Invasion of the Unexpected

AN: Thanks for the reviews people. And just to warn you this is the only chapter (I think) that I will certificate T because of some language. But yeah, it's only one word anyway. Sorry for the delay, it's getting harder to write this fic actually. But I'll get there.

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Rose laid herself over the dead Doctor. Crying into his hair and clutching tightly onto his jacket, she sobbed until she was numb. All that was left was a deep wound, a deep hole. And anger. Hot, ferocious anger. Her head lifted and she looked down the hall, toward the way Paris had run. Rose's tears melted away. Slowly, she stood up. Her breaths were quick and sharp. She took one final sweeping, saddening look at the dead man, before walking in full throttle in the direction of the man who had just murdered her Doctor.

The man who stood in the shadows in the long coat watched her go. Once she had rounded the corner he walked quietly toward the dead being in the middle of the corridor. He simply stood and stared at the figure with intense sadness for a few seconds. Swallowing hard, he spoke sombrely, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And he meant it. As the Timelord stared at his dead doppelganger's glazed eyes he was sorry, so, truly sorry. Not least, because it was all his fault .

Gently, he bent down and closed the man's eyes in a swift fluid motion before standing back up again. He blinked a few times and turned, hurrying after Rose.

………

It did not occur to Rose to keep her eyes closed, or to watch out for the looming – preferable invisible – aliens that were surely creeping about the building. These thoughts did not cross her mind once, and even if they had she would not have bothered with them. She did not feel fear, only the numbness and anger gorging her soul. She walked quickly but silently, her energy fuelled through anger. Even though she was alert, eyes wide in searching for Paris, she could still not get the image of the Doctor out of her head… lying there in blood. It was a firm photograph in the back of her eyes.

She walked with blank face, giving off barely any emotion to anyone who would see her. But that didn't matter, because no one she could see was around. Although even as she walked, peering into doors as she went, Rose could not dismiss the feeling like she was being watched. Was it Paris? Was she imagining it?

"Rose ."

She stiffened, frozen in mid-step. Someone had whispered her name. A voice she recognized, but would not believe to have said it. Could not have said it. She shook it off; her imagination, she decided, getting the better of her. Anger quickly replaced the confusion and she walked in the same blank manner, searching for Paris Prince, silent for any noise that might give away his hiding place.

She spoke aloud, addressing to Paris, wherever he was, and was surprised at how her voice broke. "Where are you?" It wasn't a whisper or a shout. But it was clear, yet also broken.

"Rose."

A voice behind her made Rose freeze again. It had been clear this time. So clear that she dared not turn around. It wouldn't be true. Yet, if it was… could it be?

She turned and stared. There, about six meters away from her, stood the Doctor. Face impassive, eyes a misty brown, and with pinstriped suit and long coat. A mirage? A dream? Rose suddenly felt the rather familiar feeling of a lump in the back of her throat. Her eyes stung. The gaping hole in her chest was threatening to overwhelm her. This man wasn't real. But the pain was.

Then he spoke, "Rose." It was barely a whisper, but from it Rose felt a whole load of aching emotions torrent her. She backed away several steps as he walked forward several. "Rose," he spoke. "I know you're…" he trailed off, looking at the floor in thought.

Rose shook her head, "You're… dead."

The man – for he surely couldn't be the Doctor, her Doctor was dead – shook his head. "No," he said simply. "I'm not…" he frowned and seemed to be wondering how to make her understand. "I'm not him."

Rose backed up several more paces. The anger had returned, a hot rage. This man was an impostor; he wasn't her Doctor. Her Doctor had just died in her arms. This man was a dream, or an image, or a mirage, or she was delirious, but it wasn't the Doctor. "Get away from me," her voice was bitter.

He stopped, his mouth parted slightly, his face fallen. "No, Rose, I – I am the… I'm the other Doctor… I'm…"

Rose saw red again, but she could say she was surprised. Half of her had expected him to say that anyway. It didn't ease the pain at all though. The Doctor – her Doctor – had just died in her arms, whoever this man was, was irrelevant. It didn't ease the pain, the anger, and eagerness for revenge.

She didn't even care how he had got there. Such things didn't seem to matter. He looked like him, spoke like him… but he didn't have the same memories anymore; she had made brand new, precious memories with her Doctor. Before she might have wanted to see him, but that man she loved and had spent the past several months with had died she didn't care so much. She was too numb.

Rose was about to reply to the Doctor in front of her when a voice behind her made all other thoughts fall out of her mind.

"You should be dead!" Paris cried in shock from behind.

"Should I?" said the Doctor, acting surprised.

Rose turned and glared at Paris. He stood with the gun in hand, pointing it toward the Doctor. He was mad with rage, but also fearful, staring at the Doctor just as Rose had done mere minutes before.

"You killed him," she muttered, her eyes boring into the man.

Paris' gaze switched to Rose. "Yes, I had," he said honestly and without remorse. "But I don't take all the credit. The Atopili had already finished him off three days before anyway… once I'd given the order."

"Bastard!" sobbed Rose, finding to her horror that tears were making way down her cheeks before she could stop them.

"This ends here, Prince," the Doctor said calmly. He walked slowly toward him.

"You've said that before," said Paris, fear still evident in his voice.

The Doctor had reached Rose and lifted his arm to touch her but she was still seeing red and merely knocked his arm away before it reached her shoulder. Her eyes were staring at Paris like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"Why?" she asked Paris quietly, a forced calm.

"Sorry?" Paris frowned.

"Why did you kill him?" she asked, louder this time.

Paris was barely listening though and was still staring at the Doctor. "How are you still alive? How did you…?"

"I'm a different man," the Doctor replied. He looked back down at Rose who was sobbing quietly, though she seemed to notice, her eyes showed anger as she glared through tears at Paris. "Rose?" He reached out his hand but again she knocked it away.

"I don't understand," said Paris, the gun was still pointing at them both but he looked almost as if he had forgotten about it.

Rose walked toward Paris, paying no attention to the gun in his hand. Her pace quickened. "You killed him," she whispered coldly. "You killed him."

Paris suddenly seemed to realise what he was holding and pointed the gun at her. "Stay back!"

Rose ignored him. The Doctor followed behind her. "Rose no," he called softly.

Rose only increased her pace though and the Doctor couldn't really blame Paris for looking frightened. Rose was fuelled by anger, seeing only Paris' crime in front of her and nothing else. But, of course, Paris still had the upper hand; he still had the gun pointed at her, and he looked ready to shoot any second.

"Rose stop," the Doctor called louder. He ran up to her, and this time he did lock her shoulder in his hand. She flinched, and tried to shake him off but he held firm. "Rose, stop."

"No!" she swung round to face the Doctor. "Stop it! Just, stop it." She stared at him. "Your not him."

He shook his head.

Rose ripped the Doctor off of her and walked to Paris. "You –" she choked.

Paris didn't move, the gun still pointed at Rose's head. "He's alive, isn't he? However that happened…" Paris frowned, but quickly shook it off. "He's alive!"

As she came closer Paris lifted the gun higher, pointing at her head and a click was heard as he prepared to fire.

"Don't hurt her!" the Doctor suddenly cried from behind, grabbing his screwdriver from his pocket and pointing it threateningly past Rose, at Paris. "Rose get back!" he yelled. She ignored him. "Rose!" he screamed.

There was a sudden loud bang as a gunshot was fired, cracking and echoing in the long corridor.

Elsewhere, a song was moving through the building, calling lyrics through the echoing corridors; it's soft voice flowing through the loom.

…

AN: Yup, um… reviews are gooood. Review and you'll find out what's going on. But don't take long, I wanna know myself.