I don't normally not-care if someone is close to death

But for this one person, he has done more harm then good. Its time to bite it Palmer, it really is.

Monkey on the Loose

The Government is urging the public to avoid Cedar Creek California as several causalities have occurred there. It is rumored that a new virus - Motaba - has surfaced there and is spreading rather fast. The Government is trying to keep this secret but we believe that the public needs to know. It is said to have been going on for several days and a cure has not been found yet. It can affect anyone at all, age or gender doesn't matter. Our sources say that an illegally transported monkey is the host of this virus, which came from Africa. If the public sees a monkey then they should contact the number below so that they may not be infected.Monkey on the Loose

The Government is urging the public to avoid Cedar Creek California as several causalities have occurred there. It is rumored that a new virus - Motaba - has surfaced there and is spreading rather fast. The Government is trying to keep this secret but we believe that the public needs to know. It is said to have been going on for several days and a cure has not been found yet. It can affect anyone at all, age or gender doesn't matter. Our sources say that an illegally transported monkey is the host of this virus, which came from Africa. If the public sees a monkey then they should contact the number below so that they may not be infected.

It had been over half a century since the goodbye on the beach. Rose held onto that memory for all her long life. After two kids, a TARDIS and enough waking hours to suit her a lifetime - and a half. Her eyes were glazed and old, her skin no longer young. Who ever thought that that Rose Tyler would ever grow to be old? That she would be there, in a rocking chair, hardly able to stand. "Young Doctor, Old Doctor same Doctor." She mumbled without recollection of her own words. The defender of the earth was nearing 87 and weaker by the moment. A sigh was drawn from her lips, a whisper of her own life. Like regeneration, except in her end she'd decay. Her eyes drifted over the scene in front of her. He had decided to make their home on a hill overlooking Bad Wolf Bay. Sometimes, in their youth, they'd stand there without saying anything. They couldn't, it hurt too much. All the history on the beach, it stung them to the core. But still they loved their home, because it brought salvation. And sometimes they'd faintly see a blue box, the tricks of the mist. They'd see faces dance amongst the waves, calling them. But they never approached the apparitions. So the two of them would walk away, and pretend they never saw a thing. He had died a year earlier. And since his death Rose could feel her strength giving. Like her life was attached to his and when the cord was cut she began to shrivel. She loved him that much. The children visited faintly, briefly. On the wings of a blue Goddess. Rose had stopped traveling in the TARDIS when she hit 60, giving it up to Jack. Noble never had the desire to travel past the age of 18; she wanted a normal life with a husband and kids. Jack on the other hand, couldn't wait to inherit it. Noble got what she wanted, blessing Rose with three grandchildren. Noble seemed to resent her family's history. The mother and father that shouldn't be there, the father that shouldn't even exist. The man that remembered childhood but never experienced it directly. Rose, on the other hand, loved the man more then mentally possible. Yes, he grew from his hand, but he was him. Every inch, so Rose was happy. He had told her his true name and she never dare to repeat it. It took another 10 years for him to do so. A long walk on the beach and he whispered something to her, so faintly. She had looked at him in confusion and he just smiled. It sounded foreign and it took Rose three days to figure out what it was. When she realized she smiled and kissed him hard and that was how Jack was conceived.

Belle looks up from the bloody straw and the mess she has created. Her hands are caught in cuffs of iron and her hair is matted with dirt and blood. She does not look like a pretty sight with her hard glare and torn dress. "You're the executioner," she points of flatly, bored.

The man in the shadows shakes his head, "Nope." He pops. The man is leaning against a blue box that looks so out of place in this dungeon with the putrid smell and rats.

Her gaze softens but she still looks fierce "Then who are you?" Belle asks, bangs in her eyes, a drop of blood falling from her temple.

"Here to take you on a journey," he says with a sly grin.

"How pompous!" She laughs a little, a hard bite of annoyance straight in his slender face. "You have no keys, no one escapes the Queen."

"Ah well," he waggles three slender iron sticks near her face, "I must be no one."

Belle's eyes brighten but cautiousness is held behind her frame. She is tired, she has lived here far to long, far to long in a prison cell. For a moment she catches a glimpse of herself, of her old self. But it quickly fades, along with the bright eyes. "Trickery," she whispers.

He shakes his head, brown pouncing upon his head. His face is still hidden and unseen, but his frame is as bright as day. "Nope." And he walks over towards her, sinking the rusted iron into her clasps, he twists and she is free.

Belle rubs her wrists, which ache from months hidden away. She looks up at him, this little gift. "Thank you." She says, the corner of her lip twitching.

"Don't mention it!" He smiles and she can finally see him. He has light olive skin and is yet rather pale. Brown, feathery hair crops his head and he has sideburns. Brown eyes, thin yet handsome face and a streak of a nose. He is rather tall and lanky, but looks warm. "But I think we should be going."

Now it is her time to laugh and she chuckles a little. "Where to? And look at me, I'm so not presentable..." For the first time she notices the ugly gray rags she wears and her matted, destroyed hair.

"We can take care of that in my... ah, carriage." He begins to walk away, back towards the blue box.

She laughs again, not convinced. "What kind of carriage do you have? Does it hold an entire castle?"

"More or less" he replies, grinning. There is a door on the blue box and he opens it. "Are you coming Belle?"

For a moment she stands there, not sure. But then she hears the faint echo of men hurrying down the staircase to the dungeon, and the clatter of weapons. "Mind I suggest you hurry," adds the man.

Belle refuses to let this chance of freedom escape her. "But it wont do anything!" She hisses through clenched teeth.

"Think again," the man adds before stepping inside the blue box.

Belle snorts, following him. Be it on his beautiful head they get caught and die. She is already set to death at midnight, which isn't far off, so she's not scared. Opening the door she sees a dull yellow glow before stepping inside.

The thing is no carriage, more like a gigantic cathedral. No, it didn't look this big before she stepped in unless... "Magic," She breathes, mystified. "I've only known one so powerful to conjure..."

But he isn't listening, he's hitting at gadgets in the center column. "What is your name again?" She speaks up, still in shock.

He looks up, another sly smile on his face. "Doctor."

"Doctor Who?" Asks Belle breathlessly.

"Impolite question that is; where I come from. But I'll let it slide. Just the Doctor. And you're Belle right? I do hope I’m picking up the right one... ah of course I am!" He steps aside from the column.

"Where are you taking me Doctor?" She asks with glazed eyes coated in slight fear. If she never met the Spinner then she would be deathly afraid right now, but she knows of magic.

"Right now? Nowhere until you get cleaned up." He points to a staircase. "Third door to the left is a bath with a wardrobe, I expect you to be clean and wear a prettier dress."

