This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon the television series Doctor Who. All related characters, places, and events, belong to the BBC, and Russell T. Davies, used without permission. This story, with all original content, belongs to the author, © 2008.

Only Time
by Orianna2000

Chapter One – Where the Day Flows

"Who can say where the road goes, where the day flows? Only time." —Enya

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the first day, Rose Tyler found the TARDIS where it should not have been.

At first, she deliberately walked right past it, huddling into her jacket and shivering from the damp breeze. The Doctor had dropped them off early that morning, insisting that they take a few days holiday so Mickey could recover from his first official adventure in Time and Space. He'd said he wouldn't return for a few days and that he'd be busy tracking down some rare but vital parts for the TARDIS.

Of course, she knew it was rubbish. He just wanted to be alone, and why didn't he bother saying so? God forbid the almighty Time Lord should need time off.

That said, why would he park the TARDIS near the Powell Estate, in plain view of anyone who bothered to look? Rose glanced back at the TARDIS and bit her lip. Maybe he wanted to apologise. Or maybe he'd just decided he didn't want to be alone after all. She pulled her phone out to see if he had tried to call while she'd been down at Mickey's flat. But no, he wouldn't ask her to come back, would he? He'd wait and let her return of her own choice.

A sudden downpour of rain decided for her. It would take longer to reach the flat than it would to reach the TARDIS. She ran.

At first her key wouldn't turn in the lock. Her heart skipped a few beats as she tried again, her mind refusing to even think about the possibility that he would've locked her out of the TARDIS. She pressed one hand against the blue wood panelling and tried one last time, removing her key and then sliding it back into the lock, in case it had got jammed. This time it turned easily; she pushed open the door with a sigh of relief.

The green light of the time rotor brightened when she walked in, but the room itself stayed eerily dark. At least it didn't feel creepy, not with the TARDIS broadcasting a silent welcome that tickled the back of Rose's mind. It felt like coming home after a long holiday. Granted, to an unlit and freezing flat . . . but home nonetheless.

As she walked up the ramp she could see the Doctor—or a shadow that she assumed to be the Doctor—sitting on the floor beneath the console, greasy mechanical parts scattered about within reach.

"What's all this?" She kept her tone light and tried not to sound concerned. As she spoke, she hung her damp jacket up on the coat rack and began to wring the water out of her hair. "Change your mind, Doctor?"

He didn't give any indication that he'd heard her. Perhaps he hadn't. She knew how he got involved in his work, especially when bothered by something, to the point where he'd shut out everything in order to concentrate. Except, he didn't seem to be working. He hadn't moved since she'd walked in. If she didn't know better, she'd say that he'd fallen asleep. Imagine that—the Doctor, sleeping! He must not have been expecting her then, or else he hadn't expected to fall asleep. Typical, that.

Rose leaned against one of the organic columns and cleared her throat. "Doctor?"

He inhaled and jerked awake, consequently banging his head on the underside of the console. While she smothered a laugh, he gave a short curse in his native language and leaped to his feet. "Right then! Where're we off to?" he asked loudly.

From her vantage point, Rose watched as the Doctor danced around the console, pressing buttons and twirling dials. "How about . . . Jamaica? The planet, not the island. Their beaches are rubbish but they've a spectacular meteor shower this time of year. Sky filled with trails of fire. Or . . . or! The moons of Ceox'a'tesh. Rainbow sunsets that last twenty-one hours each. What do you—oh." He stopped mid-sentence and fell still, facing away from Rose. "Never mind. What am I chattering on about? No one to impress but myself."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Shall I go fetch Mickey, then? You can babble on about spaceships and moondust all you want with 'im. You needn't bother for my sake. I'll go anywhere, me."

"That so?" He rubbed at his face and sighed.

"Whatcha doing back so early? I knew you couldn't last three days without me," she said, with only a trace of gloating.

