BOUND
Somehow, she felt betrayed. It wasn't the seething anger of a true betrayal, the kind that seeps through every fiber of your being. The sort that makes you pace, back and forth, waiting for the betrayer to return, so you can sling your arrows of accusation at them. No, it wasn't that sort. Because, truth be told, he was blameless. It was, rather, a cold, wearying feeling. The sickening sensation that she'd done this to herself dropped heavily into her gut and set her off-balance. The notion took hold over her and she collapsed, sinking straight to the steps in the control room of the TARDIS. It wasn't the Doctor's betrayal, she realized with clarity. Rose Tyler had betrayed herself with her own heart.
The TARDIS began to buck and twist in time and space, and Rose pressed her hands into the step to steady herself. She could feel the ship hum supportively to her, giving her strength. Self-deception hurt, she realized painfully. All this time she'd been carrying on under the impression that he cared for her. Amazing believed the lie that he loved her, like she did him. And yet, like so many before her, Rose Tyler had come to a startling and heart-breaking discovery. She was replaceable. To come to the understanding that she was just another companion had been like a dagger to her heart. Peripheral worries and cares, flitting on the edge of consciousness like so many butterflies, had been brought sharply into focus by the clear lens of truth that was Sarah Jane.
Rose didn't hate her. She wasn't even jealous of Sarah Jane. Not anymore. If anything she was grateful for the insight. It wasn't often that she got a straight answer on board this ship. In a strange way, although she'd been relieved that Sarah Jane had left, Rose almost wished the older woman had stayed. Perhaps together they could have figured the aggravating Time Lord out. The Doctor was certainly not one for the truth. He imparted things, in a roundabout way. Facts trickled down to her, over time and with much prodding. Little snippets of his life and his past were parceled out to her, like precious keepsakes that he was loath to share.
And so it was Sarah Jane who was the great bringer of truth. The harbinger of epiphany. An angel, in a way. For it was Sarah Jane who taught her that she was, in fact, no one special. It wasn't imparted to her with condensation or said snidely. Rose could've sworn she heard sorrow in Sarah Jane's voice, not for herself, but for Rose. Now she knew she was just another in a long line of travelers. Of companions. Friends. Destined to be jettisoned off like so much baggage once the Doctor was done with her. That was when the dagger began to twist.
It was funny that she'd never thought of it before. Ever, really. Now, in hindsight, she realized that for a man who was over 900 years old, there must have been others before her. And some of those must've been other women. And certainly he must've become close to a few. And maybe he had developed a certain closeness like they had. And maybe he was that close with Sarah Jane. And, she thought, let's not forget about Reinette. And… and, and, and. The odds were against her, Rose realized. She wasn't special. She wasn't his one and only. She wasn't the first, and she was quite certain she wouldn't be the last. In short: he didn't love her. Not like she loved him. And she had been a fool.
Consternation framed her pretty face as she worried her lip. Now, back on the TARDIS, Sarah Jane and Mickey both left behind, Rose had time to examine this conundrum. She silently chastised herself that someone as smart as she could let her heart fall so easily. She knew a few painful moments of indignation, blaming the Doctor for being such a flirt. But, to be honest, she didn't have any other Time Lords to compare him to. Perhaps this was simply the way of the entire race. And it wasn't like she was innocent in that, either. She flirted back. Still the dagger twisted.
And now, here she sat, wondering what was next. Stay, go, confront, ignore. She had told him forever. But that was before, when she believed she really meant something to him. What was it Sarah Jane had told her? Ah, yes, she remembered now. Some things are worth getting your heart broken for.