She gives a small, joyful smile and a slight bow. "Yes Doctor! Right away, thank you sir!" And she scampers off. And after she leaves, hidden in his eyes, is sadness.

Belle is ready within an hour; her hair is only half its length. The rest could not be salvaged. She wears a straight dull yellow dress that hugs around her legs like beautiful snakes. "Where to now that I am looking proper?"

His lips curl in a smile, she looks dapper. "A trip down memory lane," he motions with his hand, "step outside."

"But - the dungeon..." She breathes fearfully. His head shakes in response.

"No, magic remember. We've moved."

"To where?" She counters.

"Through time." He replies. "And area."

Belle is not surprised, she knows the strengths of magic and knows it has no limits. Time is defiantly no limit, so she believes him. But she still has him open the door; her wrists are swollen and sore.

"Take this," Belle looks up at him and in his hand is a black cape with a hood. "We must hide our faces, mustn't be seen by unwanted eyes."

She nods and takes it, he is right.

They step outside. It is late spring and flowers are in bloom, so the air smells sweet. Puddles line a dirt road to a small village and water still clogs the air. A storm as recently passed. They are between spruce woodland and a meadow, the village looms a mile away. Belle turns around and notices the blue box is now a large oak. "Had to disguise it." Explains the Doctor with a sly smile. "But it is only temporary." She smiles in response.

"What are we looking for?" Belle asks, placing the hood over her head.

The Doctor points to three boys playing. "See the one with no shoes?" He asks, leaning against the magical oak.

Belle nods, "yes. They all look happy, maybe 6 years old?"

He nods, "correct. The shoeless boy is the one who will grow up to be Rumpelstiltskin."

Belle gaps her jaw in disbelief and focuses more on the boy. His hair is dark and curled, his eyes brown. Thin frame and short in height with the deathly give away of a poor boy. He looks freighted of the two boys but still plays, clearly the omega of the three.

"Come on, we have more to look at. Don't worry, we wont leave him for long." And the Doctor steps into the magical oak, followed by Belle. She has goose bumps along her limps and when they are inside she sits down.

"Now where?" She asks and they have but a moment before they step out. He looks at her with a distant smile before beckoning her to come out. She obeys graciously.

They are now in thick woodland and dusk approaches. The same three boys are playing, but they are older - young teenagers.

"Rumpel you'll never fight in the war!" Teases one of the boys with raven black hair and thick muscles.

"Yeah, Dalk is right!" Retorts the other with black hair and gray eyes. His response is stupid and Belle can tell his wits aren't there.

"And no woman will marry a coward as such!" Replies Dalk tauntingly. "Only dust shall flow from your loins and you shall make no honor out of your father!"

Rumpel's lip twitches, "you watch me Clad and Dalk, and I will do no such thing."

Dalk snorted, a glistening evil in his eyes. "Bet on it shoe boy." And he punched Rumpelstiltskin in the face.

Bell almost screamed out in terror and anger but the Doctor held her back, hushing her with calming words.

Blood flowed from Rumpelstiltskin's nose. "Fight back you coward, prove to me you can fight."

Rumpel looked up at Dalk in terror, "do so I shall not." His knees were plastered to the ground.

Dalk grinned and spit on his face, "you are as damned as the mother that birthed you. A worthless coward." He leaned down near his face, hate glistening in the eye. "Leave this village, no one wants you here. I will say that a wolf got you, there will be dancing. Even your shoemaking father will smile of your riddance. And with you dead I can finally feel some pride in marrying your sister."

Rumpel's eyes rolled inside his head. "I knew it." He mumbled. "Fine, you win, I shall leave this place. But," and he held up a finger, "this isn't the last you've seen of me." And he fell to the ground in agony.

Dalk grinned, "good boy. Always a peasant you shall be," he kicked him hard in the face and Belle heard a crunch. Again she nearly screamed. "Farewell and may you be dead in the morning." And Dalk and Clad both slumbered away in obvious joy.

When they were out of sight Belle nearly ran to him but the Doctor held her back. "He'll die with those wounds!" She nearly screeched but he just handed her a flask of alcohol and bandages.

"Be quick," he whispered but she was already at the young boy.

Belle stroked his head; he was hardly conscious and let out a small moan. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes were closed.

There was a large cut on his forehead, clouded by bruises. She cleaned it with alcohol. "You saved me," she whispered. "Never thought I'd be returning it. Gods you are young... younger then me." His head was cradled in her lap.

His breathing was faint and small but he still cringed at the feel of alcohol. "You will grow up to be the bravest man I know Rumpelstiltskin, but now I see you." She gave a small laugh. "I see you as human, and boy are you handsome." Belle began to wrap his head in the bandages, "you wont remember me when you awake; good. I don't want you to. I come along in a long time... And I guess, if this is my only time to do so," she looked at the small innocent face and leaned down to kiss his lips gently, warmly. The first time for him and last for her... Belle almost cried.

She made her way to the Doctor, bloodied dress and all. "What will happen of him?" Her voice wavered sadly.

The Doctor looked distant, remembering something sad. "He will awaken with no memory of you, except a feel of warmth. He will also be awoken by a traveler who will take him to his village and he will grow up there; happy." The Doctor then smiled. "Come on, two more stops."

She sniffed but followed him into the magical machine.

Belle had changed into a red dress, the yellow one was scratched and bloodied. It was a dark crimson with flowing edges to the knee. She still wore the black cape.

They were inside Rumpelstiltskin's castle, well, the Doctor was. He had to retrieve something for her. He came in a few moments after he left.

"Why didn't I come with you?" She asked.

He simply said, "paradoxes." But she didn't question farther on the subject. In his hands was a rose; the rose Rumpelstiltskin had given her. "Here," he gave it to her.

She smiled, "what is the meaning of this rose?"

The Doctor cringed sadly but then looked at her, "you'll see. Final stop till you depart." And he clicked at the column. Belle had a feeling of moving but wasn't exactly sure why.

"I... depart?" She asked curiously.

He nodded. "Belle you still need to die, its unavoidable." He looked at her sadly and watched a spasm coursed through her body.

"I'm sorry but -"

"We can't avoid it Belle. Why do you think I'm showing you all this? He would've wanted it."

She hung her head in defeat. "But it travels through time -"

He interrupted her again. "It does. But you can't run forever."

She sniffed back a tear; she knew she'd have to die. Might as well face it. "Alright, where now?"

He held open the door, "find out." And she walked out in slight fear.

She was in a dungeon, a special one by the feel of magic. The rose was in her hand, and it hung erect with all the course of power. To her right she saw him, one of the rare occasions that he slept. He didn't seem to notice her.

