"The End and the Beginning of Me"
A Brose One-Shot
She clasps his hand and off they're soaring. Through time and space. Defying gravity and every shred of knowledge he'd ever pounded into his head about science and the universe. It was a thrilling experience. One which he relished. Simply because, for those few seconds, there was nothing but the warmth of her palm surrounding his and the rhythm of his racing heart pounding in his ears.
There was no "other guy." There was no rage, no darkness embedded in his soul just waiting to be released. It's the happiest he's felt since his accident with the Gamma radiation. If he's being completely honest, it's the happiest he's felt in his entire life.
He turns his head just slightly and looks on her face. It is bright and shining. He loves the way her brown eyes reflect the starlight surrounding them. Her hair is blowing freely around her face and her smile is gorgeous. She looks like the epitome of contentment.
He realizes, looking at her, that he loves her. He loves her more than anything else in his life. She's compassionate and so beautiful that it hurts. Because no matter how he feels, he knows that her heart belongs to another man. A mad man with a blue box. Her ability to love so fully is the ultimate reason that he has to let her go.
He's all feeling and joy and in the next moment, his body slams into the ground. It takes him a few moments to gather his wits. He's gone from being immersed in dreams-bright, happy, and shining-to being cold, empty, and alone.
He'll admit it. He misses Rose. Misses her like his life depends on it. And in a way, it does. Every day since he told her to stop traversing the galaxies, to stop ripping apart the time-space continuum, he's regretted it. He can't breathe properly without her beside him. He can't think, he can't sleep. He can do nothing but take care of his patients and wonder what could have been.
The worst part is not knowing. He has no idea where she is, how she's doing, who she is with. All he can do is wait. And wait he does.
Every hour, every minute of every day.
He's just finished visiting an elderly woman with arthritis when it happens. He's nearly home, his feet planted ten feet from the entrance of the abandoned building that he's taken up residence in. He doesn't know how she found him, but she's there. Standing before him like she never left at all.
He takes a step forward. And another until he is standing directly in front of her. She's more beautiful now than ever. Her hair is pulled away from her face in a messy ponytail and he knows it's because she came here in a hurry. He doesn't get much further in his analysis of her. He sees the tears gathering in her eyes and something breaks inside of him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around her. Pulling her as tightly to his chest as he dares. He's only just gotten her back, however temporary that position might be, and he will risk nothing that will push her away again.
She cries silently in his arms, never once making a sound. It terrifies him. What the hell has happened in these past few months to cause this degree of devastation?
The question, while rhetorical, doesn't take him long to figure out for himself. Even if he doesn't know the whole story, he knows that she's broken because of the Doctor. The man has hurt her again and though he feels slightly guilty for thinking it, he knows that no matter how great he is, her Doctor doesn't deserve her.
After a few minutes, she shifts in his arms and he allows her to pull away. She shoots him a grateful smile and wipes her eyes with her sleeve.
"Sorry about that," she mutters. The he realizes he won't ever get a full explanation from her. He shakes his head, thinking nothing of it. It doesn't matter. She's here now and that's all that counts to him. He gestures silently to his front door, a peace offering. A plea for her forgiveness. She turns immediately and makes her way inside as if she'd been there a million times already. He follows, wondering what surprises she has in store for him now.
She sinks onto the moth-eaten couch. He sits down beside her, suddenly as nervous as the day he'd met her. He wrings his hands slowly, methodically. He has no idea what to expect. His pulse is racing. His breath catches in his chest.
"I've missed you, Bruce."
Her soft voice pierces his thoughts. His neck cracks as he glances up at her. He can't stop himself from feeling hopeful. Just maybe there is a way to fix this between them.
He chuckles humorlessly, his hands wringing just that much faster. God he's shaking!
"I, uh, I missed you too, Rose. How-how have you been?" he asks, his tone cautious and gentle. He notices the slight slump of her shoulders. He hopes it is relief, but can't be sure. He has never been sure with her.
"I've been alright. It's been hard these past few months," she replies. It sounds like she's taking great care with her words, something she's never had to do before. Of course, she's not been around to take in the quiet desperation that had taken over his life. He knew that she probably wasn't as freaked out about his odd condition as he imagined, but he still felt horrible.
He could still see her face. Burned into the back of his mind. Her eyes flashing with fear and anxiety as his body transformed into the great green, hulking mass of a monster. He can still hear her heartbeat pumping wildly in her chest. He can still feel the rush of the dimension canon as she disappeared from his life. He didn't blame her for being freaked out. Especially given the argument that had been her introduction to his other side.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, the words tumbling out too fast for him to take them back. For a breathless moment, he imagines that maybe those words won't be enough. He wouldn't blame her, he really wouldn't, for not forgiving him.
Another heartbeat, another rush of air through his lungs, and she's thrown her arms around his neck. He can feel the renewed tears sinking into his shirt. He couldn't care less as he hugs her back with a desperation he's never felt so acutely up til now.
"Bruce, I'm sorry. You'd never mentioned it. I was just so scared," Rose mutters, her skin feverish against his own. Despite himself, he smiles.
"I know. Rose, I know. I didn't mean to..."
"Hulk out like that?"
"Exactly! And I've regretted it ever day since you've been gone," Bruce whispers, his forehead falling onto her shoulder as she grips him tighter still. His nerves are alight with fire. It's all a little too much. The joy, the relief. She'll be his undoing but he knows that he'd rather have a million years with this woman than face the world alone.
A/N: Yet another slightly confuzzled Brose story, but I hope it makes sense a little bit. Enough to read the story and enjoy it anyway. Basically, Bruce gets upset when Rose tells him she has to find the Doctor again because of all the stars going out. He turns into the Hulk and Rose disappears for a few months.
I really hope someone enjoys this. It was really easy to get out and I'm hoping that maybe some not-so-angsty words will make their way through my mind soon. I'd like to write something slightly more happy and up-beat.