He straightened his jacket, taking the time to redo the buttons. "Well, you're being rude! I thought figments of one's imagination were always polite and well behaved, lest they get chucked into the refuse bin. Although . . . considering whose imagination you've come from, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Rude and not ginger, that's me. And you, come to think of it."

"I'm being rude? Oi! At least I've never called you a—what was it? A figment? That's what I get for checking on you, I suppose. Not that I could've stayed out there in that rain. Cats and dogs out there." She shivered a bit. "What're you doing sleeping out here, anyway? Bed too comfortable?"

The Doctor stared at her. "What?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed away from the pillar. "I said, is your bed too comfortable? Just look at you, all rumpled. Your hair's sticking up every which way—you look like a hedgehog!"

"What?" he repeated, his voice sharp and his eyes wide.

"If this is you first thing in the morning, no wonder you never sleep." And after all the teasing she'd put up with about her own early morning appearance! With a stern look, Rose crossed over to the Doctor and combed her fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it out. He convulsed at her touch, took a half step backward, and ended up tripping over the box of tools left out. She reached out and tried to grab his arm as he began to fall, but he jerked away from her and grabbed onto the console instead. With equal parts confusion and hurt, she watched as he hauled himself upright and then stumbled backwards to the other side of the console, all without taking his eyes off her.

"What's got into you?" She crossed her arms, a bit hurt. "I was just tryin' to help."

He pulled his glasses out of a pocket, slipped them on, and peered at her from behind the lenses. Apparently unsatisfied, he threw the glasses onto the console. They clattered against a knob and then came to a halt beside the vortex manipulator controls. He made a sudden sound and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. As he began scanning himself, he muttered, "S'got to be a hallucination. Either that or I'm still asleep. Could be an especially vivid dream, I suppose, though it seems real enough."

"What're you on about? And if you won't answer that, will you at least tell me what you're doing back so soon? You said three days, right? And it's not even been one. I wouldn't even have noticed the TARDIS was here, except that I was on my way home from Mickey's. Did you get the dates wrong again?" She rubbed at her arms, feeling gooseflesh against her fingertips. "Blimey, it's cold in here!"

He tossed the sonic screwdriver beside his glasses. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mickey?"

"Yeah. We watched a football game he'd taped while we were gone. All of time and space, but he can't stand to miss a match." She made a face. "So, have you changed your mind? Shall I go fetch 'im?"

He looked at her blankly.

"D'you want to leave already? Shall I go and get Mickey? You know: Mickey. Short bloke, dark skin. Also known as Rickey, or 'the idiot'. Been travelling with us." She narrowed her eyes at him. Something definitely seemed off. "Sure you didn't hit your head when you fell?"

"No. No, I don't think so. Although, maybe I did." He ran a hand through his hair, ostensibly to check his scalp for bruises, but with the result of making his hair look even more wild. "I don't understand it. You're here. And you shouldn't be here."

She nodded slowly. "Right. I'll just go, yeah?"

He reacted immediately and violently, running around the console to block her path to the door. With his eyes focused on her face, he held a finger up in remonstration. "No! No, no—no. No!"

"Look, s'all right. You're not ready for company yet. When I saw the TARDIS, I thought maybe . . . but I was wrong. I should've just kept walking, but you know me. Had to be sure you were okay."

"Don't go. Rose, please." He reached for her, but pulled his hand back without touching her.

The nebulous look in his eyes worried Rose. She sighed and crossed her arms. "Look. If you want me to stick around, can you at least turn the heat up—and maybe put the lights on?"

"Yes! Yes, I can do that. Definitely, yes!" He seemed relieved to have something to occupy himself with. After dashing back to the controls, he flipped open a small control box. He glanced around the room and then tapped in some numbers. "Heat? Yes, there we go. Temperature raised to human normal—bit warm for me, but I'll get used to it. Always do. And lights! No problem."

Slowly the lighting came up, changing from a dim amber to a warm golden glow that contrasted with the blue-green of the time rotor. Rose rubbed her arms again, but she could feel the air growing warmer. "That's better. What'd you keep it so cold for, anyway?"

