James proceeded to make a cup of tea while he waited for the alarm on his watch to beep, indicating that another twenty minutes had passed and it was time to wake her. He hated waiting. Doing nothing. It drove him mad, but he didn't have a choice, at least, not if he wanted to succeed and he wanted that more than anything. The Doctor's destruction.
Rose needed to rest, not too much, just a bit. Too much and she'd regain her strength and it'd be easier for her to reason, to think, and he didn't want that. She had to stay off balance. The sedative helped, not the one he put her to sleep with, but the other. The one that dulled her sense of reason, made her want to believe him.
She was coming along, a bit slower than he hoped, but he knew it wasn't going to be easy, nothing was ever easy with her. He poured the water into his cup thinking about how strange it was, looking at her and feeling…nothing, except contempt. He'd loved her, had been deeply in love with her, but that was back before Dr. Hastings.
They were there though. The memories. He could draw them up. Replay them. That's how he was able to pull this off, make her believe, delve into those feelings that he once had, only, when he did it there was no attachment to her. It was as if he was feeling what someone else felt.
He smiled. She was close to breaking, wouldn't be long now, all he had to do was keep going forward with his plan. A bit of rest, then the sedative, then part of the story, then rest, the sedative, more of the story. Eventually, she'd begin to believe him. Trust him. That's what he needed, her trust. She would do anything for the Doctor always believing that he knew what he was doing. That whatever he asked her to do, no matter how mad it seemed, was the right thing to do.
He smiled as he thought about the way she looked at that needle he'd put in her hand. That was nice touch, if he did say so himself. That little bit of believability. She still didn't trust him, but it'd taken her by surprise. That and the fact that he'd healed her rope burns with his sonic, although he didn't remember adding that setting, but it was there so he must have. She recovered from her surprise, but then she called him by the Time Lord's title. A slip. It would be the first of many.
The second time he gave her a bit of the story. She didn't want to believe him, but he'd seen it. Her belief in what was real wavering, just slightly, just enough to make her doubt, not him, but herself, her own memories. She just needed a bit more pushing, a bit more coaxing and she'd plunge over the edge.
By the time he was finished she'd have no doubt he was the man he claimed to be and the Doctor, the actual Doctor, well, the next time she laid eyes on him she'd see him, not as the man she loved, but as the man from her nightmares. Nightmares James was more than happy to provide. His watch beeped and he sat his tea down, heading back into the bedroom. Time for the next round.
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