Warning: Peter Vincent = swearing. Hopefully I didn't have to remind you of that.

Prompt: what if TenII re-invented himself as Peter Vincent? Suggested by jibber_jabber92

Prompt Words: "F***ing perfect!" said by beachy_geek

Summary: Rose didn't want the Duplicate Doctor; leaving them to cope on their own as they shared mutual hatred. Once renamed, Peter Vincent is striving to perform his greatest trick yet; if he could only get it exactly right.

Disclaimer: okay, I admit it; I don't own these characters nor do I make any money from all of this.

A/N: who said Peter Vincent had to be nice? It certainly wasn't me.

A/N2: this started off as a drabble, and sort of grew... I just love writing Peter Vincent it seems!

Blue Magic and Red Dreams


The Duplicate Doctor scowled. As the TARDIS dematerialised the first thing Rose did was race away from him and towards the disappearing Doctor. The Doctor was alright, he had Donna (or "madam" as he had referred to her) to keep him on his toes.

'Fucking perfect!' he thought sarcastically to himself. He had just sacrificed himself for the greater good, or the valiant companion depending upon what your viewpoint was; and she had immediately abandoned him symbolically. This did not bode well.

She was supposed to fix him, help him overcome his anger issues; stop him wanting to rip the universe apart in a hissy fit of righteousness. It didn't look as though that was going to happen fast. How wizard!

Jackie shivered to the side of him. "It's cold here, ain't it? Let's go and get warm," she suggested to them both.

He gladly followed; the beach increasingly felt cold to him, to the point where he thought he might freeze to death. Jackie seemed to know her way off the beach, so he eagerly followed as she trod along a path through the sand dunes towards the place where he assumed a road was.

A glance back confirmed Rose was following them, but she didn't appear to be terribly keen to walk with them yet. Tears were evidently flowing down her face, and she was making a brave job of hiding that fact from him.

"What name do we call you then?" Jackie suddenly stopped and asked him, bringing him out of his angsty thoughts. "Are you still 'Doctor', or are you something else? What was that name you said the Doctor often used, Rose?" She obviously aimed the last question passed his head and on to Rose as she almost caught them up.

"John Smith," Rose replied reluctantly. "He used that one a few times." It was only then that she managed to look him in the eye, and he knew; he knew that for her he would never be the Doctor or a worthy replacement.

"I need to think about it," he replied to Jackie's query. "Whatever I decide, I have a long time to live with the decision. Apparently I have the life span of another 57 years; or so I was told."

"Who told you that then?" Jackie blurted out without thinking. "Never mind. What shall we call you for the time being?"

He thought carefully about that. "I don't want to use 'John'. And Donna called me… no, I want to steer clear of that," he admitted, turning to deliberately face the wind. He gazed thoughtfully into the distance as he spoke. "I'll change this again later, but for now you can call me Vincent."

"Alright, Vincent," Jackie agreed, repeating the name to herself. "Any ideas, Rose?"

"No," Rose answered forlornly; hugging herself against the harsh wind.

That clearly left Jackie in charge of this situation. She sighed dramatically and led them further towards the road and the transport Pete was sending.

Half a day later Vincent was standing in the bedroom allocated to him in Pete's mansion. To give him his due, Pete had tried to spice things up as he had shown Vincent around the house. His inherited memories only covered the ground floor and the wine cellar.

"And here is Rose's bedroom," Pete had pointed out to him, obviously expecting some sort of reaction.

Vincent had cautiously looked around the landing. "Where will I be sleeping, Pete? I'm not exactly sure it would be wise to put me near Rose," he had readily admitted.

"Oh! So you're not… with her…?" Pete sort of asked.

There was a desperate shake of the head from Vincent. "No!" he answered as though the thought was disgusting. Well, something about it was disgusting but he wasn't owning up to what. It was less embarrassing if he pretended he wasn't interested. As it was he had a whole new human male body that begged to be investigated; if someone would let him. Was this why Donna had laughed at him so much?

He quickly pinched himself in punishment. Best not to think about her until he was alone and could grieve properly.

"I see," Pete had replied, and shown him a bedroom up in the attic, up where the staff would once have slept; adding in lots of apologies as he did so.

In fact Vincent was relieved. He practically had the whole floor to himself, and he could do whatever he liked in private. Once Pete was out of the way, and clean bed linen had been placed in his hands, he had set about making this corner of the mansion his own for the time being. The long term plan was to get a place of his own, but that was too far away to contemplate in that moment.

Having busied himself with the practicalities of making his bed, he was left to sit on the covers and consider his existence. All the indicators he had been getting from his senses had told him something had happened to Donna; he had felt it most severely when they were onboard the Zeppelin but had managed to hide it by feigning nausea and running to the toilet. Sitting there in hiding was no longer necessary, and he howled like a silent baby.

It would be the only time he'd allow grief to possess him like that. He vowed he would replace it with a better, more powerful emotion: anger.

