Back To You

Chapter ten: Trying to Forget

No point of view

The Doctor laid there, collapsed on the T.A.R.D.I.S floor, drowning himself in the false truths he so painfully believed in. He believed she didn't care about him.

Rose Tyler laid there, sobbing into her pillow, listening to doctors and nurses talk of a man in a long coat and pinstripe suit, running away. She believed he didn't care about her.

The pair laid there, closer than they had been for the past four months, both of them regretting and hating the feelings they had for eachother.

The Doctor believed she never loved him.

Rose Tyler believed he never cared.

As they sobbed the new day away, the Doctor and Rose Tyler replayed memories once so happy, wishing they could forget.

Two figures danced under the twin moons of Florana, the soft grass beneath their bare feet, rivers gently flowing in the distance.

A couple gazed at the stars from the rooftop of a French dance hall in 1922, the mellow, saxophone tune drifting around them.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler, a love so pure from someone else's perspective, looked tainted from their own. They thought that if it was meant to last, fate wouldn't have been so cruel. They thought that if it was meant to last, they'd be happy, and they'd be together.

Rose Tyler cried, like she did every night, clutching onto the pregnancy test, as though it was her last hope. Her hand felt strange being empty, and she stated at the white stick on the floor, all sense of happiness from the last few days gone.

The Doctor screamed, and threw himself around the console, slamming into railings. Eventually, he calmed down enough to walk through the T.A.R.D.I.S, and into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bottle of something alcoholic that he could find. Stumbling back to the console room, and sliding down against the doors, he uncapped the bottle, and took a swig. The liquid burned down his throat and into his stomach, leaving a rancid, bitter after taste.
Vodka he thought. He took another mouthful, then another. Holding the neck of the bottle loosely between his forefinger and thumb, he swung it from side to side. He sat like this for hours, loosing himself in the repeated motion, occasionally stopping to drink some more. His mind clouded, but the weight on his mind and hearts still remained; the constant reminder of the girl he lost, literally and metaphorically.

Jackie Tyler was the first to come for him, banging on the door, rambling on about how he had responsibilities, and how he had to march his behind up those stairs and get his arse into gear. He ignored her, banging his head against the door to try and drown her out, before she eventually returned back to the house.

Half an hour later, someone else came, but instead of banging their fists against the door, they rapped their knuckles lightly against the wood.

"Doctor, it's erm... It's me."

Pete stood on the other side of the door. "You don't have to come out or anything, at least not yet. I... I just want you to listen, then you can come out, if you want. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through right now. It must be such a shock, and I can't expect you to come to terms with it straight away. But... the two of you... The two of you were meant to be together." Pete carried on, saying how they were perfect together, but all the Doctor could think was how wrong he was. How were they perfect for each other, when he loved her so much, but she didn't love him? How were they perfect, when he believed everything they had was false?

Eventually, Pete left, and the Doctor sat there, stewing in his anger, and his self loathing, and his hatred for himself. But no matter what, he couldn't hate her; he couldn't hate the person causing his heartbreak. He tried and tried, but still loved her. He threw the bottle across the room, screaming in frustration. His head fell into his hands, and screamed and screamed, until his throat was hoarse, and the darkness surrounded him, taking him under.

When he finally awoke from his uncomfortable position on the floor, it was a new day. He stood up, broken glass crunching beneath his feet, and stretched his arms and legs. Throwing the T.A.R.D.I.S door open, and blinking in the harsh sunlight, he stepped outside. He thrust his hands in his pockets, and walked to the house, head hung in shame. He knew it was the right thing to do, even if she had moved on, he could still help her. He had to put his own feelings aside, and do what was right for her. Drawing closer to the door, he began to panic. Sweat formed on his brow and neck. Raising his hand to knock on the door, he hesitated. However, he didn't have time to make up his mind. Jackie Tyler threw the door open. He braced himself for a slap, the usual Jackie greeting, but was met instead with her throwing her arms around his neck, and hugging him. Standing there in shock, he could do nothing, until Jackie released her vice like grip, and stood in the doorway looking at him.

"My god. It's really you. You came back. I take it you got the message then."

"Y-yeah" his throat was hoarse. Something didn't add up to him, and Jackie moved out of the way, letting him in.

"D'ya want a cuppa?" She asked, but the Doctor was already half way up the stairs, the smooth mahogany bannister beneath his fingers. His mind was racing, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. Walking down the white corridor, he paused outside the room he was in this time the day before, this time when he had stormed out, hearts broken. He reached for the doorknob like he did before, but heard her voice on the other side, and she was crying. She was sobbing, wishing he was here. The Doctor guessed he was the father of her child.

It's probably Mickey he thought. He felt the smooth metal against his palm, and the cold jolted all the pieces together. He swung the door open, and for the first time in four months, their tear filled eyes met.