you'd finally started to get over it?"
"What?"
"The battle! Back in London, remember? The other London, I mean. When you...I thought you didn't like talkin' 'bout it?"
"Look Mum, jus'...jus' try an' make sense jus' for once, yeah? The Doctor, John, whatever; he's gone. All his stuff's missin' and I c-can't find 'im anywhere."
"Rose, 'e's back in the other universe, remember?"
"No! Not...not him! The...clone." The word feels like bile in her throat. He's so much more than that.
"Clone? You feelin' alrigh'?"
"What're you talking 'bout?"
There's another pause, this time interrupted by the faint sound of jangling as Jackie searches for her keys. "Stay righ' there. I'm comin' over."
The line goes dead.
"I'm back! Sorry I'm late. Had to pop in on Mum and help her with Tony. You know what he's like with his food. You alright?" There was no answer. Unwinding her scarf from around her neck, Rose pulled the door shut behind her and carried her groceries into the kitchen. "John?" Still no answer. "Doctor?"
Rose raised an eyebrow, beginning to feel suspicious. Once things had begun to get sorted out between them, she'd quickly discovered that this version of the Doctor was just as cheeky as the original, and she'd had to re-learn to expect anything. Not that she minded at all-it was one of his more likable traits-but it meant she had to always be on the lookout for whatever he had in mind.
Rose placed her groceries on the kitchen floor and, grinning knowingly, reached up and grabbed the handle sticking out of the cabinet above her. She counted down mentally, getting ready for whatever was lurking in there. 1...2...
"Gotcha!" She swung the cupboard open with a shriek of laughter, but her giggles quickly died. Not one single hyperactive half-alien jumped out at her. Rubbish. She rolled her eyes and leaned down to lift up the groceries, but when she placed them on the countertop, she noticed something.
Inside the open cupboard, neatly lined up in a perfect row, were all of her mugs. There were the several rather hideous ones with the Torchwood logo printed on them, a few pink ones she'd received from various acquaintances for her birthday, and the red and green monstrosity she'd gotten from her Mum at Christmas. Apparently, the people of this universe thought mugs made an ideal gift, and who was Jackie Tyler to argue with society, or its fads? On the other side of the cupboard, she could see the only two mugs that were ever used. One was a light lime green, and covered in little pictures of glittering stars and tiny UFOs. She'd gotten it soon after moving into this apartment, back before she'd thought she'd have a chance at getting back to her own universe. The other one was a deep blue, and had a picture of Gir from Invader Zim on it. She'd bought it for the...clone soon after establishing that he was here to stay, and it clashed against the dark souvenirs from Torchwood, but looked strangely at home next to her own space-themed mug.
Right now, however, everything seemed to be clashing with everything else. Someone-and she had a pretty good idea who-had covered each and every mug with large, colourful, if slightly misshapen dots. She reached out to feel the one her Mum had given her, hoping it was just a sticker-but no, it was painted on. Of course.
A quick poke through the rest of the cupboard to make sure he hadn't gotten paint on anything else proved that he'd only gone after the mugs, and that the rest of her stuff was undamaged, so she stomped off towards the living room, trying her best to keep calm.
But when she reached the door of the living room, Rose stopped where she was. The clone lay sprawled across the armchair, limbs spread out lankily over it as he slept soundly. His face was angled upwards, and she could see that his cheeks were covered in small, technicolour freckles; specks of paint that had managed to land all over his face and, by the looks of it, all over his clothes as well. He looked knackered; racing around and causing who-knew-what-other-mayhem in the gold mine that was her flat would have been effortless for his fully Time Lord counterpart, but this half-human version had been easily tired out from his sudden burst of creativity.
She leaned against the doorframe, wondering whether she should feel sorry for him or just burst out laughing, and then walked back into the kitchen for a wet cloth. When she returned she sat down on the edge of the couch, and began to dab away at the many dots of paint that covered his cheeks. His body didn't move, but his eyes instantly flew open to stare at her. Neither of them said anything, but both smiled softly as she continued to dab. Finally, realizing that whatever substance he'd used wasn't going to come off so easily, and wondering why she didn't feel quite so annoyed about her mugs as she'd been earlier, she leaned down and pressed a soft, quick, yet affectionate kiss against one of the green freckles just to the left of his nose.
"M'sorry."
When she pulled away he was smiling even more than ever, and he gave her a subtle wink before closing his eyes and once more drifting off to sleep.
She stayed by his side for a long while after that. Not much could have stopped her from doing so.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But another search around the apartment proves that it is, and by the time Rose reaches the kitchen she's ready to just curl up in some dark cavity and cry herself to sleep. She stands at the entrance to the kitchen, legs shaking as she tries to stop the waves of memories that continuously assault her, and wipes a stray tear from her cheek.
Why would he leave her? After everything they've been through, after what he'd promised her last night, why on Earth would he even think about leaving her? If he'd needed a break from this domestic life of theirs, couldn't he have said something? They could have left together. She'd told him they could.
What if it's her he's running from?
