I'm so rusty! I haven't written anything in a long time. I'm so busy with school; I'm dying... Unfortunately, even if I'm busy with school, I still don't own Doctor Who because if I did, Rose and the real Doctor would be together 5ever. Just saying.

I'm sorry for any OOCness. I haven't watched Ten in a long time or anything with Rose, for that matter. If you see anything that I must have missed, don't hesitate to message me!

I may also continue this in another oneshot.

Enjoy! Reviews are loved.

I

It all started with a sneeze, really.

"So, Doctor, what do you think of going out to breakfast again?" Rose grimaced. This man… he wasn't the Doctor himself, no - not the Time Lord with whom she traversed space and time. And more than anyone, he knew that - he was really just an echo of the Doctor.

Yet all ends bring new beginnings, all echoes new melodies. And more than anyone, she knew that.

"We did that yester - ah-choooo!" the Doctor wiped his nose with his sleeve, while Rose's grimace turned into a look of real concern.

"Is everything all right, Doctor?" She reached in her bag for a box of tissue, pulled a piece out, and handed it to him.

"Yeah, yeah, just fine. Everything's brilliant right here," he replied, rubbing his nose furiously. He would have to get used to this.

"Really?" Rose grinned widely, with that tongue poking out of her teeth as always. "You sure you're not sick, Doctor?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely positively - well, I'm - ah-chooo!" Rose handed him another piece of tissue.

"Oh, you must have gotten sick last night," Rose murmured. Memories of the previous night came running back. They had gone out to dinner. It wasn't anything particularly fancy - just the chip shop down the street. Rose had picked out the table by the window. The Doctor had pulled out her chair before pulling out his own. Perhaps she should have thanked him, but it hadn't come to her. Instead, they'd been jammed, packed down her throat - a rubber band ball of words that will forever be unsaid.

It'd been a tad bit strange - with Rose flashing shy smiles at the Doctor while he babbled. No, Rose thought. It wasn't strange. It was awkward, a feeling she had never felt with the original Doctor before. The tension had scared her, so she'd wished for a distraction of some sort.

Then the rain had begun to fall. It had flowed down seamlessly, with ease, dancing on the pavement. Rose had reached into her bag, looking for some sort of foldable umbrella she might have stashed in there before. But there was nothing, so after paying the bill, the two had stepped out reluctantly, into the rain.

This was something Rose was used to, but not the human Doctor. They had run back to the mansion, playing, laughing under the rain. All tension had gone, and without even knowing it, they were holding hands.

II

That afternoon, the Doctor stumbled into Rose's room. They slept in separate rooms - Jackie had insisted on it, of course - and it gave an odd sense of relief to both of them.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" Rose asked, hiding the copy of 'Twilight' she'd been reading.

"Rose, what are you reading?" the Doctor asked in return. He sounded so sick, his voice tired and… clogged up.

"Oh, nothing, really." Rose shrugged. "Just… a book."

"What book?" the Doctor bent his head, trying to look at what was clearly not intended for his eyes. "Rose… it's not 'Fifty Shades of Grey,' is it?"

Rose laughed. "Never." The Doctor sneezed. "Doctor…" she muttered, handing him the box of tissues. "Take the whole thing."

"Rose, I just realized why I came here in the first place and it wasn't to take your box of tissues, well, maybe it kind of was, but…" he trailed off. Rose shot him an amused look. "Back when I was him, I never got sick. Never. Is it like this when you're human? Getting sick and all, really, where's the fun in that?"

"'Course not," Rose replied. "It just happens sometimes when you're not taking good care o' yourself. That's all there is to it."

"Rose," he murmured. "Everything feels woozy."

"Woozy?" Rose suppressed a chuckle. "Let's get you back to bed, then."

"Oh, Rassilon…" the Doctor mumbled. Rose took the Doctor's hand. It was soft, gentle, yet tough from all her adventures with the other him. It was so familiar, yet so different. Despite everything, though, she missed it.

She led him back to his room, which was the guest room. There were many guest rooms in the mansion, but Rose made sure that he got the one with blue walls. Perhaps TARDIS blue wasn't exactly the best shade, but she knew it was right.

Rose made sure that he settled down, and when he reached for a book, she gave him her copy of 'Twilight.'

"Seriously, Rose? Twilight?" the Doctor held back a snort. "It's like the 'Fifty Shades of Grey' of the vampire world. Well, it's true, since…"

"Doctor." Rose sat down beside him and placed a finger to his lips. "Shh."

"Yes, yes, right, of course," the Doctor muttered, more to himself than to Rose.

"I'll just…" Rose said, tucking him in like she was a mother and he, her ill child. She gathered her things and headed to the door. "…See you later, Doctor. Do get some rest, will you? Oh, and would you like some soup, too? Mum used to make some for me every time I got sick."

"That's fine," he replied. But when she opened the door, ready to leave, he called out to her. "Rose?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

III

He promised her that they would grow old together. He didn't know what prompted him to say that. He didn't know if it was love, mercy, hope stirring inside him at that time. But he thought, maybe it was none of the above.

Maybe it was more of a certain kind of pity. Not for Rose, of course. Rose was an independent young woman who managed to make the very best out of her life while she was in the parallel world, without the Doctor.

But in the other world, when Rose was gone, he became someone else. He became different, built out of the bricks of solitude and despair.

He became a monster.

So with a breath of despair in his lungs and a taste of desperation on his tongue, he promised her. Together. Forever. Selfish as it was, he did out of pity for himself. Who would he be without Rose? Who would he be without anyone?

Someone else, definitely.

He didn't want to be someone else.

"I don't want to go," he murmured. "I don't want to go. I don't want to go. You can't make me… Please, no… I don't want to go…"

"Doctor?" Rose's voice trailed through his ears and down his spine. A certain warmth spread through his body, all concentrating on one point: the chest, where one heart resided, not two. "Doctor." She threaded her fingers through his. "I'm here. You all right? You need anything?"

"All alone…" he muttered, still drowning in the clutches of sleep. "So cold… never…"

"Never," Rose whispered. She slipped her hand free for just a moment, only to put a banana in its place. "Doctor, you'll never be alone as long as you're here."

"With you?" The Doctor looked at her hopefully. He really would like to get to know her again. This was Rose, but this was a different Rose, too - certainly not the shop girl to whom he said, 'Run!'

Rose nodded. "Of course."

"How long?"

There it was, the mark of an ending. Her life with the other Doctor wasn't forgotten. Quite the opposite, she knew. That chapter had been read and reread, but she also knew it was time to leave it behind, to store it away in the wooden trunk of her memories and save it for a rainy day. But it was a new beginning too, as with everything else that ends.

Would she say 'forever?' This was a different man. He felt like him, he thought like him, he loved like him. But he was not him.

She loved the original Doctor, but sometimes, if you really love someone, you will have to let that someone go. She got a 'replacement Doctor,' but he was another man.

"As long as you'd like."

The Doctor made a sound in his throat and sat up. "There's something I haven't said yet." He cleared his throat and grinned. "It's so very nice to meet you, Rose."

"It's very nice to meet you too, Doctor," Rose replied.

The last lines are so The Doctor's Wife-y. I'm in love with that episode and I really wish they'll give more depth to the Doctor's relationship with the TARDIS.

Amicus is Latin for friend; comrade; companion.