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Rose M. Tyler (jeopardysfriend) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Rose would never be able to put into words how grateful she was to have the Doctor, the original version, at least in her eyes, there for her at that moment. Frankly, he was right; the red-eyed man wasn't welcomed anywhere near her.

She didn't greet him. She didn't even look him in the eye. In fact, more than anything else, she resented him for pulling the Doctor away. Her warm, comfortable Doctor who she'd grown quite used to leaning against. A piece of her froze, though, when she heard him say the name. Their name. There had to be an easier way to distinguish these two. He'd seen him. Remy had seen the living version, the one who'd written few words for someone who'd written hundreds before. Before they'd taken him away. What had happened? Was he alright?

But she refused to speak. Call it stubborn, call it scared, but she didn't want to hear it. Not from this man, at least. A wave of nausea that had little to do with the lingering feelings of death rose over her. She glared at him for a moment, then turned back to the journal in her hands. Screw him. Let the Doctor, the more angry and bitter one at that, deal with him. She'd reply to Jack. It obviously wasn't her Remy had come for. The only words the not-dead Time Lord had for her were apparently to keep herself safe. Still treating her like a child, despite the fact that she'd thought her entire world was over when she'd thought him dead. Figured.