"No humans around," he answered, still fiddling with the controls. "No reason to keep it so hot. Saves a bit of energy, too."

"What d'you mean, hot? It's always a bit nippy in here."

"For you." He lifted a hand to point at her, then gestured vaguely at himself. "Time Lord, remember? Different physiology. My normal body temperature is a bit more than twenty degrees lower than yours. What's chilly to you is just about right for me. If you'd ever visited Gallifrey, you'd have wanted a coat, but I could've walked around in shirtsleeves. Well, I could've if it wouldn't have got me imprisoned for irreverence. Former presidents are supposed to maintain the image, after all."

She walked over to the console and casually leaned against it, aware that the Doctor kept looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, even though he tried to appear nonchalantly busy. "So, Gallifrey? Where's that, then, our next destination?"

"What? No . . . no. Here." He activated the monitor and slid it around to her.

Rose examined the screen, curious. It showed a view of sharp mountains carved from glaciers. The snow reflected back a luminous dark orange; the entire sky glowed as though in the last stages of sunset. After a moment, the scene changed to show a city enclosed by a forcefield. The orange sky reflected off the glass buildings with a thousand sparks of light, so that it coruscated with life.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "Why can't we go there?"

"Oh, you would've loved it. The mountains, the sky, the Citadel." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "But it's gone, now. Consumed in flames. Nothing but dust and rocks orbiting a black hole."

"Gallifrey. It's your home," she realised with a jolt. "You never said what it was called before."

He shrugged and Rose noticed something. She furrowed her brow. "Doctor, what happened to your suit? I thought it was just the lighting, but it's not—you're wearing blue! Since when do you wear a blue suit?"

He glanced down at the wrinkled trousers. "Oh. Dark blue is the colour of mourning on Gallifrey. It's just something I put on," he added quickly.

"No, it's not. Look, it's okay. I understand. You need more time, yeah?" Rose ran a hand through her damp hair and gave a sad laugh. "I keep thinking, why should you mourn for someone who's been dead three hundred years? But it hasn't been that long, has it? Not for us. Not for you."

"Three hundred years?" He made a face of confusion. "Blimey! It hasn't been that long, has it?"

She snorted. "All right, so I'm not good at maths. No fair rubbing it in. Three hundred, two hundred fifty, whatever. My point is that I keep expecting you to just get over it, but you can't. It's not that easy when you just said goodbye yesterday."

"Yesterday? What're you talking about?" He stared at her with a wrinkle above his nose. "Wait a minute. How can you even know what happened? That's impossible!"

"I was there, remember? Me and Mickey—on the spaceship, waiting for you? You sure you didn't hit your head back there?"

He put one hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. "Spaceship? Mickey. Of course! You just got back from Mickey's first trip in the TARDIS. Clockwork robots, time portals to eighteenth-century France, Madame de Pompadour. I acted a right git that day, didn't I?"

"Yeah, that's right. Not that I blame you. You always try to save everybody, and you wouldn't be the Doctor if you didn't." She lifted one shoulder in half-hearted acceptance. "You just dropped us off here this morning—said Mickey needed time to adjust, to figure out if travelling with us is what he really wants. But I know you just wanted to be alone."

The Doctor nodded with a wry smile. "Went off to sulk a bit, I did. Was gone a couple of weeks, though it was only a few days on your end. Did some work on the vortex stabilizers, picked up a few parts on . . . what was that place called? Ryax VII, wasn't it? Found a bazaar that sold rare ship components, bought up everything they had that would integrate with the TARDIS' systems. Came back three days later, from your point of view. I remember."

Rose stared at the Doctor. All the little things started adding up in her head—his despondency, the startled way he'd reacted upon seeing her, the blue suit, the way he'd talked about things—they all swirled together, until she finally inhaled with comprehension.

"You're not my Doctor. You're from the future."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Doctor gave a short nod. "Clever girl."