There was no way she'd ever leave him. A life back at home seemed too mundane for her now, just as she'd told her Mum and Mickey. She'd never leave, could never leave. Even without his love, travelling with the Doctor was the chance of a lifetime. She resigned herself to go back to what she knew before. A life of hugs and handholding, gentle touches and sidesplitting laughter. A deep and caring, amazing, yet platonic, friendship. Nothing more. She could live with that…she could. And, she thought sourly, at least she'd be prepared for when he unceremoniously dumped her back on Earth. He may have denied that he would do so, but she was certain he must've made the same promise to Sarah Jane, too. And so she resolved not to change, not to let him see how much it hurt her to have learned her assumptions were wrong. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Rose Tyler pulled the emotional dagger out of her heart and dropped it to the deck of the TARDIS. Even though it was an ephemeral thing, she would have sworn she could hear the blade strike the floor. In front of her the Doctor tensed, shoulders locking, stilling, as if he had heard it too. Perhaps he feared she'd bury it to the hilt between his shoulders. A tense silence descended.
And so, the thrill slightly gone, Rose Tyler sat and waited to see where they would end up next.
Even though he was busy tinkering with the TARDIS, the Doctor could sense the change in Rose's mood. Their earlier conversation had brought that inevitable unease which would eventually permeate all his relationships. He could practically hear her lamenting her newfound knowledge. Abandonment and hurt radiated from her, even though she tried to hide the feelings. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. Silently he cursed the fact that Rose had met Sarah Jane. He knew, however, that there was no such thing as coincidence, and, for one reason or another, the two had been destined to meet.
Much like he and Rose had been destined to meet. That stopped him, cold. He hesitated over the TARDIS, thoughts running through his head. Giving Rose a glance, he was greeted with a sight that made his hearts drop. She sat, glassy eyed and somber, waiting for him. Always waiting for him. Hurt, betrayed, confused and wary…. she still waited for him. Afraid to be caught staring, the Doctor turned back to the TARDIS. This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. They were supposed to merrily travel along, like two best friends enjoying a wonderful holiday together. He wasn't allowed to feel anything more than mild affection for her.
But it was different, this time. It was so much more than just that.
He loved her.
He loved her more than any other companion. More than he ever loved Sarah Jane. More, Rassilion help him, than his own long dead wife. It was deep and resonate, and it pulsed through him like the very beat of the TARDIS' heart. Unintended, but so very necessary, Rose was chosen for him just as much as she chose to be with him. There was no fighting against it. His last incarnation had fallen for her gradually, coming to care for her very deeply. Knowing how his regenerations could differ, and fearing he wouldn't feel the same about her after he changed, he'd told her to have a good life…without him. But she'd waited, and stayed. And now, in his tenth visage, that love had continued and grown, expanded and changed into something even more profound.
He found he could not live without her.
So he did the only thing he could think of to protect them both. He pushed her away, wounded her now before he wounded her, much, much deeper, later.
He didn't want to fight with her. He didn't want to lie to her. But to save them both he had to. He constantly resisted the urge to hold her, to pull her close to him and tell her how he felt. Absently the Doctor wondered how long he could keep up the façade. Sighing deeply, he turned to face her, leaning back against the TARDIS and trying desperately to appear somewhat normal.
Rose still stared into space, lost in her own sorrowful acceptance. He was amazed at how beautiful she was, even then. Courageously trying to maintain her stoicism and the status quo, she sat trembling only so slightly on that step. He could hear, subtly, his old ship soothing and murmuring softly to Rose. It was a rare thing, the TARDIS loving a companion like that.
Sensing she was being watched, or perhaps from the gentle nudge of the TARDIS, Rose slowly raised her eyes to him. The sorrow was still there, but she was trying so very hard to veil it. She gave him a tight smile, and said, "I…I'm a little cold. I'm just gonna get a jumper outta my room, alright?" Her voice was rough; the words were difficult for her. He nodded slowly to her as Rose stood and walked wearily down the hallway. The Doctor watched her disappear, a sentence dying in his throat. The TARDIS thrummed in his mind, just as she hummed for Rose. She is mourning the loss of you, even though she is by your side. He knew this, even without the song of the TARDIS in his head. He ran his hand over his face, as if he could wipe away the hurt and the soul-wearying fatigue of the whole bloody mess. She is bound to you and you to her. You the Oncoming Storm and she the Bad Wolf. It was meant to be and cannot alter. It is in your song, and the whole of the universe sings it. Even should you return her to Earth, you will never be truly separated. One of your hearts will always belong to her. He nodded slowly; he didn't need the ship to tell him this. He knew truth when he felt it. She doesn't blame you. She only blames herself for falling in love with you. Doctor…you must do something. Do not let her suffer in silence. Make it right…
He turned, frustrated, back to the controls, as if he could make the TARDIS stop by flipping switches and turning dials. The ship took the hint in any case, falling silent in his mind and returning to Rose. He braced his hands on the console, bowing his head as he ran through a gamut of emotions. He should take her back to Earth and return her to Jackie. This wouldn't work, it could never work…but it had to. It was meant to. How could he watch her walk out that door and willingly leave her? Yet how could he promise her forever?