A shudder runs down her spine, but she shakes her head. She doesn't need that idea digging into her consciousness. Not right now. If she can just focus on what's important, then maybe she can figure out what's going on.
If occurs to her that she's been standing in the same spot for at least 10 minutes, so she jerks back to the present, staring at the tiny kitchen unhappily. A sudden thought strikes her, and she bounds across the room, pulling open a familiar cupboard as a hopeful look enters her eyes. But inside all she finds is disappointment, and the look soon vanishes.
His mug is gone. She traces the unmarked spot where it used to sit, once again fighting tears. It was stupid of her to get so hopeful about something so little. If he'd bothered to take all of his other belongings, then of course he would have taken this. But it does help, does slightly warm her sullen heart when it occurs to her that he bothered to take something that she bought him. Maybe he didn't run away at all. Maybe he didn't want to leave. Maybe he was kidnapped, or abducted by aliens, or-
Her gaze falls to the other mugs in the cupboard, and she feels as though she's going to be sick. They're all still there, just like she left them, but they're dull and bare; all traces of that seemingly immovable paint he sloshed all over them is gone, as if he was never here in the first place.
Somewhere behind her, someone raps on the door, causing her to jump several feet. She gently pushes the cupboard shut, walks into the hallway and opens the door. She stares, shocked by what she's seeing.
"Rose! Jacks said you was actin' weird, so I thought I'd come by and see what's up. You alrigh'?"
Rose blinks, confused. "Mickey?"
He stared at her for a few seconds, and then, unable to keep it in any longer, let out a wild snort of laughter. She just gaped back at him, blushing to herself while he giggled. Whenever she'd imagined this happening, this was definitely not what she'd had in mind. "What?"
"Nothing!" he nearly yelled back, still grinning from his perch on the countertop.
"Fine then, I just won't ever say it," she muttered bitterly. Sobering slightly, he opened his mouth to reply, but she turned from him and dropped her plate into the sink, feeling more and more flustered with each moment that went by.
"Rose?" She didn't respond, so he gave her a light kick in he side with his bare feet. She swatted him away, still not smiling, and still refusing to look at him, so he slid across the slippery counter, all but throwing himself into her line of vision, and very nearly sticking his elbow into a sink full of dishwater. "It's just...your accent."
She leaned around him, still trying to clean her own plate after scrubbing off the mess he'd left on his own. "Get off. What do you mean, my accent?"
"No. It just sounds funny when you say it. Feeta," he imitated with a broad grin, only causing her to blush ever more. "Feeta...Feet! Like you're calling me Feet. Not the best name in the world, I'll admit, but I suppose it could be worse. Rather odd thing to call someone though, isn't it? Here, smell my feet."
He scooted back from his place over the sink, and thrust his bare foot towards her. Finally, she smiled, and pushed him away with a titter. "Ew, no! I don't wanna smell your fishy feet!"
"Rose Tyler!" he gasped. "My feet certainly do not smell like fish!"
"They certainly do," she lied.
"Do not!"
"They did last night!" At first she giggled to herself, but then she saw his wide eyes, and turned away once again when she realized what she'd said. Her smile faltered and fell as she felt his eyes on her back, and she tried to ignore his gaze by scraping the remainder of her dinner into the sink. It didn't work.
Beside her, she could see him swinging his legs in the air like a small child, and could tell that he was thinking to himself. Finally, he spoke. "That armchair's really uncomfortable."
"Uh huh. That's why I managed to sleep in it for two years."
He tried again. "It was noisy outside. I wanted to make sure you hadn't been woken up."
"You woke me up." She glanced up again, and this time it was his turn to look away apprehensively. Chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, and fighting the urge to run her soaked hands through her hair out of sheer nervousness, she raised a trainer-clad foot and managed to give him a prod in the side. "I didn't mind."
He looked up, eyes brightening considerably as he did so. "Then...would you mind if I slept there again tonight?"
She pushed a wet plate into his hands. "Only if you dry up."
His grin could of lit up all of London. "Ta."
"Don't mention it. After all, doesn't look like you're going anywhere soon, and I don't feel like saving up for a new bed."
He reached for a nearby towel and began to rub the dish she'd given him. "I could always-"
"No! It's...it's fine." She sent him a grin and, pretending that her reply hadn't been so abrupt, continued to wash up. A few minutes passed, and they fell into a companionable silence. Then, she looked up, and gave him the most sincere smile she'd given anyone in a long while. "Theta."
It wasn't a question, or a calling. Just a statement. A fact.
"Feeta," he mimicked back with a giggle.
"Shut up," she laughed, splashing him with dishwater.
She's sprawled out on the floor, leaning against the the armchair on which she once spent so many restless nights, and staring blankly at the wall opposite her. In the kitchen she can hear people talking; her Mum and Mickey, murmuring quietly to themselves to ensure that she can't hear them. But in spite of this, fragments of their conversation seep through the thin walls, making her wince.
"Thinks the Doctor's 'ere, in this universe! I told 'er..."
"Looked like she'd seen a ghost when I walked in. Does Pete know about..."
