Stone Heart
by Kathryn Hart
Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Rose Tyler
Setting: Anytime after "The Snowmen" but before "Bells of St. John"
Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Action, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T for mild language, torture violence and a risqué Rose at times ;)
Hello my lovely readers! Here I am with yet another Eleven/Rose story. Now, this may seem a lot like the story I published in November titled "In the Dark", but yet, this story is very different. Well, sort of different. Lol. I actually had the idea for this one first, but after I made a random photoshopped Eleven/Rose image with a small story to go along, my watchers (on DeviantArt) begged for a story and "In the Dark" was born. And yet, this one still begged to be brought to life. As with most of my stories, this one was inspired by a song. The title and lyrics are taken from Cascada's "Bad Boy". Enjoy!
Summary: The Doctor's lost Amy and Rory and he's been searching for Clara for three years. But in a bar he finds someone he never thought he'd ever see again. But this Rose is different. She's damaged, bitter, angry and far more sexy in her mannerism than the Doctor ever remembered. She also doesn't want to see him. What happened to make her become like this? Can the Doctor convince her of the love they used to have and in turn, bring back the woman he once fell in love with?
Prologue – The Wicked Wolf
"Remember the feeling, remember the day? My stone heart was breaking, my love ran away. This moment I knew I would be someone else, my love turned around and I fell..."
The Doctor had never felt this depressed in his life. It had been three years since he'd started his search for Clara Oswin Oswald, or the Impossible girl, who had saved his life twice and died both times. He missed Amy and Rory too. And River. And Donna, and Martha, Sarah Jane, Jenny and Rose. He missed them all, and every single one of them were dead to him, in one way or another. For the first time in a very long time, he decided he needed a drink.
The Doctor shook his head ruefully. The Wicked Wolf was the only bar this side of the galaxy that served Stohkhoyr, an old Gallifreyan drink. He walked inside and winced at the loud noise assaulting his ears. He hasn't realised this was a busy place, all he had wanted was a quiet spot at the bar to drink his drink alone and in peace. He wanted that drink more though, so he continued in, trying to ignore the smell of the crowd of alcoholic partiers.
"One Stohkhoyr, iced please." The bartender nodded at him. It had been a while, actually a long while since someone had ordered that old time lord drink, but he wasn't one to pry. If the man wanted Stohkhoyr, then that's what he'd get.
The Doctor laid a few coins on the counter as the bartender handed him the greenish-colored liquid in a tall, thin glass. The Doctor sipped it slowly. If he drank it too fast, he'd get drunk, and he tended to do very, very stupid things when he was drunk. Last time he had called an old companion back when she was still traveling with him and told her things he really shouldn't have. His past self then proceeded to hunt him down and give him what for for endangering his relationship with her. The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face. It would do him no good to think of Rose at a time like this. (*See Author's Note Below)
The Doctor's head shot up as he heard a familiar voice. No, he must have misheard, because he was thinking of her and it was a very logical thing to imagine her talking here. The Doctor looked around anyway, just to be sure.
And that's when he saw her.
He blinked numerously, not believing what he was seeing. Not only did he see Rose standing in front of a table a few feet away, she was dressed in a waitress' outfit and a skirt that left hardly anything to the imagination. He was getting dizzy over how short her skirt was. Not even Amy wore them like that. He continued to stare at her, his jaw open and unmoving. His eyes never left her as she continued to bring patrons their food and drink.
The worst part was all the attention she was getting. Hands were groping at her, and wolf calls echoed everywhere she went. She batted a few stray hands away but to many, men, women and aliens alike, she merely gave a sexy wink and bent down as she gave them what they ordered, exposing her open chest.
"No, that can't be her." The Doctor muttered, rubbing his fingers into his eyes, trying to rid himself of the image his weary mind must have conjured. But his mind hadn't conjured anything, and she was still there, acting like a sexy dancer of Benzali. Did Rose have a twin sister, one with no moral compass? No, Rose didn't mention it, and besides, what would her twin be doing on the other side of the galaxy 2,000 years in her future? Wait, what was the real Rose doing way out here if it really was her? Last time he had seen her, he had left her on that miserable beach with that sorry excuse to take care of his Metacrisis clone.
This Rose looked like she had aged ten years, being about 35, but still with the sexiness of a twenty-year-old.
The Doctor had to know what she was doing here, if it really was her. He'd have to wait until the end of her shift and follow her home. He turned back to the bartender and ordered another drink.
A/N: The incident referenced to is from my short story "The Phone Call", on my profile now.
Well, there's the beginning! Tell me what you think! And guess what might happen! :)