A/N: Hello All!

This is my first Dr. Who fan fiction. I'm excited, but I'm rusty as a writer. I have never written a novel before, and for the first time ever, I'm writing chapter length chunks. I don't know if this will be novel length by the end, but I hope you stick around for the ride anyway. I'm working on it as I go and will go back and do major edits if necessary. Constructive criticism is welcome, however, I believe that as a writer I have some creative license with my interpretation of the characters and story.

In this version, the Meta Crisis Doctor was not given a piece of the TARDIS. This will be strictly what was in the final cut of the Journey's End episode. This is a drama/action about Rose coming to terms with her new situation and vice verse for 10 II. If that's not your cup of tea, then I apologize. There are a billion other fan fiction on this site for you to enjoy! I know this first chapter is short. My chapters will get progressively longer as I flesh it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and its characters.

Review if you wish!

Enjoy~

Her Doctor was standing to her right, all in brown and pinstripes. His hands—usually open and warm—were stuffed in his pockets. The man who looked like her doctor to her left mirrored him, while her mother stood in the background, silently observing the scene. Rose dreaded to know what was to unfold herself. They knew something that she did not. She could feel it. But when her Doctor revealed his intentions, it came as a punch to the gut. He couldn't do this to her—couldn't make decisions for her—no, not this time.

She wouldn't let him.

"All right both of you, answer me this," she said, looking at her Doctor, "when I last stood on this beach—on the worst day of my life—what was the last thing you said to me?"

When he did not reply, her patience withered, "Go on, say it."

"I said Rose Tyler."

Her heart raced, "Yeah, and?" anticipation inclined steadily within her chest, "how was that sentence gonna end?"

The look in his eye broke her heart before he could even say the words. "It doesn't need saying."

Disbelief seared her chest. Her throat, unusually dry, scratched as she swallowed. Her blond hair swung as she turned to his counterpart. The familiarity and warmness in his soft brown eyes startled her. She, for some reason, supposed she'd find physical flaw in the copy, but could not.

"And you, Doctor?" She could barely finish her sentence as the clone was already beginning to descend upon her. His hand was steadying her elbow as his lips drew near the strands of her blond hair.

Her voice waned and softened at his touch, "What was the end of that sentence?"

His breath ghosted over her ear, sending an array of tingles down her spine. There was an absolute—what was the word? Tenderness? Reverence?—in his voice. A wave of peace washed over her. He had uttered the words that she had so desperately needed. Her spirit soared.

When he had retreated, all she could see was the face of the man she loved. All the spray of freckles were dotted in the familiar pattern that she knew. She followed the trail of his sharp nose up to his high cheekbones, and then down to his mouth. She couldn't help but stare at them. She had waited too long—four seconds to be exact—before she grabbed him by the lapels.

Her lips crashed with his all too quickly. If her thoughts had been more collected, if perhaps her heart wasn't drowning, she would have felt their noses bumping painfully into each other's flesh. Instead, she clung to him, letting a small whimper of need out from her mouth. Their lips locked and moved to a rhythm with an intensity that just felt natural—right. Her hands snaked around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer—needing to feel him—touch him—satisfy this desire that had been held at bay for four, long years. He seemed to have mirrored her thoughts for she was suddenly flush against his body-as though he were afraid that she'd disappear if he didn't. He embraced her with his deceivingly strong, slender arms around her waist—her back—fingers clutching her jumper fiercely. He slyly slipped his tongue over her plump lips and entered at her persistence. She heard him groan at the taste of her mouth. Her senses became overloaded as her mouth was assaulted with the sweet taste of him. How long had she been dreaming of a moment like this? Her feelings of denial and hurt diminished to a crucial point of desire, as she poured all her energy into the kiss.

In the here and now, this was her Doctor.

And without a single word, the Doctor—her real Doctor—was gone.

Her heart ripped as she heard the wheezing of the TARDIS slow to a faint whisper. She gasped, wrenching herself away from the man's deceiving grasp. That sound—the sound of the universe, unending and immortal—melted with the crash of the waves behind her. The image of that blue box disappeared entirely.