"What if she's havin' one of those meltdowns? Hallucinatin' an' stuff like all those teens I read about in my mags..."
Letting out a low moan, Rose lowers her head between her legs, and reaches up to desperately grip the arms of the chair behind her. How is Mickey here? She clearly remembers leaving him behind in the other universe before coming here. And where's Theta? Where's his stuff? Where the hell has her life gone?
She lifts up her head to look around. The flat's gone silent, as if Jackie and Mickey aren't quite sure what to say next, and she sighs, just wishing things could be back to normal.
As she stares at the room around her, something catches her eye. A bookshelf, tall and thin, impressive and daunting, and hiding the real her. A flimsy carpet, housing floorboards that creak whenever most people tread on them. And a few metres away, an old, beaten-up rucksack, lying next to the door in preparation. It's ready for her.
He might of broken his promise, but he's not the only one who's made vows. She promised him forever. And that's what he's going to get.
"Stop laughing."
She shook her head, and let out another giggle. "Can't help it! S'just so strange seeing you here."
"I've been here before."
"Yeah, and I laugh every time." He squeezed her hand, and they both went silent for a moment, shivering slightly as they passed this universe's version of the Ghost-Shift Room. There was a quick flash of white, the image of a large, daunting wall, and then they were past it, smiles returning to their faces as they navigated through the corridors of Torchwood.
They slipped into one of the offices lining the hallways, and several of Rose's coworkers greeted them warmly on the way in. She smiled calmly at them, but gave his hand another squeeze, and had to stop herself from jumping up and down with excitement. She couldn't believe this was actually happening!
They crossed the room quickly, and her companion casually sat down on one of the employee's desks. The owner of the desk, a young researcher named Derek, looked up from his current project, and went pale when he spotted the alien perched upon his workspace, and the girl next to it. "Oh. Um, hello Rose."
She smiled warmly. "Morning Derek."
"Hello Derek!" Theta exclaimed, waving merrily at the young man, who just stared back at him in terror.
"H-hello Doctor J-John." Even compared to Rose, Derek was short, so Theta, bless him, towered over the poor lad. As a result, Derek was absolutely terrified of the Time Lord, and was reduced to a shivering wreck whenever the alien was around. Rose didn't quite understand why. Theta didn't even work for Torchwood, so it wasn't like he could fire him. If there was anyone Derek should be afraid of, it was her.
"Fancy coming with us?"
Derek's eyes widened at the alien's proposal. "But-"
"It'll just take a second, love," Rose replied with a wink. "C'mon, up you get."
They linked arms with him on both sides and pulled the poor man from his chair, quickly making a beeline for the nearest elevator as they ignored the confused stares that followed them across the room. Once inside the elevator, Rose grinned at Derek, who looked like he was about to have a minor heart attack. On the other side of the man, Theta was humming the Jaws theme, which didn't really help matters, if Rose was honest. He paused in mid-rendition to press the lowest button on the panel in front of him, and then they were off.
A few minutes later they arrived in the basement, which was completely empty save a few crates with a large T stamped on the side. Rose helped drag the researcher out, who looked close to just running away, despite the fact that the elevator was the only way out. Beside him, Theta pulled something out of his pocket, and Derek stared at it in a half-panic. "What is that?"
Rose could see why he was confused. The object her companion held was a large block of coral, with several pieces of blue crystal jutting out of it in various directions. A long strap ran out of it, which was attached to a metal bracelet, covered in buttons and about just big enough for Rose to put her hand through. The Doctor stared at the device as if it were nothing. "What, this? Nothing much. Just a little something I've been working on. Torchwood's not good enough for me, see? Gotta do my own little projects to keep myself busy. Now hold still while I put this on your wrist."
"What? No!" After a few minutes of struggling, Rose managed to get Derek to slip the wristband on, but that didn't change the fact that he looked as if he hoped the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.
She gave his shoulder a comforting pat. 'It's gonna be fine. Just you watch-it'll be really quick, yeah?"
He gave a nervous nod, so she turned to Theta and gave him a thumbs up. He stepped forward and pushed a few buttons on Derek's wrist. "See you in a bit!"
"What? How-" Derek didn't get to finish his sentence. A few sparks flew out of the bracelet, and there was a harsh, familiar grinding sound, which filled the empty spaces of the basement with noise and filled Rose's eyes with tears, and then Derek was gone.
About an hour later, while Rose and Theta were playing football by sitting on crates on either side of the basement and kicking an old ping-pong ball they'd found to one another, the same sound filled the cavernous room, and they looked up in anticipation. A few metres away, Derek materialized, and would have crumpled to the ground if Theta hadn't caught him. "Woah! Okie Dokie? Nothing broken? Brilliant! Hold this for a mo."
He shoved the large piece of coral into Derek's hands, and the man stumbled backwards for a moment. After checking some of the dials on the wristband, the alien finally grabbed his experiment's wrist, and stared down at the poor man's watch.
Behind them, Rose peered over Theta's shoulder. "Did it work?" she asked breathlessly.
