Becoming Her Doctor
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. If it was... no, who am I kidding, Doctor Who is the best with all the angst left in. All I have claims to is the parallel TARDIS and everything she encompasses.
A/N: As some astute readers may have noticed, the summary has changed by two words. This is because I did research and discovered that the Human Doctor and Rose get a bit of the TARDIS to grow their own... which makes my lovely parallel TARDIS idea rather blah, but I think this part manages to explain it away anyway.
I'm getting the feeling I might need to up the rating 'cause of cursing, but I don't want to do it just yet. I'll see – I might explode over a chapter and realize that yeah, I do kinda need to up it up to T.
This chapter I rather dislike because I rather fail at writing Rose and the Human Doctor in this level of interaction. So, there's only going to be this one chapter of them, and then a poem that sorta... well, you'll see. It'll be uploaded soon 'cause it's already written.
Chapter Two: Audio-Journal, Entry One (655 words)
[The voice of a twenty-something woman talks, beginning with authority.]
Audio-Journal, Entry One
July 5, 2008
London, England, (Parallel) Earth
My bedroom in my parents' house
A day ago, everything was back to normal. The Doctor and I, fighting for our lives, fighting to save my planet.
Now I'm here again.
God, it sounds so awful. Those words are stuck in my head. "You'll never see him again, ever!" that annoying voice says. Why can't you just go away, voice? I don't like you!
Not that I particularly want to listen to the other voice, 'cause it's wrong. The one that keeps saying, "Look! You have everything you need to be happy here!"
I don't.
I don't have the Doctor.
Sure, I have this strange replica one. But he's not the Doctor. He's not who I need.
He's too–
Maybe I should use this... this "audio journal" like it's supposed to be used. Use it to actually tell a story, rather than just complain and moan about what I don't have. What I can't have, now.
Sorry.
Look at me, apologizing to an audio recorder again. It's all his damn fault, though. (Not that I can blame him, of course.) He left me here all alone. He trapped me here.
Okay, that bit was Dad's fault. But I'm glad he saved me. I'd rather be here, alive, than stuck in the void.
No I wouldn't.
At least in the void I wouldn't have this imposter, this poser, to deal with.
Sorry. Again. The story, right? Well, there's the story of the Dimension Cannon. But I almost feel like leaving it out. It's not important, not now. What's important now is that I'm stuck here, for good. Stuck here with this imposter of a Doctor who–
What am I supposed to call him? He's not the Doctor, so I can't call him that. He's... Well, I suppose I could call him John Smith.
No, I couldn't. He's... He's the Doctor, but he's not the Doctor. Oh, I give up. This is much too complicated for me to bother with now.
This whole thing is, actually, ridiculous. I'm sitting in my room, in front of a computer, talking to it like it's a person. Talking to a computer!
Mind you, I've probably done stranger things with the Doctor.
Maybe we can go do some more.
[The sound of a door opening interrupts. A man's voice follows.]
Rose, what are you doing?
I– [The microphone used in the recording gets shuffled around and then muffled as if held behind someone's back.] Nothing.
Rose...
What? It's my room. It's my house! I can do what I want.
Technically, it's your parents' house...
Oh, shut up.
I'm only saying, your dad–
Didn't I tell you to shut up already?
Sorry.
What do you want?
I...
Out with it, I'm busy.
You sure don't look busy to me.
Oi!
Well, what are you doing then?
What are you doing? I asked first, and it's my room. I can kick you out if I need.
[A sigh.] If you really want to know, I was working on building another TARDIS.
From that coral-y bit the Doctor gave us?
No, building, Rose. That would be growing.
Well, are you working on that?
It's going to take some time still.
You just don't want it done. ... Why not?
As a human, it would be utterly ridiculous to travel alone, considering that I'll have aged before I get back.
Why don't you drag someone along with you?
I don't want just anyone to come with me.
[A bit of silence, then a sniffle, like she's trying not to cry.] I can't take this right now. Could – could you...?
Goodnight, Rose. [Footsteps leading away, and then a door softly closing. So softly it's barely audible, a response.] Goodnight, love.
[The sniffles get louder, then turn into crying. This continues for a time until they're abruptly cut off.]
A/N: So, what do you think of the... audio-journal approach? I tried writing Rose's diary, but it just didn't work. She doesn't seem like the type to write things down in the first place, but I feel like she would record her story somehow. So I devised a slightly more technological approach to it.
What do you think? Tell me in a review, and I'll put up the poem right quick anyway.