She started backing toward the door. "I shouldn't be here."

"No! Rose. Listen to me," he said, taking several quick steps to reach her. She tried to turn toward the door, but he caught her by the arms. "Rose! Please! Don't go."

She wriggled in his grasp. "Doctor, you're from my future—it'll make a paradox."

"No." He pointed an admonishing finger at her, still gripping her arm with his other hand. "No, it won't. We're inside the TARDIS. We're protected here."

Rose jerked her head from side to side. After meeting her father, and almost destroying the world, she'd read up on paradoxes, causality, uncertainty principles, and a lot of other complex things that had given her a headache. What she'd come away with was the understanding that crossing your timeline was bad. It was dangerous and easily led to paradoxes, which led to all manner of bad things, including Reapers. If she could figure that out, why couldn't he? She tried to speak slowly, to make him understand. "Doctor, it isn't safe. I can't be here."

"Yes—yes, you can! That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Don't tell me anything. Don't you dare! I've seen what Reapers can do, and I'm not having it."

He started to speak, but she wrenched free enough so that she could clamp her hands over her ears. "You're going to cause a paradox. I'm not listening!"

"Rose! Stop that and just hear me out. This is important."

She screwed her eyes shut so she couldn't see his lips moving.

The next thing she knew, something soft and cool pressed against her mouth. Lips. Chilled alien lips, kissing her. The Doctor. Kissing her.

Gasping, she opened her eyes. He pulled back and cautiously met her gaze. She stared, frozen and astonished. When she spoke, she stuttered, still feeling the strange sensation on her lips. "We . . . but, we don't—we don't do that."

"Right. Of course," he answered, too quickly. He let go and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Don't know what I was thinking."

And then he kissed her again.

His hands pressed against her jaw, holding her face as he brushed his lips against hers. A sharp tingle jolted through her with the contact, almost a physical shock, but it carried with it a wave of desire. She found herself kissing him back, savouring the odd contrast of the warmth of her mouth and the coolness of his. It reminded her of his alien nature in a way she couldn't ignore.

As enthusiastically as he kissed, he lacked finesse and ease of experience. Rose got the impression that the Doctor had never kissed anyone like this before. Certainly he'd kissed—in over nine hundred years, he could hardly have avoided it. But not like this—not deliberately, where the gentle touch of tongues that sent shivers through her body meant something. And she could tell that it meant everything to him, for she could feel him shaking, his body pressed against hers with a longing that frightened her.

"Rose. Oh, Rose." His whispers echoed in her mind, intertwined with a fragile melody, and she could feel his desperation, his melancholy, and his overpowering need. It coursed through her, igniting every cell in her body. Her skin tingled where he stroked her. Every touch felt like icy fire as he caressed her arms, her neck, the small of her back where her shirt rode up.

She broke away from the kiss, but kept her arms around him so he wouldn't take it as a rejection. He buried his face in her shoulder and trembled. With soft, soothing strokes, she rubbed the back of his neck. She could think of only one explanation for all of this. "I'm dead—aren't I?"

"No!" His head came up instantly, his voice intense. "No, you're not dead."

"It's all right. I hope it was a good death," she said softly.

The Doctor shook his head firmly. "No. You didn't—you're gone. But not dead! I promise. We . . . we got separated. There was nothing I could do—I tried. I tried everything. But I can't get to you, it's impossible. But," he added, "you're not alone. You have your family with you: your mum, and Mickey, and—well. Everyone you care about."

"Except you."

He pulled her tight against him once more, and whispered, so that she could barely hear his words. "I miss you. You don't know what it's like . . . day after day, alone. I go on, but I wonder what for? What's the point in saving the universe when I'm alone?"

"You're not alone now," she pointed out gently, grazing the side of his neck with her fingers.

"No. No, I'm not." His eyes met hers and he started to smile. "But this is brilliant! I can take you with me! We can go on, just like before, so long as I eventually return you to this same point in time. It'll be like old times, yeah?"

