The morning was dark, damp and cold, and a thick fog lingered over the Tyler mansion. A few lights shone in the upstairs windows – Pete possibly getting ready to welcome his wife, daughter and guest. The sort-of-Doctor sat in the back seat beside Rose, pretending to ignore her frequent unveiled glances. He was peeved enough as it was – his senses, though still sharper than the average human, were much duller than he was used to, as well as the creeping wave of exhaustion and hunger that threatened to engulf him soon. The lonely heart beating in his chest only added fuel to the bitter fire already burning in him; barely two days old and he was already tired of life.
Jackie was the first one out of the car, slamming the door loudly and barrelling off towards the front door where Pete stood, a tired looking little boy standing grumpily by his side. Rose and the sort-of-Doctor watched as the mother gathered up her son then threw her other arm around her husband, encasing them both in her tight embrace. Rose looked pointedly at the sort-of-Doctor, her stomach squirming as he looked back, that small half smile adorning his thin face. His eyes were, if it were possible, even more melancholy than usual.
"Look at them. They thought they had lost each other forever – then they found their other half all over again. Funny ol' world," he said, his voice deep in his chest. Rose allowed him a small smile, the end of her tongue peeking through her teeth.
"Yeah. Was hard though. Took them ages to really work it out. Even after Tony was born they weren't really comfortable together… Only when he nearly got lost on a trip into town did they really come together and properly fit. He was three, so about two years ago now, it was," she replied,
"That long?"
"Oh yeah, they were all over the place for ages. One minute they couldn't keep their hands off each other, the next they were packing their bags to separate again. Honestly, it was like living with a pair of teenagers – it was embarrassing!" A laugh escaped her then, and the sort-of-Doctor's face split into a wide grin.
"Oh yes, I suppose it would be. Snogging behind the bike sheds then telling tales and falling out, were they?" he chuckled, tongue touching the roof of his mouth.
"All the time! Now, though, they're just…right. And we're okay too – he's my dad, I'm his daughter. You'd never have guessed they weren't the original-" Rose stopped short, and the grins collapsed and slid from their faces, turning serious once more. She looked away and quickly began towards the house and he let her stride ahead a few paces before following.
They were greeted by a beaming Pete, who immediately threw his arms around Rose and hugged her tightly.
"Well done, sweetheart. You got him," he grinned, releasing her and moving onto the sort-of-Doctor who he slapped jovially on the shoulder.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," the blue-suited man replied with a tired nod. Pete missed his dejection and motioned them to enter the mansion after Jackie, who carried Tony and cooed incessantly.
"Now I know you two aren't gonna be able to keep your hands off each other, but the only thing I ask is that you keep it down – we've got a kid in the house," Pete continued, winking conspiratorially at the pair of them, seeming surprised when Rose stopped dead.
"We won't be, Dad."
"No, Pete, I'm not staying. Our relationship isn't going to be like that," the sort-of-Doctor agreed quickly. The older man looked thoroughly confused.
"I know something funny's happened – something to do with a hand and a clone and other weird stuff – but does it matter? You're still the Doctor. You and my Rose are meant to be together," he said, emitting a breathy laugh.
"It's better if I-"
Rose cut the sort-of-Doctor off with a flurried hug to her father and a muttered excuse, before running forward to pick up her little brother into a tight cuddle – she couldn't face talking about her situation any more.
Pete and the sort-of-Doctor stood in silence for a moment as the women and child entered a room to the left of the grand staircase, talking avidly.
"It's better if I go, Pete," the sort-of-Doctor continued, passing a hand over his face, his full bottom lip pouting forward slightly. "She doesn't want me. I'm not her Doctor. Well, I am. But I'm not. All very confusing. Metacrisis, half human, shimmy shammy scienency wiency-"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Doctor. So you're part human, what does it matter? She still loves you, I can tell."
"She hasn't called me Doctor."
"So?"
"It's alright, Pete. She'll be fine. She'll be better off without me – I've got a TARDIS to grow and some papers to forge under the name John Smith. She'll know her Doctor is safe and sound in the other universe, and she'll never need to see this poor one-hearted copy ever again. It's fine! Might even be able to cobble together a new sonic – don't suppose you've got any spare coat hangers and some sticky tape?"
"Doctor, give her a chance! You've got to give her time to get her head around this!"
"Time is the one thing I don't have anymore, Pete. I'll say goodbye to Jackie and Rose then I'll be off." The sort-of-Doctor made to pass Pete, but was stopped by a pair of strong hands clutching his shoulders. Pete made forceful eye contact, looking less than amused.
"You're not going anywhere, my boy. You're dead on your feet – if you really need to be apart, fine. Rose doesn't live here anymore anyway – got her own little flat now out past Harrow. Just stay here for a few days until you can get yourself sorted, alright? You're still gonna be the Doctor to me," he said, slapping his bicep once again. Too tired to argue and too broken to fight, the sort-of-Doctor nodded and allowed himself to be ushered into the living room.
