A/N: The italics are a flashback!


Chapter 3: And the Past will Always Come to Haunt Me

Thirty-two days, twelve hours, and four minutes. That was how long it had been since he'd last seen her face on that horrid beach. And despite not being a Time Lord, John had still felt every millisecond of that absence. But what really hurt, what really threatened to break him was the way that the words she'd spoken to him during that final goodbye (and more heartbreakingly, the ones she had not), refused to leave him alone; were vicious in the way that they crept up on him and weaved they're way both into his unconscious and conscious mind, demanding his attention.

Quite right, too.

And I suppose...if it's one last chance to say it...

So you've got that lot then, Rose and the other Doctor.

I miss you, too.

You can't.

I-

At this point, John was sure he could recite the entire thing word for word. He had spent endless, sleepless nights after all examining every little detail of that encounter. The inflection of her voice, the hitches in her breath over certain words, the devastation that had played out across her beautiful features...

John was determined however, to not let himself fall apart again. While he missed her desperately, while her loss was still such a fresh, raw ache deep to the center of his whole being, getting to see her that one last time had also filled him with a sense hope. She hadn't said the words, but she hadn't needed to. She was going to, and that was what ultimately mattered in the end. And even though it had been goodbye, even though both Doctors had been insistent that there was no way back, John had still been filled with an unassailable determination to find a way home again, just by seeing her. She instilled in him, had always instilled in him, the belief that impossible was just another word, and that there was always, always a way to fix any problem. She made him want to keep fighting. Fighting for what was right, fighting for her; he would not let her down, by letting himself be beaten down.

So on the thirty-third day of what John considered his own personal exile into this parallel world, he awoke with a fresh sense of purpose. While he no longer needed Rose to persuade him to even just drag himself out of bed anymore, he still hadn't been able to bring himself to travel with the pair of them. Not that they hadn't offered. Weeelll, not that Rose hadn't offered. Almost on a daily basis, actually. But for the last few weeks John had always just mumbled his excuses and went about his day wandering aimlessly through the Tardis until they had come back. The thought of going someplace new, a new sun shining down on his face, new ground underneath his feet, a new sky above his head, new stars and galaxies and constellations swirling in the sky around him, just hadn't seemed appealing without her hand to hold. But now, now John finally felt he was ready to face the world again, even if it wasn't the world he had been born and raised in. He couldn't just wallow in his own self-pity for the rest of his life; giving up was never an option after all, as she had taught him.

So, steeling his nerves John entered the console room on that thirty-third day to find that the Doctor and Rose were already there, faces eager and caught in a deep discussion about their next adventure.

"-And they have this way of talking, oh, it'll charm the pants off you Rose! Supposed to be one of the top ten most beautiful sounds in the universe. Richer than any note of music an instrument of Earth could produce. Although, I'm going to need to turn the translation circuit off so you can hear how it's truly spoken, come to think of it...But they're a brilliant race, the Turneski. They have six different mouths you know, all specially designed-"

"Erm," John spoke up, over the Doctor's rambling. The Time Lord's mouth shut with an audible click and both he and Rose turned to examine him curiously. John shifted uncomfortably under their combined gaze.

"Hello John," Rose said brightly. "Did you need something before we headed off?"

"Weelll...actually, I was, umm, w-wondering if I might be able to, well, come with you today?"

Silence.

"Only," John said hurriedly, feeling his face heat up at their dumbfounded expressions, "if that's all right?" He looked at them hopefully.

"Yes!" Rose exclaimed loudly, and then coughed when both John and the Doctor jumped at her outburst. More softly she said, "yes, yes of course you can come."

John nodded. "Good, good." They all stared at one another, the seconds ticking by loudly. John swallowed, his throat working. "So, umm, the Blurnseki then..." he trailed off.

"Turneski," the Doctor corrected automatically, resuming his motion around the Tardis, haphazardly flicking switches and buttons with an unreadable expression on his face. "Yes the Turneski-" He launched back into his lecture.

Rose smiled kindly at him from where she was sitting on the jump seat and he gave her a small, tentative smile back. He still felt as if he was carrying a heavy burden with him, one he felt might never truly lighten, but right now, even with the awkward starts and stops, John thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this. He could travel with them, still do a bit of good in the universe, and all the while he would work on finding a way back to her.

He had promised her forever after all.


Rose's injury was almost fully healed by now, and it was obvious she was getting restless. She'd begged the Doctor almost constantly since she'd been injured to take her somewhere to relieve her boredom, but the other man was adamant that she needed time to rest and heal. This had annoyed Rose to no end, but she allowed the Doctor to well, doctor her, seeming to sense his need to do something to make up for what had happened.

