Doctor 10.5 and Rose find a rift in the universe and time is about to collapse. What happens when they travel back to their own universe, only to bump into a new Doctor and the Ponds? I don't own DW. If I did, Donna would still be around.

Pretend

Torchwood. He had spent so much effort in that other world fighting what Torchwood had become, and here he was working in its counterpart, providing classifications and names for the alien species and samples that were brought in. At first, he had been skeptical, thinking that the poor creatures had been murdered, but was proven wrong. Pictures were attained and employees asked for the remains of their deceased members. This, he could deal with. Being born during a bloody murder and war tended to leave him sensitive to certain occurances. It didn't help that he was a bloody human now, too. Sure, he had been appreciative of humans and what-not, but it was so much different when he was one.

He looked up from his nearly completed sonic to glance at his wife across the way. He looked down at the desk, a smile creeping over his features. Oh yes, she was brilliant. It took some time to become reaccquianted with one another, but she still looked at him the same way she always had. She was wary at first, not totally convinced that he was the same as the Doctor had told her. She would watch him carefully, examining the slight, subtle differences in his behaviour. She had been further convinced of his being her Doctor when he insisted on licking and tasting first the sand in that world, then the asphalt, the trees, and so and so forth.

One day, she stumbled upon him in the Tyler's large kitchen, him covered in flour.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Domestic," he replied, picking up a banana from the fruit bowl and handing it to her.

A smile nearly split her face into two and she pounced on him, kissing him soundly. No, he wasn't exactly the same (he was part Donna, after all), but he was still her Doctor. She still looked at him with the same adoration she did for his ninth and tenth incarnations, and for that he was grateful. He looked back at her briefly, noticing the way she still bit her tongue when something was troubling.

Rose peered at the console and computer in front of her in confusion, looking at the numbers once more. She wrinkled her nose, exasperated. She punched in some numbers on the keyboard. ERROR blared in front of her.

"John," she called her husband who was tinkering with his newest creation. John Noble-Smith, he was called in that world. One day, Rose slipped and called him Doctor. The Torchwood head raised an eyebrow, not believing the hurried explanation Rose had made up that since he had a PhD she called him 'doctor' as a joke. Nevertheless, they needed his brain and his classifications.

He looked up, glasses perched at the tip of his nose. His hair stuck out at odd ends, as usual. He moved towards her swiftly, looking at the computer screen in shock.

"What?" he exclaimed, pushing his glasses up.

"Look at it again," she insisted.

His eyes scanned the data over and over again, mind racing.

"There's a rift forming," he said decidedly.

Rose's heart skipped a beat.

"The TARDIS isn't ready yet, is it?" she asked quietly, not wanting anyone to hear about the coral the Doctor had given his counterpart.

He shook his head, "Not for a few more months. Even with Donna's brilliance it still takes a while."

His chest constricted at the memory of his friend. "...if you shatterfry the plasmic shell and modify the dimensional stabiliser to a foldback harmonic of 36.3, you accelerate growth by the power of 59!" she had said. She grew to be his best friend, and she didn't even remember him.

"Then how're we gonna get there?" she clicked her tongue, crossing her arms.

"Run," he grinned. He was glad to see that her worried features eased into a small smile.


"Come along, Ponds," the Doctor tapped lightly on the door to their bedroom.

He heard muffled sounds and Amy's curses. Rory opened the door, sticking his head out the doorway.

"We're a bit indisposed, if you don't mind," Rory said hurriedly.

"Oh," the Doctor said confused.

Rory sent him a look.

"Oh," he said, realising the meaning, "forget I was even here. I'll just take a swim in the pool."

He moved his arms as if swimming for an added effect. He moved down the halls of the TARDIS, trying not to focus on a door. He couldn't bear to get rid of the room, but he tried not to notice it. He was the Doctor, forever moving forward and never looking back. He would take his companions and then leave them after using them as warriors. Sometimes he couldn't help but think that Davros was right. He shook his head, not feeling up for a swim.

He clambored back to the console, poking around. Barcelona, huh. The planet, not the city. He groaned inwardly at the memory. He had promised her so much, but left her time and time again. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that the Meta-Crisis Doctor would be there for her. He couldn't have her live her life with him on the TARDIS while she aged and he stayed the same (save for regenerations). After his latest regeneration, the pain ebbed a bit, but he still missed her. Oh, how he missed her. Sometimes Amy would say something so very Rose that he would retreat into his room. Rory tried to understand and ask him about it, but he wouldn't budge. After several attempts, Rory had let him be, and for that he was ever grateful.

He hung his jacket on the chair, popping under the console to tinker about, just for the hell of it. He could pretend that he was still Big Ears or Pinstripes and that Rose was watching him while chatting away about Jackie and Mickey. He would nod along at certain intervals, thinking in his head, "That's lovely...of course we can go visit...yes, Mickey can come along..." Or, he could pretend that there was no meta-crisis, and Donna and Rose were both with him-his best friend and the love of his life, chatting together and poking fun at him. Sometimes when he saw Amy from behind, he had to resist the urge to call her 'Donna', but he could still pretend. In his own little world, he could pretend.


Please review, I'd really appreciate feedback.