For a moment she watched the beast sleep then tears almost sprouted from her eyes. I love you. She thought so hard, and I'll never leave you... I'll try not to at least. And so Belle put the rose down on a small rock. Golden light flashed around it then calmed and it looked at home. "Goodbye Rumpelstiltskin... sleep well." She breathed. Belle didn't dare approach him, she couldn't. It was hard enough as it was... so she went back inside the machine.

"Thank you," she whispered once the door had closed. "Thank you Doctor."

He bowed, "don't mention on. Come on Belle, it is time." And his eyes were sober in sadness as he led her to her death.

The door closed behind the Doctor and Rumpelstiltskin looked up from his perch. "It is done?" He chimed.

The Doctor nodded, "she has seen all she needed to see."

"Good," Rumpelstiltskin nearly purred. His talon-like-nails gripped at the air near him. "You did not lie old friend."

"Of course I didn't," scoffed the Doctor.

"And you took her to the exact point for her death?" He nearly leapt of his rock with so much gusto.

The Doctor nodded, "yes. Now, where is it?"

Rumpelstiltskin sighed then reached behind him, "you still wish to see?"

Gulping the Doctor nodded, keeping his distance.

"Then I will need the tear of a Time Lord upon the mirror." The words were speeded then slowed then purred and snapped. 

"Gladly Spinner," and he took the enchanted mirror from the beast - making sure not to touch him. For a moment the Doctor struggled to cry then a single blue drop fell from his eye to the water-like mirror. "Show me her." He commanded, looking into it.

The mirror shifted then rippled and the face of a blonde girl appeared on the mirror. There was a baby in her hands, and she was smiling. "Oh little Jack," Rose said kindly. "The Doctor wishes he could've seen you I bet." She smiled. "But you got daddy, he's good right? Works a lot," she scoffed, "but amazing. Fantastic even." Rose grinned then the mirror shifted and became a mirror once more.

Rumpelstiltskin was studying the Doctor, displeasure peeled onto his face. "Love, such a monster isn't it." He smiled, showing stained teeth.

The Doctor sighed, nodding and handed him back the mirror. "Till we meet again old friend, till we meet again." And he stepped into the TARDIS, joy and sadness plastered on his beautiful complexion.

Rumpelstiltskin to sighed then leapt onto the bars, people were approaching. Snow White and Prince Charming.

Belle was looking at the ground and nearly cursed. She heard the swoosh as the scythe went upwards then felt a slight sting in the neck. Magical flooded around her and she knew she wasn't dead. Just a moment of the scythe, but that to disappeared. And she was swept away to a foreign land, her memory being cleaned away as she churned through the storm.  

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed at the rose, seeing the words etched along the stem. I love you. "Always," he breathed, feeling his talons course along it. "And you are gone now, but I will find you... I promise." And he sat down, clutching at the flower in his hands. The final rose. 

Together In The Altogether

What’s a little nudity between friends?

(Just a little bit of reposting — this has been up on Teaspoon for awhile.)

Ten/Rose

They got into this same situation with ridiculous regularity, in Rose’s opinion.  Although, she mused as she contemplated the smoldering wreck behind them, it could be worse.  At least this time they weren’t being arrested for hand-holding or licking sacred objects.

She ran a hand over her hair, just to double-check that nothing was on fire.

“But you see, we had to, er, borrow the hovercraft,” the Doctor explained in a hurry to the large, sentient, purple slug of alien law enforcement.  “Because the Swcolians were under the impression that this was their world, and they thought that you were alien invaders.  It was all just a mix-up in their navigation systems—they were aiming for Swcol 3 on the other side of the galaxy, but ended up here on Sigmuria by accident.  So they were busy having a “you blew it up, you maniacs!” moment and had started to remotely activate their weapon systems.”

“That’s why we swiped the hovercraft,” inserted Rose helpfully.  “‘Cause we needed fast transportation to stop them before it was too late.” 

The Doctor nodded firmly.  “Exactly.”  He patted absently at a slightly singed patch on his favorite coat.

“So you two alien hominids stole the hovercraft to take some other, different aliens back to their ship?” asked the Sigmureth police officer skeptically. 

“Well, no,” said the Doctor.  “We borrowed the hovercraft to go find the aliens in the first place in order to convince them that it was all a mistake.”

“And the fact that you then drove it out onto the Blurring Sand flatlands…?”

“See,” said Rose, “after we talked ‘em into seeing the error of their ways, we had to race back out to where their ship was parked in order to diffuse the weapons systems.”

“You see?”   The Doctor beamed.  “Totally necessary for saving the world.”

“So,” said the police officer, tapping its left enzyme excretion orifice against its data recorder thoughtfully, “Let me get this straight: you took the hovercraft in order to stop an alien invasion.”

“Right,” the two time travelers agreed.  Behind them, the heap of machinery let out a spray of golden sparks.

“And you kept the hovercraft in order to deactivate some sort of doomsday device on the alien spaceship.”

They both nodded, a thin plume of smoke weaving through the air above their heads and drifting up into the sky.

“An alien spaceship which is conveniently missing.”

“Well,” said the Doctor, tugging on one ear, “once the disaster was averted, I thought I ought to fix their navigation problem.  After that was done, the Swcolians took off, heading back home.  Alien invasion averted!  Really, I should get a medal, when you think about it.”

The police officer fixed them both with a beady stare.  “And the fact that you then spent the next two hours joyriding around the flatlands in a stolen hovercraft?”

“Ah,” said the Doctor uncomfortably.  “Well…” His eyes shifted over to his companion.  “It’s possible that I might have been trying to give Rose a few piloting lessons.”

Rose bit her lip and tried for a disarming grin.  Unfortunately, the Sigmurethra were about as non-humanoid (and asexual) as you could get. The officer was not amused, especially when the wrecked hovercraft picked that precise moment to burp up a huge cloud of noxious smoke.

“She’s really quite rubbish at it,” the Doctor whispered confidentially.

Luckily, justice on Sigmuria was quite reasonable.  They were given a three day jail sentence, to be followed by ankle bracelets that would prevent them from leaving the city of Buretha and its surrounding townships, removable upon receipt of payment for the irrevocably damaged vehicle (plus several hefty speeding tickets). 

Unluckily, however, the prison facilities on Sigmuria weren’t really set up for beings of the non-slug variety. 

“But why are you taking our clothes?” Rose demanded as their alien jailors insisted that she removed everything.  “S’not like we’re going to come up with some sort of daring escape plan featuring my knickers!”

The Sigmurethra weren’t really able to appreciate her objections, since they didn’t wear any kind of coverings themselves.  Sorry, she was told, but although they firmly believed in compassionate prisoner treatment, they had learned to be cautious when detaining bipedal life forms.  The head of security explained that the last time they had arrested a humanoid, he had escaped out a window using a rope made from his own garments. 

