Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.
Spoilers: None
Prompt: Tencest/Rose hurt/comfort with plenty of smutty goodness.
Thanks To: Ladychi for helping me start this, Sinecure for the beta and Rachelbeann for the title.
Author's Notes: Written for Ramblinsuze who purchased me during the April 2009 Support Stacie Author Auction. I, unfortunately, may have failed at the prompt a bit.

Rose sensed it before she heard it, before she saw it, before it'd happened even. She didn't believe in premonition, but somewhere, deep inside, she knew what was coming.

Then she felt it, as the ground beneath her began to shake and fragment, splintering into tiny hairline cracks that reached out in every direction, like some sort of a fractured spider web. She stared at the fissures in horror, mind blank; feeling like the whole world was focused on those tiny pinpoints of destruction in front of her.

A deafening roar reached her ears seconds later, drowning out everything else, even from a half a mile away. It lasted for the span of just five heartbeats, but felt more like forever. And then everything stopped.

There wasn't a single sound; just silence.

Gaze taking in the billowing cloud of black smoke rising into the sky, her heart sank, lodging itself deep in her gut. She could feel her whole world crashing down on her and she did the only thing she could.

She ran.

OOO

Her legs were beginning to tire, muscles burning beneath her skin, by the time she made it to the village proper. She skidded to a halt just a few feet from where the clock tower once stood, eyes scanning the rubble, body trembling.

It'd been no more than a quick sprint, nothing she couldn't handle after all the running she did on a regular basis, but she'd pushed herself more than ever before; made herself run faster, harder.

And it wasn't just her legs that were left protesting.

Her head was pounding out a staccato in rhythm with her throbbing pulse. She was sweating, rivulets of moisture running down her face, not just from the run itself but from the inferno she'd been chasing after. The parched air made every breath a struggle, and she choked down smoke and ash with each mouthful, making her already tight lungs burn even more.

A movement to her left caught her attention and she turned toward it slowly. Everything, every last hope she held within her heart, was dependent on the tall, slender shadows that cut their way across the ground in front of her.

It had to be them, her mind screamed, it just had to.

Then she was running again, straight into the Doctor's arms, grabbing him and holding on tighter than ever before. Relief flooded through her, at the same time that fear stabbed through her gut. There was no mistaking the blank look in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the tension in his embrace.

There was no mistaking the fact that he was alone.

OOO

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair, but she barely heard him.

She was too busy listening, feeling, trying to figure out which one he was.

A rush of noise assaulted her from all directions--explosions and buildings crumbling to the ground, people dying, crying out for help--drowning out the one sound she needed to hear most; the beating of his hearts.

Or heart.

The heat of the fires, of the flames licking the sky--burning everything in their path, undiscerning between human or nature-made, uncaring--was so intense she couldn't feel if his skin was cool and soothing.

Or if it was warm and comforting.

Was this the alien she'd fallen for, oh, so long ago, or the human who'd only recently stumbled into her life and her heart? Would she be burying the man she now loved, or relearning the face of the Time Lord who'd loved her first?

She didn't know and wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

"Oh, Rose, it's my fault," the words came tumbling out, rumbling through his chest. "I lost him," his voice cracked, "couldn't find him."

But which him?

She was too afraid to ask. Too afraid to find out which Doctor she'd lost on this pathetic little planet with its evil dictator and his greedy little war.

She choked back a sob, refusing to ask which Doctor was holding her in his arms. Because as long as she didn't know, she could pretend, for a little while longer, that he was either one of them.

That he was both of them.

OOO

When they finally found him, two hours later, she still didn't know which Doctor was which. If it was her first who shielded her sight from the worst of the death and destruction while they looked for his duplicate, or if he was the one whose legs she struggled to keep a grip on as they carried him back to the TARDIS, body swinging limply above the burnt ground.

She didn't know and...she didn't care, she realized. She just wanted him alive and well, back on his feet, helping them overthrow tyrants and right as many wrongs in the universe as they could.

For all the emphasis she'd placed on telling them apart, separating them--giving them some sort of twisted social status--by what order they became a part of her life in or who was more like her genetically, it didn't really matter.

She loved them both.

OOO

They came to her later, freshly showered and newly suited in brown pinstripes, all traces of what they'd just witnessed, what they'd just been through, gone. They looked like they did on any other day, if a little more subdued. There was no bouncing in place with excitement, no manic grins spreading from ear to ear. But, other than that...

Raising her gaze, looking from one to the other, she realized that not even their eyes betrayed them this time.

Shifting to the other side of the bed, tossing her legs over the edge, Rose was more than a little surprised when she was suddenly tugged backwards, across the duvet, strong hands grasping her around the waist.

Then they were touching her, with fingers and lips and breath, divesting her of clothing and worshiping her body.

It was something she'd always dreamt of, though not the both of them together. Separately, on different occasions? Yes, practically every night. But with one mouth latched around a breast and another peppering the bare flesh of her stomach with kisses?

Not that she was complaining, because she wasn't. Didn't. Not when they both stared at her body, bared to their gaze, with an adoration that made her blush from head to toe. Not when they too were naked, lying side-by-side on the bed, watching her, waiting, their bodies pressed together so intimately that she felt a different sort of heat, burning her at her center.

In fact, she thought, as she lost herself to their touches, the only complaint she had was that they hadn't done this sooner. That it'd taken a near death experience, the heart stopping fear that they'd lost one of their trio, before they'd come to their senses and finally admitted to what they'd all been wanting, probably forever. That it'd taken her this long to admit that they were both the same man.

And as she laid there, basking in the afterglow, a hand resting on each of their stomachs, she ignored the urge to seek out their chests, to feel for the single or double beat of their hearts. She was content in the knowledge that, for now anyway, they were both safe and unharmed.

She still didn't want to know.