The Doctor grumpily marched around, not paying attention to where he was going. Trust Clara to tell him to wait when he came to pick her up.
He wasn't sure what she was doing. Maybe she was working out a lesson plan for her students for when they got back, he thought sarcastically. Leave him to pick the probably one human who thought it was more important to plan lessons than to go on adventures with him.
At least he liked London. He felt a small smile grow on his face at a memory of landing in London after being newly regenerated into his tenth incarnation.
He'd poked his head out the door of the TARDIS. "London! Earth! The Solar System!"
He checked the time. He'd been walking for 15 minutes, and Clara had said that she needed half an hour. Satisfied that he could turn back the way he came, he looked up at his surroundings to find out where he was.
He held his breath for a minute when he realized.
In front of him stood a large, familiar building.
The Powell Estates.
He should have recognized the courtyard, he told himself. Turn around, go back to Clara, I'm going to be late, he thought to himself, but it seemed his feet refused to listen to his brain.
And then he saw her.
She was making her way down the stairwell of the Estate, down to the courtyard. He couldn't take his eyes off her for a minute as she finally landed onto the cement ground. He watched as she checked the time, then frowned, then looked around her, seemingly confused.
"Are you alright?" He heard himself ask. He hadn't meant to talk to her. He shouldn't talk to her.
But then she looked up at him and ancient green eyes met young honey eyes, and he didn't care that he shouldn't talk to her.
She stuck her hands in her pockets and nodded, then started to make her way over to him. Should he let her? He asked himself in a panic.
She looked at him for a few seconds, examining him through her frown. He smiled awkwardly. They stayed silent for several minutes.
She broke the silence. "You're late." She told him simply.
Confused, he shot her a look that clearly said I am not, but curious as to what she meant, he followed her when she moved to sit down on the lonely bench. He didn't reply for a while, confused and unsure of what to say, especially under her gaze, which was amused and warm.
"I'm not." He finally said. Although technically, he realized, I am, but not to meet her.
"Well, you're not." She nudged him with her shoulder, and he tried to ignore the feeling of electricity that made its way through his body at her touch.
She was gone, he reasoned.
She looked at him, confused at his lack of response, but explained herself anyway. "Supposed to be here five and a half hours ago," she continued, "you need to work on your driving."
"I'm a great driver," he argued, the words spilling out before he had time to think about speaking.
She laughed, and her laugh was so familiar. He couldn't believe she was here, talking to him. He looked at her warm eyes, giving her a small smile.
"If you were a great driver, you'd show up properly, on time and everything. Last time we stopped off at home, you came back to pick me up and you were three streets over." She told him with another nudge. He smiled warmly at the memory. It was one of the few times he hadn't managed to get the TARDIS to park herself in the courtyard.
For a few moments, they simply sat together in silence, one waiting for The Doctor to arrive, and The Doctor hoping he took hours, simply so that he could sit with Rose.
He hadn't seen her in centuries, but she was exactly how she remembered her, warm and smiling and clever. She smelled exactly the way she did in his dreams.
After several minutes of silence, she spoke again. "Am I dead?"
He looked at her in surprise. "What?"
"Am I dead?" she repeated, looking at him with sad eyes.
No, he thought, don't be sad, he'd do anything to make her smile, to keep the frown away. He only had a few minutes with her, and he wouldn't have them spent in sadness.
"Why would you think you're…" he couldn't even bring himself to say it, trailing off before the word touched his lips. He couldn't think of his Rose being dead.
She looked at him with wide eyes. "The way you keep lookin' at me. S'like you haven't seen me in ages."
He winced at her perceptiveness. "Why would you assume that though? Maybe you got tired. Maybe you just took a break."
She shook her head. "No. If I left you," he watched her recoil at her own words, but press on, "if I left you, it wasn't my choice."
He thought about that. He'd doubted, back when he'd been the man with big ears and leather, and then the man with the great hair and the suits, that she meant what she said when she used the word forever. It had been a small thought at the back of his mind that had constantly negating the idea that she could love him enough to stay, to not see her mum or Mickey every day.
Since having lost her, he'd wondered if she hadn't been right. If she hadn't been ripped away from him, would she have stayed?
"I lost you," he told her, his voice cracking. "And I can't go back to you."
She slid her hand into his and wove their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze. He was amazed at how their hands seem to fit together, regardless of which incarnation he was.
She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze. "Then I'll find you." Her words were a promise. He opened his mouth to tell her it was impossible, but she frowned and his mouth closed
A familiar sound interrupted their moment, leaves lifted from the ground as the TARDIS materialized a few feet away from them. Rose squeezed his hand before letting it go, standing to make her way over to her proper Doctor.
He watched her go.
As she jogged over to the TARDIS, he called her name.
She turned.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked her.
She smiled. "You're my Doctor. I always know." He smiled back at her, and she turned and disappeared into the TARDIS.
He stood from the bench and started to make his way back to Clara, Rose's words burning in his mind.
I'll find you.