“Oh, right,” said the Doctor looking around the room at anything but her.  “I thought this place seemed familiar.”

“So how are we going to get out of here?” Rose asked as she paced back and forth inspecting the prison.  She had decided, while being forcibly escorted in the buff to the only cell adapted for humanoids, that the only way to get out of this situation with any shred of her dignity intact was to treat it all with an air of nonchalance.  After all, what was a little harmless nudity between friends?   

Maturity, she had thought to herself firmly.  It was all about maturity.

She ran her hands over the walls of the cell.  They had a strangely organic look to them, sort of like interior of the TARDIS.  The one wall with a door was made of some sort of clear plastic material, and the door was hermetically sealed so as to prevent the escape life forms with the capacity to ooze.  There was one window, also tightly sealed.  The only ventilation was through a series of complicated ducts on the ceiling. 

In the center of the room was a large depression full of some sort of jellied substance.  There was a small closet featuring somewhat alien toilet facilities, though Rose thought she’d seen worse—at least it was semi-private, and the sink provided water instead of acid or soap or, as on one memorable occasion, alcohol. 

Rose didn’t see any obvious ways out, but she figured that it never hurt to check.  “How did you escape last time?” she asked the Doctor as she prodded the door and knocked on the walls.

 Strangely, the Doctor didn’t seem much in the mood to help.  Upon entering the cell and getting an eyeful of his naked companion, he had sat on the floor with his legs drawn up and his ankles crossed so as to cover as much of his body as possible.  He hadn’t moved since and didn’t appear all that interested in looking for a means of escape.  In fact, one of his hands was shielding his eyes.  “Last time, I just opened the window and climbed out,” he muttered. 

“Really?”  Rose checked out the window.  They were on the ground floor of the prison, at least, but there didn’t seem to be any way of opening the window.  “How?  And why would the window just open, anyway?”

“It’s a speciest thing.  The Sigmurethra don’t interact with their environment the way we do—everything they do, they do with chemicals.  So for example, since they don’t have hands, they can’t use latches and such without a special chemical-mechanical interface.  Basically, like a key.  The window used to have a latch like that.  But they aren’t really used to keeping non-gastropods imprisoned.  Having digits and an opposable thumb, I just opened it and climbed out.”

Rose tried pushing on the window, but no luck.  “Oh, they’ve just moved the latch to the outside.  Don’t think we’re getting out that way.”  She mulled it over.  “Maybe if they bring us our food on a tray, we can fashion it into some sort of lever to pry the window open, like we did on Barnid…Barnod…”

“Barnox,” corrected the Doctor from behind his hands.

“Right,” said Rose.  “Whatcha think?  Could it work?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The Doctor paused before answering, and Rose got the impression that he was not looking forward to telling her this bit.  “Because,” he said tentatively, “I’m fairly certain that they have already provided us with food.”  Without looking, he waved a hand toward the pit of goo in the center of the prison cell.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.  Seriously?  This is the only food we’re getting?”

The Doctor shrugged.  “Speciest, like I said.  This is what the Sigmurethra eat.”

Rose leaned over the depression and gave the reddish substance a poke.  It jiggled a little.  “What is it?” she asked unenthusiastically.

“It’s a nutrient rich agar,” sighed the Doctor.  “Made from algae.  Very like what your scientists use to cultivate bacteria.”  Although his eyes were covered, the Doctor seemed to sense the face Rose was pulling.  “It is edible,” he assured her.  “Well…technically.”

“Ugg,” said Rose as she flopped onto the floor.  “Ok, so dinner isn’t high on the priority list right now.  Ow.  This floor isn’t very comfy.”  She looked around the room again—no beds, she realized.  “Where are we supposed to sleep?”

“We-ell,” said the Doctor slowly, “I’m pretty sure the agar is meant to fill that purpose as well.”

“WHAT!?”  Rose hopped up and rounded on him in disbelief.  “You mean we’re supposed to sleep in our FOOD?!?”

The Doctor seemed to wince again behind the cover of his hand.  “Well, that’s what the Sigmurethra do, you see.  They don’t have mouths, so they absorb nutrients through their semi-permeable membranes during their rest periods.”

“Oh, no,” said Rose, starting to pace again.  “That’s not happening.  No way I’m sleeping in a gross pile of jelly that I’m supposed to turn around and EAT. FOR. BREAKFAST!”  She kicked at the door, but it wasn’t budging. “Oi!” she yelled at a passing guard through the comm-grate, thumping her fist against the wall for good measure.  “We can’t eat this stuff!  What about ‘compassionate prisoner treatment’, and all that!  You need to bring us human food!”

The guard had paused when she started shouting but now resumed its slow patrol without acknowledging her complaint, slinking along a preordained path of slime.

“You know, at least we are really getting a chance to live like the natives do,” the Doctor said, in an uncharacteristic attempt at putting a good spin on imprisonment, but Rose was in no mood to listen.

“You can’t be serious,” she snapped at him.  “This is just…inhuman!”

The Doctor’s lips twitched.  “Well, yeah, that’s sort of my point.”

“Why are you just sitting there, anyway?” demanded Rose.  “Get up and help me find a way out of here!  Use that great big Time Lord brain of yours!”

“I’m trying to maintain some sense of decorum,” said the Doctor, gesturing somewhat primly with his one free hand.  “You’re all…exposed, and I’m all exposed, and it’s an awkward situation.”

Rose stared at him.  “You’re kidding.  Please, tell me you’re kidding.  You’re not finding us a way out of here because of some sort of…modesty hang-up?”

“It’s not that!” protested the Doctor.  “It’s just…well, I know how you humans are.  Dancing is all you people ever think about.”

Rose groaned.  “When you say dancing, you mean sex, right?” she asked, rubbing the heel of her hand over her forehead, trying to alleviate a growing headache.  “‘Cause the whole dancing metaphor is starting to creep me out.”

“Um,” said the Doctor.  “Well…”

She sighed.  “So let me get this straight.  You’re sitting there, all…covered up, because you’re afraid I’m going to go all human on you and start demanding that we have sex just ‘cause we’re both naked?”

“Um,” he repeated.  The tips of his ears had turned an interesting shade of red.

“Ok,” said Rose.  “That’s really just…incredibly insulting.”  She fisted her hands into her bare hips and glared at him.  Here she was, being mature and nonchalant with all her might and main, and he had the nerve to sit there, spouting some of his ‘superior species’ nonsense at her.

The Doctor whipped his head up only to quickly turn his head to the side as he remembered her state of undress.  “I don’t mean to insult you,” he stressed, staring with apparent fascination at the wall.  “It’s just…with companions…and, well, it can be complicated…and it’s you…and you’re…and, well, you remember how Jack was…and…”   The Doctor trailed off when he sensed that he wasn’t really making any headway.  