Deep in his hearts, he knew he needed to do something. He could never marry her, or give her children…never settle down. No house or mortgage, like she'd teased him about. But there was something. There was a way to make her realize how he felt about her. He turned grimly back to the TARDIS to set the time and place, but the old girl beat him to it. She had already set the course. Giving her a pat, he went back to his room to retrieve something of extreme importance.
The TARDIS set down far more gently than he'd ever experienced. It took a muted nudge from the ship to confirm they'd arrived. He whispered a quiet, "Thanks, old girl," to her on his way back to the control room. The TARDIS was going out of her way to assist him.
He could hear Rose's tentative footfalls behind him as she entered the room. Overcome by the fear of even seeing her, the Doctor made himself turn to her and smile. "Allons-y then, Rose?" he chirped, forcing a semblance of lightness into his voice and offering his hand, fingers wiggling. He wasn't fooling either of them.
She took his hand anyway, her grip perhaps less certain than before. The Doctor knew a moment of bitter regret as she remained silent, not even choosing to question where they were or why.
They stepped out onto a gravel path, mid-forest. Silvery trees, capped with green leaves, swayed gently. It almost looked like Earth, but it smelled different. Cleaner, somehow. Fresher. Rose felt a pang of homesickness hit her, and she briefly wondered if she'd made the right choice in staying with him. But then the familiar thrill of being in a new place, and with her Doctor, surged through her. This was where she belonged.
They walked in silence for some time, up that mountain path. His resolve to wait for her to speak first finally snapped, although given his penchant for talking it wasn't really a surprise, and he stopped, pulling her off the trail to a large boulder. Sitting down, he said, "You're awfully quiet, Rose. Here we are, on one of the most beautiful and serene planets in the known universe, with amazing scenery and, I may add, perfect weather, no aliens, no invasion, no werewolves…and you don't even ask where we are." He tried again to be jaunty and sound carefree, "Anyone slightly less self-assured than myself would be insulted," he sniffed.
She shrugged, indifferently. "Yeah, well, I guess I've just got a lot on my mind, y'know?" She drew in a ragged breath and began to worry her hands together. "Anyway, doesn't matter. So…where are we?" She half turned to him, smiling a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Well," he began, drawing out the word, "it's not so much the name of the planet, which, by the way, you'd never even be able to pronounce, but, rather, where we are going to."
She nodded, biting her bottom lip, and turned her gaze back to the view from the vista. "Alright, where're we going and why's it so important, then?"
He noted her lack of true interest with chagrin. She was too focused on what he'd come to label 'the Sarah Jane incident' to be involved fully. But that was precisely why he'd brought her here.
"We are going to someplace very special, very sacred. I haven't been here in a long time." He sounded wistful as he spoke. No response from Rose. He brought his hand up absently to scratch behind his head. Alright, different approach. "On Earth, you've got some languages no one speaks anymore, dead languages, right? Latin, Atsugewi, Old English, the like. But there are some humans who can speak them, translate them?" She nodded dully in response. "And you've got temples dedicated to religion and culture too, yeah? Like those beautiful Buddhist sanctuaries or an old gothic church." She was moderately interested now. He'd caught her peeking sideways at him. Still she worried her lip absently.
