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The Doctor dug through his pockets and pulled out his inhaler, took two puffs and tried to swallow down the flavor of rotting wood that always lingered in his mouth. The prickly thorns that had started crawling their way back up his throat retreated just a bit but he knew they were getting worse. They were always getting worse.
The inhaler was only a temporary measure to keep them at bay. Eventually, the flowers would grow large enough to choke him and he would die. Or he’d get himself killed first, which honestly seemed more likely with his luck.
He coughed into his hands and checked them for petals. Nothing. That was a good sign. There had been petals before he’d thought of the inhaler. Who knew, maybe if he kept it up, they’d die back enough that he’d be able to just live out the rest of this body’s natural life in peace. And then he could regenerate into someone worthy of Rose Tyler’s love.
*
"Can Time Lords even get asthma?" Amy asked one day after a daring escape that had him reaching for his inhaler the second they made it back into the safety of the TARDIS. "Doesn't really seem like something that would affect you, with how you go on about 'superior biology.'"
"No, they don't." The Doctor replied when he was finally able to breathe again.
"Then why do you need an inhaler?"
His first instinct was a flippant reply, something to get her to leave it alone, but maybe it was better to tell Amy about it, so that she could know the symptoms and signs. It wasn't exactly common in Earth's part of the Galaxy, but it was common enough that humans had started working the trend into their stories. "There's a fungus growing in my lungs. The inhaler keeps it at bay so I don't asphyxiate."
*
In retrospect, the signs should have been obvious.
The persistent, lingering cough that had stolen his breath and made him ache down to his toes, the strange, floral taste that lingered in his mouth like he’d been chewing on flowers.
But Time Lords were supposed to be immune to all this nonsense. And he’d been sure that he was, until now. And even still, it didn’t make sense. All of his experience with this particular affliction stressed that only unrequited love triggered the pollen. And he knew for certain that the only person he was in love with returned his feelings. Or well, she had returned them the last time he’d seen her. Yes and what had come after that? A snappish voice replied, reminding him of the many mistakes he’d made since losing her for good. He’d nearly murdered a Star Whale for Rassilon’s sake, not to mention all the Time Lord victorious nonsense.
At the time it hadn’t mattered, he’d been so blinded by the grief of losing Rose all over again, and then to lose Donna right after… it had been too much and he’d lost himself.
And now he was scrambling to pull himself back together, in a new body that he hadn’t even wanted to regenerate into.
I don’t want to go.
He hadn’t recognized himself, towards the end. And he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Rose would think.
She'd be ashamed of him.
She'd stood between him and a dalek and asked him what he was turning into and at the time, he hadn't known. But he did now.
He was just as much of a monster as he'd always been, wandering the universe and poisoning everything he touched and hoping for a happy ending.
There was no way she'd be able to love him like this. He'd been better with her around. Not that it had ever been her job to fix him, but she'd held him accountable. Kept him from going too far.
There couldn't be anything left of who he'd be for her.
Which meant that there was nothing left about him that she'd be able to love.
*
This was a terrible idea. But well, he'd needed a haircut and this body's utter lack of coordination made cutting his own hair virtually impossible and he hadn't been able to think of anyone else.
But sitting in Jackie Tyler's living room while she prattled on about the latest celebrity gossip and the twists on East Enders was dangerous. He wasn't exactly sure what year it was; he'd trusted the TARDIS to bring him to a time that wouldn't result in him running into himself. Or Rose.
Jackie had him tilt his head forward and used her clippers to clean up the back of his neck. "Don't get many blokes in here." She commented. "Well, least not ones that just want a trim. Had a fella the other day who wanted me to dye his hair bright pink."
"Did you?" He asked.
"Course I did. Still haven't gotten the pink dye out of my sink, but you should have seen the look on his face, happy as a clam." There was a fond note in her voice that was soothing, until he realized exactly what she was saying.
He was the one who got those pink stains out of her sink which meant that his past self could be dropping by at any moment-
And at that exact moment, in a perfect show of the specific cruel sense of irony that the universe seemed to reserve just for him, the lock on the door turned and Rose came in. "Mum, I'm home!" She called and the Doctor could swear that both his hearts stopped for a few seconds.
"In the kitchen, sweetheart, I'm with a client!" Jackie called back and then added, in a lower voice. "That's my Rose, she pops in whenever she can, but she's always off traveling."
Something tickled in the back of his throat and he threw himself out of the chair Jackie had put him in, ripping the barber’s cape so he could scramble through his coat pockets for his inhaler. He’d never thought that being around Rose again would make it worse but as his grasping hands continued to turn up empty, he couldn't hold back the coughs any longer, all but heaving up crumpled marigolds onto Jackie’s kitchen floor.