“You just think we’re all going to be overwhelmed with lust for your Time Lordly magnificence,” said Rose caustically.  “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of you what with you all curled up like that, but your ego is certainly very impressive.”

“It’s not just that,” protested the Doctor, ducking his head down onto his knees once again.  “I don’t want to be invading your privacy, either.”

“Yeah, it’s a little late for that,” said Rose.  “And it’s not like we can both sit here with our eyes covered the whole time.  Just look and get it over with so we can find a way out.  You’re just making it more awkward by being weird about it.”

The Doctor didn’t move, although Rose observed that the interesting red tinge was creeping up his neck and ears again.  Rose sighed and slid back down to the floor, letting her head fall back against the wall.  She stared up at the amorphous ceiling. 

“Look,” she said in the most kindly, sympathetic voice she could muster, “I realize that being trapped here, in this cell with me, y’know, naked is quite possibly,”—here, her lips started to twitch—“the single most erotic thing that has ever happened to you,”—here, the Doctor’s head snapped up—“in your entire nine hundred years of existence, but,”—here, she just managed to suppress a snicker—“you’ll really just have to try your best to fight the urge to ravish me in this bowl of nutritious goo.” 

She tilted her head back down to give him a sweet smile, but the look of outrage on his face was too much for her.  With a snort, she broke character and laughed until her sides ached. 

“Glad this is all so amusing to you.”  He was still glaring at her.

“At least you’re looking at me now,” chuckled Rose, stretching a leg out to poke him with her toe.

Of course, the second she reminded him of that, his eyes skittered away.

I think,” he said, clearing his throat, “that we should just sit tight and try not to…move around too much.  The sentence isn’t really that long, and…”

“It’s three days!” protested Rose.  “You’re gonna spend three days curled up like a shrimp?  With nothing to eat but our own gelatinous bedding?”

When the Doctor didn’t answer, she groaned and thumped her head against the wall. 

They spent several minutes in extremely uncomfortably silence.

“You have a very simplistic view of human sexuality, y’know,” said Rose, feeling that she should at least try to defend her species. 

“If you say so,” muttered the Doctor, rather ungraciously.  His hand was covering his face again.

“It’s true,” Rose insisted.  “Sex isn’t just about nakedness.”

“Sure.  That’s why every time we go to the market, there are rows of magazines with half-naked humans frolicking on the front pages.”  Even all hunched over, he was practically radiating higher being superiority again. “Face it: your species is obsessed.”

Undaunted, Rose thought about this for a moment.  “But that just proves my point,” she decided.  “‘Cause, sure, they’re half-naked, but they aren’t just standing there in the altogether.  It’s all about the bits that are still covered up.”

The Doctor just snorted.

Rose eyed him speculatively.  Something didn’t seem to be adding up, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was.  Besides, for some reason—maybe because of the nudity or perhaps just the Doctor’s apparent mortification—she was feeling strangely uninhibited.  “It isn’t just about having your clothes off,” she continued in a dusky voice.  “It’s about taking your clothes off.  Sex,” she said, deliciously rolling the word around in her mouth, “is all about…intent.”

When this didn’t get a reaction from him, Rose huffed.  He was just being ridiculous, she decided.  “Anyway, my point is, you’re perfectly safe,” she informed him archly.  “Just hanging out here in the buff doesn’t really do it for me.  And in any case, we’re in a slug prison.  Slug prison.”  She let that sink in for a moment.  “Which means I don’t care who waltzes in through the door—I’m not interested.  Not even Orlando Bloom.  Not even Robert Pattinson.  Not even,” she said, wagging a finger in his direction, “Christopher Eccleston.  So, you see?  No need to worry.”  

She glanced at him and snickered when she saw the bright shine of his eyes, glaring out at her from between his ever-so-slightly parted fingers.  “See something you like?” she asked in an intentionally over-the-top flirt. Sometimes, he was just too easy to wind up.  But when he just ducked his head back down into his arms again, Rose sighed.  “What is with you, anyway?” she demanded.  “I’m sure you’ve seen naked people before.  I promise not to look,” (much, she silently amended) “so hop on up and let’s find a way out of here.”

 His answer was muffled by his arms. “You don’t understand.” 

Rose struggled between annoyance and bafflement.  “What don’t I understand?”  

The Doctor took a deep breath and then, bizarrely, began what sounded like an extremely complicated genetics lecture, all about the role of triple helix chromosomal strands on the suppression of autonomic limbic brain reactions and the possible effects of explicitly triggered telomeres on post-loomed Gallifreyan DNA under specific and sufficient stimuli. 

As the words tumbled from his mouth faster and faster, Rose’s eyebrows crept higher and higher on her forehead.  She didn’t understand one bit of what he was talking about, but there were two things she knew for certain: 1) when he started throwing around the complex science, he was usually trying to avoid saying something completely obvious, and 2) when he talked that fast, it was only because he was too flustered to think of a more effective means of distraction.  But distraction from what?  She tapped a finger to her chin, mulling over the possibilities.

“…And then, when you factor in the effects of the activation of those genes on the parietal lobes, the right parietooccipital sulcus, the left superior occipital gyrus, and the precentral gyri, as well as the decreased signal to the right posterior cingulate gyrus and the left precuneus, you find that really, certain autonomic reactions are to be expected, and…”

“Wait,” interrupted Rose suddenly.  A thought had just struck her.  Could it be…?  She turned to him, incredulous.  “Do you?”

He paused, mid-lecture.  “Do I what?”

“See something you like?” she squeaked, her eyebrows achieving maximum lift.

The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out.  “Yes,” he admitted in a rough voice.

Rose stared at him and then she couldn’t help it; she laughed.  It wasn’t that she found the idea of him being attracted to her funny, because honestly, it had only taken him the better part of two years to take notice.  It was just that the whole situation was so horribly absurd, what with the nudity and his embarrassment and the only available bed being made of jelly. 

This was definitely her life, all right.

“Oh, I suppose if I was Orlando Bloom, this would all be less hilarious to you,” he snarked. 

“M’sorry,” she giggled.  “It’s not that, it’s just…”  But when she looked at him, still all curled up, and realized exactly why he was positioned that way, she couldn’t quite finish for laughing.

“It’s a very common autonomic reaction,” he scolded, lifting his head.  “In most bipedal species, the male is more attuned to visual stimuli.  It’s completely normal.”

“Of course,” said Rose, wiping her eyes.  “Although, generally the males don’t go casting the blame for his ‘autonomic reactions’ on the females’ species’ lechery.”

“Yes, well,” said the Doctor hurriedly.  “In any case, you don’t have to worry. I promise to keep my, er, eyes to myself.” 

