"John!"

She's shouting.

That fine, comfortable painting of reality John's always admired has been smeared with a permanent black. And she's shouting.

Visions of man men, immodest dress, and magical machines should remain so. In vision. A pastime of the night. Not real.

But as she caught him by the hand, her face flushed, anxiety in full, John found himself at a standstill.

"John."

"You may not address me as such." He ripped his hand away, and immediately regretted it as she flinched.

"I'm sorry," a frown tugged at her lips, and she's pleading with him. "Come back. Let me explain."

"Explain!?" John bellowed, "my dreams, everything I knew to be playful thought is on full display. Including you! Who are you!?"

Rose cowered beneath him, her eyes darting about the area. And it was then, he realized, she's probably not the least bit frightened by him. Especially when she began pulling his arm, "I'll tell you once we're inside."

John stood unyielding. "You will tell me here."

"One or both of us is going to be thrown into the looney bin, standing out here, shouting about this." Her voice was calm, full of an authority he's never heard from any woman of her status. "Follow me now, Mister Smith."

He moved far from her being. "You have a point." John conceded and reluctantly headed back to that abandoned barn. "However, we shall discuss this on my terms, and I expect detailed answers."

"Ohh," Rose grumbled beneath her breath. "Misogynistic arse."

"I beg your pardon!?" John yelped, outraged. "Where does this language spawn from!?"

Rose stomped past. "Learned it when I met you."

His jaw set, John decided to be the better man, and not continue their bickering. The only sounds between them the crunching of leaves below. The nerve, John thought, she has no right to be upset.

Halfway back to the TARDIS Rose began chewing her thumbnail. Dreams. Rose remembers the times John periodically mentioned the Doctor from dreams. However, dream all he wants, she's fairly certain from the Doctor's recording that John can't remember through natural means. Only when he opens the watch will the Doctor return. So if he wants answers, that's all well and okay, but...

She glanced at him. Shoulders stiff, hands clenched, and fire practically spouting from every step.

...will he accept it?

"What?" He hissed at her staring.

And again she was reminded of how much she actually cared. Rose tossed her hands up, exasperated. "Nothin'!"

Bad move. John's eyes fell to her attire. The faintest blush as he wrinkled his nose. "What are you wearing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sweat pants, an' a camisole, your highness."

"Underthings," he scoffed.

When they reached the barn, Rose allowed John to enter first. Manners, manners, manners. Then, door fixed shut, she rounded on him.

"Underthings, as you so eloquently put it, in this time are far less comfortable. This. This is casual. Besides I wasn't planning on running around ruddy 1913 until you blundered in, and turned-" she grunted in frustration, only just counting off the consequences of his actions. "-my free time into me blowing this whole cover-up! Great! Let's go ahead and ruin the whole thing, why don't we!? Now where—!" realising she had been shouting, Rose paused. Hand midair. Distress from the TARDIS being discovered, work, protecting John, work, research, everything fueled her need to explode. Calm down. Rose shuffled around, upturned an old bucket, sat atop it, and lowered her volume. "Where do you want to start?"

"If you're quite finished." He muttered, then began, "I demand to know why my minds creation has found itself into the waking world." Unable to hide the tremor in his voice, he pointed at the blue box, and feeling hysterical said, "this is sorcery."

"Um, no," Rose pinched herself to contain a laugh. "An' might want to rearrange that other bit."

John's eyes narrowed. She's making a joke of this all? "Rearrange?"

"Yeah, she's uh, that's the TARDIS," she sounded fond, John's jaw nearly dropped at her apparent insanity. Naming blue boxes? "She's always been real. She's um," Rose squeezed her eyes shut, and snapped her fingers, attempting to retrieve a memory. Her eyes snapped open. "Sintient! Yeah. She's alive. Wouldn't be here and alive ourselves if not for her."

He faltered, face transforming from disbelief to horror. "Ourselves?"

"We were being chased," she stated. Already John could see the tail end of a memory -no- a dream. "They're called the Family. Wanted the Doctor's body to live longer. So, we ran, and the Doctor, he, um, he hid himself."

"The Doctor...?" his mouth felt dry, but he must know. "Who is this physician?"

"Most just say doctor who, but, um..." She chuckled, more nervous than anything else. "He's here." Rose retrieved a fob watch from her pocket, holding it reverently with her fingertips, as she proffered it for him to observe.

"Hmph," he huffed. "You spoke as though his being was of great importance." John snatched it from her. Flipping it over, blinking hard, as he had trouble focusing on the object. "This watch is living? As the box?"

"Guess you could say that. That's the Doctors consciousness." She waved her hand vaguely about. "S'potent, or something. The Family can smell it, but while the watch's closed, he's safely hidden." She licked her dry lips, seeing no other way around this. "His body couldn't be stashed away so easily though, it had to be protected and cared for with um... with an alias... a- a replacement mind..."

"An alias?" His eyebrows shot to his forehead, admiration hitting him despite the circumstances. "A fabricated consciousness to occupy his true form? Are you telling me he is concealed in plain sight?"

Rose bit her lips shut.

When she failed to answer, John's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. He dropped the fob watch as though the cogs burned of lava. Rose scrambled for the precious item, clutching it close as she stood before him.

"No." John hoarsely denied, then returned with a firmer, "No."

"I'm sorry," Rose murmured, staring at the ground.

"Y-" the wind knocked out of him from such a discovery. He spoke, dumbfounded, "had you any plans to inform me of..." he tripped over his words mid-rant, unable to say it specifically, "of this!?"

She shook her head, too shamefaced to look at him directly. "This wasn't part of his instructions."

"Instructions!?" He shouted incredulously. "I come with a manual? What am I!?" Now he was hysterical, "a machine!? A toy to wind!?"

"No!" Rose shouted in his defence. Except. She's never thought much of what he is herself. A program? He was created, "The TARDIS made you. Wrote you a backstory. Who you believe you are is who you've always been."

"Made," and his words were venom, "is that what I've been to you? A temporary replacement? A mind to occupy the body?" then it dawned on him. "This is why you've always felt distant. You care not for me, but him. The body." John suddenly plucked a pair of rusty sheep shears from the wall. Turning the point with a dangerous look in his eye. "If I were to—"

"NO!" Rose seized the potential weapon from his grasp.

John saw it then. An emotion flickering across her face that not once has shown itself before now. Winter settled early in his heart at the discovery of where hers truly resided. John clenched the fabric at his chest. A heart that is not even his, yet the pain will not vanish. Instead, it taunts him. A fake.

"Nothing about me is real," John spoke, resignation set in his tone.

"No," Rose tried to reason, but even she was grasping at straws . "You're real. You are. But..."

He shook his head. "...but I'm not real to you."

A/N

Doctor meet Doctor. It somehow reminds me of that scene in Spies Like Us. "Doctor" "Doctor" "Doctor" "Doctor" (can we all just forget that one awkward flirtatious "Doctor"?)

MirrorFlower and DarkWind: Thank you! Your enthusiasm is always welcome. :D

Pegasusfeather7: Really? That's great, thank you! :)

GriffinGirl8655: Haha, yep! Glad you liked that. Thank you for the review!