Disclaimer:
I don’t own Doctor Who. If I did Rose would still be with the Doctor, and she
and Amy would be best friends.
A/N:
So I guess this was born of summer-nanowrimo panic and sad, angst-y feelings. I
always wondered what the Doctor saw in his room in “The God Complex” and this
is what I always imagined it was. Well, this is what I hoped it was.
He found himself drawn to the door almost instantly.
It had an 11 on it, so that was a given… it was like he’d told the others; when
they saw their door they’d want to open it immediately.
“Who
do Timelords pray to?” Amy had asked him. There were
plenty of answer to that, many, many answers. But no, oh no, that wasn’t what
waited for him at the other side of this door. It wasn’t what—or who—he might
or might not pray to. It wasn’t that at all; it was what he believed in. The
hotel preyed on peoples’ faith.
The question was what exactly the hotel had picked
up from his subconscious. What did it think would shake his faith? What was it
that he believed in, what could they use to manipulate his mind?
It took an eternity to reach for the doorknob and
turn it, but he did. Slowly, he looked inside.
It was a normal room, like the others, but in this
one stood a flaxen-haired girl, only nineteen years old. Her face, usually
graced with a vibrant smile, was streaked with tears. Her jaw clenched,
fighting back tears. Next to her was a tall, gangly man in a brown suit. He
knew it far too well. It was his tenth self, smiling back him placidly. Still,
there was so much pain in his meta-crisis’ eyes. Why was there pain?
Rose stared at him, like she wasn’t even seeing him.
“I l-love you.” she gasped. It was just like that day, the one where he went to
say goodbye at Bad Wolf Bay. She had believed that he would always be there
with her. She promised to always hold his hand, and then he let her down and
allowed her to be ripped away from him.
Words echoed in his memory, word he longed to tell
Rose on the beach that day. Instead, he said, “Of course. Who else?” and softly
closed the door.
Still, as he walked away, he knew the answer to
Amy’s question. He would never tell her, but he knew it.
“If
I believe in one thing—just one thing—I believe in her.”
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