He was staring at his knees, his knobbly, pale, beautiful bare knees, looking flustered and embarrassed and completely adorable, and Rose was seriously considering just leaning over and snogging him, but what with them both still naked, that seemed a little premature.  So she settled for wiggling her eyebrows flirtatiously.  “Oh, I’m not worried, Doctor.  You can look all you like.  Besides,” she added, tapping a finger to her forehead, “I keep all my really sexy bits up here.”  She hopped up to continue her investigation of the cell and flashed him a grin over her shoulder. 

His only response was a swift intake of breath, and then the room seemed to develop an uncomfortable case of silence. 

Rose’s hand was halfway up a wall when she paused, realizing in retrospect that her comment might have seemed a bit more…salacious…when delivered to a member of a telepathic race.

She turned back toward him, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his eyes—dark, hooded, and locked onto her face.  His mouth was slightly open.  “Er,” she said, even as a slight flush crept over her chest and up her neck under the heat of his stare, “so did I just give you the equivalent of a really cheesy pick-up line?”

The Doctor cleared his throat and nodded slightly.  “Something like that.” His voice was low and smooth, and Rose felt something curl pleasantly in her belly. 

A slow smile crept across her face.  A certain Glenn Miller song popped unbidden into her head, and she licked her lips, feeling bold.  “Y’know, Doctor, if I’d known it would take getting rid of my clothes to get your attention, I’d have done it ages ago.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up.  “Trust me, Rose,” he said, just a hint of wicked heat lacing his voice, “you already had it.”

“That so?” she asked, mock-serious.  “You sure about that?”  She pressed her lips together to smother a smile.

In a surprisingly rapid move, he was on his feet, everything completely visible, and the first thing that popped into Rose’s mind was, bizarrely, a cheer for the wonderfulness of certain autonomic reactions. 

Two quick strides later, and he was standing so close that she could feel the static coming off his skin. 

“Yes,” he murmured, dipping his head toward hers so that the front lock of his hair brushed against her forehead.  “Quite.”

Rose would have answered, but when his eyes dropped to her mouth, her coherence left on holiday without leaving a forwarding address.  “Wha…?”

“I’m sure.”  His breath brushed her cheek.  But then he gripped her by the elbows and pulled back to look into her eyes.  “Rose, are you?”

Slightly distracted by the way her name fell off of his lips, she failed to respond in the affirmative, and the Doctor began to withdraw.  But Rose was having none of that.  She snaked a hand around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.

The desperate, hungry noise he made as he stepped closer, leaning into the kiss was really…just…fantastic, Rose decided; she definitely wanted to hear it again.  She grappled at his neck, her fingers searching the space where his suit collar should be, but her hand ended up full of the tight, corded flesh where his neck gave way to shoulder.  No suit, no shirt, no jacket, no tie…it was like all the things that made him the Doctor had been stripped away. 

The part that made him a man, though…well, that was pressing rather pleasantly into her stomach.

His hands were tenderly cupping her face, his fingertips gently tracing the line of her jaw, as he moved away from her mouth and pressed a line of kisses across her cheek.  “Rose.”  His voice dripped with suggestion, as he murmured against the skin of her neck.  “You are very conveniently naked.” His hands reached around her waist to dance up her spine.

Rose bit her lip.  Now that he was no longer kissing her, her mind had cleared enough to remember their rather unfortunate location.  As much as she wanted this to happen, there was no way she was shagging anybodyhere.  “Doctor,” she whispered, pressing a hand against his chest.  “It’s just…slug prison.”  She cast a meaningful glance at the horrible excuse for a bed and the entirely transparent wall.

He pulled back.  “Oh, right,” he said, blowing out a breath.  “No luck for me or Orlando.”  He looked around, suddenly extremely serious.  “We cannot stay here for three days,” he said darkly. 

“Agreed,” she said with a hidden smile.  “So how do we get out?”

The Doctor didn’t answer, but Rose could practically see the wheels spinning at a break-neck pace inside his head.  His eyes roved over the door, the window, the ceiling ducts, and Rose bounced impatiently on her pads of her feet, waiting for his usual brilliant pronouncement.

“Er,” said the Doctor, grimacing.  “Actually, we may be…slightly stuck.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, deadpan, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Weeeell, I don’t exactly keep a spare sonic screwdriver in my birthday suit. So to speak.”  He ran his hand through his hair, unintentionally making it even more ruffled and gorgeous.  Rose bit back a groan of frustration. 

“We have to find some way out of here,” she snapped.  “No way I’m spending three days in here with you naked.  I’ll spontaneously combust!”

The Doctor shot her a wicked grin.  “I am good, aren’t I?”

“Doctor!” she protested.

“Sorry, but there’s not a whole lot I can do…”  But he trailed off as something rattled at the cell door.  They both turned to look and saw a guard standing right outside their cell.

“Request for specialized prisoner relief granted,” came the tinny voice through the comm-grate.  “We have obtained human food for your consumption.”  It activated a tiny hatch in the base of the door and shoved something through.

The Doctor and Rose stared at it.  Three withered carrots, a cup of uncooked white rice, and a jar of ancient looking peanut butter sat on a tray—a perfectly lovely metal tray.

“Does the food fulfill your species’ requirements?” the guard enquired.

“What?  Oh, yes, definitely,” said the Doctor, a grin spreading across his face.  “Brilliant!  Tip-top!  Decrepit carrots—love ‘em!  And look, Rose!  Raw rice!  Lovely!”

“Mmm,” said Rose, bobbing her head and trying to sound convincing. “Thanks so much.  We’ll just…er, start eating this, then.”  She grabbed a handful of the rice and brought it to her mouth.  “Perfect,” she mumbled around the hard grains.

The guard stared at them for a moment longer as they tried to exude complete gustatory satisfaction.  Then it slid away, leaving them alone with their bounty.

“You know, Rose,” said the Doctor, flipping up the tray and scattering rice everywhere, “I usually like a bit more variety in my escape attempts.  But seeing as there are, well, extenuating circumstances…”  His eyes drifted down over her naked body.  “How about we take a walk down memory lane, eh?”

“Run naked across a planet full of intelligent slugs?”  Rose grinned.  “Don’t think we’ve ever done that before.”

“Oh, good point.  Well, allons-y!”

Much later:

“Um, Doctor…don’t s’pose you have a TARDIS key hidden somewhere in your birthday suit?”

“Not as such, no.”

“So…fancy breaking back into slug prison?”

He grabbed her hand.  “Allons-y!”

"Doctor come here, I've met the loveliest of ladies..." Called River Song from across the room. He looked up, past the people and towards the curly haired woman. He was busy talking to some alien about the planet Zagfurlla, and he was quite interested. But smiling he approached his wife.