His respiratory bypass kicked in, thankfully, so he didn’t have to experience the lovely effects of oxygen deprivation, but that only worked for so long and the coughing wasn't stopping. He’d run out of air soon, and then he really would be choking.
Distantly, he could hear Jackie shouting but the words themselves were lost. He needed to get out of here, before his past self showed up and realized what was happening. Or before he choked to death and regenerated in front of Rose and Jackie. This had been a terrible idea to begin with. Had he really thought he’d be able to steal a little more time in Jackie’s flat, pretending he had a family and come out unscathed?
His fingers finally closed around the inhaler and he brought it to his lips, exhaling as much as he could before dispensing three puffs, frantically trying to inhale to pull the ‘medicine’ into his lungs.
It barely helped. But at least he wasn't coughing up full flowers anymore, just a few scatter petals that clung to his fingers, strikingly orange against his skin and Jackie’s vinyl kitchen floor.
A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he tensed all over, squeezing his eyes shut. No. he couldn’t do this, not now. But his legs were still shaky from the force of that coughing fit, there was no way he could run now. “You alright, mate?” Rose asked and it was like an electric shock down his spine.
He shook his head, doing his best to keep his mouth closed around the new wave of coughing that was threatening to start.
“Not human, then, I take it?” She asked but it didn’t really seem like a question. “Because I know for a fact humans aren’t a good host for the specific brand of psychic pollen that’s responsible for these kinds of symptoms.”
She did? But how would Rose know that? He’d never had to deal with this sort of thing when she’d been traveling with him. He opened his mouth to reply, but just started coughing again, gasping for breath this time, since his respiratory bypass was mostly depleted.
“It’s alright, easier to just get as much out as you can in one go. Like pruning, you know?” She said, rubbing his back while he kept coughing. “I know talking is pretty difficult right now, but once you can talk, do you think you can tell me what’s got all this started?”
He shook his head again, wiping at his mouth when the coughs finally stopped again. She’d been right. There were more flowers on the ground than he’d expected, but his breathing was clearer than it had been in months. He shoved the flowers and the petals into a only slightly neater looking pile, before turning so he could sit and stop supporting his weight with his arms. He’d run in a minute,once his legs worked again.
He opened his eyes and dared a glance at Rose, unable to look away when he realized how different she looked. He’d traveled with Rose Tyler for nearly three years, had seen first hand the way she’d changed after they’d spent several years apart, and she’d never looked like this.
His mouth opened of its own accord to thank her, or to spout off some excuse about being a galactic tourist, but what came out was, “What the hell have you done to your hair?”
Rose blinked at him, looking completely surprised and her hand reached up to touch the shaved side. “Had a bit of a mishap with a seven year old and some bubblegum. What about you though? Your hair’s completely different from the last time I saw you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, and so is everything else, but don't change the subject. Why didn’t you just take the gum out?”
“It’s not like I have a sonic screwdriver with a ‘gum removal’ setting, is it? Mum did everything she could, but it was honestly just better to shave it.” She shot back and he froze. Sonic screwdriver…
“You know who I am.” He said flatly.
She gave him a sad smile. “Mum had you figured out in two minutes. She called me.”
He pushed himself off the floor, standing up on shaking legs. “Right, well, I should go. Don’t exactly fancy running into myself.”
Rose grabbed his arm, halting his progress. “You and I both know that my hair never looked like this when I was traveling with you.”
Hope bubbled up in his chest, but he quickly smothered it. Even if this was a Rose he could spend time with, she’d be so disappointed in who he’d become that she’d never forgive him. “No I don't. I’d just assumed that I’d forgotten something. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” He lied and watched fresh disappointment grow on her face.
“Is it that, or do you just not want to have to tell me that you’re not in love with me anymore?” She asked sharply and it was like a punch to the gut.
How absolutely ridiculous, the idea that he’d ever be able to fall out of love with her. No, it would be her that couldn't love him any longer, “Why would you think that?” he asked raggedly. He would always love her, that was just a fact of his being at this point, an unchangeable part of the universe.
Rose scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. I know how this psychic pollen works. And I told you a long time ago that I love you. Which means you have to have fallen in love with someone else.”
“What if the issue is me, Rose?” He whispered. “What if I’ve just become so unlovable that it’s not possible for anyone to love me in return?”
“Then I would tell you that’s ridiculous.” She said softly, stepping closer to him. “You don’t get to decide if you’re lovable or not.”
He swallowed nervously. “But I’ve done horrible things.”
