Title: I Am An Illusion
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ten.5
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: Buffet 1, fc_smorgasbord
Prompt: 97, Illusory
Author's Note: The human version of the Doctor is being referred to as John Smith in this fic, since it's the Doctor's human alias and his clone needed a name.
Author's Note: Spoilers for Journey's End, somewhat. This is an completely alternate take on the ending of Season Four.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor, or his human clone. Please do not sue.

***

Jamie stood at the edge of the beach, his toes in the water, looking out at the endless expanse of the sea in front of him. This place always made him feel small and insignificant; he wondered why he had insisted on coming back here, with all the bad memories that this place held for him.

Even as he stood here, he could feel the noxious presence of that spoiled child who had attempted to rip apart the fabric of two universes and destroy countless numbers of lives in order to get her own way. A wave of coldness swept over him, a shudder going through his thin body.

No. She wasn't here. The Doctor had made sure that she would never be able to escape from that confining alternative universe again; she would never be able to cause as much trouble as she'd once done. Whatever damage she could inflict on the world was past.

But she had inflicted damage on him, Jamie thought. On his psyche, on his memories. He would never be able to shake the memory of her smug smile when she had been so sure that he would be forever condemned to a life spent with her, a life he would have hated.

He held up a shaking hand in front of him, as though he was trying to convince himself that he was here, away from her, that this wasn't all a dream and he wouldn't wake up in that alternate universe with her, forced into a life that was a living death for him through every second of his existence.

Yes, he was here. He was real. He wasn't some figment of the imagination, an illusion that would fade away as the mists of the morning dissipated and the bright, cold light of day shone down upon this lonely stretch of sand where he had first known that he loved the Doctor.

If he was being honest with himself, he had known before that. He had known from the moment he came into being, when he had first looked into those meltingly beautiful brown eyes that were exactly like his own. He had known that he wanted to be with this man forever.

He would never love anyone else in the way that he loved the Doctor. He couldn't. The Time Lord was a part of him, his memories, the very fabric of his being. They had the kind of symbiotic relationship that no one else could ever dream of being in, and could never understand.

Everyone who had been there when he came into existence thought that it was wrong for the Doctor to love him in the way that he was loved; they all thought that it was wrong for the two of them to be together. They all wished that Jamie and the Doctor had gone their separate ways.

Well, they hadn't. Jamie's jaw tightened as his mind went back over that time on the beach, with that toxic girl who'd pouted and whined because she couldn't have the Doctor. She had wanted Jamie for her own, wanted some part of the Doctor that she could claim and control.

But in time -- a very short time, he was sure -- she would have seen through the illusion of who he was. She would have tossed him away once he'd started to age in the least bit, to look different from the Doctor. After all, she only wanted the Time Lord because of the way he looked.

She cared nothing for the Doctor as a person. She was only infatuated with his face -- and she wanted to have control of Jamie for no other reason than that he could fulfill her illusions of being with the Doctor, and having the Time Lord under her thumb.

The illusion of him being just like the Doctor in anything but looks and memories would have faded for her very quickly -- and he would have found himself tossed aside, with nowhere to go and no one to love him, left to fend for himself in a world that he knew he wouldn't fit into.

That was the life that everyone other than the Doctor had seemed to want for him, Jamie thought with a shudder. A life in which he was nothing more than a cheap copy, an illusion of the Doctor, striving to be someone who he could never be, who he could never live up to.

With the Doctor, he didn't have to try to live up to being just like the man who had brought him into existence -- he just had to be himself. The Doctor loved and appreciated him for exaclty who he was; he didn't expect Jamie to be anything different.

For the Doctor, Jamie was real -- he was a flesh-and-blood man with feelings and needs, not just an illusion of someone who the person he happened to be stuck with wanted him to be. There was no pressure to live up to anything; that expectation was all in his own mind.

Was he nothing more than an illusion, only a carbon copy of the Doctor who would eventually simply cease to exist and dissipate into thin air as though he'd never been there? The thought struck Jamie forcefully, almost making him gasp.

A quicksilver emotion that he couldn't name rippled through him, gone as quickly as it had appeared; was it fear? Regret? He couldn't put a name to what he felt; all he knew was that he was terrified of discovering that he was nothing more than an illusion, that he had no substance, no reality.

He couldn't be an illusion. After all, he was real and solid to the Doctor, wasn't he? The Time Lord wasn't the sort of man to give in to flights of fancy; he hadn't imagined Jamie out of some need for a companion and lover. He hadn't simply wished Jamie into existence.

If he was only an illusion, then his relationship with the Doctor would have broken down long ago. The Time Lord would never be satisfied with an illusory lover; he might let his desires bring such a person into his world for a while, but they would never last for long.

The Doctor wanted someone in his life who was solid and real, someone who would be his lover as well as his companion. He wanted a man who he could count on -- and Jamie knew that he had proved himself many times over as being that man.

There was nothing illusory about him -- except possibly in his own way of seeing himself. Maybe he had let other people's perceptions of him color how he looked at himself; maybe he had started seeing himself as being nothing more than a pale imitation of the Doctor.

But that wasn't so, he told himself, raising his chin and clenching his fists at his sides. If he wasn't any more than that, then the Doctor would have told him so long before now. The Time Lord wouldn't keep him around merely out of pity. His compassion wouldn't extend that far.

No, if he was only an illusion, an imitation, then the Doctor would have been happy enough to let him go with that horrid child into a universe where the two of them would be parted forever. He would have waved goodbye with a light heart, and gone his own way with no regrets.

He hadn't done that. Instead, he had spirited Jamie away with him, against the expectations and wishes of everyone around them. He had thrown caution to the winds, throwing down the gauntlet to anyone who might have protested and said that they shouldn't be together.

And the Doctor had won. Jack and the other members of Torchwood might think that this relationship between the two of them was wrong; other people might see it as being strange, or even disturbing. But to Jamie, his relationship with the Doctor was the very breath of life itself.

Other people could see him as an illusion if they wanted to, but he knew better. He knew what he meant to the Doctor; he knew that he was the most important person in the Time Lord's life, even if others might want to think otherwise. Jamie knew the truth.

Holding both hands up in front of him, he gazed tat them, willing his gaze to be strong and steady. There was nothing wrong with him; he wasn't fading away, dissipating in front of his own eyes. He was no illusion. He was a living, breathing man, a man who made a difference.

He had made a difference in the Doctor's life; the Time Lord told him every day how grateful he was to have Jamie with him, to have found someone to love. He could still hear those soft, loving words, the words that he held close to his single human heart.

Taking a deep breath, Jamie turned away from the sight in front of him, forming an image in his mind of the man he loved. He was going to find the Doctor and show his lover that he wasn't an illusion -- and he was looking forward to doing that more than he could put into words.

***