A/N: RIP Elisabeth Sladen. Shocking, devastating news. Didn't even know she was sick... What's our world without Lis and Sarah Jane? :( She will be remembered forever.

I will probably write a tribute fic, but in the meantime, here's the next bit to take our minds off of it.


Chapter 7 – Like a Romcom

Pete's World

Five years previously...

The TARDIS de-materialised, leaving the metacrisis and Rose holding hands, looking at each other. Rose stared at him. His eyes, his hair, his outfit, his smile, even the light splattering of barely-there freckles. The freckle on his neck, the one on his ear, the one on his hand. His memories were the same. The way he thought was the same. The way he acted was the same. Besides the dash of Donna's humanity, he was absolutely the Doctor in every aspect.

Except... he wasn't the Doctor.

"What am I supposed to call you?" she wondered.

He laughed. It was the same laugh. The same wrinkles next to his eyes when he laughed. The same light in his eyes.

"I have no idea," he admitted. "Ten and a half?"

He laughed again. She didn't. The joke fell a bit flat.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Mum." Rose suddenly let go of his hand, turning to her Mother standing behind them, watching. "I wanna go home."

Jackie nodded, glancing between the metacrisis and Rose as she pulled out her phone and dialled for home. The metacrisis looked at Rose. She was purposely avoiding his gaze.

And she barely looked at him for a very long time after.


"I have all the documents ready to go," Pete was saying at his desk in Torchwood Three a few weeks later, the metacrisis sitting opposite him with his arms folded. "Driving license, birth certificate, the works – I just need your name. Have you thought of one, yet?"

The metacrisis shrugged. "I dunno... John Smith?"

Pete laughed. "C'mon, you can be a bit more creative!"

The metacrisis paused for a moment, contemplating it over. "How about... Donald? Like Don-na and the Do-ctor..."

Pete smiled, and nodded. "No problem. Have you thought of a career, yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well remember there's always a job at Torchwood for you, we could really use you here."

Don shuddered at the mere thought of working for Torchwood – even if it was run by a man he trusted. "No thanks, I'll find my own route."

Pete regarded him for a moment, before nodding and smiling. "I'll have the documents sorted by the end of the day. Welcome to the world, Donald Smith."


Rose had her own house in the middle of London away from the mansion – wanting her independence. Like a fool Don had assumed that she'd happily welcome him into her life, into her house, even into her bed within a matter of days of the Doctor leaving them here on Pete's world. But it quickly became evident she wasn't so accepting. But he could work on that.

Everyday he turned up at her house; bringing her gifts, cooking her dinner, tidying her house while she was out at work. He knew what she was doing there – she was trying to fix the dimension cannon. She'd never personally mentioned it to him, but he had heard the stories from Pete.

She didn't want him. She wanted the Doctor. She'd only ever wanted the Doctor. But Don wanted her.

So he kept trying. Even though every time she just kept slamming the door on his face. He loved her, and he wasn't going to give up.


"Welcome back, Don!" the aged-nurse enthused as she caught sight of Don lying in the hospital bed of the ward as she did her rounds.

In the five months since he had arrived on Pete's world, he had been hospitalised at least six times. His immune system was not very immune to begin with – or so he assumed – meaning he was in and out of hospital a lot. He'd had all the diseases – a simple cold turning out to be the flu, turning into all-out pneumonia and consequent hospitalisation. He'd even caught shingles when Tony had brought back chickenpox from school and was in hospital for a week. As a consequence of being in hospital on a monthly basis he grew to know the medical staff very well.

He grinned and waved. "Hello, Leanne," he said happily as she moved over to meet him.

"What caught you this time?" she asked, pulling his clipboard out of the trolley and flicking through.

"Appendicitis," he grimaced, indicating his belly where he'd had the operation.

"Aww you poor love! Do you need anything?"

"I'm bored!" he whined, but was grinning from ear to ear. "Do you need any help?"

Leanne laughed, well used to this by now. "We're a hand short in paediatrics..."

"Perfect!" Don said instantly, making to get up.

"Hold on!" Leanne was saying, laughing, but he was already shifting into the nearest wheelchair and dragging him IV's along with him.

