Chapter 4

Over the next two days, the Doctor endured a plethora of tests, so many that he was starting to believe that he really was just a lab specimen instead of a patient. Every day seemed just like the previous to him: breakfast, sit in bed and watch telly, lunch, daily scan to check his stabilization progress, visit from Rose or Jackie (who had assured him that his possessions left in the zeppelin were now safe in a box at the Tyler Estate), visit from Harry to inform him that there still were differences between that day's scan and the one taken the day before, dinner, more telly and then sleep. He was beginning to think that he might spend the rest of his life in that hospital room, which wasn't a prospect he was looking forward to.

After lunch on the third day, he went into the private toilet to take care of basic biological functions and was in the process of washing his hands when, not for the first time in the last few days, a wave of pain went through his body, announcing another shift in his biology and causing him to bend over reactively. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to breathe through the pain and, once they had lessened to tolerable levels, gazed into the mirror above the sink.

As he looked at the familiar visage, he couldn't help but compare what he saw there to what he had seen when he was still fully Time Lord. He knew there was something missing in that view, something so distinctly Time Lord that he knew he would never have again. Was it the color of his eyes? They were still the chocolate brown he had come to love in his last incarnation. His hair, perhaps? No, still marvelous and sexy, if he did say so himself. His nose, ears… chin? Everything that was there before was still there, at least externally.

A moment later, realization struck. It wasn't any physical aspects like eye color or hair or facial structure. It was the glint of his eyes, the shape of his mouth as he frowned, the way his eyebrows furrowed at that moment. The expression on his face as he coped with the ache in his head and chest wasn't one he had ever seen on this face but rather one he had seen under bright red hair and on a face with expressive green eyes… and yet it was still his own. The look was oh-so-human and oh-so-Time Lord and yet was neither.

"I'm unique. Never been another like me."

His own words to Donna echoed in his mind as he stared at his own reflection, repugnance filtering into his eyes as he remembered his initial reaction to finding out he was half-human.

"Oh, that's disgusting!"

"It is," he whispered in agreement to the memory. "I am. I'm not Time Lord. I'm not Human." He leaned towards the mirror. "What the hell am I?"

"…I'm a complicated event in time and space…"

"Just like Jack," he added to his thoughts, grimacing at the sight of himself. "I'm wrong… just wrong…" He gritted his teeth, his breathing becoming more frantic as he studied himself. "I'm… revolting!" He could feel the muscles in his chest and arms tightening as his self-loathing grew with every second.

Without even thinking about his actions, he screamed in fury as he punched the mirror again and again, determined to eradicate the image it showed of himself and stopping only when there was nothing left but shards on the floor of the toilet. Slumping against the wall opposite to the door, he slid to the floor, clearly drained from his exertion. The expression in his eyes seemed lost as he glanced at the broken glass around him, tinted with red stains he realized were very likely his blood. He found himself focused on a large jagged piece. Picking it up, he seemed to ponder about its shape and the blood on it before again voicing his thoughts aloud, unaware of the pounding on the locked door in front of him.

"Why am I even here? Why did you just leave me here? I did my job… I fulfilled my destiny. I only exist because Donna had to become the DoctorDonna and save everyone. I'm useless now, an anomaly. No point in my existence." He looked at the shard in his bleeding hand. "Oh, it would be so easy… Right across my wrists… Bleed out and it would be over. It doesn't hurt," he noted. "I'm already bleeding and it doesn't hurt. Cutting my wrists would be painless, wouldn't it?" His eyebrows furrowed at his words. "Is that what I should do? Just end it?"

Even as he asked himself that question, the door opened quickly and Rose entered, immediately taking the glass from him and tossing it away briskly. "Doctor, what are you doing?" she exclaimed.

Noticing Rose crouching in front of him, he quickly pushed her away from him, glaring at her in fury not only for her words but for her interference in his actions. "Don't touch me! And don't call me that!" he bellowed belligerently. "I'm not the Doctor! I'm… I'm a freak!"

