Work Text:
"Can you believe this?!?” The Metacrisis Doctor screeched into the night time void of a deserted wintery road. Billowing steam enveloped him as he yanked his hair wildly, kicked a tire in his frustration then slammed the hood of the rented car closed. Huffing and puffing as if he were the Big Bad Wolf, the Doctor caught the eyes of his wife, formerly known as Rose Tyler, whose amused smirk plastered upon her half hand-covered mouth infected him. A slight grin of his own ghosted his lips, imagining the ridiculousness of his reaction to their blown water pump and the realization that he’d left his Sonic Screwdriver in his other coat, had no cell reception and no tools handy, and essentially stranded the two of them in the remotest part of a foreign country. Even the preinstalled On Star roadside assistance wasn’t working. So much for having a delightful Christmas vacation in a place neither of them had ever been.
Rose beckoned her husband back into the car, and as he slammed the door closed, Rose pointed to a small dot on a paper map she’d found tucked away under her seat. “Look, we’re not that far off from a town. We could walk it.”
“No torches,” the Doctor replied, pausing from blowing on his hands to warm them, “And, if you hadn’t noticed, it’s freezing out there and we’d probably die if we tried.”
Rose cocked her head to the side, considering this and the contents of the boot. “Well, we put out the flares. And the reflectors. We have our sleeping bags and a few more of those pocket warmers…”
The Doctor pulled his knit gloves over his fingers and glanced over to her, “D'ya think we should stay here?”
Rose nodded, but before she could answer, lights shone on them from behind, slowing, and pulling in behind them. They looked at each other and back toward the lights when a pair of flashing blue and red startled them.
“Police,” Rose whispered.
A silhouette moved from the vehicle behind them and tapped on the driver’s side window. The Doctor rolled down his window, “Hello, Officer! Having a bit of car trouble, and we don’t have cellphone service here. Could we get a lift to the next town?” He handed his and Rose’s passports along with the information for their rental to the officer who, from what The Doctor read on his badge, was actually a Sheriff Deputy. “Ooohh you’re a Sheriff!” He turned and gave Rose one of his mad grins before turning back to the man who was looking over their paperwork. “Howdy Partner,” erupted from the Doctor’s mouth in a really ridiculous John Wayne impersonation.
The Sheriff Deputy raised an eyebrow stoically at the Doctor and shook his head, “We don’t actually talk like that out here.” He handed the paperwork over to the two Brits in the broke down Cadillac. “Okay, Mr and Mrs Smith, I’m going to radio a tow for you folks, and give you a lift to town. There’s a hotel right on Main, and you can probably get a room there. Doubt it’s busy this time of year, we don’t usually have tourists this far into winter. So just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
A few hours and the onset of a blizzard later, the Metacrisis Doctor and Rose clambered out of the cab of the Sheriff’s truck, pulled their luggage from the bed and opened a heavy glass and wood door to an old rustic 2-story hotel. They shook off the snow and cold and approached the front desk, the Doctor excitedly galloping forward to ring little bell next to a Ring for Assistance sign. Rose giggled.
“Well, hello!”
Rose and the Doctor glanced confused around the room. They didn’t see anyone, and the very English accent that greeted them seemed so out of place for a small mountain town in middle of the Western US. A tap tap on both of their shoulders sent them spinning back toward the door, where a short blonde woman in her mid thirties stood grinning as if everything about the two in front of her filled her with childlike amazement.
“Hello,” Rose replied, immediately feeling comfort and joy eminating from the aura of the woman in front of her.
The Metacrisis Doctor sensed it too along with a very familiar smell. His dulled senses from only being half Time Lord couldn’t place the smell. Or the strange feeling that he had met her before. “I’m sorry,” the Metacrisis Doctor reached out his hand to shake hers, keeping the woman’s eyes fixed on his own, “I’m not sure why, but I feel like I know you. I’m the Doctor.”
The woman pursed her lips, the hint of a grin teasing the corners of her mouth. For a few seconds the Metacrisis Doctor thought he wouldn’t get an answer, but suddenly she just burst out laughing as if what he’d just said was completely ridiculous. The woman shook her head, and between snickers, she spit out, “No you’re not!”
The Metacrisis Doctor dropped her hand as if he’d been stung by a bee.
Rose took a step forward defensively, “Why do you say that?”
The woman stopped laughing as suddenly as she started, grabbed Rose’s hand, looked her dead in the eyes and with the seriousness of the grave answered, “Because I am.”
The Metacrisis’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline and his eye grew to the size of saucers. “No! That’s not… That’s not possible! The tears in this universe are closed. To travel from the other universe to this one can’t be done! It’s destroy everything!”
The Doctor smiled knowingly. “Not anymore.”
“Hang on,” Rose interjected, “You can’t be the Doctor. The Doctor’s male. You’re…” She looked the woman up and down, taking in her striped, form fitting tee, her blue hoodie, and loose trousers and trainers. “You’re definitely the Doctor. Look how you’re dressed!”
An annoyed, “Oy!” resounded from both Doctors.
Rose chuckled. “Alright now THAT is going to take some getting used to.”
“Come ‘ere,” The Doctor motioned for them to come closer. “Let me show you.”
The Metacrisis and Rose stepped forward, taking each other’s hands. The Doctor looked at Rose, “Close your eyes, please.”
When they had, The Doctor closed her eyes and placed two fingers from each hand on the temple of the person closest. She entered their minds, and opened hers. Sharing pieces of her memories over the last two regenerations. The Metacrisis gasped as she shared with him the memories she had of River Song and who she really was to The Doctor in her 11th body. Amy and Rory were a bit harder to share, but The Doctor left in the good bits– Vincent VanGogh, Pirates, their wedding. With regard the Clara, she let them see and feel the deep friendship that had emerged during the course of their time together. Despite the freshness of the wounds related to her time with Bill, The Doctor let them see her, feel the deep parental love she had felt for poor Bill, and showed their wonderful adventures together.
The Doctor eased out of the connection and opened her eyes, glancing back and forth to each of them. “So,” she heaved a big sigh, “that’s what I’ve been up to.” A grin emerged, “What abou’ you?”
The Metacrisis slowed his racing heart and rapid breathing, it felt so good to have a telepathic connection to someone again even though it lasted only a few seconds. His breath hitched, and he opened his eyes. There was a question burning in his heart, and he had to ask. “How long has it been? For you?”
“Oh,” the Doctor replied nonchalantly, “I dunno, really. Billions of years.”
“You’re kiddin’ me! Billions of years?” Rose blurted, “How is that even possible?”
“Stuck in a pocket dimension where I would die over and over and come back and try to find my way out of this…maze. It was torture.”
The Metacrisis’s voice lowered, “It was punishment.”
“Yeh, but I got out. Obviously.”
Rose cocked her head, deep in thought. “You’ve been gone billions of years, regenerated three times and just how much of that time did you spend trying to find a way here?”
The Doctor took a deep breath. “Gallifrey is back,” she looked at the Metacrisis, “I knew what I had to do from the moment I stepped on to it’s soil. I had to find you both. I had to fix my mistakes.”
“But the TARDIS can’t make that sort of trip, it nearly died the last time,” The Metacrisis growled.
Rose smacked his shoulder. “Rude!”
The Doctor eased a gentle smile. “It’s a'right.” Sadness enveloped her, she caught the Metacrisis’s gaze, tears forming in the edges of hers. She grabbed his hands firmly and whispered, “She’s dead. The TARDIS died. I lost her.”