"Let's go, let's go!" Don enthused, and Leanne had no choice but to wheel him towards paediatrics.


"How are you doing?" Leanne asked as she stepped into the children's playroom where Don was currently helping a four-year-old, Tom, build the biggest Lego house known to mankind.

"Great!" both Don and Tom yelled instantaneously, throwing their arms in the air.

Leanne laughed. "I think Doctor Nichols wants you back in bed, Tom."

The four-year-old's jaw dropped. "But I wanna play with Don!"

Don laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "I think you should do what she says, Tom."

"But... but..."

"No buts!" Don said strictly. "We can finish this later, yeah?"

The smile returned back to Tom's face. "Yeah!" he enthused and got to his feet. Climbing into his wheelchair where he flopped down, exhausted. Don climbed into his and grinned at Tom.

"Hey, we match!" he said happily, gesturing at the chairs.

Tom giggled as one of the nurses wheeled him back to his room along the corridor, and he disappeared.

Leanne turned back to Don. "Thank you for that. That's the happiest he's been for months."

"Glad I could help," Don replied, offering a small smile. "Acute lymphoblastic leukemia?"

Leanne was no longer smiling, looking as though she might cry. "You're familiar with it?"

"I read medical journals," Don replied quickly. "He looks very advanced."

"I'm sorry, patient confidentiality," Leanne said apologetically.

"The treatment has failed, hasn't it."

Leanne didn't say a word.

"It's important to make his life as happy as it can be in the time he potentially has left," Don continued quietly. "Because he's a beautiful thing and he deserves every minute to be amazing. But you can never stop hoping, because that's the worst thing. Because if he does leave us, you want to be assured that you tried everything in your power to save him, and when Mother Nature insisted it was not to be you're comforted by the thought of that last night you spent with him, holding his hand, telling him stories, easing his pain."

Leanne's eyes were teary. "Who did you lose?"

Don looked at her for a moment. "... I think I found a career."

"What?" Leanne asked, wrong-footed.

"I want to be a paediatrician."


He went as often as he could to Rose's house, pulling out all the stops, all the techniques in the handbook, and eventually she invited him to stay on the sofa late one night. It was like being promoted. Though the sofa was too small and his legs were poking over the other side and his back was aching and his neck at an absurd angle – this was the happiest he'd ever felt on this parallel world so far.

He must've been asleep when Rose left that morning, so when he got up he cleaned up her house and did her grocery shopping, whilst contemplating what he could make her for dinner. When 5pm rolled around he had already settled on exactly what he was going to do... and began to set up to make his spaghetti bolognese – it was the Doctor's Earth cuisine speciality. He always used to cook it for Rose on the TARDIS for a special occasion... she adored it.

He decided to go all-out. He covered the dinner table with a red drape, laid out all the best cutlery, dimmed the lights, candles lit, expensive red wine, Simply Red playing on the hi-fi system. Don wasn't sure how exactly a romantically-themed dinner was supposed to go, but Donna seemed to have some idealisms so he played on them, hoping all human women had an instant love for Simply Red. Because the Doctor side of him wasn't so impressed.

She came in the door at exactly 8pm. Perfect. The dinner was already dished out and ready to be eaten, piping hot. He sat at the table and waited until she turned the corner, and her jaw dropped.

He offered a grin. "Dinner?" he proposed.

There was a very long pause.

"What the hell is this?" Rose finally asked, a little bit rudely.

"Simply Red?" he asked dumbly.

"This is a bloody date, isn't it?"

"No!" he said quickly, rising to his feet in alarm. "It's a celebration! I know what job I'm gonna do."

"And what the hell does that have to do with me?" she yelled.

"I thought maybe... we could... celebrate it together..." he said quietly, slowly, staring at the floor.

"Oh!" she realised, hands on her hips. "Now I get it! You think getting the sofa last night was an open invitation to my bed!"

"No, I..."

"I only let you stay here because it was raining outside!"

"Rose..."

"In case my feelings aren't bloody clear, I don't like you! You mean absolutely nothing to me!" she practically screamed. "Get the hell out of my house!"

He decided to leave before she saw him cry.


