Title: So Much More
Summary: Why are all
the Rose-finds-the-altDoctor fics happy endings? And why when I try
to write something angsty to verbalize that does it STILL come out
with psuedo-fluffy edges?
Disclaimer: Don't own
'em. Don't sue.
He'd practically just started this life; it was almost funny to have it end this way. A millennium spent facing off against galactic dictators and rampaging pepper pots and his ninth incarnation is brought to an ignominious close by a prepubescent ape with a projectile launcher. As if he even carried a wallet, anyway. But the boy, taking in his smooth leather coat and cashmere jumper, would not be convinced. Desperation can ruin a man and his would-be assailant's hands were trembling. All the vagaries of the universe had narrowed down to the tell-tale tightening of finger on trigger when a blonde blur slammed into his mugger with a growl. The blur resolved itself into a pretty woman in her mid-twenties striving desperately to wrest the gun away. Before he could help, her body jerked as the boy released two quick shots. She snarled at her murderer with bloody teeth as he shook himself free of her grip in panic and ran.
"Rose! NO!" A voice behind him screamed in futility, but the Doctor was too busy trying to keep her limp form from hitting the ground to pay much attention.
"Easy," he soothed as he repositioned her in his arms. A trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth caught him as a young black man dropped to his knees on the other side of her wounded body. The Doctor's eyes flicked up to assess his new arrival, but the stranger's attention was all for the broken figure of the woman he held. The Doctor turned his attentions back towards his unexpected savior, but it was immediately obvious there was nothing he could do. The TARDIS was more than a half a dozen miles away; even if it had been right next to him, he doubted he could have gotten her to the infirmary in time to make a difference.
"Bloody hell, Rose," the man across from him said miserably as he reached to gently brush the bangs from her forehead. "You know it's not him...it's not really Him."
She stirred in his grip and made an odd choking sound. It took him a moment to realize she was trying to laugh. She gave the other man a gory smile and then tilted her head to regard him as he held her. Something gold shined dully behind her eyes as she reached a hand up to cup the Doctor's cheek. A wave of love so fierce it knocked the breath out of him thundered into his psyche. His hand came up to cover hers almost by reflex. How long had it been since he last has someone else in his head? Before the Fall of Arcadia? After?
"Doesn'a matter, Mickey," she slurred as the blood loss drug her down. "Any face, any universe…he's always my Doctor..." The gold faded to black and the hand beneath his fell away. The other man - Rickey? - buried his face in his hands and wept. The familiar shine of a TARDIS key dangling from a chain around her neck called to him and with a tight throat and burning eyes he pulled her close. A feeling of loss tore through him as his hand wrapped around a key he hadn't given to her yet.
"S'not what you think," Rickey said bitterly.
"Of course it is," he scoffed as he buried his face in her hair, the gold locks gleaming in the last fading glow of sunlight. "But it's also so much more."