The Doctor kicked his feet up onto the large desk, reveling in the intense relief the pain killers Jack had given him. He pushed the chair back, wove his fingers beneath his head and rocked. Gwen and Martha had left to pick up some Chinese at Jack's request. Ianto had left to pick up the pizzas, claiming that the new courier's bag never held the head well. Jack had left with Donna to get drinks after the two got in a bitter argument over aluminum versus glass at the end of which both vowed not to purchase the other. Smiling, he continued to rock. Thankfully, the three hadn't been too offended at his attempt to figure out what was going on. The only one who seemed honestly upset was Gwen, who while saying nothing to him had proceeded to berate Jack about the incident. Right in front of him! He hadn't even stood up yet. He smile became a grin. She was a good companion for Jack.
The thought resonated in his mind. A good companion. He'd had so many, lost so many. His thoughts turned to Rose. In his mind's eye he could see her again, slightly older, hair longer, the bright and flashy makeup replaced by complimentary neutral tones. It was just as if she was standing in front of him.
Rose blinked.
The Doctor watched her, too shocked to display a response. She turned her head and looked around. He blinked slowly, blinked again. Rose was standing on the table, dressed in a smart tan suit. Her crimson shirt flared over the collar and past the bottom of the jacket. She looked at the Doctor and nodded. Her shoes clinked against the table as she walked across, and stepped down into a chair across from the Doctor. His mouth agape, the Doctor struggled with what he was seeing.
She smiled, seemingly knowingly to the Doctor's eyes, and said in a mock reproachful tone, "You really should've checked the pain killers Jack gave you."
The Doctor said nothing. He was immensely disappointed. He'd been thinking of every barely conceivable if not impossible way in which this could be real, and the realization that she was merely a hallucination was crushing.
"Don't be like that," She chided him when she saw his face fall, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. "The universe isn't going to rip itself apart and you get to see me."
"Except that you're not real." The Doctor said with frustration, removing his feet from the desk. "I'm high and talking to myself, this is bloody fantastic."
Rose looked hurt. "You don't believe that."
"Yes, I do." He said crossly, "And I've got to say, if this was Jack's idea of a joke, then he's got another thing coming when he gets back."
Rose laughed. "He hasn't changed much huh?"
"No," He said thoughtfully, "But you have."
"Yeah, how's that?"
The Doctor just shrugged. There was a long pause while he studied his illusion. Were it real, it was what he would have wanted to see. She seemed calm, relaxed. A little older, much wiser, just as he'd hoped. It was then he realized she was mocking his expression. She'd made her lips wide and flat, opened her eyes wide, and furrowed her brows. Not getting the reaction she wanted, she put her hands in her hair, making it stick up strangely.
To hell with it all, thought the Doctor. He smiled, and she smiled, and they both began to laugh.
"I've missed you." The Doctor said, happy to finally say it regardless of the situation.
Rose nodded, smiling softly. "Me too."
Another pause, more smiling. For the first time in ages, the Doctor felt relaxed. Like he could let go of everything.
"Have you even studied the poison from the spear?" She asked out of nowhere, fixing her hair with one hand.
The Doctor thought for a moment, curious why he'd picked that as a topic. "No, actually, I haven't."
"Maybe you should," Rose suggested. "Because certainly you know that the pharmacological identity of a drug will vary greatly by species, especially ones with psychotropic effects."
The Doctor smiled wryly. "You'd never speak like that in a thousand years. I suppose I'm starting to snap out of it."
"You're right," Rose said sarcastically, clearly offended. "I'd never go out, get educated, hold a job worth anything. You think I'm serving tea at Torchwood? Think I'm there saving the Earth with biscuits?"
"This is ridiculous." Said the Doctor as he waved his hand at her in a gesture of dismissal, turning from her. "I'm too old to be arguing with myself."
"I'll tell you what isn't ridiculous," She said angrily, both hands on the desk as she leaned close. "You attuned yourself to a psychic network with a mind thousands of years older than you are now. Then, you reverted back to your current appearance. But you know what didn't revert?"
The Doctor swung back to her, his eyes narrowed into slits. He slowly stood up and stared down at her.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. You hid it from yourself before you even became aware of it, but I've seen it." She stood to meet his gaze head on. "That poison from the spear messed things up again, didn't it? Your subconscious can't hide the change anymore, so you'd better learn to use it."
The Doctor said nothing. The two stared each other down across the table, Rose with frustration, the Doctor with confusion and anger fulled by possible ineptitude. The moment felt like an eternity, and neither said a word.
She vanished, and the Doctor jolted. He looked around, and found himself still reclining in the chair, feet on the desk, hands behind his head. Placing his feet on the floor, the Time Lord leaned forward and let his forehead rest on the desk. It's surface was cool and smooth and when he finally raised his head, damp as well.