The ice cold rain seemed to be out just to get him as he ran through the streets of London towards his destination. There was really only one place he could go. He was going to the only person who he truly felt comfortable around on this world – Jackie Tyler.

He was completely wet through by the time he reached the mansion, taking the secret little-known back route to dodge the security. Finally he made it to the back of the house, seeing a light on in a living room. The blob of blonde hair showed it was Jackie.

Feeling completely numb he knocked on the window, peering inside. Jackie instantly jumped in alarm and turned to the window... and saw him standing out in the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, his expression portraying utter misery. In alarm Jackie shot up and moved to the kitchen adjoining the living room, opening the service door.

"Don," she whispered, staring at the sight of him. "Get in here right now."


She draped him in a blanket on the sofa, getting him a mug of hot chocolate. Don was crying, and she knew that her daughter was probably part of the cause. If not all of it. It was weird seeing the Doctor cry.

"I've tried everything," he sobbed, shaking. "I did everything right. I know I did."

"Oh, sweetheart," Jackie muttered, bringing him into a hug. "It's not your fault. It's Rose. She's just angry at being left here, she'll come around eventually."

"She wants him," Don gasped, beads of his own tears splashing into his hot chocolate. "There's nothing I can do..."

Jackie rubbed his back comfortingly. "Maybe you should try and find someone else?"

"There is no one else," he whispered, taking a sip from the mug jumping about in his shaking hands. "She was all I ever wanted..."

"Sweetheart, look. You've done so well. You're building a life here. Pete's gonna sort out your qualifications so you can be a paediatrician, you've got a name and credentials and friends, don't you?" she said gently. "Maybe you could meet another woman."

"And lie about who I am?" he asked through the ongoing tears. "I'm still part-alien... no one is gonna like that, especially after the Cybermen..."

"But you can give it a try, can't you?" Jackie insisted. "And if you meet another woman I promise you I will always be your friend."

He looked at her, red-eyed. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied with a nod.

He paused, swallowing. "Okay," he whispered, making the decision. "I'll talk to Rose tomorrow... if it's a firm no... I'll find someone else."

Jackie smiled. "That's it, love. Now have a bath and go to bed, you'll catch your death like this."


He waited on the street he knew she always walked down, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. Just as she rounded the corner he stepped forward and straight into her path, holding up his arms to stop her.

Rose blinked, before her face turned into combination of loathing and annoyance. "What, you bloody stalking me now?" she snapped.

"Please," he began, lowering his arms and taking a breath. "I love you. I want to be with you. Please..."

"Haven't you got the message yet?" she yelled, dimly aware of all the people standing around staring at them. "I tried telling you nicely, I tried casting you off, I tried yelling at you, but you're still not bloody getting it, are you? Just stay the hell away from me! I don't want you! You're not him! You're an imposter! So just fuck off, all right?"

She spun on her heel and stepped off the curb the cross the road, leaving Don standing in the middle of the pavement, staring after her blankly.

Then he saw it. In the corner of his eye. It was a bus, speeding towards Rose. It was just like the films – everything went into slow-motion, and as he stared between Rose and bus he quickly realised she hadn't noticed...

There was the screech of brakes, but it was not going to stop in time. Without even thinking he threw himself forward, pushing her out of the way just as the bus slammed straight into him.

Rose whirled around, and screamed. The impact had thrown him ten feet in front of the bus in a knot of limbs, completely out cold with blood spilling onto the pavement. Pedestrians had stopped, staring in shock, pointing at the sight as Rose couldn't even bring herself to move...


A/N: Chapter 8 – How To Operate A Phone

He suddenly stopped, staring at the scan with narrowed eyes. "... How long was he in a coma for?"

"Eight months," Rose replied quietly.

"... He shouldn't be awake."

Rose blinked. "What?"

"Look at the damage to the cerebral cortex," the Doctor pointed out. "He should not be walking and talking..."

Rose looked down at her husband's impassive face, tears in her eyes. "Is he gonna die?"

The Doctor paused, turning to stare at her. "He can heal himself, but all these conflicting emotions are doing more damage than he can heal. He is in an extremely bad state. Eventually all this damage will completely shut down his brain."