They were being civilized, in this party. River wasn't being all sassy; she was being rather polite... for the guests. She always wanted to be taken to a ball in the cosmos, and here they were. Chatting away with all the life forms.

He couldn't see her face but she knew she was of human origin, with her straw-blonde hair.

"What was your name again dear?" Asked River, sipping at a glass in her hand. She looked elegant. With the Frashun rubies he got from Darina. And the vibrant peach dress that was so Victorian.

The Doctor stood maybe five feet away from the two women. He was smiling his goofy smile, his eyes shining so bright. And the bow tie right where it should be.

"Petunia... Petunia Smith." Said the blonde girl, turning around. The Doctor nearly choked on his wine as he tried to hide the shock on his face.

It was Rose, her in the flesh. She was a little older, maybe a wrinkle or two. But it was Rose... she shouldn't be here. But he was so glad she was, but at the same time... he sighed and nodded in greeting.

"This must be your husband!" Said Rose in delight, holding out her hand. Something flashed in her eyes... sadness? Longing? He didn't have time to think it over. He was a fez away from screaming at her... for whatever odd reason.

"Pleasure," he said, coughing on his choked wine. He shook her hand... the hand he had grasped so many time before.

"Dear are you alright?" Asked River, looking him in a worried expression. He nodded towards her then smiled. "Well Petunia here was just telling me the best story about her and her husband..."

He glanced down at her hands. There, on her left hand was a diamond ring. Simple, of course she wanted it simple. But it was there.

"Amazing! How long have you and... ?" He said through a boyish smile. Why was Rose such a secret from River? Because, he told himself, she's Rose. And he made a mental nod at his inner consciousness.

"John," she said shortly. Of course. He sighed contently, good. She was with him, the only man that he trusted with this precious flower. Anyone else... even if it was Jack. "Married seven years next month." She said, poking her tongue out of her teeth in a grin.

"Any little ones?" River inquired, taking an interest in this woman she didn't even know. But he knew everything about.

She nodded, than gave a distant smile. "Little Jack, he's 4 and Donna... she's 2. Handful they are, but John is a good father. Trusted him with the kids for a few weeks while I went to ah... search for someone." Rose gave a little laugh reserved just for him, back in time.

He felt a pang in his heart. She was looking for him, he knew it. And then to come find him... married. How was she feeling about this? She wasn't alone, that was good. Oh the stories he wanted to tell her... but not with River in sight. She had children... two little ones. Well, they did. All he wanted to do was to meet the two little tots and tell them stories of the stars and when their mother was young. But he'd never be privileged enough.

"And who might you be looking for?" Asked River, so interested in her. If she knew that he loved her first, still loved her, would she still be interested in this woman named after the other flower?

"My husband's twin... I'm so far away from home." She went a little distant, then smiled.

"And he didn't join you?" Asked River, tilting her head in curiosity.

Rose shook her head, "nope. He's busy, work and all..." Rose looked down, away from River for a moment. Her eyes flashed towards him and then a small smile curled on her lips.

River nodded, "I understand." She smiled, content. "Well I'm going to go talk to man with the tattoo... I've always wanted one." River shook the hand of Rose, "pleasure. I hope we meet again, but we won't." She gave a little laugh then turned her heals. "Oh and Doctor... don't be to long." She winked before disappearing into the crowd.

Not even a moment before they were alone Rose's gaze softened. "You changed your face," she whispered.

He nodded, keeping his distance. "Yeah... remember 2005? The stranger on the street, wishing you a great year?"

She nodded, "that was you... wasn't it?"

He made a curt nod, "last person I saw before I went." The words were whispered. "But... my life is unimportant -"

"Most important thing I've ever had to the luck to come across." She cut in, tears cornering her eyes.

He gave a sad smile, "so how are you here? This shouldn't be possible..."

"Every once in a million years the crack opens for two weeks. Tomorrow it closes, so I have to go back." She explained.

He gave a sad smile, "good seeing you then."

Rose pulled back at her and nodded. "Yeah know? He is you, every ounce. Naive as a newborn, but as vibrant as a tiger." She grasped at his elbow, looking at him with a proud expression. "Jack was the hardest, but he melted into it so quickly... being a father... "

"Rose I -"

She cut him off again. "He wanted to be here, but he couldn't."

"Rose I -"

"She looks nice, you deserve someone like that. I am so happy for you... River is it?"

"Rose I missed you so much." He said through those heavy, old eyes. "You do not know how many times I wish I could just turn human for you. But you wouldn't like that man, he wasn't good. He was scared of everything... sometimes I wish it was me."

She gave a soft snort of sadness and her corners began to brim. "Now Doctor please don't -"

 "When it is the official closing time I know you will be in my final five thoughts. Just wanted to tell you..."

And just like that they embraced. The big child and the bad wolf, all that was never meant to be.

"I'll miss you Doctor..." she breathed into his neck. This new neck, this new body.

"I'll miss you Rose." And they pulled away, enjoying the final smells of each other.

Rose pulled something out of her purse, an off-white envelope. It was filled with heavy paper. She handed it to him, and he took it, putting it in his jacket pocket. "One last thing, I hope you understand... just thought you would want it. Oh and Doctor, before I go, I have one final question..."

"Anything Rose." He said, brushing his hair from his eyes.

"At Satellite 5... with the Daleks... after I absorbed the energy... what happened? How was I freed from it?"

He smiled, reflecting on the old memories. "I kissed you and absorbed it. I wanted to, and I finally had an excuse to properly do it... and then I died." He gave a short laugh. "Born from war, died for love..."

She smiled then dipped her head. "Have a fantastic life Doctor, and please don't be alone anymore."

"I won't, I promise. And tell him... good luck! Two kids... wow..."

"And a third on the way! Little Harriet Michael... not that far but..." She shrugged, already walking away.

He smiled and watched her off. The Doctor knew he'd never see her again and it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

River came up, not giving him time to grieve. "Amazing woman, she traveled the stars... back when she was younger." Grasping his hand she laughed a little, "she seemed to impress you."

"Yeah, she did." He breathed then smiled at her. "Come on River, lets get back to the TARDIS..."

"I like that idea." She smiled, walking alongside him. "What a ball!"

Later that night, when River was fast asleep The Doctor opened the envelope. From it poured three pictures. He looked at them, and smiled at what he saw.

A small boy with hazel eyes and floppy brown hair, he looked like his mother just with his father's hair. Jack this summer, his hair is longer! Looks like his father.

And then was the blonde haired girl, she was smiling with her sharp white teeth. Her eyes were green, and they looked old. Her hair came down to her chin and it was streaked with red. He traced his hand alongside the tiny little cheekbones that grinned at him. Donna, she's getting bigger by the month! Can't believe this beauty if mine...

