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The Same...............But Not
Clutching the pale, blue pillow in her white, quivering hands and hiding her drawn, haggard face behind the plush fabric, Rose peeked to see who would be entering her 'cell' at this time of day. Not the nurses; they left her for days on end, and Doctor Matthews had left but a few hours ago.
Who on Earth could it be?
She did not have to wait long to find out. Through the open door entered a tall, lean man; his hair was such a dark brown it almost appeared black; deep, chocolate eyes stared pitifully at her shrunken figure. His skin was clear and olive-hued and he wore a fashionable black jacket and navy jeans.
BANG! Behind him the door slammed shut and was locked with a dull click, yet his eyes never strayed from her.
The unfamiliar man took a man took a slow, calculated step forward. Immediately Rose backed away.
"Rose," he whispered lovingly, a sad expression etched on his handsome, slim face; his hand was outstretched towards her needily. Her eyes bored into him with suspicion; there was something oddly familiar about the man, as if she recognized his aura but not his face. "You won't remember me, at least not like this," he stated firmly and moved carefully closer.
Rose paced back again, confusion written in her eyes and the lines of her face,
"W-who are you?"
"I met you in another universe, at a party, you were dressed in blue," he said fondly, a smile upon his lips as he tried to hold her skittish gaze, "On our first date we had chips and then we went to a posh restaurant. We fell in love and married after I'd told you about a rather brilliant plan," he continued smugly, "I took you to Utopia......"
Finally she met his eyes, and there in the depths of those strange orbs she found the soul of the man she loved.
With a muffled thud the pillow feel to the floor.
He smiled broadly, knowing that she knew.
Now there was only space between them.
Rose's eyes scanned his new body curiously; he must have regenerated, although how she had no clue.
After all she had seen him die; she'd held his cold body and his blood had stained her skin for weeks.
But it didn't matter now; he was there at that moment, alive and breathing.
In a flash the man had bounded madly across the void separating them. One hand came to rest about her throat as he shoved her roughly into the wall, making her gasp in pain. Tears pricked in her eyes and spilled down her pinched cheeks until his free hand moved to wipe them away. He smelled of chocolate. He tasted of chocolate as well, his lips crashing furiously against hers, sucking at her skin greedily.
To him the new body made no difference; kissing her was still the most pleasurable action he'd ever known.
"Who am I?" he mumbled huskily while his fingers drummed that same da-da-da-dum against the skin at the base of her neck.
Weaving a bony arm around his long, swan-like neck and running her fingers through new locks of dark hair.
"My Master," she replied tenderly against his mouth, her tongue caressing the letters as if they were honey, and kissing him between each word.
"That's right, my love, that's right."