The shock of his departure padded her brain for only a moment before the despair settled over her body. The only thought that kept repeating itself like a wicked mantra was: You betrayed him. How could you? She mentally recoiled. Her stomach threatened to vomit. Oh God, she really was going to be sick! Heat prickled at the back of her neck—

Slender fingers suddenly laced with hers. It instantly anchored her back to the present. She looked down at them with vague confusion. They felt warm, inviting, and hopeful. It felt like his hands. But then again, not like him at all. Her gaze slowly traveled the length of his hand all the way up the blue sheen of his blazer, and finally to his face. She didn't realize that he'd be staring back at her with a profound emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Fondness, perhaps? No, no, that seemed too understated. Adoration? And then the memories of his words slithered into her ears—taunting her of her idiocy: "I love you."

Her eyes shot up to meet hopeful, brown eyes. She could only stare at him with mouth agape—lips plump and swollen. His own mouth stretched into a tentative grin. The fingers laced with hers squeezed reassuringly. However, the small endearment only continued to trigger nausea.

She wriggled from his clutch without making eye contact. He did not resist her, but from her peripheral view she could see his hand still trying to seek, and comfort her.

"He left me."

"Rose," he whispered, but she refused to look at him. Instead, her sights remained glued to the sand where the TARDIS once stood. She wondered if she would find an imprint of the Police Box there. She felt warmth at her shoulder but ice shot through her chest. The coldness drummed in her veins, seizing her mind and melting it into oblivion. Her mind was screaming.

Hazel eyes flashed to the imposter, "Don't," she jerked from him, "Don't touch me." Her voice was surprisingly calm. The tone was icy as she glared at him.

"Rose, Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice wary.

His eyes swept across her face, desperately trying to find notes of sympathy. Instead, an expression of confusion and revulsion mixed together on the planes of Rose's face. She began to sway on her feet, suddenly unsteady. Cradling her head within her hands, a sickening anger stabbed her heart the moment he attempted to steady her again. She faced him head on.

"Three years. Three whole bloody years of my life, I spent looking for that man. I jumped through worlds—dimensions—I-I…" the words began to become lost in her throat. "I endured horrors and…" she sobbed wildly, "I lost a part of me!" She could feel her body quiver with rage, "I sacrificed everything for him!" The pain was suddenly unbearable. Tears pricked her bottom lashes, her throat became constricted, "And what does he do?" At this, she gesticulated in his direction, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Wait, Rose, listen to me—"

"No, you shut up and listen to me for once!"

Satisfied with his silence, she continued her rampage, "What does he do? He goes and leaves me again, on the same bloody beach with this…this...this copy!" Rose hissed through her teeth as tears began to fall indiscriminately down her cheeks, "did he really think he could replace himself so easily? Just like that?" Her voice lowered an octave to mock him, "Oh! I have a brilliant idea! Let's see if Rose will fall for this one? She won't know the bloody difference!"

"It's not like that."

"I said shut up!" She covered her face with her hands as she let out a frenzied, frustrated scream. Suddenly, she felt the familiar warmth of her mother's arms. Immediate gratitude and relief swelled in her sobs. Rose reached blindly for her mother, clutching her tight within her embrace.

"Oh, darling, shhh, it'll be okay," her mother soothed, smoothing her hair from her face.

"No it's not! Not it's not, mum!" she sobbed.

"It's alright, Rose. Everything will be okay, I promise. We'll work it out."

"How?" she demanded.

"We'll think of something, alright? Just let it out for now."

"But, mum," she wailed, "It's not fair," she hiccuped, streaks of black mascara pooled down her cheeks.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." she kissed her forehead.

"Why did I do that?" Rose's voice was muffled within the embrace, but she heard her all the same.

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

Rose looked up, eyes swollen, and nose runny, "How could I have thought it was him? How could I have been so stupid as to—to—" she let out another shuddered sob, "And now he's gone. He's gone, mum! So many years… I… oh God." Her voice hoarse, she let out another anguished cry, attempting to hide within her mother's arms.

She didn't hear the strange man walk away with heavy steps.