John wakes up in a cold sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. It is still dark outside but the sound of the early-commuting cars can be heard. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he realizes he had only been asleep for two hours. Silently slipping from bed, he walks into the bathroom and catches his reflection.
Stolen reflection…He glares at the face staring back at him. The reflection's gaze becomes more intense as his does. He doesn't like what he sees. He didn't like to look this way.
Or rather, he didn't like they way she looked at him. It was as if she was scanning him for signs of the other man. The original. John was a copy. He was only half what he wanted to be.
John raises his fist to strike at the mirror but pauses, catching a glimpse of the pain in the reflection's eyes.
That was real. He was real.
He lowers his fist.
John drops his gaze as he turns on the faucet and begins splashing little pools onto his steaming face. Wiping himself dry with the towel, he tries to remember what had woken him.
With the force of a freight train he was blasted back into dream world. Of adventures not his own, of lost love, of death so violent and the destruction at his own hand.
Suddenly he thinks of her.
He loves her so much…I love her so much…but can she love me back?
Two hearts loving one, one heart loving for two.
John had all of his memories, and he fell in love with her just as he had, the other man. But she would not see John as himself, no, she would see the man she fell in love with, and John could do nothing about it. After all, they shared a face.
Then John hears the door creak.
Turning, that's when he sees her, the girl he loves.
Rose walks into the bathroom.
"D-John?" She whispers.
John smirks at the how she still mixes him up with the other man. He had introduced himself to Donna as The Doctor, but that wasn't entirely the truth. At the time he so wanted to be like him. He was part of him. But the day John and Rose were left together by the bay, he realized it was hopeless trying to replace the other man, but instead, he wanted a fresh start. A fresh start with Rose.
He had asked her to call him John.
She stepped closer to him when she saw the sorrow in his face.
He looked away when his eyes began to water and wondered how much he must look like the other man. John had seen a similar look of despair on his face the day he was "born". He knew the rage and the sadness within all too well. His predecessor had no shortage of mixed emotions.
"John, what's wrong?" Rose asked quietly, trying to read his face.
This time she was actually looking at him and not searching for the other man. Or at least he wanted to think so.
"I'm not him, Rose," John croaked out.
She paused and her eyes squinted in confusion.
"What do you-"
"I'm not him. I know you want him back and that's not me."
"John…"
"…I can't give you what you want," he whispers, holding back a tear.
Rose's lips parted slowly and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
"…I tried to be him for you, because to me…for a while…I thought I was him, but I'm not…and I know you see it and I'm afraid that all I can give you…you won't want it…"
A single tear rolled down Rose's cheek but when she removed her hand from her mouth, she was smiling sadly.
"I know you aren't him. I know that I can never be with him. But he would have to live with my death for all the rest of time. He would have to move on. You only have one heart…you are almost human…and that is one thing I wanted from him that he could never give me," She explained, no longer bothering to keep her voice down.
"We can't go on all of his wonderful adventures…"
"We can make our own adventures!"
" I don't know how to support you…"
"I guess we both will just have to learn then."
John looked at Rose for a moment.
"I've seen the way you look at me, like you are searching for him."
"And I found him." She added quickly, taking John's hand.
"How…?"
Rose smiled warmly and leaned in close.
"What was the first thing you said to me?"
"Rose…I'm not him…"
"Yes you are! Now tell me."
"…I said 'run'." John replied reluctantly.
"Yes…" Rose continued. "What did we eat on our first date?"
John smiled a little.
"Chips. We had chips."
"Yes. Now…do you remember…Scotland…1876?"
"You bet ten quid you could get the queen to say, 'I'm not amused'."
The both paused before bursting into sidesplitting laughter at the memory.
"Now if someone else had lived it, and not you, would you remember the smell of the food we ate there? Or the adrenaline rush as we ran from the wolf? Or the way I sort of…blushed when you took my hand…?" Rose asked when she caught her breath.
"I don't remember that bit…" John replied.
"That's because you weren't looking!" She shouted.
John tilted his head to the side.
"That's what you did…when you didn't want to see something…you just didn't…" She stopped. "Or you would leave things unsaid because you had doubts. Doubts about what? That I wouldn't return the favor? That you didn't want to invest in someone just to loose them? If anything…you are more like "him" now more than you have been up to this point. The doctor doesn't exist anymore…you and I are all that matters and I will never leave you…but will you leave me?"
"No." John didn't wait to answer. "I will never leave you."
"Then I suppose it is good to be a little different from him then after all…"
Pushing all fears aside, John took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers.
