A/N: I wrote looooooooooooooooads of chapters yesterday XD So I'll give you one a day 'til I run out :P

Chapter 21 – Sod's Law Strikes Again!

Jackie speechlessly held out a hand to Mickey as the phone dropped to the floor with a clatter. He soundlessly passed her the First Aid box; jaw agape as he stared at the thing lying unconscious in front of him, extremely pale, lifeless, and absolutely drenched.

"Is he dead?" Mickey tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out. So he just stood still as a rock, staring at it.

Was it even the Doctor?

No…it couldn't be…he…wouldn't…couldn't…

Mickey watched as Jackie stepped towards him, lifting him gently up to lay him flat on the floor, hovering a hand above his mouth.

"He's just about breathin'…" Jackie said as strongly as she could, setting the First Aid box next to her and digging about in it for medical equipment. "Gawd, it's cold in 'ere."

"Is Rose 'ere?" Mickey asked, his voice hovering on the edge of pure shock, unable to take his eyes off of the Doctor.

"I dunno," Jackie would have said it rudely but she didn't have it in her to. "Go 'ave a look."

In any other circumstance Mickey would have argued the point that the TARDIS was the size of a city and you rarely could find your own bedroom, but like Jackie, he didn't have it in him. He checked in a majority of places in the TARDIS they were likely to be for her or Rory - but found nothing. He did however, find something rather useful in the Infirmary and quickly transported it back to the Console Room, where Jackie and the Doctor were lurking.

The Doctor looked a little cleaner, and Jackie was desperate to wake him up.

"Doctor, don't do this," she said softly to him, turning his limp head gently with two fingers to face upwards. "C'mon sweetie, wake up for me."

His body remained stationary as Jackie held his blood-coated hand for support.

"He's drowned," Jackie said to Mickey as he knelt next to the both of them. "Somethin' got 'im…check his hands…"

Mickey did so, and winced at the sight of the cuffs. Immediately possible scenarios came flooding into his head a dozen at a time - none of them looked nice.

"Get 'im to the flat," Mickey was saying. "Can't keep 'im in 'ere. It's freezin'. I got this." He showed Jackie the wheelchair he'd acquired from the Infirmary, and she nodded in approval. Together they lifted the Doctor up into it, scared about how much control they had over him right now. A lot of creatures in the Universe would give their right arm to have the Doctor so helpless at their feet. This was like Christmas all over again.

Slowly and carefully, they headed back to the flat.

This was unbearable.

He didn't dare go to bed last night with Rose still in a mood with him. These days he needed every single bit of sleep he could possibly get, the torment his body had taken was just too great to brush off sleep like he had used to – in the old days. Before it had happened. Before his entire life had turned to crap.

If he wasn't careful he'd lose this Rose too, and he couldn't do that. He loved that girl so much both his hearts hurt, and he'd worked so hard to get her back. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers again.

He hated himself again.

He was sat in the botanical gardens of the TARDIS he had so frequently pondered in before, gazing from a bench at the colourful view presented infront of him. He had brought Rose here once, he recalled. He had told her he'd never lose her, never let her go and never stop fighting in her name.

Basically: false promise after false promise after false promise.

Oh, how he hated himself.

Even his own son was against him, and frankly, he was beginning to see why. His soul had burnt in that fire with Rose Tyler, and Rory had seen that since day one. Why had he been so mean? He loved Rory. He loved the both of them. Rose had taught him…

Never mind. The speech could wait 'til later.

"Doctor," said a female voice from behind him. He didn't turn around.

"Come to tell me I'm dumped?" he asked, trying to gently laugh but what came out instead was more like him clearing his throat. But she laughed. Oh, that laugh. That laugh was the most beautiful sound in the Universe. He loved it. He loved her.

"Not quite." She took a seat next to him, but didn't touch him. "I want to know."

"Know what?"

"What happened to you."

He swallowed, nervously.

"…Would it make you happy?" he whispered more than said. "Please. I want to make you happy."

She rested a hand on his, and he looked up, gazing straight into her eyes.

"Tell me."

The Doctor was immediately torn in two. His brain told him to lie, to lie straight to her face and make up a heroic story full of fighting and pain and rage…but his heart, and her beautiful brown eyes…both yearned for the truth.

Yearning. Needing.

Lie. His brain almost screamed.

Truth. His heart whispered softly.

Slowly, he took a deep, fortifying breath; and began to tell her a complete and total lie.

Voices were distant, and still the Doctor couldn't find them. They were all anxious voices. Voices about him - calling his name. He got flashes of Jackie's flat, of Jackie herself and Mickey the Idiot, trying to tempt him out of unconsciousness with cups of sweet smelling tea. But he couldn't wake up.