The 3rd picture was of Rose and John... well, Doctor Two... they were each holding one of the children. John's arms were around Rose's waist, pulling her close. For a moment the Doctor envied his other self and then he smiled. He had his turn, and now he had his River... The caption read, took about 30 minutes to get this picture. Jack couldn't stop crying and you know you, couldn't stop moving. Anyway, it looks so good!

And, finally there was a small letter...

Doctor, I hope you're happy. Please don't forget to smile. Me, John, Jack and Donna will never forget you. Jack already hears stories. John is a paranoid father... what do you expect? Thank you for giving me the best gift I could've asked for... you made my life complete. The universe does magical things when it wants to. I miss you every moment, but John soothes that. I think he's content with the TARDIS growing and the sonic finally in his grasp.

Love, Rose.

  The Doctor smiled contently, folding up the note carefully. He looked at River but to his surprise, she was awake.

"She was a companion... wasn't she?" She breathed, smiling.

He nodded, defeated. "A long time ago..."

"Should've guessed," River laughed a little.

"And she's gone now..." The Doctor breathed, closing his eyes.

"Lost?" River asked.

"No... given." Explained the Doctor.

River snorted contently, then closed her eyes. "Alright... I'm going back to sleep... good night."

"Good night." He smiled, stroking her hair as she went to sleep.

I say we rewrite our genetic compound so we become emotionless to all but minor or extreme things so in that sense we will, undoubtable be, just phases of ourselves. Mere shadows, living in time as we are. 

Just lesser shadows, for what true shadow feels no pain?

No shadow I dine upon, no shadow I watch.

And the lights reflecting from my fingers are but a dust in this gigantic home.

But home and shadows... mere wives tales.

It was Always you

Episode: Post the Wedding of River Song

Place: Remains of the God Complex

Rating: PG / PG13

Reason: Angst

Doctor: 11

Summary: The doctor goes back to the god complex only to find his door still standing.

Disclaimer: doctor who belongs to BBC. These stories belong to me.

Title: It was always you...

  He drifted his machine lazily, his first solo adventure. It was more taking him wherever it wanted, and he would let it for once. The Doctor had no final destination, just... drifting.

So he watched her work, fly, dance, whatever she would do. He just watched with interest, because he loved it when she would work her magic. Without even caring where he wanted to go. He didn't want to go anywhere, no final destination. It was her decision.

The Doctor noticed the machine had stopped after a few minutes. He smiled, basically running at the door. "What do you have for me n-" the words were cut off. He recognized this place, this horrid place. This place that had tempted him, and he never wanted it back in his life.

"What did you do...?” he breathed to his machine before looking around. It was empty, just black grids everywhere. Except... for one thing... no... it couldn't be. They had all left, he saw it happen. He was there. No door was to remain.

And the Doctor had the feeling of something crawling down his spine just as he wondered who's door remained. And it hit him, it was his door. The TARDIS had brought him to this point in time, this place... just for his door.

His hands drifted from the machine as he approached the door. It was maybe three meters away and red. A dark, eerie red that seemed to watch him.

Would he flee from this tempting demon or go into the door and face it? When this place was a hotel the Doctor actually had the truth to ignore the door. He knew what was in the room. He saw it. But he didn't confront it because he didn't want to. But now... knowing this door would stay here until he left, he had to venture into it.

He sighed, a foot from the door. His mind was racing from when it was him and his old face, the other man he owned. And all these memories were filled with her, the girl that was in the room.

He opened it slowly, like he didn't want to see what lay behind the hotel room blanketed in shadows. Soon the silver knob was past his elbow, and he walked in somber.

The blonde haired girl came from the bathroom, her hair was damp. It was her face, his beloved. From the prominent white teeth to the big pink lips and colorful, wild eyes. "I changed my face... I hope you still notice me." He said in that heavy whisper that was totally the new Doctor. He was being silly, talking to a hologram.

"Where to next Doctor?" She asked, unfazed by what he said. Like she didn't even hear him. Of course she didn't, this hologram wasn't her.

"Well I still have yet to take you to Barcelona." He said with his dorky, big-nosed smile. The Doctor would play in with this game, just to see her face.

She started to dry her damp hair. "Oh really Doctor?"

This wasn't her. It wasn't even acting like her. Rose wouldn't respond like that, she'd probably hug him and force him to the TARDIS. Make a comment on the new face, say how she had another new personality she had to adapt to.

This started to make him mad, this hologram. It couldn't even behave like her, it wasn't her. So he pulled out his sonic screwdriver, even though it ached his heart. It ached that he had to say good-bye - for the final time, there would be no more seeing her face in the flesh. Even if he could go to the parallel world he didn't dare. It would cause too much pain, seeing her with his clone-self, the man with the past face.

"I'm so sorry Rose," he breathed as he pointed the screwdriver at her. His face was already growing hot and tears threatened at his eye sockets. For a moment a look of terror struck her face and she backed away, but then he blasted at her and she was gone. All of her was gone, all but her face.

It looked at him in a sad terror, the beautiful face he had always loved. The face wet its lips then said three final words, "I love you." And it faded in a snappy glitch.

It had been four years since he heard that good-bye but this time it was she who lost the signal, not him. He knew, for certain, that would be the final time he heard those three words.

The whole while as he made it to the bed his eyes stared at the spot where she had been, her face still etched into his mind. The Doctor quickly sat down upon the shadowed bed and cupped his face in his hands. "I love you, Rose Tyler." He breathed so lightly it was hardly audible. Even after two years of seeing her he still loved her, she was his faith and he never doubted it. They were supposed to travel, forever. But the daleks and the cybermen ended that and so he hated them more then he did before he met her.

River didn't know of her, he made sure of it. Maybe she met her on one of her journeys, but she did not know by his own accord. She was his deepest secret, his love. No one that he talked to anymore knew of her, the girl in the parallel world.

Tears flowed slightly down his hands, just a few tears. Enough of them to grieve. The Beast in the pit was right, and he made her believe that he wasn't. Silly Doctor, making such mistakes.

He sighed, lifting his head up. She was still his faith, just like how he had vowed to the Beast back so many years ago.

The Doctor got up from this bed and he smoothed it out, walking to the door. Again he sighed, just through the nostrils before he grabbed at the door knob and exited the room. Before closing it he looked back at the door and smiled a sad smile. "It was always you." And he closed the door before heading back to the TARDIS.

Closure, he was given closure. And he had his machine to thank.

Episode: post the wedding of river song Place: remains of the god complex Rating: pg / pg13 Reason: angst Doctor: 11 Summary: The doctor goes back to the god complex only to find his door still standing. Disclaimer: doctor who belongs to bbc. These stories belong to me. Title: