Chapter 3

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open, depositing him in the glassed-in foyer on the roof of the building. The Doctor crossed the small space, pushed through the glass doors, and emerged onto the roof deck. He and Annie had spent many contented and slightly boozy hours here after work, waiting for Rose and Jake to finish a call or a meeting before they all headed to dinner or a night out. There were chairs and tables in haphazard groupings around the open space, along with potted plants and large raised beds of flowers. The tall fences that ran along each edge of the building had been camouflaged with trellises covered in hanging vines. The overall effect was of an oasis of greenery, open to the sky, far above the congestion of London. At one end of the deck was the wet bar, staffed during the day but empty now, as the rest of the deck seemed to be. The Doctor made for the bar and with the hidden key (whose location Jake had shown him long ago) opened the refrigerator and removed two bottles of cider. He then moved across the deck, his eyes raking the shadows until he saw her.

She was sitting on the concrete, her back against an immense ceramic container that held a flowering tree. As he approached she did not open her eyes; she merely sat, her head tilted back, her knees up under her chin, her cheeks wet, her arms clasped around her legs. She looked so very tired, he thought. It was as if someone had inked their thumbs and then pressed them, hard, into the hollows under her eyes. And something else caught his eye: her necklace, the two modest gold rings that she and Mark had worn during their brief marriage and that always hung on a chain around her neck, were gone. He saw an angry welt at the side of her neck where the chain should have been.

Not wishing to startle her, he said her name and approached, folding his legs to sit cross-legged in front of her. He set the two bottles down next to him. "Annie?" he said, his voice low. There was no response. He repeated her name and then asked, "Where is your necklace?"

Slowly she opened her eyes and regarded him without expression. She lifted one of her hands and there, cradled in the palm, was the necklace. The clasp of cheap gold had been bent, apparently as she pulled it from her own neck. He held out his hand and she tipped it from her palm into his. He tucked it into his pocket; he didn't trust her, right now, not to fling it off the roof of the building, an action he feared she would later regret. She watched him and said nothing, seeming to acquiesce to his unspoken thought.

Wordlessly he held up the two bottles of cider and offered one to her. She took it and they both cracked off the caps. He gulped a mouthful and enjoyed the almost painful sensation of cold and carbonation going down his throat. She sipped her bottle rather more delicately and then set it down, saying, "I can't remember when I last ate. It won't take much to get me totally pissed. Not that I'd necessarily mind at the moment."

They looked at each other for the space of several breaths, and then she turned her head away. She said, "You know, when he died, I wanted to die too." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "It's such a cliché, isn't it? But it's true. It hurt, John. It hurt everywhere. Day after day after day. Like dragging myself through a mire that stretched to the horizon. Pain and sadness and exhaustion. And the only way I kept going was thinking that he would have wanted me to, that he wouldn't have wanted me to give up. That he had loved me more than anything and that I had to live up to that. And now I find out that he isn't dead? That he was swanning around somewhere, leaving me to go through all that, when he could have helped me." She shook her head. "And that's where my brain just gets stuck. How could he? How could he do that?" And now her mouth contorted and tears came. She looked pleadingly at him. "If he ever loved me, how could he do that?"

The Doctor could find nothing to say, so he said nothing. He reached out and took one of her hands, gripping it hard in both of his. He shook his head, and brought her fingers gently to his lips.

"Was he…" Her voice cracked, even though it was quiet to the point of being almost inaudible. She swallowed and tried again. "Was he laughing at me the whole time, behind Mark's eyes? Watching me make a fool of myself?"

He leaned forward—grateful, finally, for the opportunity to reassure her. "No, Annie. You can't think that. When I was human, I had no idea I wasn't just a man. And when I was with Joan, I loved her completely. There was no distance there at all. I planned a whole life for us, together."

She nodded. "But you went to see Joan after you changed back."

"I did. But then, she was a big part of my decision to change back, so she knew already."

Annie snorted. "Imagine that, making her a part of your decision."

"Don't give me too much credit. It's just how it played out."

She ran both hands through her hair. "I don't even… My whole past has been rewritten. What in heaven do I do now?"

He said, quietly, "You know that Torchwood will find him. A Time Lord in this universe? It's like catnip to them. They will want to learn all they can about him and then make contact with him, talk to him."

She met his eyes, but said nothing.

"If they do…when they do, will you want to see him?"

She turned her gaze away and, with a tiny movement, shook her head. He grasped her hand and said, a trace of disbelief in his voice, "Annie, really? You don't want to talk to him?"

"And say what?"

He shrugged and she shook her head again, more decisively this time. "Beg him to be mine again? Ask him why he left me? Be pitiful and needy? I don't think so."

"If he's like other Time Lords, he might have companions—like Gus, maybe. You could travel with him."

She lifted an eyebrow. "And be what to him? A…friend? That would be worse than nothing. That, I don't think I could survive." She looked at him keenly. "Did you ask…Joan, was it?…to travel with you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She said no."

"Why?"

"She said…" He paused and swallowed. "She said the man she loved was dead, and I looked like him."

She nodded slowly, her mouth twisting, between bemusement and pain. "Good for her. That's exactly it." She rubbed a hand over her face and stretched her legs out, pointing her toes. "It's frigid up here. I suppose I should go home." Slowly she drew her legs under and stood; he did so, too, reaching to support her elbow as she got somewhat creakily to her feet. "Thank you, John," she said quietly. "For everything."

"It was nothing."

"It wasn't. But of course you would say that." She came into his arms for a long hug. He felt her sniffle quietly against his shoulder, but she quickly gathered herself and stepped back.

He reached into his trouser pocket and came out with the two rings and the broken chain. He offered them to her, silently, and she reached for them, weighing them in her palm. After a moment of staring at them, she said, "How do I go forward from here, John? Knowing what I know now?"

He folded her fingers over her rings and gripped her hand in both of his. "Step by step. With Rose, and Jake, and me there with you." He paused. "The past is only rewritten if you let it be, Annie. I feel certain that when he was with you, he loved you completely. That is still yours."

She gave him a watery smile and reached up and kissed his cheek. "Can we find Jake? He can take me home."

"I could take you. Or Rose…"

"No, thank you. Jake, I think." She gave a short laugh. "We can discuss returned lovers who don't love us anymore."

There seemed to be no proper response to that, so he simply drew her arm through his and they walked in silence together back to the elevator. Once inside, the Doctor pressed the button for the floor for Rose's office and then leaned against the wall, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders. After a moment of silence, Annie said, "Are you sure that Torchwood will look for Mark…for this Time Lord?"

"Oh, they will. Rose will, if no one else." He paused and then said, under his breath, "Rose won't ever let this go."

He had thought his last comment inaudible, but apparently she heard, as he felt her move against him. Something in his tone, an edge, caused her to pull away slightly, far enough to be able to turn her head and look at him. He felt her gaze on his face like a touch, but resisted meeting her eyes. Finally she laid a hand on his chest, and he looked up. "John," she whispered. "Don't."

She knew. She saw him so clearly.

"Annie…"

"No, John. Just don't."

He nodded, his throat aching. Finally he said, "I'll talk to her."

"You damn well better."

Jake had been easily found; they had nearly run into him, in fact, on exiting the elevator on Rose's floor. He leapt up and looked back and forth between Annie and the Doctor, a question in his eyes. "Annie asked if you'd take her home, Jake," the Doctor said quietly.

"Of course. C'mon love, I've got your bag here." Jake reached out and hugged her, and Annie responded instinctively, pressing her face into his chest and squeezing tight for a long moment. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"I'll live, I think," she replied with a wan smile. She turned and looked at the Doctor again. "Thank you, John. Really."

He started to say it was nothing, but then remembered, and nodded. He watched as she and Jake got back on the elevator and the doors slid shut. As they disappeared from view, Jake was whispering something in her ear, and her eyes were closed, a small smile on her lips.

Well. At least he knew Annie was in good hands. He went in search of Rose.

Their trip home had been mercifully quick and completely silent, except for murmured words exchanged when they had to pay the cabbie and dig around for their keys. It had been, to put it mildly, a long day.

