Sharing A Drink They Call Loneliness
NotSoJollywood
Author's Note: Okay! This is an exceptionally short one-shot that I had written well over two years ago that I just found floating around in my computer. I edited it a bit, made it even longer (yes, it was actually shorter than this before), and decided to publish it! I quite like it, even if it is a little depressing. Oh well, most Rose/Eleven fics I have read are.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her. She is so close – only two stools down from him. But yet she is still so far away. Liquid poison clouds her judgment, pulling her further from him. Further from the girl that he once knew. In all the years that he has known her, he has never seen her like this. Drunk and despondent. Occasionally, she looks back at him, her smile inviting. She doesn't know it's him of course. How could she? It's been too long since she saw him last. Far too long.
His eyes search around the bar, looking for him. Well, the other him. The one that he had left with her on the beach that day. He should have been there. He had been here for hours, and had only seen her without the version of him that was supposed to be there.
He takes a sip of his club soda; he had never been one for alcohol. His life was already a whirlwind, he did not need intoxication to further complicate things.
She peers over at him from her vodka tonic, and gives me a smile.
Another complication.
She was never supposed to be in this world. This forsaken land, sealed off from the life she had known. Sealed off from him. It was his doing; he had become too attached, refusing to let her go when he should have. He should never have let himself develop feelings for her. But he did, and even now, he could not let her go.
He raises is glass to hers in a mock toast, taking another harmless sip. She mimics him, but as she does, she hiccups. Hers is not harmless.
He watches her slowly lift herself off the barstool, and shift herself down towards him. The vodka has made her bold.
No, not the vodka. She has always been bold.
That was one of the things that he loved about her.
She leaves an ample amount of space between them, a gap he wants nothing more than to bridge. If he moved over the slightest, his skin could brush against hers one final time. But he holds himself back. She is no longer his to hold.
Damn it, where is he?
A song begins playing from somewhere in the bar. The familiar tune on the piano makes her smile, "I love this song." She sways a little with the tune, humming along.
He does not say anything, but takes another sip of his drink.
"Not much for words, are ya?" Her words are clipped and quick, a by-product of her intoxicated state.
He smiled at this. There were words he would like to say, but he bit his tongue. He knew better the step back in and ruin her life.
He had just wanted to see her. To know that she was doing okay.
But then why was she here? And where was he?
After all these years, it is like she can read his mind, "My fiancé left yesterday. Decided he didn't want a life of domesticity. He needs to run around constantly. I'm not exactly handling it well." There are tears in her voice, although he knows she is doing her best not to let it show.
Oh.
Oh.
A knot forms in his stomach. His two hears break simultaneously. He left her there, with him, to form a new life. A life that he could not have with her. And what does this imposter do? Ruins it. Ruins her. He hates him for it. He hates himself for it. He takes a sip of his drink, wishing he had gotten something with a little more edge. This was not how he expected this meeting to go. No, not at all. He looks at her, and she is looking at the bottom of her now empty glass. He motions to the bartender and orders two more of what she is having.
It's the only thing he can do to make this right.
The bartender puts down their drinks on front of them, and walks away.
"Thanks, mate," She says to him, taking a small sip of what was in front of her.
The bar erupts into a loud chorus of that popular song, drowning out all sound for a few moments. For all she claims to love the song, she doesn't seem to want to sing.
He can't blame her.
"What are you doing here?" She says, as she fiddles with the lime that's in her drink. She mixes a stirrer around, chasing the citrus fruit. "On a Tuesday afternoon?"
He finally speaks, "I was looking for an old friend of mine,"
"Did you find them?"
"I'm not quite sure. It has been a while," He gives her a small smile, "And I look a bit different than I did when we last met,"
She looks up at him for a moment, as if looking for something. Looking for someone. She stares at him for a second, but decides that no – it's impossible before returning to play with her lime. He doesn't know what to do. Should he tell her?
No.
He can't ruin her again.
She built a life in this parallel universe, a life without him. For all the good that she does him, he will only make her life worse. Because that is what he does. He takes beautiful things, and crushes them. Just like he crushed her, like he hurt Martha, and Donna…
He downs the rest of his own vodka club, resisting the urge to gag at the burning sensation from the alcohol. She looks at him and raises her eyebrows, "I'm impressed."
He nods to her.
"So what's your name?"
He hesitates, wondering if he should answer at all. But now, the alcohol has made him bold, "John Smith."
Her eyes go wide. He sees all the thoughts rushing through her brain. He sees ever emotion etched across her face. Hope. Disbelief. Anger. Love.
She doesn't speak for a moment, but just states at him.
Finally, she barely whispers, "D-Doctor?"
He inhaled, "Rose Tyler, I –"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. He is cut off by her lips clashing into his, as a song plays in the background.
Yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness. But it's better than drinking alone…