The bone-crushing hug she received was the only answer she needed, and she laughed gleefully as Theta swung her around. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder just like she'd done with a sort-of-same man not so long ago, and grinned. Behind them, Derek just stared, still stumbling backwards under the weight of the TARDIS coral he was carrying.
"Your ticket, Miss Tyler?" Rose jumps, hitting her leg against the wall next to her. She fumbles through her bag, finally producing a torn-up ticket stub and forcing a smile as best as she can. Outside, London is quickly disappearing below her feet, taking her mother and Mickey away with it. She wouldn't usually choose this form of travel, but for such a short distance, zeppelin is the most convenient way to get where she's going.
As the ticket checker walks off, she leans her forehead against the glass window at her side and closes her eyes. Before reaching the airport, she'd stopped off at Torchwood, greeting everyone in her usual manner and trying to pretend nothing was happening. By the time she'd reached the basement, however, her facade had slipped completely, and the pain and the heartache she'd been experiencing all day had only doubled when she realized what else she'd lost.
The TARDIS-or at least, had been grown so far-was gone.
And now, with a lonely heart beating under her chest, telling her that none of this could be true, and her soul screaming out for its second half, Rose knows there's only one more place she can go.
"I don't get it," he piped up one night. She tore her eyes away from the TV, just in time to miss Bridget laying one on Mr. Darcy, and stared down at him.
"What don't you get?"
He gestured to the room around them. "You work for Torchwood. In fact, your father practically owns it. The rest of your family's living in a big old mansion, and you're stuck here. Why?"
She shrugged. "Had to move out. Everythin' was jus' gettin' to be a bit too much, you know?"
"But why here? Why not somewhere a bit..."
She smiled. "Bit more luxurious?"
"I was gonna say a bit bigger, but yeah, that works too."
The credits began to roll, and she turned towards him, looking down at him from her armchair. He leaned back to stare up at her, and she grinned. "Stay 'ere."
"Alright but-" Before he could finish his sentence she rushed off, and returned a moment later with an all-too-familiar rucksack. "I was wondering what that thing was for."
"Well now you're gonna find out. Budge up." He shifted to the side, and she sat herself down next to him, opening the up bag as she did so. "I've been saving up ever since I arrived in this universe. This was the cheapest place I could afford without livin' in a complete dump, so I decided it'd do."
"Saving up for what?"
She showed him the inside of the bag. There were several t-shirts and a pair of pants, a passport and a wallet. "For whenever I need to get away. You kinda rubbed off on me, y'know? Found it hard to stay 'ere, just...workin' for people and havin' to put up with Mum all the time."
He grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about, and reached out to fiddle with one of the rucksack's straps. "She is a bit of handful. Have you used it yet?"
"A few times. Jus' not very recently. I started to find everythin' a bit more...adjustable once I found out I could get back. And once you...y'know."
He nodded. "Yeah."
The silence that followed felt empty, and Rose looked down, watching her nails dig into the carpeted floor. "I was thinkin'..."
"Oh, that's a change!"
"Shut up. It's jus'...there's still a bit of room left in bag. We could..." She trailed off, and he stared at her, urging her on.
"What?"
"I mean, it'd just be until the TARDIS is done growin'. We could get away for a bit. Wouldn't really be the same, but it'd be somethin', y'know?"
A moment passed. And then another. And then, slowly, barely visible in the dying light of the fading credits, Theta grinned. "There you are."
"Huh?"
"You're you."
"Um, hello. Course I'm me. What're you on about?"
"When you came back, you were a bit..." He trailed off, and then sighed. "This universe didn't really agree with you, did it?"
She swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Not without you, no."
He frowned. "Everything about you...you've changed rather a lot over the past few months."
"How?"
"Well, you're brighter. You smile a lot more. And your accent's back, completely. When you came back to our universe you were so different. Whenever you spoke you sounded older than you should, like you were trying to impress someone."
She swallowed at the revelation. "I am older."
"Maybe." He touched her arm, his grin now gone. "But you weren't Rose Tyler."
A tear ran down her cheek, but she tried to ignore it. "Did he notice?"
"Oh yes. Just as much as I did. But he knew you were in there somewhere, just waiting to come out of hiding."
She closed her eyes. It didn't matter anymore; the movie was over, and they were sitting in the night-light, encompassed by the silence and by the darkness. And the only sound that broke through was her harsh sob. "I missed you...I missed you so much..."
"I know."
"And I just knew...I knew if I could jus' come back an'..."
"I know."
"But then...then there was you. This you." She tried to stop crying, and attempted to look at him through the darkness. "S'not fair."
"I know. But he'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I know him. More than you could understand. I am him, Rose. Maybe not enough to please you, but enough for me to call myself the Doctor. And I know that he'll manage, no matter what happens next."
"No. You're w-wrong." She shook her head and closed her eyes, no longer trying to see through the darkness, but speaking and listening, entering a state of mind where blindness was life and silence was death. And for the first time since he'd taken hold of her hand at Bad Wolf Bay, she knew who she was talking to. "Maybe this isn't what I 'ad planned out when I came back, and maybe it took me a while to realize that I still...that you're really 'im, but I am happy. I really am. For the first time in really, really long time. I just wish he could be, too."