It was obvious, however, when John stepped out into the console room around a week following her injury that Rose had finally been given a clean bill of health (thanks to the advanced technology carried by the Tardis infirmary). She was helping the Time Lord pilot the Tardis currently, moving around without a bit of discomfort from what John could tell. However when he finally took a good look at what they were wearing, John gasped. He was hit with a strong, almost overwhelming sense of deja vu as he took in the achingly familiar clothes; Rose in a poodle skirt, fishnets, and pink heels, and the Doctor with his coiffed hair and trademark pinstripe suit. John could so clearly remember when his own Doctor had dressed up in that skirt back in his home universe. He remembered the coronation, the wire, his face...

He floundered for a moment looking between the two of them. It was obvious this was supposed to be some sort of special trip in celebration of Rose being well again. John could practically see the happiness radiating of the pair. They were grinning at one another widely and totally unaware of what would happen next. But John knew. Oh, did he know. And yet, he felt stuck, unsure of what he should do as he regarded the laughing pair, both of whom were chasing one another around the console and shooting flirty glances at every chance they could get.

Would events even happen in the same way, John wondered as he watched the oblivious couple link hands with one another. So far all of their stories seemed to match up, and the brown-haired Doctor had said that they would continue to...It's just now that the time had come, and John happened to be here with them to actually witness such a thing happen, he wasn't sure how to handle it. Could he tell them of what would happen for them next? About how his face had been taken? Or would that ruin the timelines? He wanted to tell them. He remembered how shaken up he had been when his own face had been stripped from his body, how frightened and angry the Doctor had been. But could he risk such a thing, simply for the peace of mind of knowing that they wouldn't suffer in that same way? After everything Rose had been through lately, she didn't deserve to go through this.

The banter of the Doctor and Rose as they moved around the Tardis was also achingly familiar. Just as much as the scooter propped up in the corner was. John felt sick as conflicting emotions bubbled up in him.

Rose caught his expression first and looked at him concernedly. "You all right, John?" Her face was open and sincere. He could only nod weakly.

"You don't look so well," his double chimed in, though he hardly bothered to look up from the console. John rolled his eyes, used to the other man's behavior.

"I-I, no I suppose not. I don't feel really well. I think I'll sit this one out." Better to be safe than sorry, he supposed, even if the guilt would eat him alive.

The Doctor shrugged, looking rather pleased it would just be the two of them. "Suit yourself."

Rose, however, still looked concerned. "Are you sure? We can stay and look after you if you'd like. I'll make you soup. I don't want to leave you if you're not feeling well."

He and Rose had gained a special relationship ever since he had gotten here. She had saved him, those first few weeks when he didn't think he would be able to go on. He still missed his Doctor fiercely and was still holding out on the hope that he would be able to get back to her, but while he was trapped in this universe, Rose was the only thing keeping him going. Mostly because they understood one another so much, knew what it was like to be the Doctor's companion. They were able to talk honestly about things that the Doctor (either of them) would never dare talk about, like their fear after a particularly rattling adventure. She understood his pain at losing his Doctor more than anyone else ever could, because she knew to the extent of what he had lost, what his feelings had been. He was able to talk to her, confide in her about such things, and she seemed to benefit from being able to open up to someone as well.

John knew that this was where a lot of the problems between himself and the brown-haired Doctor stemmed from. John could tell that the other man was uneasy whenever they spent so much time together (despite the fact that otherwise Rose was always with the Time Lord). The Doctor wasn't outright unfriendly with John (perhaps because he remembered how unkindly his Doctor had treated Rose or perhaps because he knew that John was much too tore up over losing his own Doctor to be much of a threat) and in true Doctor style, he never said anything about it, but John could tell he was bothered by how close they'd become. His distant and tight manner with him gave it away more than anything. John had seen the same sort of attitude emerge in his own Doctor when they had all met up, and so it was not to difficult to recognize the signs now, in this other Doctor.

At one point, John had even tried to talk to the other man about it. Not that he had gotten very far. The Doctor had immediately blown him off. That topic was obviously not up for discussion. John couldn't find it in himself to stop talking so much with Rose. He cared for her and he feared that if he stopped he wouldn't be able to find it in himself to keep hoping he would get back to his own Doctor. She was always saying they would find a way back somehow and she was always the quickest to fill him with hope when he desperately needed her optimistic view to keep himself from falling apart.

