3Rose was awake, making breakfast. She hadn't intended to make breakfast or even be awake for that matter but lately she couldn't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. And she would just lie there for hours, her mind racing if she didn't get out of bed and do something.
She should be happy. And that bothered her the most. Here she was with everything she ever wanted. She had him. They had a life together. That was all she ever wanted. That was what she had prayed for and cried for for so long. But it just wasn't quite right. And that tiny bit of wrongness consumed her completely. And she didn't want it to show. She didn't want him to know. She didn't want to lose what she did have because it was everything. Everything she ever wanted. But it wasn't enough.
Rose cracked some eggs into a pan and grated some cheese. She turned on the stove top and poked at the gooey mess with a wooden spoon. It was all the right parts to make scrambled eggs but they weren't really scrambled eggs, not until the heat had cooked them all together.
Somewhere he was still out there. Sure, he was with her too but it wasn't really him. It was a mere clone of the man she loved. It was like how she and her friends had joked before about some famous celebrity they all wished they could be with and they said they should clone him and give every girl their very own version! But in reality it isn't the same. She had come to realize this quickly enough. The very moment the Doctor had brought them together it felt incomplete. That little bit of difference haunted her every day of her life. And she couldn't stop thinking about him out there. All alone. Didn't he need her? She wanted to fill that need. Instead she was stuck here with something…something that was perfect. Something that was absolutely perfect. All the barriers that kept them apart removed. But it was still a copy. Like a painting at a museum. A copy might be nice but it never is worth the same as the original.
The eggs had pretty much solidified and she just kept stirring them and breaking them up until they looked perfect. She had turned to get some plates out of the cupboard when she heard him wander into the room, his slippers slapping the kitchen tile in the wonderful way they did. Every movement he made was marvelous. Every word her said made her feel warm. Every smile made her feel she would just float away with happiness. But he was a copy. He was perfect but even a perfect copy is a still a copy. It hurt her so deeply that she couldn't let that detail go.
He came up behind her and put his arms around her, gently. "Good morning, my darling" his breath was warm and sweet on her neck. He kissed each of her cheeks and gave her a little squeeze in his arms before letting go.
"Good morning" she responded and set a place for him at the table. He sat down gratefully, staring at her with utter devotion in his eyes. "I made some eggs" she said.
"I smelled them all the way upstairs! You make such splendid eggs, Rose! I am a lucky man indeed!" He was grinning at her in the most authentic and beautiful way.
She picked up the pan and brought it to the table, giving him her best smile, feeling guilty for her thoughts. How could this possibly not be enough? The guilt must have shown on her face.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"No, nothing at all." She said as she lumped some hot scrambled eggs onto his plate.