Summary: 'Can't you come through properly?' If the Doctor would do anything for love, why won't he do this? Post Doomsday fic.
Spoilers for Doomsday
I wrote this when the hotel thought it would be a really fun idea to have the fire alarms going off all night – and I mean all night. So what do you do when you can't sleep due to an excruciating loud alarm? That right! You write depressing fics! Enjoy!
Uses Meatloaf - I'd Do Anything lyrics
Almost
I have travelled across the universe through the years to find her
Sometimes going all the way is just a start…
'I would do anything for love, I would do anything for love – but I won't do that.
No I won't do that'
The Doctor kicked part of the control panel of the Tardis – specs of dust diverged and scattered throughout the air creating a new layer of dirt over a long forgotten surface. The Doctors' boot mark left an imprint in the dirt and grim that covered the once gleaming panel – his boot mark was the only sight of life… of existence in the Tardis. The Doctors' long forgotten stubble had now forged a beard that clung to his chin like a disease, his hair had grown over his collar and onto his shoulders – it was long and greasy, he ran his fingers through the lost forgotten mounds. His mouth had long forgotten how to smile and his eyes were dull – withered by bitterness. The Doctor ran his fingers over the controls – clumps of dirt, dust and grim scrapped off than stuck to his fingers. He looked down at the settings – long abandoned yet still directing to the one place he wanted to go, the once place he couldn't go.
'Can't you come through properly?'
'The whole thing would fracture, two universes would collapse'
'So?'
Rose had been right – what did it matter? Why did he care so much? He would have done anything thing for her… just not that.
'I would do anything for love, I'd run right into hell and back.
And I would do anything for love – I'll never lie to you and that's a fact.
I'll never forget the way you feel right now oh no – no way'
The Doctor blindly walked through the consol room hitting chairs and long abandoned clothes releasing clouds of dust. He hardly ever came in here – it contained too many memories. The Doctor swore violently as his foot collided with a heavy wooden chest, he kicked the box which tumbled indignantly down the steps. He followed it but walked into the kitchen; he reached his arm out and knocked an endless amount of empty bottles onto the floor. He swore viciously as he cut his fingers on the broken glass. He watched the blood drip down onto the floor, each crimson drop marking and scaring the floor forever. He squeezed his finger and watched the blood flow freely – he needed the pain, it reminded him that he was living – that he wasn't just a corpse masquerading as a man. He needed to know what living was, he needed to be able to feel again – living was just a dream for the dead…for him.
'And some days it don't come easy and some days it don't come hard, some days it don't come at all and these are the days that never end'
The Doctor clenched his fist, the warm sticky blood escaping through his fingers – the most beautiful fountain he'd ever seen. The blood ran down his arm and into his soul – one word clawing at his mind
'So?'
the word of a broken girl – the word of the spectre that haunted his nightmares. Yet he knew why, he knew why he couldn't do this one last thing for her – the past. He'd watch Gallifrey burn – his home, his people, then he watched the Daleks burn along side their home – he watched lives and worlds fall apart. He'd felt the pain, the gut wrenching, soul shattering pain that filled every cell of your being – the pain that could make you lie in the gutter for days as your body convulsed in reaction. The Doctor couldn't suffer it again – nor could he force that pain on others, it had nearly killed him the first time – twice he couldn't handle. Not even for love. Would she understand? Would she know why he did what he had to do? Was the pain of losing her any better than the pain of the loses of the two universes bursting with life? The Doctor watched as rose read blood marked the clinically white tiles as his mind destroyed itself with endless unanswerable questions. Was she worth it?
'Maybe I'm crazy, but it's crazy and it's true
I know you can save me, no one else can save me now but you'
The Doctor walked over to the sink pulling out a mug. It had once been white but had now turned a musty yellow – in the bottom was some unidentifiable brown substance. He dropped the mug back into the sea of crockery and picked up another one – this one was over sized and baby pink, it was decorated with hearts and had the name 'Rose' written across it. The mug felt so small and delicate in his hands – the light pink centre slowly began to turn red as the Doctor bled onto it. The thought of Rose smiling, laughing, clutching the mug – it shattered under his hands. A hundred pieces of crockery cut into his palm – the mug had shattered just like his life with Rose had. He flung the remands onto a counter, his blood staining where her lips had once rested.
'Some nights you're breathing fire, and some nights you're carved in ice
Some nights you're like nothing I've ever seen before or will again'
The Doctor lent over the sink, staring at his reflection in the glass above him. His eyes were filled by her face, stained by her laughter, clawed at by her smile and tortured by her grief. He could barely decipher dreams from memories – each so bittersweet the Doctor didn't know if it would hurt more to forget them or remember them. Forget her or remember her. The line between reality and fantasy was fading further and further each day, but the Doctor welcomed fantasy because in his mind he could save everyone – every innocent life that needn't be lost, he could hold her in his arms and love her, he didn't have to choose between Rose Tyler and universes – in his fantasies these decisions didn't exist. But then every time reality would hit him with a force a hundred times more powerful, torturing him with the truth until he vomited.
