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Summary
Rose goes to sleep one night next to her husband, John Smith, the man she has loved for going on three years now, and wakes up the next morning face-to-face with a complete stranger.
She just about falls straight out of bed.
**
Or: Whenever the Doctor regenerates, his human double over in Pete’s World does, too.
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Rose looks this new man up and down, regarding him. He’s her husband — of that she is undoubtedly certain — but he’s also… not. Not entirely. He has John’s mannerisms still, and as far as she can tell his way of speaking hasn’t changed. And he looks at her the same way, that unfathomable mixture of fondness and awe and devotion that he’s always had whenever he gazed at her before.
But there’s also something different, something obviously and noticeably changed about him. It’s subtle — were it not for how well she knows him, how in-tune she is to his emotions and his body and his thoughts, she might have missed it — but it’s definitely there. He holds himself differently, shoulders quirked one higher than the other and head always slightly tilted. He seems to have more energy about him. John’s last body (it feels so strange to think of it that way) was excitable, but it never had as much of this energetic thrumming about it.
His voice is different. That’s the thing she can’t stop noticing. His voice doesn’t sound the same as it used to.
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(She wonders if it will say the same things, now. Allons-y and Brilliant and I’m sorry and I love you. I have always loved you. Things she’s gotten used to hearing as much as she’s gotten used to taking her morning tea with just a dash of milk. She wonders if he will want to say the same things to her now that he did only a few short hours ago.)
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He purses his lips, thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose it does. Difficult to explain. You’ve still got the same husband, only his face has changed.” He hums thoughtfully. “Imagine the confusion.”She groans. She hadn’t even thought of that part. “Mum’s gonna love this.”
John hums softly to himself again. “I imagine she will.”
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He huffs. “I don’t appreciate that.”Rose takes a breath and tries to stop the way her hands shake as she reaches out to brush at some of the dust lingering on his coat. “This you is going to be a real grump, isn’t he?”
“Apparently so.”
“Well. Let’s hope we don’t try to kill each other.”
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It is, in hindsight, hauntingly prescient of her.
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Though she lived with Phillip for nearly 3 years, it felt like the blink of an eye when compared to her first two weeks with Devon.He tries to explain that to her, too. “Time is both stretched and collapsed,” he says to her, when she tries to express how she’s feeling, this weird, twisted cycle of confusion and anxiety she can’t seem to escape. “It doesn’t really move in a straight line. Years can feel like months. Weeks feel like years. The past is smashed into the future which folds into the present.”
And that all might be true, but it doesn’t exactly make her feel any better about it.