The atmosphere in the room was surprisingly warm, considering the storm of emotions brewing between two of the inhabitants. Tony had immediately taken to the sort-of-Doctor and was currently wedged in at his side, introducing his new friend to all of his favourite action figures.
"And this is Thor – he saves the world like you but he does it with a hammer instead of a screwdriver. Are all tools magic?" he asked, lisping slightly and nearly poking out his mothers' eye as he waved the toy wildly. The sort-of-Doctor laughed softly.
"With the right tools you can build a better world, Tony. I suppose it is a kind of magic… Although I don't think magic is the best way to describe it – is Thor's hammer sonic? It's all more scientific really as magic doesn't exi-"
"Tea everyone?!" Jackie cried, cutting off the almost-death of her sons childish dreams. Rose scrutinised the sort-of-Doctor as he nodded, mouth slightly open in the half confusion she recognised: he didn't know what he'd said that had been so wrong. She almost felt a flare of pity and affection.
"What's saying I come back over tonight after you've been to school and we watch a film, yeah?" she smiled at her little brother, who nodded eagerly.
"Can we watch a Disney?" he squealed, clapping his little hands gleefully.
"Sure can," Rose grinned, sliding out of her chair and crawling over to sit in front of the little boy – she had missed him so much. "Which one do you want to watch?"
"The Lion King!" the sort-of-Doctor cried suddenly, eyebrows shooting up almost to his hairline. Rose snorted.
"We watched that the night before I left, Tony doesn't wanna see it again, do you?"
The little boy opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off again. "How about… Beauty and the Beast? You like the angry talking clock."
"Yeah!" Tony nodded, handing his big sister his action figure by way of thanks. "Can we eat pizza too?"
Rose pouted thoughtfully and cast her eyes right and left (Pete studiously pretended to be absorbed with a day old newspaper from the coffee table) then nodded conspiratorially.
"I might even bright you chocolate," she whispered, and Tony gasped in delight. Jackie chose that moment to swan back into the room, without the tea she had promised. She scooped her little boy off the couch, muttering about getting him ready for school; he protested wildly, but she ignored him as only a mother can. Pete followed, the urge to be out of the emotional hothouse too great to ignore.
From her perch on the floor, Rose calmly studied the cracks in the leather couch. The sort-of-Doctor kept his eyes studiously ahead, knowing she wouldn't take kindly to him staring at her.
"It's not your fault, you know," Rose muttered, lifting a hand and lightly tracing the cracks with the tip of her index finger. The sort-of-Doctor rolled his eyes and laughed mirthlessly.
"Most things that go wrong are my fault. I came to terms with that about… Ah… Five hundred years ago?"
"I don't mean the universe at large, you arrogant old sod," she said, though not too unkindly. He arched an eyebrow and turned his questioning gaze on her. "I mean the way I feel."
He considered this for a moment, scrunching up his face and drawing out his words. "Well, it sort of is. It was my own vanity that created me, really… Plus Donna, poking her nose about. And I did it again – killed off a whole race. I seem to be developing quite a talent."
"Even though you said it on the beach – that thing the Doctor could never say – you're just like him that you're diverting the conversation away from what you don't wanna talk about."
"Old habits die hard. Did I ever tell you about the time that I forgot take a banana to a birthday party on Lilidum Seven? It wasn't pretty. Or – oh! Or the time I ate so many jelly babies I nearly had to regenerate because of the excess of sugar in my blood? Or the time when-"
Rose silenced his zany monologue by setting her raised hand on his leg, just above his knee. She'd never liked the material of this suit – it was a little rougher than the brown pinstripe. He stilled immediately, his breath hitched. After a very pregnant pause, she simply pushed herself up into a standing position, using his leg as support.
"I don't mind if you wanna stay 'til you sort yourself out. Just don't push me," she said, looking as defeated as he had ever seen her.
"Have I ever?" he replied – she didn't answer, and left the room.
Outside, Rose hurried to her car and threw herself inside, resting her head against the steering wheel. He was the Doctor, but he really wasn't. She couldn't bring herself to call him by that name. Each time she looked at him something different surfaced – love, longing, loathing, indifference. They had chatted as normal on the TARDIS, before the Doctor had abandoned them both. He had a habit of doing that. The throbbing rage returned, and her little car tore down the long driveway and into the distance at a much faster speed than was safe.
Inside, the sort-of-Doctor had only one coherent thought before he fell back into a slumber – human or Time Lord, he really did love her. The difficult choice was this – should he try and prove it, or leave her be? For the first time in a terribly long time, he hadn't even the slightest inkling about the answer.