He took her hand to stop the twining and untwining she did in her uncertainty, gently caressing her fingers with his own. She stilled instantly. Rose had not sought out touch from him since the 'incident', preferring to keep her hurt to a minimum and not reopen her barely healing wound. Other than their usual hand holding, he hadn't offered to touch her, either. This soft stroking of her skin was more than she expected or he thought himself capable of. It was the connection he was searching for. He had her attention now.
"Rose," he began quietly, "I've told you a little about my home, you remember? About Gallifrey and what…happened there?" He fell silent a moment, clearing his throat as his building emotions threatened to choke him. "I'm the last of my people, but I'm not the last being that can speak or understand Gallifreyan. It's a dead language, like Ge'ez…which is a beautiful language by the way, really lovely. Such a shame it died out. I've got some great tales about dead languages. Did I ever tell you about the time that I…" he stopped, her elbow in his side telling him to focus. "Sorry, got a little off track, did I?" She smiled again, a little broader this time. Encouraged, he continued. "This place, where we're headed, it's like a temple or a monument to my homeworld. To Gallifrey. The only one in the universe. There's a handful of, oh, I guess you could call them monks for lack of a better word. They've devoted themselves and their lives to protecting the memory of Gallifrey." He heard her draw in a surprised breath. "Not everything, you know. They couldn't save every aspect of it. But some of the culture and traditions are practiced here. They've books and artwork and a few plants, too. And a handful speak Gallifreyan. Not Old High Gallifreyan, mind you, not like a Time Lord. Just standard Gallifreyan." He paused again, running his hand over his face in that way of his. "I used to come here, you know, after the Time War, just to hear those monks singing. Songs I used to know as a child, sacred songs and old lullabies. I used to come and just listen to them speaking and to speak with them." A sigh. "I came to remember…I was so afraid, I am so afraid I'll forget her. Forget home. And I've always come here alone."
She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and returned the caress he'd given her moments ago. He looked at her, finally really looked at her for the first time since leaving the TARDIS. Her eyes shone with unshed tears for him. For his home and his memories. For what he lost and what he'd never have again.
Rose Tyler never ceased to amaze him.
Here she was, pining for him, dying inside a little more every day because he couldn't tell her how he felt about her. Wounded and hurt by him and what she thought they'd had. Here she sat, blaming herself only for it when she should hold him completely responsible…and she wept for him. Now, in this moment, Rose only felt his sorrow and shared it. She wasn't mourning for herself and what she thought she'd had and would never have, but for the Doctor and all he'd had to leave behind.
"Rose," he whispered, reaching out to her. He placed a hand on her cheek and found he could not continue.
"It's alright, Doctor. I understand." She closed her eyes to stop the descent of those tears. "If you need to go alone, I get it. You know I never," her breath hitched, "I wouldn't want to get in your way. I know I'm just a…guest, here."
His hand dropped as she slid back from him and then stood, stuffing her hands into her pockets and turning back to the TARDIS. Despairingly he realized he'd gone and done it again. Made her feel an also ran, a tag along companion at best. He followed her. "Rose…Rose stop." He reached out and clutched her arm gently, turning her back to him. "You know you're more than just a guest, Rose. I've asked you three times now to come with me." He made her meet his eyes, trying to convey to her his meaning. "I want you here with me."
"Only until you don't." She said dejectedly, her thumbnail rising to her mouth. She began chewing in nervousness. "Only until you leave me behind." Stung again by the thinly disguised venom in her voice, he dropped his hand from her arm as she pulled away. He'd never hold her unwillingly. She rasped out, "You know what? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Here you are, trying to tell me about Gallifrey and I'm turning it into all about Rose. You don't have to explain to me why I'm here or why you asked me to come with you. I'm happy just to have the chance to travel with you at all." She gave him a watery smile, still hurting, but trying so hard to conceal it. "This visit is for you, Doctor. It's about you."
"Oh, but Rose, it's not. It's about so much more than that." She wrinkled her brow, confused. "It's about us. What we were, what we are, and what we can be."
Her eyes began to well again and she wanted nothing more than to pull away. This was the conversation she had longed for and dreaded. "I know, alright? I get it. Sarah Jane explained everything to me and I know we can't, I know you don't…I just don't want you to abandon me, ok? Not like you did to her. Not like you left me for Reinette. Please," she buried her face in her hands, "please don't leave me behind." She broke down then, trying to hide away from him, to cover her shame.