“So have I.” She replied, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I watched entire worlds burn and die while I was dimension hopping because finding a way to stop the stars going out was more important. I gave Torchwood the go ahead to shoot the Sycorax ship down in Pete’s world because I knew the Shadow Proclamation didn’t exist to help us and they wouldn’t leave any other way. I killed Donna, in that splinter universe created by the time beetle. Because it was the only way to set the timeline back on track.”
“Rose…” He trailed off, horrified that she’d had to make any of those choices.
She gave him a tight smile. “All that, and you still love me, don't you?” He nodded so she continued. “So what makes you think there’s anything you could have done that would make me stop loving you?”
The constant ache in his lungs started to fade a bit. “I nearly broke all of time?” he offered but Rose just laughed softly.
“That’s a Tuesday for us.”
Something like tears were building in his eyes, but that was impossible because his superior biology meant he didn’t need to cry. “I missed you so much.”
“If anything, that’s just going to make me love you more.” She teased and he laughed, though it was closer to a sob and leaned his forehead against hers.
“I regretted leaving you behind.” He admitted, only finally able to admit it to himself. He’d been hiding behind the idea that she would have been happier that way for so long that it’d been easy to push aside how much he’d ached with her gone. “I kept telling myself that you were better off, that you’d be happier, but it was like losing you all over again and I would change it if I could.”
“We were happy.” She said, “Blissfully and deliriously happy. But we both missed the traveling. And we were worried about you. He’d said you might do something stupid. Though I don't think he ever suspected that you’d be able to convince yourself that I didn’t love you.”
“That you wouldn't be able to love who I’d become. It's different.” He corrected and she gave him a look.
“That’s honestly somehow even more ridiculous.”
“And you apparently love me anyway.” He said with a mad little smile.
“I do.”
“Are you two done yet?” Jackie finally said, cutting through the moment. The two of them leapt apart. “I’m happy you’ve found each other all over again, but Rose is supposed to be showing up soon to fix the loo sink and we all know how shoddy the Doctor’s driving is so I need to finish the hair cut.”
The Doctor quickly sat back down, letting Jackie drape the cape around him. Rose made herself a cup of tea and hopped up onto the counter to watch with a small smile. “One thing I don't get, is how did you have this Rose’s number, Jackie?”
Jackie snorted. “She popped into existence on the sofa. Imagine the fright she gave me. And then she started rattling on about ‘timelines’ this and ‘reapers’ that like the entire universe was about to come down on our heads. Nothing happened, though. So she comes to visit every once in a while and I touch up her roots. Or get gum out of her hair, as it were.”
Rose looked down into her tea cup. “Didn’t mean to. Was trying to home in on the TARDIS again. But the memory I used for the telepathic matrix was of that Christmas after the Sycorax.”
“And then you showed up.” Jackie continued, “Looking like some sort of scraggly stray that hadn’t had a kind word said to him in months and looked around the flat like it was your salvation. Not hard to put two and two together. And I felt your pulse while I was looking your hair over.”
“So you just assumed that I would be from the same point along our shared timeline as Rose?” He asked, unable to be upset with the assumption; she’d been right after all.
Jackie pointed to a photo on the kitchen wall that had been taken that wonderful Christmas. “The only time your eyes left that photo was when I forced you to look away. You’re not subtle, sweetheart. Knew you were head over heels for Rose the day I met you. And you do the same thing with your other faces, but there’s a bit less naked longing.”
The Doctor felt his cheeks heat up slightly and Jackie set her scissors down. “There. Now get out of here before another set of you shows up and makes a real mess. I can’t afford to replace that many appliances in one go.”
The Doctor stood up and hugged Jackie. “Thank you.” He said, really, truly meaning it.
“Just keep each other safe. I know there’s more that happens between you two that I haven’t gone through yet. And I know I’m not around for Rose now to say it. So I’m saying it right now.”
“Of course we will, Mum.” Rose replied when the Doctor finally let go of Jackie.
The haunting whirl of TARDIS engines made the Doctor startle and he grabbed Rose’s hand. “I think we should probably run now.”
Rose grinned, “Absolutely.”
They bolted from the flat and Jackie watched them go with a fond smile before sweeping up the marigolds the Doctor had coughed up all over her kitchen floor. She’d always hated the way they smelled. Especially since everyone had gifted them to her after Pete had died. Something about how they represented inner strength. But then only ever remind Jackie of despair and how much it had hurt to lose Pete.
But that didn’t matter because she knew Rose and the Doctor would be okay. Rose had explained the weird, alien sickness that made you cough up flowers well enough that Jackie understood that the Doctor would be perfectly cured now.
And years later, in a different universe, when Rose lost her husband and discovered that she wasn’t aging all in one go, Jackie would gently nudge her towards restarting the dimension canon project. Because she knew that no matter what, Rose and the Doctor would have each other. As it should be.