There was so much anger inside him! He wanted justice, he wanted recompense; but most of all he wanted love, the love he had been promised back in the other universe. In a fit of pique he ended up punching the door. "Fuck!" he swore loudly and caressed his wounded fist. "Fuckity fuck fuck!"

It was true; swearing really did help lessen the pain. Shaking his offended hand didn't work purely on its own. Glaring wildly, he considered himself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. That had to go, he decided. The whole cockatiel and sideburns look would be ditched as soon as possible. He was going to reclaim that face as his own; marking it with his own stamp. Gone was the gentleman Doctor; this was a brand new person staring back at him. A human someone who didn't have to play by the rules unless he wanted to; and he really didn't want to.

The trouble with being human, he soon discovered, was all the emotions you had to contend with throughout the course of a day. He found himself veering from anger to boredom, and occasionally landing on grief that was instantly swatted away. That was the hardest one to deal with because he didn't know how to hide it anymore; especially when Jackie had asked him with great concern how he was, and he had only just stopped himself from falling upon her and sobbing his heart out.

In a vain attempt to combat this rollercoaster ride of emotions he had readily agreed to escort Tony to a birthday party as a much needed distraction.

"Hello! I'm Jimbo the Clown. I'm here to do some exciting magic tricks for you," the party entertainer had announced, and Vincent felt his soul try to escape out through his shoelaces.

"Don't!" Jackie had hissed at him when she noticed his petulant pout.

So Vincent had sat back in his seat, arms folded across his chest as he dared the clown to perform a magic trick he couldn't detect. 'It's up your sleeve, you palmed it into your pocket, it never left your hand' he continually commented to himself as the whole pathetic act played out.

"Did you like that, darling?" Jackie asked Tony as he climbed excitedly onto her lap.

His face was a picture of glee. "Yes, Mum. It was good! He made a coin come out my ear, Vincent!" Tony enthused with all the wonder only a small child can rustle up.

"Did he?" Vincent retorted as pleasantly as he could; but Jackie obviously wasn't convinced.

"Don't you dare tell him how," she frantically whispered to him. "And don't play the innocent with me. I saw how you were watching everything."

"Spoil all my fucking fun, why don't you," Vincent muttered to himself.

It was strange that; he was finding that he was swearing more and more. It was as if all former restrictions were off. But the thought of that magic show stuck in his head, and back in his bedroom he would often while away the odd moment by re-enacting every single trick until he could do it perfectly. Well, it made babysitting miles easier since Tony adored all of that. Shame Rose wasn't so impressed; but then he had become used to not impressing her in the slightest.

His time in the Alternate Universe had been mainly spent going to Torchwood as a consultant, travelling back to Pete's mansion and not doing much else. There had been the odd shopping trip once he had earned his first week's wages and Jackie had insisted that he actually change his clothing before it crawled off and died in the corner.

It should have been an exciting time, adjusting to this life, and his gratitude went out to Jackie more than ever because, sure as hell, Rose wasn't interested in helping him very much. It was very clear that she was living in her own version of purgatory as she tried to cope with being abandoned by the Doctor; but none of it was doing him any favours. His plans to move elsewhere became even firmer in his head.

One extremely rare Saturday morning it was just him and Rose sitting at the breakfast table. Jackie had taken Tony to a swimming class and Pete had gone to a fancy golf course with some mates. Vincent sat there, head held within his hands, observing Rose as she ate her dish of muesli delicately.

"What?" she asked when she realised he was watching her. "What are you looking at me for?"

"Have you stopped pining for him yet?" he asked in return.

"Who?" she blustered.

Vincent sighed. "Don't give me that. We all know who you are yearning for, even after all that has happened."

"I don't know what you mean," she retorted indignantly.

"Oh Rose! Stop pretending!" he cried. "You went searching for him; he dumped you here with me and left. End of. Get over it."

She glared angrily at him. "Since when did you become such a mean and rude person? You never used to be."

"I think you'll find, love, that I've always been this way," he pointed out. "A nice little mixture of my progenitors."

Rose frowned in confusion. "Pro-what?"

"Silly me. You weren't fucking listening all the times I explained who I was, were you?" He glared back at her. "To think I thought you'd be up for it as well."

She stood, huffing indignantly. "You git! That's all you ever wanted from me; a quick jump in the hay. I can't even…" Rose shook her head in disbelief.

"Then you shouldn't have promised you'd do me, you prick tease. All that gushing at me when we were in the TARDIS, all that hair flicking and 'you are so lovely' business. What was all that about?"

Filled with embarrassment, she threw at him, "If that's what you wanted I'm surprised you haven't gone through half the women on the third floor."

"Oh but I have, Rose. I've had no complaints from that lot; none at all. Or lack of volunteers, funnily enough." He added in a smirk at that point.

"You disgust me!"

"So I've noticed!" he sarcastically answered.

She made a noise of exasperation at him. "I am so glad the top officials will be stripping you of all your perks soon, Doctor Vincent. You won't be laughing when they have you strapped down in the laboratory to experiment on your body. It's not often they have a live alien specimen to work on."

He felt all the blood drain to his feet as panic gripped him. "They wouldn't!"