But Rose shook her head. Her hands slid down to the Doctor's chest. "We can't do that. You know we can't—it's too dangerous. What if something happened? Suppose I got hurt or killed, or you got the dates wrong and didn't get me back on time? It'd make a right mess of everything. And besides," she said softly, "sooner or later, you'd have to give me up again."

He pulled away and turned his back on her. His hand found its way into the back of his hair and tugged at the strands with a nervous emphasis. "I can't do this, Rose. I can't lose you again."

"That's why I can't go with you. But. . . ." And she furrowed her forehead in thought. "We have time, yeah? You—the other you—aren't going to come back for me and Mickey for another three days."

"That isn't enough time," he said bluntly. "I can't spend three days with you and then let go, knowing I'll never see you again. I can't do that—I won't. It'll break me."

Rose felt her heart twist. She took a step forward and slid her hand into his. "Look, there has to be a reason why you found me, here and now. What if . . . what if you didn't spend all three days with me at once? You're a Time Lord, yeah? So, what if you only spent one day with me, and then came back the next day? Like rationing your chocolates, eating 'em one by one to draw out the fun. It'd only be a few hours for me, but for you—you could wait and only come back every so often . . . when you need to."

The Doctor turned to look at Rose, a peculiar expression on his face. "One day at a time?"

She nodded uncertainly. Who knew where the idea had come from—it had just sort of spilled out of her. He'd probably call her a stupid ape and then go on to explain why such a plan was foolish or impossible. . . .

But then, he wouldn't be smiling at her, would he? Not that it came anywhere close to his normal grin, which never failed to make her smile in return. Still, it was a start.

"Rose Tyler. You never cease to amaze me," he said and tugged her close. "You're brilliant, that's what. Absolutely brilliant. I couldn't bear to have you for three days and then never see you again. But a whole day? Knowing I could come back whenever I want? That . . . I think I can do. Three days of summer, that's what this is."

A little wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. "But . . . it's February."

"'I question not if thrushes sing, if roses load the air; beyond my heart I need not reach, when all is summer there,'" he quoted in reply. Rose just stared at him, so he continued, "John Vance Cheney, a nineteenth century poet said that, and he's right: so long as you're with me, it's warm and the sun is shining. Well . . . not technically, unless you count the time rotor's light. But, you know, metaphorically! I love metaphors, don't you?"

She snorted in response. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead against hers, sobering just a bit.

"It's a cold universe without Rose Tyler at my side, but this'll be like Indian summer—isn't that what you call it? When it gets warm again after the first frost. A second chance, that's what this is. A gift! The best present anyone's ever given me. Although . . . that does make it seem a bit more like Christmas than summer, doesn't it? But . . . oh, but!" The pitch of his voice rose, along with his eyebrows, as he worked through the problem. "In Australia, December comes in the middle of summer, right? So I suppose that works after all, doesn't it? Well . . . technically, I suppose we'd have to take the TARDIS down under, but I've always been a bit shy of Australia. Well, at least, ever since the great Marsupial Rebellion of 2901. D'you remember that, Rose? All those kangaroos trying to kill us! Hopping for our lives, trying to get away! It was loads of fun, and fantastic exercise, but it's definitely put me off of Australia."

And then Rose decided that he'd babbled on enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

During a break from snogging each other breathless, they agreed that he would leave at midnight and return early the next morning. She tried to get him to leave only a few minutes in-between visits, to maximise their time together, but he insisted that she required at least six hours sleep, and besides, it wasn't a good idea to materialize without a healthy chronological gap.

"The TARDIS isn't always dead accurate, you know," he pointed out. "She tries, poor old girl, but there's a random glitch in her navigation systems; I've tried a hundred times but haven't been able to fix it."