"Oh, Rose..." The hand on her arm tightened its grip, and his voice sang out through the darkness. "He will be. But he'll need you to do something for him first." Her throat clogged up, and she knew that the tears were returning once again. But she couldn't let them fall yet, for she couldn't let him fall silent. She had to listen. "Never, ever forget, Rose Tyler. No matter what happens between us, never forget about him, and I can promise that he will never, ever forget about you. And that's enough to make him happy forever."
She never forgot.
But still she flees. Across the sea and across the continent, pinpricks of tears dotting the map behind her as she runs, the wind battering her hair past her face and pushing her body backwards as the waves whip her soul into sublimation. But she never, ever stops running.
The North Sea flows by beneath her, the air guiding her along her path. She falls back down to Earth, landing in a strange land that she knows all too well. The foreign ground is tough against her once so fragile bones, pounding at her feet and breaking her heart even more with every step that she takes.
But still she runs, battling the ever-growing silence, slipping desperately through the cracks in the universe as she trods towards the place where the Ulv runs alongside the Oncoming Storm.
"S'over the counter, where you always put it, remember? Uh huh, 'course you do. That's why you're phonin' me about it. Look I gotta go, I'm...yeah, we're fine Mum. No, he can't come to the phone right now. He's...busy. I'll talk to you later, yeah? Yeah, bye. Bye. Mum, I'm hangin' up now. S'later."
Rose quickly hung up the phone and gave her kitchen an impatient look, as if it were soley responsible for her missing alien. Where was he? Sometimes he stayed out for a bit, but he'd never taken this long coming home. She'd spent enough time hiding that he was missing from her overprotective mother, and was beginning to feel a bit worried herself.
Suddenly, from the next room over, there was a loud bang, and the familiar sound of someone swearing in Gallifreyean. Snapping her mobile shut with a click, and throwing it aside carelessly, Rose ran into the living room just in time to see her best friend crawl in through the window. "Thete!"
He jumped a few feet, and gaped at her like a deer caught in headlights.
A moment passed, and then she spoke. "You're late."
"Late for what?" He didn't make eye contact.
"Late for..." She shook her head. "It's jus', I was worried about you."
"Well, I'm fine." He tried to walk past her, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest as she did so.
"You okay?"
"Sorry?"
"What 'appened? Why're you back so late?"
He stayed silent for a second, then looked down at his feet and mumbled something.
"What?"
"I...fell asleep on the bus." Unable to help herself, she gave a giggle, and he glared at her. "Stop it."
"Sorry. Jus', the thought you doing somethin' so...human." Rose let out another laugh, simply glad that he hadn't gotten in trouble with the local law. Again. She grinned at him across the small room, but he looked miles from grinning back like he usually did. He stared back at her, one eyebrow raising over the other in a mix of shock and anger.
"Human?" He spat the word out like dirt, and she jerked away, realizing that she'd insulted him, and trying to figure out what was wrong before things got too out of hand. It was something she was used to with her mother, but for it to happen with him... "Is that what you think I am?"
"N-no," she stuttered, unnerved by his sudden change in mood. "I jus' meant-"
"You think human is easy for me? That all this-staying in...in flats and falling asleep and dreaming and trying to just live a normal life-you think this all comes naturally?" She stared agog as he lashed out, still trying to think of some reasonable explanation for his sudden outburst. "So what do I do next, Rose? Eh? Get up, catch the bus, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it?"
"W-what about when the TARDIS is ready?" she stammered, trying to keep calm when he obviously couldn't.
"Even then," he paused, and swayed where he was as his discontinued sentence hung in the air. "Even then, I'm not even..." He closed his eyes and, trying to calm his boiling rage, placed one hand over his single heart as if searching for some source of comfort.
She was about to reach out and take his hand, ready to be there for him, when something suddenly dawned on her. Get up...catch the bus...eat chips. She moved closer to the silent alien, and glared at him. "How'd you know to say that?"
He slowly opened his eyes, which were red and baggy, as if he hadn't slept in ages. As he watched her work in out, he took a small step backwards towards the bedroom.
"You've been readin' my thoughts, 'aven't you?"
Theta swallowed, visibly aware that he'd crossed the line. "Still half Time Lord," he mumbled.
"Who said you could do that?" There was no reply, and she continued, realizing that she was beginning to sound slightly hysterical. "Is that what I am, then? So stupid and completely human that I can't even tell you what I'm thinking? Ever occur to you to just get over yourself and ask?"
"Well at least it's the one thing I can still count on while I'm here!" he yelled, throwing his arms up into the air. "Everything else is just so..." His voice died away, and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, turning away from her to enter the bedroom. "Just forget it."
"So what is this then, John?" she called after him as he retreated, voice soft in comparison to how she'd been speaking only a few moments earlier. He flinched at the name, knowing she'd used it on purpose. "Is this just some chore you're doing for your other self? 'Cause if it is then I don't even see the point in you stayin'."