In harmony they had shucked their coats and shoes in the entryway. Rose went straight to the kitchen while the Doctor sat heavily on the couch, scrubbing his eyes as if it might erase from his memory the vision of his friend when her heart broke for the second time. He heard Rose's feet padding on the carpet and looked up to see her holding a glass out to him. He took it and she poured him a generous serving of wine, doing the same for herself. She sat down a little distance from him on the sofa and drank.

After a long moment, she finally spoke: "I keep thinking we're going to find a blue box. But of course, it might look completely different, yeah?"

"It might. Some things appear to be the same, obviously. His appearance…"

"And some things have proven to be quite different," she said, with a touch of ice in her voice. "Like the fact that he's a wanker and a coward, apparently."

He let out a breath in a sort of half laugh. "Oh, Rose… Yes. I can't believe he would do such a thing to her. Goodness knows, I'm a hell of a coward myself, but I can't imagine not having the guts to face her."

She stared at him, and when she spoke her tone brooked no disagreement. "You're the bravest man I know. You always were."

He shook his head.

She looked at him and finally just asked the question that had been eating at her for hours. "You don't want to find him, do you?"

He shrugged.

"Why not?"

He said nothing, his eyes resolutely on the wine in his glass.

"Doctor?" Gently now.

He looked up, finally, into her eyes. "Like I said. Coward."

She pulled back a little, as if to survey him better. "You're afraid of him? But why? You're not afraid of anything."

"You know that's not true."

She huffed. "Fine. But why would you be afraid of a Time Lord? It's not like he's a Dalek."

"A Dalek wouldn't take you away from me." There. It was out.

She gazed at him. When had she developed this all-seeing, unblinking gaze? "A Dalek might very well take me away from you, Doctor, given a clear shot…"

He stopped her "But I'd stop it. I'd be able to stop it."

"And?"

"And you wouldn't want to go with a Dalek."

"Doctor…I don't understand."

"I'm scared, Rose. It's that simple."

After a moment she reached out, taking his hand. "Of what?"

"Of being Mickey."

Rose brows drew together and without thinking she launched into a defense of her friend. "You could do a lot worse than…" She stopped, her mouth open. "Wait…do you mean… What do you mean?"

He put on his best Mancunian accent, which was still pretty damned good: "Did I mention it also travels in time?"

She stared at him. "I didn't know you still had that voice."

He glowered. "I am a man of many talents."

She shook her head slowly, and to his dismay, began to laugh. Just a chuckle at first, and then she seemed to lose control of it and bent double over her own lap, laughing uproariously. She held her hand with the wine glass straight out from her body, trying to avoid dousing the carpet in red liquid as a result of her mirth.

He regarded her with a sour look until she met his eyes and choked off her laughter, hastily wiping away tears from the corner of her eyes. "Sorry, darling. Sorry. I just…are you seriously telling me that you're worried I'm going to run off with this new Time Lord? Leave you like I left Mickey?"

He shrugged and looked down at his hands, lying in his lap. He muttered, "He can give you a TARDIS, time travel, everything. I can't, not anymore." He heard her intake of breath, and before he knew it, she had deposited her glass on the floor, grabbed his clasped hands and flung them wide, climbing into his lap to face him, knees straddling him. She took his face between her fingers and kissed him, long and hot. When she pulled away he asked, breathlessly, "What was that for?"

"Do you know who you are?"

He stared at her, considering. Finally he said, "Not really."

"Why not?"

"Well….John Smith? Not truly. Time Lord? Not fully. Human? Bloody bad one. So, no. Not really sure."

"Hmm. But you see, I know exactly who you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the Time Lord who took me out of that limited, prescribed life on the estates and showed me the whole world…the whole universe. And you're the human being who loves me like no one else ever has or will. You're my Doctor. And I will never go anywhere that's not with you."

He grasped her elbows, holding her in place. "Oh, Rose. You've done more for me than I ever did for you. You've made me better, so many times."

Her amber eyes were so close to his, and while she did not smile, while her face was perfectly serious, her eyes shone with warmth and love. "But don't you see? That's exactly it. You're my Doctor. And I'm yours."

fin