She looked at him with growing worry. "You're not a freak," she protested.

"Then what am I?" he shouted. He grimaced tightly as another wave of pain flitted through him. "I keep changing," he added when he could find a breath. "Time Lords don't do this. Gallifreyans don't do this. Humans don't do this. So what does that make me?"

"You're the Doctor," she told him strongly, though it was clear that she was uncertain about her own words.

He shook his head. "No! I'm not him! I'll never be him!" He looked around at the chaos he had created and gave a sick laugh. "I mean, look at me. Look at what I did. The Doctor would never do this." He dropped his head and noticed his hands sitting on his legs. He grimaced, surprise in his eyes. "They hurt. They didn't hurt before."

"Doctor…" Rose started. Seeing the glare he gave her, she huffed. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to call you then? You look like him, you sound like him… you said you were him on the beach. And now you're saying you aren't him!" He lowered his eyes, plainly unable to answer her question and thus prompting Rose to press on with her original intent. "Let us help you."

Gaining a slow nod from him, Rose slowly stepped out of the small area and allowed the waiting staff to carefully bring the hybrid from the room. They sat him in a waiting wheelchair and wheeled him into an examination room where Dr. Sullivan inspected and cleaned his wounds, making sure that there was no broken glass and treating them with an antimicrobial – one that he had found harmless to the Doctor – to lessen the possibility of infection.

"So, Doctor…" Harry started as he wrapped the wounded man's hands.

"Please… don't call me that."

The physician raised his eyebrows. "Is there a name you prefer I call you?" Seeing the metacrisis shake his head, he continued. "Then I think I will continue to call you Doctor until you give me some other name." He ignored the annoyance in his patient's eyes. "What happened back there in your room?"

"Got angry," came the quiet simple answer.

"So you demolished a mirror?"

There was no answer.

"May I give you some counsel?"

"You're going to even if I say no."

Harry gave a half-grin at the response before proceeding. "There's no doubt that you are going through a very traumatic point in your life. I doubt it's easy being in a constant state of flux." The Doctor huffed a sarcastic laugh at that. "But I do know, from the way you look at each other, that Miss Tyler and you are in love."

The hybrid looked at his right hand being bandaged. "Rose doesn't love me. She loves him."

Harry let the comment pass. "But you definitely love her."

"I can't help but love her."

"Why? From what you've told me, you've only known her for five days."

The Doctor frowned at him. "I've traveled with her for two years."

"No, your father traveled with her for two years. You just have the memories."

"What the difference?" came the exasperated response. "So I have the memories. So what if they're his memories? I still love her!"

There was a moment of silence between them.

"Exactly my point," Harry finally said. "What makes you the Doctor isn't just your biology but your memories."

"I have two sets of memories. I have my mother's memories as well."

"That makes you her as well, then."

The hybrid rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Harry. That really clarifies everything," he told him sarcastically.

Lowering the Doctor's hand, having finished wrapping both, the physician looked into his eyes. "What I am saying is that your memories, whether you inherited them from your father or your mother or whether you made them yourself, are what define you. You need to learn to embrace everything that makes you who you are. You are your own man, Doctor. And I think your father would be extremely proud if you were to continue to name yourself after him."

"He exiled me here - thrust me on Rose to 'fix' me because of what I did to the Daleks. He isn't proud of me."

"Then make him proud," Harry ordered. "Prove to him that you deserve to be called the Doctor. And you can start by never letting your own self-doubt rule over your actions again." Seeing the ponderous look on the metacrisis' face, he straightened. "The orderlies have transferred your possessions into a new room. If you promise not to go breaking any more mirrors, I'll allow you the same freedom of movement that you had before."

"No more mirrors," the Doctor promised. "Can't say that any pillows will survive, however."