She realized what she was saying before she had even finished talking, and the last word only barely managed to escape before she clasped a hand over her mouth in shock, but it hung in the air as a stunned silence filled the room. "I didn't mean that," she whispered quickly through her fingers, instantly regretting the entire last few minutes.
He just leaned against the door frame, watching her through tired eyes. "Only half him."
Then, he turned around and left her standing there, hands still held over her lips and tears dripping down her cheeks.
A few hours later, rubbing her swollen eyes and sniffling gently to herself, Rose carefully opened the door and slipped into the bedroom. In the thin slit of light that came from the open door, she could see the long lump of duvet where he lay, and she sat down slowly next to him, trying not to wake the alien up.
After all this, getting changed would take too much effort, and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb...whoever was lying next to her, so she decided to sleep in her t-shirt and jeans just for tonight. Sighing to herself, she pulled off her trainers and sat down on the side of the bed.
Suddenly, the body beside her shifted, and she looked up, startled. As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she made out the silhouette of a face, half-turning towards her as if it only half wanted to know what she was doing. Knowing that he probably couldn't see her from that angle, she watched the shape of his face through the night, only looking away when he dropped his head back on to the pillow.
Swallowing back the pain as the memories of their argument resurfaced, she slipped out of her sweater and threw it to the floor, flinching at the sound it made as the zipper clanged against the nearby closet. As she pulled the covers over her legs, a deep gasp reverberated through her throat and escaped, and she had to fight to stop the tears as she lay herself down, burying her face into her pillow as another harsh gasp ripped through her lungs.
Beside her, Rose could feel movement, and she closed her eyes when she felt his palm slip into hers, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb as she continued to hold back tears.
"Say something," she whispered across the bed, unable to bear the silence in which they drowned.
"Like what?" he replied softly, and she gave a sigh of relief at the revelation that his tone was kinder than before.
"Anything. What part of my flat you're gonna destroy tomorrow. What the bus driver did to you when she found you sleepin'. That you think my Mum needs a plane trip to Yemen. That...That you think I'm just a silly little ape."
Through the now-fading darkness, he cupped her cheek with a bare hand, and pulled her closer; still not all the way towards him, but close enough for her to reach out and place her palm over his single heart. She was too late to provide the comfort she'd wanted to supply earlier on, but that couldn't stop her from trying. "You know I don't think that, Rose."
"S'what you seemed to think earlier on."
"But I-" He looked away. "I was feeling frustrated. I just...I do miss being-well, being him. But this isn't so bad."
"What about lately?"
"Especially lately."
She squeezed his hand. "But it's not just that, is it?"
"Sorry?"
"Like, earlier on, with you shoutin' and all...That wasn't about you fallin' asleep on the bus, was it? Somethin' else's been botherin' you." He stared at her, and she gave him a knowing look, wondering if he could see her in the pitch black of their room. "What, you thought I didn't notice? You've been outta sorts for days now."
And he had been. Maybe right now wasn't the best time to address his emotional state, but it had to be done sooner or later. And it was too late to go back now.
"It's nothing. Really, don't worry about it. I'm fine."
"Theta," she sighed, placing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He didn't resist. "You're still him, I get that. I figured that out a long time ago. But we both know that things are different now, and if we're gonna make this work, you're gonna have to start trustin' me." And talking to her, she thought to herself. If he didn't-if he just kept all his thoughts and his problems to himself-then the silence that would follow would kill their relationship without mercy.
She slowly pulled away and sat up, staring down at him through the dark for a few moments as he weighed his options. Finally, he spoke. "It's not even particularly exciting. Just...well, just human, I suppose. I...I haven't been getting much sleep lately."
She smiled, simply grateful that she'd managed to talk some sense into him, and reached out to take hold of his hand once more. "That's why you fell asleep on the bus."
"Yup. And you were right. The driver was rather cross when she realized what I was doing."
She grinned, but then turned serious, staring down at where she knew he lay. "What're you losing sleep over?" He didn't answer. "C'mon, you can tell me."
"...you'll laugh."
"I always laugh. Go on."
"I've been..." He trailed off and sighed, embarrassed. "I've been having these...dreams."
She frowned in response. "You dream?"
"This body does, apparently. Rather odd. And it's not exactly the greatest perk to being half-human, since it never seems to stop." He went quiet for a moment, thinking. "Odd sorts of dreams, though. Much different than anything you'd dream about."
"An' why's that?"
She felt him reach up to touch his left temple, taking her palm with him. "Still got a bit of a connection with the universe. And it picks up some rather odd stuff from time to time. Recently though, I've been getting the same one over and over again."
"An' that's what's been keeping you up." He nodded. "Is it a bad dream?"
"Not bad, no. Just a little bit...frightening."
"Why? What 'appens in it?"
"I dream..." He trailed off and gave a sigh, pulling his hand from her tight grip as his voice faded away; almost as if it were focused not on her, but instead projecting his voice to some faraway place. "I dreamt I was slipping through the cracks in the universe...slipping so hard and searching for...for love with more than my eyes."
