Chapter Five: The Reckoning

Rose had been less than pleased when Jack returned that night with a near unconscious John, but her face softened when Jack told her how John had managed to save his life.

"So now we're looking for this plasmavore thing?" she asked as they both hauled John into the bedroom.

"Yeah. Doubt we'll find it, though. They look like us and they're good at hiding. Not to mention I wouldn't trust anything a Saffron says anyway."

John groaned as his friends lowered him onto the bed. Rose bit back a smile and she ruffled his hair a bit, but withdrew when he leaned into her touch.

"He's more Doctor than you think, Rose. He figured out there was an alien long before I did. While drunk, no less. Granted, he thought it was a Slitheen, but still—"

"He actually said Slitheen?"

"Yeah…"

"But John doesn't believe in aliens. He's absolutely convinced they don't exist."

Jack shrugged. "And yet he not only knew what a Slitheen was, but knew to look for a zip. I'm telling you, the Doctor's in there somewhere." He glanced down at John, who was now snoring loudly. "Be interesting to see how much of this he remembers tomorrow."

John did not remember anything the next morning as far as Rose could tell. He blinked in the sunlight, winced whenever she spoke, and asked for an aspirin. Rose lied and told him it was in his tea. He wasn't a Time Lord, she kept reminding herself as she watched him sip the tea in front of the telly, but she couldn't bring herself to give him something that used to be able to kill him.

Since he seemed quite content to gaze blankly at the telly and sip on his tea, Rose settled on the sofa beside him with her physics book, determined to get some study out of what was promising to be a boring weekend.

"What're you working on?" asked John after a few minutes, voice groggy but slightly more cheerful.

"Physics," Rose said, brow still scrunched as she studied a chart.

"Ooh! I think I did a GCSE for that!" He thought a moment. "I think I failed it."

Rose made a non-committal humming noise, then noticed the telly. "Is that show in French? Can you understand that?"

John glanced back at the screen, surprised. "Oh. I didn't notice. Well, of course I don't understand it, not really. Just a basic gist. Based off body language. Haven't a clue what they're actually saying."

He looked too embarrassed for Rose to question him further, so she returned her attention to the physics book instead. Her frustration with understanding the material built and built until her concentration was once again broken by John's arm draping itself around her shoulders.

Before she could figure out exactly how she felt about that, her mobile buzzed. She slid the phone out of her pocket to check it and gave a small grin. Jack had found something, and did she want to help?

"I'm going to pop over and visit Mum for a bit," she announced, getting up from the sofa.

John's attention jerked from the screen. "Do you want me to come?"

Rose's heart gave a little twinge at the eagerness in his eyes. The Doctor would never have looked that excited to visit Jackie. Not that John had done anything wrong, exactly, but it was just one more difference between the man he was and the man he used to be—that he was supposed to be.

"Er, no, I'm going to run a couple errands too. Really boring errands."

"Well, all the more reason to want some company!"

"No! Um…No need. Really. Just…enjoy your weekend, yeah?"

The cheer drained from his voice immediately. "Right. Course I will. Happy weekend for me."

By the time Rose had put her shoes on and walked out the door, John's eyes were once again staring at the telly screen.

By dusk, Rose stumbled back into the flat, utterly exhausted and in need of a shower. Jack had found some giant rat-looking creature, whose name she still couldn't pronounce, in the sewers beneath London. They'd spent hours traipsing through the sewer before they found it, and of course it attacked the second they did. Jack had pushed her out of the way of its claws, for which she was definitely grateful, but she had landed into a puddle, the contents of which she really didn't want to think about.

One gloriously clean half hour later, she returned to the living room expecting to see John still in front of the telly. He wasn't there. Nor was he in the kitchen, the bedroom, or the balcony. He wasn't in the flat at all.

Ignoring the panicked thudding of her heart, she double-checked the entire flat again, this time looking for a note. He hadn't left one.

He was so vulnerable now, she realised. He had no idea he was being hunted. And what if Jack hadn't been there last night? What if John had done that again, walked up to a man-eating alien without knowing the danger he was in?

Rose took a few deep breaths. Right. Just because John wasn't here was no reason to panic. He could have gone out to buy some marmalade. He could have gone out to meet the neighbours. He could have stepped out for some fresh air.

Or the Family of Blood could have found him and killed him.

Would they have dragged him outside or killed him in here? Had he been the Doctor or John when they killed him?

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead because there hadn't been a fight based on the state of the flat, and there wasn't a body.

Another surge of panic. If they'd killed him, absorbed his life force, whatever, would there even be a body? What if they'd consumed him right here, on the marmalade-stained carpet, and disintegrated him in the process?

She shouldn't have left him alone. She should have let Jack take care of the stupid rat-thing by himself. How could she have been so thick?

She was about to call Jack when she heard the flat door open. She rushed back into the living room to see John, face downcast, hands in his pockets. He brightened when he saw her. "Hello—"

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been worried sick!"

John's brows drew together. "I just went for a walk…"

"You should have left a note!"

At this, John bristled. "I should have left a note? Rose, I was gone for an hour! You were gone all day!"