John still however felt a tad guilty that he was causing the other man so much stress over something so silly. John was also hoping, however, that maybe it would help push him towards Rose, rather than away. Ever since her injury, he had seemed to be rather closer to her. About time to, when John knew first hand how quickly that time could run out. How fast everything could be taken so ruthlessly away.

Coming back from his thoughts, John could see out of the corner of his eye the Doctor visibly deflate at Rose's offer. He began sulkily twiddling with a knob on the Tardis, his eyes downcast. He could see the disappointment shining in Rose's eyes as well, though she tried to hide it. John's heart clenched. "No thank you. You both should go, you're all dressed up, anyhow. I'll be fine."

The Doctor brightened up immediately. "Yeah, Rose. He can call if he needs anything. The Tardis'll look after him." He patted the center column affectionately.

"Oh all right," she gave in. "Feel bet-"

With a flourish the Doctor grabbed her hand and after strapping the bright pink helmet firmly on her head and donning his own helmet, they both were riding out of the Tardis.

John awaited impatiently for them to return, hands running through his hair nonstop in his worry. They could handle it, he reminded himself frequently as the time ticked steadily away, eating at his nerves and filling him with impending dread. He had done the right thing, could feel it in his gut. He needed to not interfere with the proceeding of this universe as much as possible. That was what the Doctor had told him when he had first arrived here.

It didn't, however, stop the guilt from ravaging him when they once again entered the Tardis, tired and battered. Rose had a forced smile on her face, but was trembling slightly. She excused herself almost immediately to go to sleep.

The Doctor, however, turned to him with a suddenly piercing look. "You knew," he accused. John felt his heart squeeze in his chest and guilt fill his veins. He should have known that the Doctor would be able to pick up on that somehow.

"I'm sorry," John said quietly. What else could he say? The Doctor gave him a tight look in return before he took in a shuddering breath and said, "Why didn't you warn me? Why didn't you come? Rose-"

"I know," John said quietly. "I remember."

"You should've-"

"You know I couldn't. All our stories, all the adventures from both our universes and the way they match up...What if I told you and as a result something changed? Timelines could rupture. We can't take that chance."

"To hell with the timelines," the Doctor snapped. "Her face was gone. How could you let that happen to her, when you knew? After what's she's been through, this was supposed to be a nice, relaxing trip for her! You should've told me, I could've..."

The Doctor's voice had gone high and desperate, the fear he had been suppressing bubbling up to the surface. John closed his eyes.

"How about I tell you what happens now?"

The Doctor blinked, halting his angry tirade and regarding John warily and with measured surprise.

"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was just a tad short, his hands gesturing his annoyance.

"She'll have a nightmare tonight," John started, voice wavering as the memories came crashing back to the surface. "Face gone, everything so empty, and she'll cry out in her sleep. You'll go and comfort her." John looked away, unable to face the other man. He could remember it all with perfectly clarity; the way she had held him and comforted him that night. God, it hurt to remember. It was all so unfair. "She'll ask you to stay and you will. You'll h-hold her while she sleeps." John opened his mouth again, getting ready to reveal something more, then resignedly he closed his mouth and switched tactics, he choked out a, "Savor it while it lasts, Doctor."

With that he turned on his heel to make his way to his bedroom, ignoring the other man's stricken face.

John laid in his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, unable to push down the memories like he had been so forcefully doing for the last few months. The tears of guilt and loss left silent tracks down his cheeks and he didn't bother to brush them away. When he heard the familiar sound of converse shoes slapping quietly against the floor past his room he had to suppress a half-choked, bitter laugh down.

That night, like always, he dreamed of falling.


It was with trepidation that John entered the console room the next morning, feeling both weary and broken. He expected to be brushed off cooly by the brown-haired man, expected the atmosphere to be tense between them, but was surprised to find that the Doctor didn't pay him much mind at all. Instead he only had eyes for Rose, following her every movement the next morning with a soft intensity. They seemed much more at ease with one another, more so than John had ever seen them before, which was most definitely saying something. John watched as that whole morning, they stole glances and shared small caresses: tiny brushes of fingertips to arms and whispers of contact as they leaned into one another. They, for the most part, completely ignored that he even existed at all in favor of one another. Not that the Doctor didn't still appear to be guarded in some manner, as if he was almost there at the tipping point, almost ready to finally give in, but not quite. Still, one would have to be blind to not see that something had definitely changed in their dynamic. Not that he was really surprised by such a change. John had already begun to see bits of the Doctor's walls coming down after he'd almost lost Rose to that gun shot wound. Compounded now with the incident with the wire and it seemed to be finally getting through the Doctor's head that there was no more time to waste. Just one more push, John thought, would do it.

He was wrong.