She could hear in his voice that he was miles away, falling away from her and floating through the boundaries of time and space. She swallowed, reached out to touch his cheek, and then stopped herself, guilt hitting her as she realized she had to be the one to bring him back down.
"An' did you find it?" she ventured timidly, and she felt his body jump slightly as he crashed back down to Earth.
A few seconds passed and then, hand tightening on hers, he whispered, "You tell me."
Her breath hitched, and so did his, as if he was just as startled by what he'd said. This was it. After months of trying to sort their odd relationship out, one of them had finally broken the silence, and returned to that one word from Bad Wolf Bay.
She considered; she truly did contemplate telling him right then and there, but her lips refused to move, and her eyes closed involuntarily.
By the time they slid back open, his hand had gone limp in hers, and a tear ran down her cheek when he pulled it away. A few moments passed and then, staring up at her dark silhouette, he whispered, "You always laugh."
"S'pose I do, yeah," Rose mumbled. "What of it?"
"You always laugh...but you always stay. And he always laughs...but he never stays. Sooner or later, he has to leave."
"An' what about you?"
"I'd like to stay," he answered truthfully, voice wavering when a strong wind blew in from the open window, causing their trainers to bang against each other from where they hung on the other side of the room.
Rose swallowed nervously, knowing she'd have to ask sooner or later. "An' will you?"
"No." He shook his head, and her heart went numb from the sudden cold that she should have anticipated. She felt two hands wrapping around hers, and she tried to pull away, but he held her close. "I might have been overreacting slightly earlier on, and I am sorry about that, I swear. But in a way I was telling the truth. I can't live like this forever, Rose. You know that. I'll have to leave someday. But," he added, reaching up to wipe away one of the tears that he knew lingered on her cheek. "But I can promise you that I will not leave until you're ready to come with me."
A few moments passed, and then she gave a small smile. "S'pose there's only so much of my Mum either of us can take." His giggle reverberated through the room, and she raised their hands higher, almost guiding their joined fingers to her cheek before she thought better of it. "You promise?"
She felt him nod silently and, just like that, her tears intensified, several splashing down to meet him as she shook uncontrollably. "Rose? Rose, what's the matter?"
"I jus'...I n-need to hear you say it. Sometimes things get so quiet between us, and whenever that 'appens I don't think we're gonna make it. A-And every single time I get all worked up, thinkin' you're gonna leave me...but the next morning you're always here."
"I'm sorry," came the reluctant whisper.
"W-what for?" she sniffled back.
"For letting you doubt me. I should've promised you this a long time ago...but I never thought it needed saying."
"Like...?"
"Yeah. Like that."
She tried to grin, despite her tears. "You do seem to muck up that sort of thing quite a lot." Then, she sobered. "You said you were searching...?"
She could almost hear him frowning at her open end to the question, and even before he spoke she knew she'd receive no answer she hadn't heard before. "You. Tell. Me."
"Theta, I..." Rose closed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching downwards as she desperately ran a hand through her hair. "I need..."
"Tell me," he insisted, not rising from where he lay, but suddenly grasping the human by the shoulders. "Please Rose...I need you to tell me. Even in your mind I can't..." He trailed off and gave a tearful gasp, and Rose felt him turn away in an attempt to hide his face, despite the darkness. "I need...I need you to tell me so that I can promise you forever."
Her hands reached out, sketching the outline of his cheek and shifting to the side to run down his sideburns. And she tried...she tried to stop the quaking that filled her and controlled her as her tears continued to cascade down her features to mix with his, but nothing could stop this torrent of emotions.
She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply and trying to sort through the waves of thoughts that were pouring through her mind, blinding her from what she really wanted to see. The past few months had been some of the most painful in her life. After years of fighting, she'd finally made it back home, only to have the one person she'd thought she trusted dump her back in this strange land with an almost-stranger without even asking her what she wanted. She'd been hurt, betrayed, and thrown blindly into the darkness without any promise of redemption, but as time had gone by, her wounds had begun to heal. Things were getting better, and every single day she felt happier, and more like she belonged in this strange universe. But him...did he really belong here? She was beginning to hope so; and she honestly wasn't sure if that was right or not.
As she leant down, each particle and flake of air that blew in from the window seemed to slow her, every detail of that moment, pushing her backwards; forever imbedded in her mind like the paint he'd sloshed all over her mugs, or every other thing he did to make her smile, or make her cry. By the time she was only a moment away from meeting him, his breathing had slowed, but she could still feel his gasps against her cheek. A slender arm reached up and wrapped itself around her back, and two small hands fell down to grip the material of his shirt that covered his shoulders.
And then, only moments away from his lips, she froze.
And every memory of everything they'd done, everything he'd done to her filled her with fear and doubt. What was she doing? She was dancing with a stranger, a clone, and although she knew the man with was about to kiss was her best friend, the idea filled her mind, and caused her to stay like that, hung in a limbo as she hovered about him; lips not even grazing his, but close enough to feel their breaths quietly exchanging.
