DISCLAIMER: I definitely don't own Doctor Who, no matter how many first stars I wish on.
A/N: Slightly spoiler-y for those who haven't seen the 2013 Christmas Special, so you've been warned. Also, I realize this is highly speculative, as we have no idea what Twelve will be like. However, this little plot-bunny would not let go of my leg, so here it is. :) Inspired by "Oh Susannah' by Pete Roe, written in an afternoon so apologies for any glaring mistakes.
He nearly giggled he was so giddy, when the realization hit him.
He ran his affectionately across the console, grinning madly. With Gallifrey having been saved, any prior impediments to his travels had been lifted. The universe (or should he say universes) now lay before him, vast and tempting and calling to his hearts, to his love of adventure. His freedom.
There was only one place to go, obviously.
"Well, old girl, up for the trip?"
He felt the TARDIS cautious joy in the back of his mind. "Now, now," the Doctor continued, "I'll have none of that." He began pulling levers and flipping switches in a mad dance. "We're just going..." He faltered. "... Just going to pop in and say hello. Like a dear friend should, yes."
The TARDIS began its wheezing groan as the time rotors moved. She keened at him, mournful and warning, questioning his decision.
"I know, I know..." He replied aloud. It had been, what? At least five hundred years for him. Yet still his thoughts often drifted back to that golden girl, his pink and yellow human. Her desolate look haunted his dreams, the words he'd left unsaid still lingering in the air, refusing to leave him entirely. His Rose.
"I need this, old girl. In the very least, I should let her and the meta-crisis know that the gateways are open again, right? It's only fair." He consoled himself. Yes, that was a good excuse. "They need to know if it's safe to travel once their own TARDIS is complete."
The Doctor could swear he heard the TARDIS sigh. He ignored it.
After landing (it was much smoother this time, maybe this incarnation had finally gotten the hang of driving his beautiful ship), he felt himself hesitate, instead of bolting to the door as he'd always imagined he would.
Five hundred years... He'd programmed his landing for only five years after they'd last seen each other, but for him, well, time had most definitely marked him more deeply. He glanced at his hands - an old man's hands now. The Doctor became infinitely more aware of the deep lines framing his now grey blue eyes, forming parentheses at the corners of his thin mouth.
He felt his hearts stumble. She wouldn't even recognize him now. Not at all. Not in this body.
The TARDIS stepped in then, a tender, sympathetic presence in his darkening thoughts. He soaked it up, grateful for her even when he knew he took her for granted time and time again.
"What am I doing?" A rhetorical question at best.
Carefully, the Doctor felt her pushing him toward the door. He steeled himself as he approached, second and third and fourth guesses dogging his heels. Was this really the right thing to do? Did he really think it was right to just arrive unannounced and strange back into Rose's life, however briefly and innocently he may have justified? It had seemed so clear only minutes ago, and now...
He turned the handle.
A warm blast of sun beat down on his face as he took in the sight of parallel London before him. People milled around, attending to their daily business took no heed of the strange blue box and the strange old man poking his head out it, however reluctantly.
The Doctor took a few steps out, taking a moment to admire the skyline full of airships. He'd only just cleared the doorway when he heard the latch lock itself behind him. He chuckled. Apparently the TARDIS felt he had to complete his task whether or not he wanted to now. He'd no choice.
She admonished him gently in his mind, like a mother who knew their child's decision would lead them to certain trouble. He ignored it, again.
Trouble was what kept things interesting, after all.
He'd searched for 5 hours now, with no luck. He found himself leaning on a pedestrian bridge in a park somewhere in London's north end, watching with increasing frustration as people who were not Rose (or even his meta-crisis self) continued to file by. The Doctor could see as some children ran and squealed nearby in the play park, completely oblivious to the dark mood he felt creeping in on him.
Maybe the TARDIS had been right, after all. Maybe this was a fool's errand, sticking his nose where it should've never gone, as he often did. Perhaps, he thought, some things were better left alone. Perhaps Rose was one of them.
The Doctor straightened himself up and was just about to turn back to the way he came when a flash of gold caught his eye some 20 yards away. Lightening quick, his eyes darted to the sight, and his ears welcomed the confirmation of a boisterous laugh: there, walking with their backs to him toward the park, side by side with his meta-crisis, was Rose Tyler in all her glory.