Besides. What did he have left to wake up to? His doppelganger had Rose and Rory, and he wasn't going to give them back anytime soon. He hated himself. He'd lost them - both of them. It would have been just a tad more bearable if he knew Rose could tell that bastard wasn't him, and she was trying at this very moment to find him. But he was identical.

He had nothing left to live for. His double's ship was water drowned and inoperative; his own ship was currently God knows where and when in the Universe; his son and the only woman he'd ever properly truly loved was with the most horrible, vicious, destructive and powerful being in the Universe.

Himself.

The Master saw this coming. He had seen this waiting for him. They were all right. Everyone who had criticised him for meddling with time – this was what they knew would have happened. They all saw this coming, and the Doctor had just waltzed on, oblivious and innocent.

So now here he was. The Lonely Angel. Dead inside.

His eyes opened more out of needing to than actually wanting to. He felt very sick inside; tired all over and like a zero, a nothing. He was a shell of a man, his feelings and memories packed into a suitcase, ready to take a hike into the unknown.

Jackie was all over him within two seconds, but the Doctor didn't move. Didn't react. Any psychiatrist would say he was in shock – but he wasn't. He was just a heartsbeat away from giving up altogether.

"Doctor, what 'appened? Where's Rose?" Jackie was asking him, but he ignored her for the moment. He pulled himself shakily out of the bed and staggered to the dressing table, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

Slowly he reached up to his hair and tugged lightly at it, whimpering as he lowered his hands and stared miserably at the reels of bandages encasing them. He moaned in pain and discomfort with a stabbing pain in the back of his head as he sank to the floor in a heap, resisting from curling up into a ball. Jackie stared at him. This was all incredibly un-Doctorish, and despite all the questions burning inside her, aching to be asked with sheer curiosity about her daughter and grandson – she knew they had to wait until later.

"C'mon, you need some rest."

He nodded, but didn't move from his position.

She put her arms around his chest, pulling him onto his feet with his arm around her shoulder. She was alarmed at how thin he was.

"How long has it been since you ate?!"

"Can't remember," he muttered, a crease of a frown appearing on his forehead. "Over a week…?"

She instantly changed her direction, towards the sitting room. "Then before we do anythin', you eat." They both slowly made their way there, Jackie dropping the Doctor onto the sofa, taking the TV off standby. She didn't bother looking at what was on before she went to make some supper.

The Doctor recognised the film instantly. It was Casablanca. The film notorious for its ending where the man gives up everything he ever had for a woman he's never going to see again.

"We won't be apart…we just…won't be together…" the film said, and the Doctor went white – biting his fingernails. He took a cushion from the side and stared as Titanic started up, a film where the man dies saving the love of his life, who is aptly named 'Rose'.

When Jackie finally finished making food, she went back into the sitting room only to find the Doctor holding a cushion to his chest and rocking back and forth, staring at the screen which was currently showing Rose flying on the front of the ship with Jack supporting her, one of the most emotionally powerful songs in existence in the background.

Jackie quickly hurried over to the Doctor, putting the plates of food and cups of drink onto the table and instantly grabbing the remote to put the TV back on standby.

"Oh, Sod's Law, eh?" she said in a jokey voice, but the Doctor didn't feel inclined to reply. She sat next to him on the sofa and picked up a cheese and tomato sandwich, hovering it infront of his face to try and tempt him into taking it. Like a nervous hamster, he extended a hand to it slowly and carefully – before snatching it and curling back against the sofa, watching her shyly as he nibbled on the side. Once satisfied it wasn't poisonous, he took a bigger chunk, then a bigger one, and then a bigger one. Soon it was totally devoured and he was staring longingly at the rest of the food.

"Eat all ya want," Jackie smiled at him comfortingly. He nodded, cramming the last of the second sandwich into his mouth as he reached down to the cup of orange – but even before he properly started to lift it his wrist exploded with pain, and he instantly cradled it to his chest.

Jackie watched his failed attempt, suddenly empathetic. She picked up the cup for him and, as if he were a child, lifted it to his lips. He took a couple of gulps without moving his eyes off of her, before giving the okay sign with his fingers and she took it away again.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak for the first time since he'd woke up.

"Thanks Jackie," he whispered.

She beamed. "That's okay Doctor. Eat up, then maybe you can tell me what's been goin' on recently."

He nodded, an then looked to the floor as he took a banana from the bowl. He needed to tell someone…he needed to get it off of his chest.

Slowly, he took a deep, fortifying breath; and began to tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Chapter 22 – Just Another Day At The Office

"Rory, it's me. Your DADDY."

Silence was the only thing that answered him, so he pushed open the door and peeked around inside.

Rory was sitting there, staring at him with that freaky absurdly accusing stare.

"Liar," he said.