That Ship Has Sailed

The Doctor & Rose

It was the witching hour, silent and cold. A breeze blew in an open window, sending the curtains billowing like a ghost in a dark room. Everyone inside the house slept except one person. She'd stared at her reflection in the mirror until she couldn't stand to look a second longer, then she'd gone to her bedroom where a single lamp was lighting the dark room.

Sitting on her bed, she hugged her knees to her chest and sighed, taking a few deep breaths. She scratched at her covered legs, wanting desperately to take the pants off and put on shorts, but knew she couldnt. Not without having to explain herself.

So she sat, feeling hot and claustrophobic. Tears filled her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to stop them. A breeze blew in again, sending goosebumps down her arms. She looked over, feeling tired, but not sleepy. Still, she decided to lie down anyway, so, she turned off the light.

Seconds later, her heart began to pound as she saw dark shadows on the walls and the curtain moving. She sat up and turned the light on, sweating.

She'd forgotten to plug in her strand of lights. So, slowly, she got out of bed and pressed the plug into the wall. Once the lights were on, shining in a line against her wall, she got back into bed and turned the light off once more. In the dim light from her strand of lights, she could see enough to keep terror from overtaking her.

Still, as she lay there, staring, she felt scared inside. She ran her fingers along her legs, knowing what was hidden underneath the soft material of her pants. The knowledge only made it worse and even though she was unsure, she wished John would join her in her room.

As if he could hear her thoughts, the face she'd grown so accustomed to showed up in her doorway. Her heart sped up, but she sighed.

"Rose," the voice said, catching her conscious attention.

She sat up again and held out her hand. He moved forward and sat on her bed.

"I know I'm not exactly him. I have a different body and only one heart, but, in a way, I am him. I have his memories, his emotions and feelings and--"

"I know," Rose interrupted, "But you're not him."

"Will you ever learn to love me?"

Rose looked at the man and suddenly, her heart hurt. He was, in many senses of the word, him. But he wasn't exactly. His face, his hands, even his hair. None held the memory of her touch, even though the mind held memories of her being. She rubbed his hand with her thumb and looked down, shaking her head.

"You aren't him. He's out there...alone...getting into danger, flying the TARDIS, having grand adventures and--"

"You're stuck here...with me."

Rose nodded. Removing her hand from his to scratch her head with both hands, "I can't get him out of my head and having you here is pure torture."

"Maybe he isn't alone."

"What d'you mean, he's replaced me?"

"No. I'm suggesting that maybe he's found a friend to travel with. He can never replace you, Rose Tyler. You are his one and only. He'll never care for another as he does you."

Rose sniffed as her heartache worsened, "What if he's changed? What if, the next time I see him, I don't recognize him and it breaks his heart all over again? I know it would break mine if he ever looked at me and didn't-"

"Rose," his voice called to her softly. "I'm here. I'm as much him as anyone can get, and in this universe, I'm the only version of him."

Rose sniffed again.

"Think of Tony. What would he think if he ever found out what you do to yourself?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Because I know you, Rose. I know when something isn't right and something in you isn't right. You're missing something."

"I'm missing him."

"Would you," John paused, "Would you give me a chance?"

Rose looked up at the man, who had taken the name John Smith in this universe, and saw the eyes of the love of her life staring back at her. It took but a few moments for her to begin crying and lean forward. She closed her eyes as her forehead touched his and they stayed there. His eyes closed and his hand slowly reaching for hers again.

Neither moved and neither spoke as they sat there. John, in his heart, wanted Rose and only Rose. She, on the other hand, wanted The Doctor. Her Doctor. This man wasn't him, but could he be enough?