So, like a male version of Cinderella, the Doctor had to leave by midnight. "And the original truly was a man," he admitted conspiratorially. "Youngest son of a quite large peasant family in Britannia, without a lot of prospects. No magic involved, just a few well-placed bribes during Saturnalia. He managed to ensure that he and the girl he fancied were crowned king and queen for the event, but he always had to disappear before she could learn his identity. For three years, he did this, and each time she became more enamoured with her festival 'spouse'."

"How'd she find out who he was, then?" Rose asked, curled up against him on the seat beside the console. "Did he leave a shoe behind when he ran off? Or his mask, maybe?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No shoes or masks. But he did leave something behind, eventually. See, the first year it was just a few shy kisses under the mistletoe, but the year after that, things progressed quite a bit. The year after that, well. . . ." He cleared his throat significantly. "Let's just say that on the fourth year, he showed up and found his Saturnalia queen carrying a three month old baby in her arms."

"And they lived happily ever after," she concluded wryly.

"Well . . . it was the one sure way of guaranteeing a bride, back then." He shrugged. "Shotgun wedding and all that. Or rather—broadsword wedding, since black powder hadn't been invented."

"You know," Rose said, "I think Mum was always worried that I'd come back from one of our adventures pregnant with an alien baby. I dunno if she was more afraid of me being a single teenage mum, or of her grandchild having tentacles."

"Oi! I don't have tentacles! Well," he added gravely, "only the one, anyway."

Rose half-giggled half-snorted, and buried her head against the Doctor's chest. He put his arm around her. "Besides, haven't I always been a proper gentleman? Gave you your own room and bath, never made any untoward advances."

"Yeah, you're awfully dense, aren't you?"

"Hmm?"

She lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

It took a few seconds, but finally he blinked as her meaning sunk in. "Oh? Yes, well, I suppose you did say you loved me, after all, and you didn't exactly slap me when I kissed you earlier this afternoon."

"Wait—what?"

"You said we didn't do that sort of thing, and then you kissed me right back. Blimey, it was just a few hours ago! D'you mean you don't remember?" He stared at her with concern.

"No, I remember that. Don't think I'll ever forget," she said with a bit of a blush. "It's the saying 'I love you' part that I don't recall. When did that happen?"

As she watched, his whole expression changed, going from haunted to deliberately blank in a matter of seconds.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Before I . . . before we got separated, yeah? Or when it happened?"

"No. Actually, it was after." He breathed out and continued in a rush. "I couldn't get to you, but I was able to send a hologram through, sort of like a inter-universal telephone call. We didn't have long, but I was stupid and nervous and spent most of the time babbling about your family. You were the smart one—didn't waste a minute. Got right to the point, you did. I tried to tell you, then, but. . . ."

"You ran out of time. . . ." she finished for him, with tears in her eyes.

"I'm a Time Lord; time ought to be under my command, but instead it's the opposite. I never have enough time when it matters most." He let out a shaky chuckle. "That's what happens when you don't pay attention in class, I suppose. Never did get high grades at the Academy."

This time, she kissed him . . . and the voices in her mind sang of love.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When the time came, all too soon, she wondered if the Doctor would rebel and try to keep her with him despite the danger of creating a paradox. He clung to her, beside the door, and she wanted to cry on his behalf. After all, she still had plenty of time left with her Doctor. But this future Doctor . . . he'd already lost her.

But instead of making a fuss, he kissed her one last time and then bravely let go.

"I'll see you in the morning, right?" She tugged fondly at his tie.

He grinned, and no one but Rose would notice the tightness at the corners of his smile or the strained look in his eyes. "First thing."

"Right then. Keep out of trouble, yeah?"

"Oh, you know me. . . ."

"I do! So, stay out of trouble."

He gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

And though he couldn't risk stepping out of the TARDIS to walk her to her door, Rose felt the Doctor's gaze follow her all the way the home.

(To Be Continued. . . .)

Author's Notes: This story contains three long chapters, plus an epilogue. The rating given is for non-explicit love scenes in later chapters. For her excellent beta-reading and Brit-picking, I have to thank ShinyOpals.