In the Dark (A Doctor Who short story)

In the Dark

Author's note: This is a Doctor Who fanfiction starring the Ten/Rose/Jack trio. Please leave constructive criticism and enjoy :)

Warnings: Mild violence, a bit dark. Nothing else.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.

    ~

The small alleyway in the outskirts of Bristol, England, stank of stale beer and blood.
Empty drinks cans and torn service station sandwich wrappers littered the concrete path, faded crisp packets blowing in spirals, caught in little eddies of wind.
Cigarette buts clogged up gutters and drains.
The night was dark and cold, all stars hidden from sight by the dull orange street lamps at every corner. The air was somewhat heavy, as if something was waiting. Lurking in the dark, behind bin bags, in between buildings, maybe underneath that clump of grass.
There was a small breeze. It whispered and swirled.
The ground was wet from earlier rain, leaving puddles swimming with food packets and the odd leaf.
There was no sound to be heard, unless you strained your ears - then there was the far off thudding of music in a nightclub.
Except the heavy breathing of people, trying to stay silent.

Two men were by the wall of the alley, one lying down, completely motionless. The smell of blood obviously originated from him. The other man, with brown hair and old, sad eyes, was crouching beside the first one.
There was also a girl, standing in front of the two men as if she was protecting them. She held a gun in both her hands, pointing it out in front of her, fear lighting up her features.
There they stood and waited, the tension in the air increasing with every breath.

Eventually the man lying down awoke with a gasp. He was wearing a long, blue, bloodstained coat, and seemed to be struggling to breathe. He gave a small sob and the other man gripped his hand as a gesture of comfort.

What followed a few agonising minutes later was a crash, a scream, four shots of the gun, then silence.
The girl stood with a shocked expression, gripping the still smoking gun for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually, the brown-haired man spoke.
"Rose?" He whispered. "Rose, give the gun to me."
She turned slowly, still panting, and gently handed him the gun. He took it as if it was diseased.

"Did we have to kill it?" Asked the blue-coated man in a strained voice.
"He killed you."
"Yeah, but I'm fine now."
"He still did it though, didn't he?"
"Well we could have..."
"Shut up, Jack. You sound like you're about to die again."

Jack gave up and slumped back against the wall with a groan.

There was another silence. This one lasted until Rose staggered backwards and sat down next to the two men she had killed for.
"Doctor?" Jack said cautiously. "You alright?"

The Doctor have a small, forced smile and stood up, helping a worried Jack to his feet. "Of course I'm alright. What about you? You look like a ghost."

He turned and walked away as Jack and Rose shared a look that meant they both knew that the Doctor was completely, one hundred percent, not alright.

The wind still swirled. Crisp packets whipped around their feet. The distant thudding of music continued as if nothing had happened, certainly not something that would mean the three people trudging back down the alley would not sleep for many nights to come. One would cry silently, shaking, another would grip tear-soaked pillows and fight against the pain, and the last would stay listening to the steady whir of machinery, fixing some electrical appliance, haunted by the ghosts of millions.

The night stayed dark and cold.