Hi, all! I'm posting this as a possibility- I'm not sure if it's going to be good, but I'm just going to go for it. So please tell me what you think, because reviews are my motivation for updates! I know it's been a while since I posted the first chapter, but I promise it won't be like that in the possible future. So yeah. Please read and please enjoy!

A White Door, Chapter 2, A Spark, A Bang

In the darkest days, when floating in the nothingness of the Vortex, when his nightmares haunted his open eyes, and when not even the gentle hum of his constant companion soothed his nerves, he wondered why he continued.

There were planets and people and things to save, of course. And as the last of his kind, he empathized with the underdog, the ones that had no hope but to pray to something. Often that something was him.

But he was sick of being that god, that god that lead the hopeless to believe in his ability to temporarily save them, and, when finally extricated from their thankful claws, would be worshipped. As if he were divine enough to be revered.

He wasn't, at least in his eyes. He was a vengeful god. A harbinger of death and entropy. The Oncoming Storm. The Great Warrior.

Did he even deserve to be called the Doctor, the namesake-the title- of those who helped people? How many lives had he destroyed when trying to uphold his name? No. He was not worthy of being the Doctor. Like he had told River back in Manhattan, he had gotten too big. And just as his precious, precious Amelia had warned him back in Mercy, he had spent far too much time alone.

For the best, he told himself. Of course it was for the best. No one could get hurt when he traveled alone. He couldn't get hurt.

The day he lost Amelia and Rory the Roman was one of the blackest days of his near millennium of life. They were the fiercest companions he had had in a very long time. Amy's spunk, her tenacity, and even her ginger hair reminded him often of a youthful version of Donna. But something about Amy, perhaps her ability to believe in him without question, or maybe it was just because she was the first face he saw, made her a true gem to him. And Rory, Rory was perhaps the bravest man he had encountered in a long, long while. If there was one thing the Doctor treasured above all else, it was bravery. All of his companions were brave, every one of them, from his granddaughter to the Mr. Pond himself.

Sitting at the console, tinkering with a matrix stabilizer gear, his thoughts in a corner of his mind he often kept locked down, traveled to the first time he truly believed a solitary life would save not only some poor innocent human, but also himself. The day he lost her. Truly, truly, genuinely, lost her. Gone. Poof. Just a name in a long list of dead, but so much more in reality. "Or a parallel one," He corrected himself with a small smile.

Rose…Rose…Rose…

The name echoed in the recesses of his mind until the word practically screamed at him. Rose…Rose…ROSE.

"Stop! Stop it." The Doctor commanded himself sternly, closing his eyes tight and pressing the matrix stabilizer into his crinkled forehead. His defined chin protruded slightly as he bit his tongue to prevent himself from crying. "Stop." The word crumbled and died in his throat, barely escaping his vocal chords. But the shouting stopped, because even the brain of a Time Lord takes the occasional order or two.

It had been a week since the Doctor had gone into her room. The room with the white door. The chamber that still smelled like her, still held her clothes strewn about the floor, and still held the pictures of her past adventures against the yellow walls. It was a mausoleum of her, and a shrine of her memory in some respects. Everything about her, carefully preserved. Of course, he wished it would all burn, and that the door would disappear. But the TARDIS apparently disagreed with him. Cheeky Sexy, she was.

Often he wondered about Rose's life. Whether it was comfortable, and whether she and the Metacrisis had found love in one another. He sometimes wished they didn't, both out of jealousy and because he was no longer that man. He no longer had the windswept hair and the lanky body and the lean physique. The manic gleam was not as strong as it was, and he had lost that oral fixation. And though the memories of the Doctor transferred into the memories of the Metacrisis, he didn't transfer his personality or characteristics. For all he knew, the human version of himself could be completely different. He had given her a shadow of the real him, but it was better than letting her live with memories. At the time it seemed right. At the time.

Looking back on it, he wondered how daft he was to just let her go, even if there was no alternative. Would he rather her be alone, or her with a half-version of himself, a carbon copy minus the triple helix DNA and the quadruple thump of two hearts? In his bad days, he wished he never let his pink and yellow human go. He was his, the proper, old, alien Doctor's, and no one else's. But then that had changed, and he had let her go all but willingly…

His better side would often scold him for thinking so selfishly. At least he could give his favorite companion, his love, a piece of himself with a timeline linear with her own.

"Sexy," he called out to seemingly no one, but received a quizzical hum in return.

A thousand thoughts swam in the Doctor's brain at once, as they usually did. He fished for the right words, but only came up with, "Oh, nevermind."

The gear in his hand sparked, which was quite odd because the hunk of metal was not wired to anything electrical. "Oi! That wasn't very nice, now was it? I just talk sometimes, and don't always need answers. Love hearing the sound of my own voice, me." He dropped the gear and suckled his singed thumb and wagged his fist of his opposite hand at the air. "I do love the occasional game, but was that really necessary?"

A short grumble of a reply. The Doctor instantly grew panicked. "Hey, hey! Oi! Stop stop stop growling at me, you'll give us both indigestion and then I'll have to go and fix your triple frequency circuits and I'll have a belly ache all day."

Silence.

The Doctor puffed out his chest and swung his arms about, adjusting his tweed jacket. His lanky fingers then found his bowtie and straightened it. "Thank you." He muttered. The lights flickered.

"Yes, alright, apology accepted." He said, his voice only a little terse.

A gentle hum. The Doctor smiled. "Yes, I know you're sorry. But look at my thumb!" He waggled his thumb upwards, and briefly thought he looked like a mad man, but was definitely okay with that. "It's all red because you shocked me, and now when I touch it it stings like I got stung by one of those Hornabees in the Gamma Forest."

A wire above his head must have gone loose, definitely not on accident, because a shower of sparks suddenly started spewing bright lights.

"Oh, okay, okay. That might have been a bit harsh, but please don't waste your power, because I really don't want to have to go to Cardiff to repower using that rift. Bad stuff in Cardiff. Awkward situations, you know."

A bang from a wire right next to that made the Doctor jump up.

"Please stop! That was an awfully big bang, and you might…" Suddenly, his thoughts were spinning. Sparks flew before his eyes, washing his line of vision in gold and red. Smoke started billowing around him. His hearts thumped.

A big bang…

The big bang..

Big Bang 2.0

A new universe.

No rift.

But that meant. "No!" He shouted, gripping his hair. "No, but it can't!."

But it did. He knew it did and he didn't realize it until now and he was so, so stupid for not realizing it any sooner.

Rose…

…

Sorry guys, but cliffhangers are good friends of mine. I really hoped you liked it, even if it was sort of short. Please review- they're what make me update. You can even tell me if you think the story line is a bit too… bad. I dunno. Anyway. I wish you all a happy start to 2013!