'Some days I pray for silence, and some days I pray for soul
Some days I just pray to the God of Sex and Drums and Rock 'N Roll
Some nights I lose the feeling, and some nights I lose control'
The Doctor pulled open the fridge, his long blood stained fingers reaching gratefully for the neck of a bottle. Vodka – Rose had left it there; he gratefully swigged it ignoring the feeling as it burnt down his throat and into his stomach. He drunk and drunk – if he could he would drink himself into a coma and eventually die, but he couldn't – he had to live on as always, in his life – the never ending funfair. This wasn't the first time he'd turned to alcohol, he had countless fights in numerous bars, he'd awoken in the arms of a stranger more than once – a nameless face that the night before he'd so certainly believed looked like Rose. Endless blonde haired, hazel eyes females – none who had provided the same level of satisfaction as Rose had. Each time he awoke with one of these women he felt ashamed – unfaithful to her, and distraught – he always felt distraught. And he dealt with this by drinking.
'As long as the planets are turning,
As long as the stars are burning
You better believe it
That I would do anything for love'
The Doctor searched for solace in the bottom of his bottle. He knew that as long as everyone in those universe were alive and happy and… living he couldn't harm them. He couldn't destroy and callously take their lives – not even for her.
'I'll be there till the final act
I would do anything for love, and I'll take a vow and seal a pact
I would do anything for love, anything you've been dreaming of
But I just won't do that'
The Doctor looked down at his empty ring finger – he would have done it - for her. He'd have married her if she'd wanted him, he happily would have – day after day – kissed her good night, kissed her good morning, made love to her all night long, danced in the rain with her, held her when she cried and loved her for all of time – and he'd almost had. Almost. Now there were universe between them – the Doctor felt the familiar sting in his eyes and stab in his gut. He'd forgotten how to cry, empty tears no longer ran down his face burning his skin with their pain. He'd also forgotten how to smile, hot to laugh, how to live… he took another swig – the one fault proof answer that would numb him – the same answer that would destroy him.
'That I would do anything for love, and you know it's true and that's a fact
I would do anything for love, and there'll never be no turning back
But I'll never do it better than I do it with you, so long'
The Doctor tightened his fingers around the neck of the bottle as he remembered his life with Rose – as he thought of trying to live the same life with some one else – of trying to replace her. He glanced up at the mirror on the far side of the wall – so angry at himself – he threw the bottle at the mirror. Almost. It missed and smashed above the mirror – the vodka streaming down the Doctors' reflection – the tears he could never cry. He watched his reflection in envy – he longed to release his pain in tears but he couldn't let himself cry – not now, not ever. His eyes stung. Almost. But the tears would never fall, they could never fall, instead he remained trapped.
The Doctor lifted his weary eyelids to glance around the kitchen, the whole room had sunk into darkness, empty plates and broken bottles littered the counters reflecting the filth that now covered the Tardis. Even the central column that had once shone with a beautiful blue enticing light was now dull and barely lit, the Doctor was not only killing himself but the Tardis as well.
'Well you raise me up will you help me down?
Will you get me right out of this God-forsaken town?'
The Doctor slowly walked to Roses room, he opened the door and sunk into the atmosphere. He delicately fingered her possessions, a hairbrush, a locket, a mirror – al so small and fragile in his shaking fingers. The room was so fresh and pink, the day light that streamed through the window blinded the Doctor – he stumbled across the room and fell onto her bed. Beside him lay a photo frame – in it the Doctor and Rose beamed at each other, holding hands lost in each others eyes completely oblivious to the camera. This was them at their finest – and they could have stayed that way forever. Almost. They almost had – if only he had been a stronger person.
'So?'
Roses' voice begged in his mind, he could see her eyes filled with tears, broken with pain and lighted by hope. Still he couldn't do it.
'Will you take me places I've never known?'
'I won't do that'
'After a while you'll forget everything, you'll see that it's time to move on'
'I won't do that'
The Doctor lost himself in the happiness of the photo – happiness? The Doctor couldn't even remember what happiness was anymore. To him happiness was a distant memory, something that stung his heart in an attempt to fuel the tears that could never come, it was the something he couldn't do. There were so many things he could no longer do, all things he could do if she was here, he would do anything for her. Almost. Almost anything. He could barely remember what her face looked like, what her skin felt like, what her laugh sounded like, what her lips tasted like – he couldn't remember, not now, not ever. He'd never seen the sunlight dance across her eyes again.
'Maybe I'm lonely and that's all I'm qualified to be
There's just one and only, the one and only promise I can't keep
I would do anything for love, anything you've been dreaming of
But I won't do that
But I'll never stop dreaming of you every night of my life'
The Doctor no longer slept – his mind was filled with Rose, filled with forgotten memories, forgotten places, memories that had never and now would never happen. He only slept when he drunk so much that he passed out – then he didn't sleep, he sunk into a darkness, a darkness he longed to stay in. He'd shown her the stars, shown her a life, he'd shown her everything and nothing at the same time. There were so many places he couldn't go back to because he would just see her smiling, laughing, clutching his hand – things that had been real once but could no longer. Nor could he go anywhere new, he'd just visualise her reaction, the way the suns would shine in her hair, the way she'd look at him in delight. This was why he locked himself in the Tardis – why he hid from reality – his reality was too much to deal with.
'I know the territory – I've been around. It'll all come to dust and we'll all fall down'
The Doctor pulled himself off her bed and carefully closed the door to his shrine for her. He ran his fingers over the dust and grime that had settled and knew that if he hid here for long enough, for enough years, for enough eternities he could become this dust – him and the Tardis both. Together they could slowly rot into the ground
The Doctor knew he would do anything for love
'Can't you come through properly?'
He would do anything for Rose
'The whole thing would fracture, two universes would collapse'
He'd do anything for their love that would live forever
'So?'
But he wouldn't do that.
The Doctor sunk back into his personal hell.
Almost… almost.
And I would do anything for love, but I won't do that
Hope you liked!
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