He wanted so desperately to soak in the sight of her, to etch at least this moment forever in mind to replace some of his sadder ones. Her hair had grown longer again, the soft blonde waves dancing past her shoulders. She wore similar clothes to what she'd always worn, and had the Doctor not known it had been five years since, he would've sworn she'd just stepped off the TARDIS for the first time. She looked so vibrant.
The Doctor stood frozen on the bridge, finally taking in the full scene. They looked so blissfully happy together, Rose and her Doctor... and then he noticed the pram.
Pram?!
Rose knelt down next to it, and beamed as she lifted a small girl from it. Couldn't have been more than one or two years old at most, but his hearts sunk with the realization. The little girl squealed and babbled, and the Doctor took note of her wild brown hair, and sparkling hazel eyes. Well, no doubts there, then. His hearts began to crack a little more around the edges.
It was only then that he noticed the cold, hard stare the meta-crisis Doctor was boring into him. He started, and felt a flush of embarrassment sweep over him. Probably thought he was some old lecher, hanging about the play park. But as much as he wanted to tear away his gaze, he felt locked into place.
Carefully, he watched as the meta-crisis gently grasped Rose's arm and pulled her closer. His steely gaze kept flickering back toward the Doctor as he whispered a few quiet words into her ear, and he could see her whole body stiffen, though she fought it. What had he said...?
The vivacious tot broke the tension with a loud cry of "DADA!" (as the Doctor's hearts struggled with their steady beats) and Rose's Doctor grinned warmly, taking the child from her arms. He spoke a few quiet words into Rose's ear, and the child giggled and grinned back. Together they began to wander to the nearby swing set.
Rose, on the other hand, stood firmly in place next to the pram, very stiffly turned away from where the Doctor stood, unmoving and tense.
Part of him wanted so desperately to rush to her, to have her beam that beautiful smile he remembered so fondly at him, to hear her say "Doctor", just once more. Part of him still urged him to run, run like he'd never run before, and leave his lovely Rose to this little piece of paradise she'd carved out of a universe she never belonged to.
Rose turned, slowly then, to meet the Doctor's gaze, and he felt his breath catch. She looked... so sad. Sad? No, that wasn't quite it. Pitying? Apologetic? Sympathetic? Those started to touch on it, but he found even they weren't quite it, either.
She held his stare steady as they took each other in, and he felt his blood run strangely cold as realization took hold. She knew. She knew it was him. Her Doctor must've picked up on his presence. That was what he had whispered to her, mostly likely. Look, there he is. It's him. That daft old man up on the bridge, staring at us like we're his lifeline. Look. Look.
As she continued to hold his gaze, she shook her head. No. And she turned away, pushing the pram toward her little family, smiling and shining in the sun.
The Doctor's hearts splintered in his chest.
He wasn't sure how long it had taken him to stumble away and back to his TARDIS, but he'd never felt so hollow even as the TARDIS's warm consolation wrapped itself around his fractured mind. The Doctor slumped against the door once it had closed, and found himself surprised at the dampness on his cheeks.
He wiped them away in irritation, even as new tears fell.
"You knew this would happen," he whispered, finally, to the air.
Yes, she did, the TARDIS confirmed. She knew many things he did not.
"Why..." The Doctor's voice broke slightly, "Why did you let me come here?"
"...I always took you where you needed to go."
Her words echoed in his mind as she tapped into that memory. He winced, their bite stinging and renewed with his afternoon's adventures. Yes, he thought, you do. You always do, old girl.
He took a ragged breath and stood, his earlier bravado dampened. He caressed the railings as he walked toward the console, apologetically. The TARDIS echoed the sentiments.
Some things were better off left alone, he thought. A lesson finally, perhaps, hard learned.
"All of time and space..." He muttered, smiling wryly. It was time to move on. Time, at long last, to let the past go. The Doctor felt himself lighten ever so slightly, a small spark of brightness finding its way into his thoughts. At least he still had the TARDIS. At least they still had each other. He rubbed the console affectionately.
"Where should we start this time?"