"Yeah, but I told you where I was going! You could have been kidnapped or lying dead somewhere for all I know!"

"Oh, like you would have cared!"

Rose flinched like she'd been stabbed. John's eyes widened in horror as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did," she said softly.

He stepped forward and took her hands. "No, I mean I just..."

"Of course I care! How could you say that? How could you even think that?"

His thumbs drew circles on her wrist. "Just…We never talk anymore. We don't do anything. We used to…we just …"

"Just what?"

John stood silently for a long moment before swallowing. "I dunno, just…Never mind. I'll leave a note from now on."

Her face flushed with guilt. "Look, you don't have to. You're right. I'm sorry I was gone all day…"

John suddenly pulled her into a hug, tight and desperate, as if he was afraid she would be torn from him if he didn't. "Rose, I love you."

She froze. The seconds after his announcement stretched, and she knew she ought to say it, that if this was the Doctor she would have said it without hesitation. But she could feel his single heart beating, just the one, and each thud reminded her that this wasn't him.

She hugged him tighter without answering, feeling his single heart beating and pretending, just for a moment, that she could hear two.

Rose couldn't sleep that night. The words I love you echoed through her head, and she could no longer tell whether it was John saying them or the Doctor. Same voice, same face, different man.

But was he a different man? She wondered if she would feel this guilty if she had said the words back to John. Or would that have made it worse?

She felt John tense next to her on the bed. His breathing became more ragged; his legs twitched as if he were running…

When she rolled over to face him, her heart sunk at the sight of his face. He looked anguished, even in sleep, with the exact expression the Doctor wore whenever the Time War was mentioned. His lips were moving soundlessly, and she could have sworn he mouthed the word "Dalek."

Rose didn't have to think. In an instant, she was scooting closer and shaking him frantically. He woke with a heart-stopping gasp, eyes lit up with terror and grief.

Rose tried not to sound panicked. "John? It's okay, you're safe. John? "

Her voice seemed to calm him down. As he swallowed, she watched him force his features into a bland mask. She could almost see tangible shields erected around him. "Yeah. Course. Just a nightmare. Sorry I woke you up."

Rose reached over to brush away the hair sticking to his damp forehead. "No, really. Are you all right?"

His mouth was forming the words before she'd even finished. "I'm fine. I'm always fine." And he rolled to face away from her.

Rose stared at the back of his head and ached to demand he turn around and admit that he was not fine, that he was having flashbacks to the Time War again, that he didn't have to suffer alone.

"Doc—" she started, then stopped immediately, her outstretched hand halting in midair. She hadn't called John the Doctor once in three weeks.

This wasn't the Doctor, she reminded herself. He was John, and he didn't remember the Time War. And yet…the way his brow had furrowed, the way his jaw clenched, the absolute panic in his eyes when she woke him…The way he'd said he was fine was so Doctor that for a moment, just a moment…

She watched him cautiously until he settled into deep, regular breaths once more, then carefully reached for the fob watch on her bedside table. She still wore it around her neck every day along with her TARDIS key to keep it safe—not that John had noticed.

"Doctor?" she whispered to it, feeling very silly.

The watch, as always, did not answer.

The next day, John acted completely normal, although a bit surprised when she pecked him on the cheek and murmured in his ear. "Are you okay?"

"Well—yeah, yeah, course I am." He paused for a moment, an almost hopeful expression on his face. "Do you want me to stay? I could skive off work."

"Oh, no, you don't need to," Rose said hastily. "Just…have a good day, yeah?"

Was she imagining the slump in his shoulders? "Yeah, course I will."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, not quite looking at each other.

"Well…see you later, then," Rose said finally.

John hesitated a moment, then leaned forward to give her a quick kiss.

"Not if I see you first," he said, and walked out the door.

Rose stood there still gazing at the door for half a minute, suddenly wishing that she had asked him to skive off work after all.

She called Jack, only to hear the disappointing news that there was no alien activity today to distract her. Glumly, Rose decided to dedicate the day to studying instead. She'd been surprised by how much she actually enjoyed poring through the thick texts, considering how much she'd hated school. She supposed it was a lot easier to read about black holes when she had actually seen (and nearly died in) one. It helped, too, to picture the Doctor reading the books to her, and picture the way that words like brachistochrone and periastron would roll off his tongue.

Today, however, she was finding it difficult to concentrate on her books. She kept thinking of the expression on John's face last night, how utterly despondent he'd looked, and then the emptiness when he'd said he was fine. And then the kiss this morning. Her lips tingled, and Rose realised with a pang that they hadn't done that in ages.

Dinner that evening passed as usual. Rose listened patiently as John told her about his day, although, Rose realised, he didn't seem very enthusiastic. He sounded like he was reading off a list.

"…new patient came in today. Name's Florence Finnegan. Got some kind of autoimmune disease, so we'll have to keep her in observation at least a couple of weeks…"

When had he become so listless? He could barely keep still the first couple of days they'd lived in this flat. Now, he sagged in his chair, his voice speaking in a monotone at his plate as he slowly moved his food around with his fork.