At least a minute passed. And still she hung there, eyes panicking, surveying the darkness before her where she knew he lay. All of eternity seemed to pass as she stayed in that position and then, knowing what must be done, he silently lifted his head upwards, and softly pressed his lips to hers.
There was no dancing. No desperation and no wild, candlelit pashes, but it was all she'd ever needed. His cool lips were like melting ice beneath hers, and his arms held her as close as possible, as if afraid that she'd slip away. She could feel him; could feel each and every twitch whenever he smiled, could feel their hearts beating each other into synchronization as the night fell darker, and darker, and darker.
Finally, he pulled back slightly, kissing away one of the teardrops that continued to fall across the bedsheets and nuzzling her ear as long fingers rubbed comforting circles on her back. She dipped her head down, rested it on his shoulder and, despite what had just happened, kicked herself for what she hadn't been able to do.
She'd frozen, and he'd had to complete what she'd started. She'd never been able to tell him, and had only responded to what he'd told her. She'd stayed silent.
But not for long. She slipped out of his arms, ignoring the soft whimper that he let out as she did so, and sat opposite him on the bed. "Theta," she croaked out, throat still sore from crying. This moment was everything. It was her future and her life. It was everything, and she couldn't let the silence stop her now. If she couldn't tell him through actions, then she'd have to tell him through words, breaking the silence as she did so. "I...I love you."
He smiled,-she knew he did, darkness or not-and reached out to trace her arm with the tips of his fingers. "Then, Rose Tyler, I promise that I will never, ever leave you."
Promises can be broken. She knows that. But the knowledge doesn't make it hurt any less whenever they are.
People can leave, time can be rewritten and hearts can break.
Her own heart is quickly turning to ice in the frigid wind, and she wraps her arms around herself, desperately trying to keep herself warm. She wants to rip her gloves from her hands, step out of her boots, let the sand fill the spaces between her toes and just feel every single particle that makes up this wretched place, but the thought of turning so cold that she can't even feel herself anymore fills her with fear.
There's a feeling inside; a burning surge of panic that rears up inside of her, and she's overcome with the impulse to turn and flee. She wants to run, leaving the sand and the cold and the sea and the hurt behind where it can ferment without her, and run back to a noisy city with creaking floorboards and trainers that bang together in the wind, but she can't leave now. Not when she's come so far.
This feeling...and this place...both are as painful as they are familiar. And it hurts-it hurts so much that it feels as though her heart could shatter like glass, but the hurt is all she has left. For a short amount of time-for just a few months-she had something that she could honestly call hers. He was hers. A fantastic love and the most precious thing in this universe, ready to give her his forever. And now this lost girl, standing by the water at Bad Wolf Bay is all that is left of him. She can't let go.
But the silence is nearing. She can feel it creeping up behind her while she walks, reaching out to take hold of her, and can feel it in the gaps in between the crashing of the waves and the roaring of the wind.
He's gone.
And it's only now that she can feel herself dying for a second time that she realizes that if he were here-if he were really here-
(The wind stops blowing)
And if he were holding her hand in his-
(Her heart goes numb, and the world goes quiet around her)
And if he were helping her put her life back together-
(She can feel it encompass her very being; creeping in slowly and reaching out to take her forcibly by the hand)
And if he were crying into her arms-
(She's stepping so carefully, quickly stepping over and around the cracks in the sand as she continues to walk to who-knows-where-or-how)
And if he were ruining all her belongings-
(It will never ever give up-but it can never ever catch her)
And if he were laughing at how she says his name-
(Never-for her greatest curse is that she will never stop running, and she will never be forgotten)
And if he were building her a TARDIS for them both-
(She trods along the shoreline, feet sinking down into the sand and still not making a single sound after all this time)
And if he were telling to never ever forget-
(She continues to walk-and if the footprints she leaves behind are washed away into oblivion by the ceaseless waves as if they never were, then she doesn't seem to notice)
And if he were promising her forever-
(Her world is cracked)
And if she believed him-
(Cracks filled with dreams and stolen memories and empty lies that could never be made into truths)
And if he were here with her, doing all of these things like he's meant to be-then she wouldn't feel so afraid.
(Silence falls.)
Right, explanation: This fic is based on a theory I came up with soon after Flesh and Stone aired, that because of the crack, everything that happened during The Stolen Earth/Journey's End got erased from time. (Hence Amy having no idea what a Dalek was.) Therefore, Rose would have never come back, and there never would have been a Meta-Crisis. So, no clone Doctor. (Sob.) I'm not especially good when it comes to all the sciency things, so if anyone wants to correct me on any facts I might have wrong, please drop me a review and point it out. Also, I'd accept any other criticisms about my writing in this. I'm always a bit uncomfortable writing in the present tense, so I'd love some pointers on how to improve it. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you so much for reading!
Also, for anyone who's a bit confused about this; It's been hinted at (But not confirmed) that the Doctor's real name is Theta Sigma. And I'm willing to go along with that for now.