The Doctor stood there, not at all astonished at her now. He understood everything so clearly in that moment. She loved him completely and totally and with every fiber of her being. And she was giving him an out. Unable to leave him, she was attempting to come to terms with what she could not have and simply be with him, as is. They didn't even need to discuss it. The only pledge he had to give her in return was never to abandon her. He could take this opportunity, continue on as before and forget all about their strained and complicated relationship. But somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the TARDIS' hum entwined with Rose's heartbeat, and he knew neither of them could walk away unscathed now.
He pulled her toward him and into his arms, and Rose fit against him like she always did, so very right and so perfectly. "Not you, Rose," he whispered into her hair, "never you."
She sniffled unbelievingly into his chest, "Did you say that to Sarah Jane, too?" No going back now, she'd decided. They might as well have it out.
The Doctor didn't let go of her, "No. I've never promised any of my companions that, Rose. Just you. Only you." She stilled in his arms as his words reach her. "Rose, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry about these last few days. I've said things that I regret and…"
She interrupted him, pulling back to look into his face. "But they were true, yeah? You didn't say anything that isn't true. I will grow old and wither," her eyes searched his for emotion, "and die." She could see his jaw tense at that. "I overreacted, that's all. Imagined some things that just weren't real." Rose reached up to cup his cheek. He swallowed, teeth clenched. She told him quietly, "I know who you are, and what you do, and why. I understand now what I can and cannot have during my time with you." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And I'm ready for whatever is next, Doctor. By your side. If you'll let me." She took a step away from him, held out her hand, and wiggled her fingers, and echo of his long familiar gesture.
Shaking his head in disbelief at the unpredictable and amazing girl standing next to him, he took her proffered hand in his. Entwining their fingers, he set his jaw and told her, "Come on, there's something I want to show you." This wasn't over yet.
The rest of the walk was spent in amicable conversation, with Rose questioning the contents of the temple. He obliged her, perhaps even more than he would have given other circumstances, with stories of Gallifrey and what the monks had salvaged.
"It seems pretty quiet, Doctor," Rose said, as she looked around her, "I'd have thought there'd be more beings here, y'know, visiting and such. Kinda like a Museum of Gallifrey tour."
"Yeah, well, it isn't really that known, outside of a few of us. The monks want it that way." He was glad she was speaking to him more as herself now. "Besides, don't forget, to most of the universe my people are a myth. We never existed, except in stories." He squeezed her hand to get her attention and leaned in conspiratorially. "I am a legend, you know."
Rose gave him a grin at that. A real, honest, Rose Tyler grin, complete with that adorable tongue to tooth little tic of hers. "Yeah, well, don't go getting all high n' mighty on me. Your ego is big enough as it is."
The temple doors stood open, and as they arrived Rose drew in an awed breath at what she saw. Things the Doctor had only told her about, things she'd only seen in her mind, were on display before her. Like a reverent pilgrim she ghosted along the flagstone hallways of the temple to take in everything she could of Gallifrey. She stood, rapt, listening to the monks chanting in Gallifreyan, the Doctor translating for her quietly. She lingered in the library, and intently studied each painting in the galleries. The Doctor followed behind, hands in his coat pockets, watching her reactions. His hearts warmed to see her so enamoured of his culture, so completely in awe of his lost homeworld.
They finally found their way outside again, to a walled off area, and they walked in the gardens for sometime, wandering in and out of the foliage. "Does it make it worse, to come here, Doctor? To see all this and know that it's not there anymore?" She was twisting the cuff of her jumper in her fingers. Her little nervous tic. She still worried for him. He had led her to a more private area of the garden, and they paused in front of a beautiful tree, its branches draping down gracefully, creating a sort of private little enclosure around them. Rose was reminded of the weeping willows back on earth. This tree, however, had delicate blue flowers interspersed throughout the leaves. There was a small plaque nestled in the roots of the tree, but as Rose didn't read Gallifreyan, the name was a mystery to her. She'd have to ask him what it said…
He inhaled sharply, "It used to, Rose. It hurt to come here and see home but not have a home. But that was before."