After dinner was no better. Once they'd cleaned up, he'd plopped himself on one end of the sofa with one of the books he'd bought in Sally Sparrow's shop. Rose settled at the other end of the sofa, an astronomy book nestled in her lap. The space between them seemed to stretch like a chasm.

After a few half-hearted attempts to read the astronomy book, Rose gave up and watched John instead. He had a pencil in his hand, Rose noted. So, not reading then. Nor was he writing—the pencil was moving in long, even strokes too large for letters.

"Are you drawing?" Rose said in surprise. "Didn't know you could draw. Where'd you learn that?"

John still frowned as he drew another line, not entirely paying attention. "Gallifrey."

Her book tumbled to the floor. "Where?"

Concentration broken, John looked up. "Oh, it's just…" He got that faraway, slightly glazed look in his eyes as he thought for a moment. "It must be in Ireland…"

"Oh, right. But you're not from Ireland."

"No…" John added more lines to his drawing.

"Can I see?" She scooted over to sit next to him on the couch and nearly gasped. The TARDIS console room almost seemed to glow from the pages.

She swallowed, trying and failing to hide her excitement. "John, that's beautiful!"

"Do you think?" he said reluctantly.

She leaned against him encouragingly. "Yes! Where did you see this?"

"Well…I dreamed it." He seemed hesitant at first, but as she beamed at him his explaining started to resemble a babble with a level of excitement Rose suddenly realised she had desperately missed. "I've been having these dreams, you know, since we got back from New York. They're really weird, and I figured, well, Freud recommended writing down dreams to better understand them, but some things don't really fit into words, so I've started drawing, and…well…I made this."

"But these are amazing!" Rose exclaimed, flipping through the pages. Some of the drawings were unfamiliar, but she saw a child with a World War II gas mask, a cat nun, a Dalek, and things she didn't even recognise, all reproduced in exquisite detail.

"Those show up a lot," John explained, tapping the Dalek. "The metal exterminators. Nasty bunch…" Rose turned the page. "Oh, that's the Doctor's magic blue box."

Rose's breath caught. "Doctor?"

"Yeah," continued John, buoyed by Rose's enthusiasm. "In the dreams, I'm this character called the Doctor. The box takes him places, and he stops bad people like…like a superhero!"

Rose grinned. "Definitely like a superhero." She flipped another page to see several faces crowded together, most of them older, all of them men. "These are brilliant. Why didn't you tell me about this?"

At this, John rubbed the back of his head. "Well, they're only dreams. And something's been bothering you, and you wouldn't tell me, so…"

Rose looked up from the journal, surprised. "Nothing's been bothering me."

John raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because you've barely even talked to me the last couple of weeks, and you just look so sad. Like you're missing someone. And I can't figure out who it is, because you see your family and friends all the time. And last night…Well."

Rose looked down at the journal, at a loss. He was right. She'd carved out a life for herself, but it wasn't really a life with him, more one that included him. She had distanced herself, because John made her laugh and smile, and every time she felt a gut-wrenching guilt because this man looked like the Doctor and acted like the Doctor but he just wasn't. No matter how kind and wonderful and loving John was, it didn't change the fact that he had replaced the man she loved.

But he hadn't, Rose realised. This journal proved it. The Doctor had said becoming human was a bit like regeneration, but maybe it was exactly like regeneration. Same face, but not a different man. She traced her fingers along the page in front of her to the last face in the lineup on the page. It was her first Doctor, the one with big ears and a bigger grin.

"I might never make sense again! I might have two heads. Or no head!"

Or a love of domestics? Possibly no desire to travel?

Rose felt a stab of shame. She never learned, did she? The Doctor changed. His personality was fluid. How many things had changed between her first and second Doctor? They were different people in so many ways, but it wasn't like she had betrayed her first Doctor by loving her second—they were the same person.

Didn't the same logic apply to a Doctor who had regenerated into a human?

And if John really was the Doctor, she'd been treating him like no more than an acquaintance for a long time. She'd promised him forever, but she hadn't followed through. She'd given up on him. She'd abandoned him when he needed her most.

No wonder he hadn't wanted to tell her about his dreams.

And after all this, he was still looking at her with love, hope, longing, possibly a bit of desperation. He still wanted her. He still loved her. If everything else had changed, that much had stayed constant.

Seeing the Doctor at last, Rose smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You know what? It's not bothering me anymore."

"Really?" John looked sceptical, guarded, as if expecting her to withdraw away from him at any second, and a fresh wave of guilt rushed over her. What had she done to him?

Rose pushed herself up to kiss him. "Really."

"Oh!" said John when she'd finished.

"I love you."

"Quite right, too. Do you know, Rose, I've missed you?"

Rose kissed him again, this time with more ferocity. "Missed you too."

A/N: brachistochrone=A cycloid hanging downwards. periastron=when two stars that orbit each other are at their closest point

I highly advocate imagining David Tennant reading to you to help you study. It's done wonders for me.

And don't worry, the story's far from over. There are 13 chapters total, so we've got a ways to go. Now that we've got the domestics out of the way, we can get to the action-y alien-y goodness.