Doctor Who: Cold

Chapter 1

This one's taken forever to write, so I'm satisfied it's finished. This is another fic inspired by a YouTube video, which can be found on the right. The excerpt at the end is from "Blood Runs Cold" by Def Leppard, a totally different song. 

Starts off immediately after Doomsday but skips over Series Three and is before Series Four. Let's pretend she came through the rift, okay?

Warnings: DarkTen. Rape/Non-Con.

The Doctor's body slammed violently against the console after his hologram on Bad Wolf Bay cut off abruptly. NO! I was in mid-sentence! You can't do this to me! Rose . . . .

Tears, glistening wet and salty, slid down his cheeks as he drew in a rattling breath. This wasn't fair. Why had he prattled on instead of finally saying what he'd needed to say?

"Rose Tyler . . . I love you."

And now he would never be able to say it. The portal between the worlds had closed, and he'd burned up a sun just to say goodbye. Going back would mean destroying both universes.

So? said a tiny, dark voice in the back of his head. I don't care. If it meant getting Rose back . . .

But he did care, and that was the problem. He cared too much. She had made him almost human. For a Time Lord, that was unthinkable.

That hadn't stopped him from falling for her, and falling hard. If any of his people could see him now . . . the lone Time Lord head over heels in love with a human ape . . . He would have been punished for sure.

He didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore, not without Rose there to hold his hand. No, he wanted to do more than hold hands with Rose Tyler. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste her, make love to her—and he shouldn't, he really shouldn't.

Then again, when had he ever followed the rules of his people? He'd always been a teenage rebel, and that hadn't stopped or changed. He was just a boy when he'd learned how to run and he hadn't stopped running since.

His motions were automatic as he set the TARDIS in flight. He didn't care where he ended up, so long as it was far from here, the spot where he'd been forced to say goodbye to the one woman he'd ever truly loved.

Looking back, maybe that was when the darkness had taken root in his mind. At first, he hadn't even noticed it was there, but as time went on it grew more apparent. He'd kept traveling—kept running—because that was what he did. He even accidentally ended up picking a new companion—Martha Jones—but she left him of her own accord before he completely destroyed her life like he had Rose's.

Currently he was in Cardiff, Wales, refueling the TARDIS with energy from the rift in space and time. He'd gone out, hoping to stretch his legs, maybe grab something to eat, and had just returned to his timeship when he saw a flash of bright light. His stunned eyes landed on a veryfamiliar pink-and-yellow human.

No. It can't be. That's not possible!

Yet it was. Rose Tyler, the girl he'd lost, was there on a Cardiff street not ten meters away from him.

He wanted to hold her close, take her hard, and never let her go; he wanted to murder anyone who dared look at her or touch her the wrong way. She was his and she'd come back to him.

Even when he'd been human hiding in 1913 with Martha from the Family of Blood, it had been Rose he'd dreamed about—his Bad Wolf, his pink-and-yellow girl. Now, when he looked back on those memories, he wondered if his dreams about Rose had influenced his human self in picking Joan Redfern as a lover—after all, she was blonde like Rose. Not that he hadn't fantasized about Rose when she was traveling with him—he had—but, as a human, his dreams of her had been vivid and left him aching for her kiss, her touch, her body writhing underneath his.