Harry laughed. "I'd rather have demolished pillows than demolished knuckles any day." He paused considering. "I suggest that you consider starting your own blood bank. From what I can see, your blood type doesn't match any human blood type. If Miss Tyler hadn't stopped you, I probably wouldn't have been able to save your life. I don't want to take that risk in the future. If anything serious were to happen – anything life threatening – I want to make sure that we have all the blood we need to save your life. Plasma can only go so far, you know, and it might not be completely compatible with your biology."

The half-alien hesitated before giving a small nod. "As long as it will only be used for medical emergencies. I don't want anything coming from me used in any sort of ill-gotten experiments."

Harry squeezed his shoulder. "You have my word that it won't be. Now, while you are here, we can start drawing some of your blood for that purpose as well as do your daily scan."

Nodding his consent, the Doctor followed the routine he had performed every day since he came to Torchwood and then patiently allowed a medic to draw a pint of his blood. The procedures however, along with the results of the temper tantrum he had in the toilet, seemed to take all of his energy from him. He didn't argue like normal against a medic wheeling him to his new room nor did he object to being helped into the bed and covered.

Sitting in the bed, he stared at the far wall, his thoughts on his own frailties running through his mind as well as Harry's advice to him. It amazed him, really, that the man was so wise, especially considering how thick he could be. Of course, he only had his experience with a different version of Harry Sullivan to make such suppositions and comparisons. But still, even the Harry Sullivan he had known previously was wise in his own way.

The Doctor closed his eyes, not allowing the uncertainties of his physiology break the fragile hold he had of reality as he slipped towards much needed rest. If he had any conscious thought as he slept, it was gratitude for a lack of nightmares to disrupt his slumber.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rose Tyler was emotionally and physically drained.

It was bad enough when the Doctor had his mental breakdown on the zeppelin, followed by a worse one in the examination room at Torchwood. But since then, she'd had to constantly struggle to keep a positive outlook even though it was looking more and more as if the man she had been left with on Bad Wolf Bay wasn't anything like her Doctor.

The defining moment, in her opinion, was his suicide attempt earlier that day. Not only were his actions completely contrary to what the Doctor she knew would have done, he had actually verbally admitted he wasn't the same man she had fallen in love with. The last five days were a roller coaster ride, to say the least. She wasn't sure anymore who he really was. It seemed the only thing she did know was that she cared for the man in the hospital room in Torchwood Tower. How could she not? He was the visible reminder of the man she had lost, despite his obvious differences from the Time Lord. The worst part, really, was trying to be the brave one of the two of them when all she really wanted to do was go back to her place, hide in a corner, and cry for hours on end. Is this really what all her hard work had been for? Did Torchwood build the Dimension Cannon to get her back to the Doctor only for her to be left with a broken version of the man she loved, one she might not be able to help despite the Time Lord's confidence in her?

Sitting in her office, she found that the only thing she could do was think about all that had happened since Bad Wolf Bay. She kept focusing on his reactions every time she touched his face. What was it about her touching his face that sent him into such vitriolic panic? And yet, he continued to look at her with such desperate affection the rest of the time, even taking obvious comfort in her touching him anywhere else.

And then there was the whole thing about Bad Wolf. She honestly couldn't ever remember it being in her except for destroying the Dalek Emperor. But everything else around that particular event was like a hazy dream, completely out of her reach. She did know that since that moment just before her first Doctor changed into her second Doctor, she'd just felt… different. The Doctor did say that she sent the words "Bad Wolf" to warn him about the stars going out, even though she never remembered doing so. If that was the case, if she really still was the Bad Wolf, what did that mean for her… for them?

She was distracted from her thoughts by a familiar voice saying "hi" from the other side of the desk.

"Hi," she responded to her stepfather, who looked on her with concerned eyes.

"You should go home and get some rest. You look knackered," Pete told her with a loving smile.

She shook her head. "Nah. Got too much to do."

"I can see the work piling up," he replied with witty sarcasm. Gaining a glare for his attempt at humor, he pressed on in a more serious tone. "Rose, you've already done all the follow-up on the last mission and there's nothing that is of priority on your plate at the moment. There's no reason for you to be hanging around your office, feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," she protested.

Pete smiled slightly at her words. "Yes, you are. You didn't get exactly what you wanted and you don't know what to do with what you did get so you're avoiding all of it... except when you go see the Doctor out of sheer sense of duty."

"It's not duty to visit someone you're worried about."

"It is when you are worried about him because he resembles the person you lost." Watching her turn her head to avoid looking at him, he continued gently. "I know how you feel, Rose."

"Yeah, right," she grumbled derisively.

"Your mother and I didn't just slip into our roles instantly. You know that; you were there for the arguments we had. For weeks every time I looked at her I thought of Jacqueline and I couldn't help comparing the two of them, trying to fit Jacs into the same place my late wife filled. I fell in love with your mother in part because of the ways she and Jacqueline are the same person but also because of the ways they are different. It took time, but it happened." He leaned forward, catching her eye as he did so. "And it will happen for you too. I know you love that man up there. What you need to figure out is do you love him because he reminds you of what you lost… or because of what you've gained."

Rose huffed slightly. "Yeah, well, you weren't up there this afternoon when he confessed that he isn't the Doctor, that he isn't anything like him."

Pete sighed at his stepdaughter's stubbornness knowing that, if she were anything like him, she was going to have to work this out in her head on her own. He walked around the desk and kissed her forehead. "Go home, Rose. Get some sleep." Then, without further word, he left the office, already knowing that she wasn't going to obey his entreats.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Rose's head was pillowed by her arms as she slumbered at her desk, having fallen asleep there. In an attempt to negate Pete's assertions that she was "feeling sorry for herself," she had delved into minor paperwork concerning a project someone down in Research and Development had come up with. Not that the project really had anything to do with Extraterrestrial Relations, of which she was the head, but it was something she was interested in and so she asked for the summarization of the project for review. The reading had been dry and exceedingly boring in her opinion – there was nothing related to her interests after all, it turned out – causing her to drift mentally. Being stubborn, however, she refused to let the matter go and just go home. As such, she soon found herself falling asleep.

Rose…

She hummed at the familiar voice creeping into her dreams, figuring that it was just a part of them.

Rose…

Her eyes opened at the repetition of her name, an eerily recognizable feeling to the soft whisper. Looking around, she noticed that not only was she still in her office but that it was dark outside, telling her that she was in the building after official working hours. A glance at the clock on her desk told her that it was approaching nine o'clock at night. The only people still in the building were the night watch and the on-duty medical staff on the upper levels. It certainly explained the crick in her neck and back; she'd been asleep for at least five hours.

Sighing, she stood up from her desk, wincing at the pain the action brought. The thought of a cup of tea flitted through her mind and she started for the door to locate the nearest break area.

Rose…

She froze in her steps at the sound of the whisper. That last calling wasn't a dream, she knew. It felt far too real and too much like the previous time she'd heard it so many years ago.

"Doctor…" she whispered back.

Rose…

This time the voice was stronger, reaffirming to her that she wasn't imagining it. She didn't know how but she knew it wasn't coming from the man who laid in the hospital room several stories above her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let the voice flow through her, allowing her to pinpoint the location from whence it came. It was closer than Norway… a lot closer. It was above her but past the medical ward.

Hurrying to the elevator, she pressed the button to the top-most level, following the whisper up. The moment the doors opened, she rushed out of them and down a hall into a large room whose lights turned on the moment she stepped in.

There, in a room that she had stood in so many times after Canary Wharf, was the man she had just been dreaming of before his voice woke her. His image, though, was very faded.

"Doctor," she breathed, tears in her eyes.

The Doctor smiled at her, though there was clearly sadness in that smile. "Rose Tyler," he responded, his voice stronger than hers.

"You came back," she added as she approached him.

"Same as the last time," he responded. "No touch. Burning up another sun. Found a small gap in the fabric of the universe so tiny that this is the best transmission that I can achieve. Dimensional retroclosure is still in full swing so this won't last long. Once this gap closes, that's it."

"Two minutes again?" She sniffed, wiping her tears away.

"I'm sorry," he replied softly. "Where are we this time?"

"Top floor of Torchwood Tower… in the ghost shift room." She lowered her head for a moment before looking at him again. "Same room where we were separated the first time. Hell of a place to say goodbye," she added with a murmur.

"I'm not here to say goodbye, Rose," he corrected gently.

"Then why are you here?"

"There's a problem that I have to resolve before it's too late. A problem between you and my other self. I thought just leaving both of you in each other's care would be enough but I was obviously wrong." Seeing the frown on her face, he clarified himself. "I have a telepathic connection with him. The connection won't be there after the gap closes completely, though. It's very weak. I can feel him but he can't feel me. I can even hear some of his thoughts. I know what he tried to do and I know why. He doesn't feel worthy of you, being half-human. He sees himself as an abomination because he believes that you see him as such. He knows that you don't love him the way he loves you. You will love him though, given time."

"That's what you came to tell me, then? A platitude about how I'll learn to love him?" Rose questioned sarcastically. "I will never love him the way I love you because, despite what you said, he isn't you. He even said so himself."

The Doctor exhaled slowly. "I was afraid something like this would happen."

"Like what would happen?"

He looked into her eyes, showing his own deep affection for her. "That you would reject him for being different."

"Then why did you leave him with me? Just so I could play nursemaid while you ran off?"

"Oh, Rose," he breathed. "I know you don't understand and you won't for a while to come. But there's a reason I put you two together. You need each other more than you realize. I wasn't lying when I said he is me. He has my memories, my voice, my face... everything that makes me who I am, he is too." Seeing her shake her head in denial, he added, "But he is also so much more. Because he's not just me; he's also Donna. And because he's Donna he can give you everything that I can't. He has her compassion and understanding and humanity. He can be there for you in ways that I never would be able to. Remember what I told you on that street after you met Sarah Jane? You could have lived your life with me… but I couldn't have lived my life with you. He can and he will… if you let him. I told you, you can make him better. He can do the same for you."

"What do you mean?" she questioned, her voice trembling.

"A normal human can't project a message across universes like you did, even with a gap in the fabric of reality allowing the message to get through amplified by the Void. That ability needs to be understood and explored properly. And there are other things as well that he can help you with." He paused, meeting her eyes with his. "You are special, Rose. You always have been. You'd never be happy living an ordinary human life. Neither could you be happy living my lifestyle for the rest of your life. Even when we were traveling together, you needed to go home regularly… to visit your mum, to just settle down for a period. With me, you'd be constantly on the move. Eventually, you'll just want to stay in one place and that just isn't me. That's the one adventure I could never have but, because he will grow old and die and never regenerate, he can while still giving you what you loved about traveling with me. He's the best of both worlds, when you think about it. He will become the man you need him to be, just as you will become the woman he needs you to be. It won't be easy, though. Nothing worthwhile ever is. You just need to give it time."

She gave a little sad laugh. "That's what Dad said."

"Good man, your dad. Knows what he's talking about."

"But… how much time? How will I know when it's enough?"

"You'll know," he told her, giving her a loving smile. Turning his head, he seemed to focus on an unseen object before turning back to Rose. "Only a few more seconds and there will be no gaps remaining. Keeping better track this time around." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "Take care of him, Rose. Take good care of my brother. And let him take good care of you. I'm proud of both of you." Before she had a chance to respond or ask further questions, the Doctor raised his hand and turned on his sonic screwdriver, cutting the transmission. A moment later, he vanished from sight, leaving her alone in the large cavernous white room.