She raised an eyebrow at that, "Before what, Doctor?" She stood on tiptoe to inhale the scent of a blossoming flower, draping down the limb of the tree.
"Before you."
She froze, lowering herself slowly back to her feet and facing him. But her disbelief showed itself as she turned her head to the side, eyes still fixed on his, and said, "Me? Before I…what?"
He stuffed his hands back in his coat pockets, fingering the object he'd brought with him. "Don't you remember how I was, Rose, when we first met?" She nodded slowly. "I was broken, and angry…and trying to mend my life back together." He scuffed the dirt path with his cream converse. "And then I met you. And you took my hand when I said 'run' and fixed me, you healed me, Rose. You became my home. You ran right into the TARDIS and you never looked back, did you?" He brought his gaze back up to face her, intense now. "You've never once looked back." He slowly moved to her side. "I've seen so many things, Rose. Unbelievable, indescribable, and impossible things. But if I believe in anything, in anything that's true…I believe it you. My touchstone."
Rose blew out a shaky breath. "I told you, Doctor, I told you I've made my choice…"
But he interrupted her, taking her hand in his. "Rose Tyler," he said quietly, "how long are you going to stay with me?"
He'd asked her this before. But it is different this time. A new undertone is there, in those words. Something urgent and needful and it cracked in his voice as he said it. The Doctor looked afraid, truly frightened that she'd reply other than she always had. He waited, hanging on the edge of despair and hope, for her to shatter his world.
She would never do that. Rose Tyler would sooner die.
Smiling up at him, she breathed out, "Forever." He pulled her into his embrace, hugging her to him like a lifeline. "Forever," she whispered.
Rose could not say how long he held her. The passage of time seemed so altered here, and of course, she could stay wrapped up in his arms for an eternity, which she planned on doing, anyway. Finally he said quietly, in her ear, "Do you want to know what the name of this tree is, and why I brought you here?"
She reluctantly slipped out of his clasp and reached up to touch a branch, one hand still holding his. "Yeah, what's it called? It's so beautiful."
The Doctor looked up into the branches, squinting a little at the sunlight that filtered down through the leaves. It touched her hair and set it aglow with light. "Well, it doesn't really translate very well into English, but the closest interpretation would be 'Witness Tree', or 'Tree of Intent.'"
She laughed a little, "Tree of Intent? What did these trees have the intention of doing, then?"
He reached into his pocket, grasping his keepsake in his hand and keeping it at his side. "On Gallifrey, we used these trees as witness to our intention to," he halted, clearing his throat as once again his emotions threatened to steal his voice. "My people didn't really have relationships…in the same sense that you do. Marriages were purely for social and political reasons, and to produce the expected offspring for those same social and political reasons. And it was normal, Rose. It wasn't something that was strange or unconventional. Gallifreyans met all kinds of creatures and species and travelers. Occasionally they'd form a bond with a being not of Gallifrey. But because of the laws of my planet, they wouldn't be allowed to form a legal union."
She had furrowed her brow, amazed to see where this might be leading.
He lowered his voice, "And sometimes, very, very rarely, a couple might find each other, and really, truly come to care for each other deeply. Love each other, completely. And of course, they'd usually not be able to marry, for whatever reasons, unless it suited politics. But they couldn't be forced apart, either." She arched that eyebrow at him again, trying to work out his point. He turned her to face the tree, then, and pulled her back against him and rested his chin on head. "They would come to one of these 'Witness Trees' to pledge themselves to each other, to bind themselves together, forever. And no matter what, they could never be separated. Not by laws, or distance, or time, or space. Nothing could tear them apart. Because they were meant to be together. Even Rassilion himself was powerless against that pledge, that binding. It was deeper and more sacred than his laws." He took a deep breath, imparting the last, most important part to her. "And to make it binding, the Gallifreyan male gives his love a gift. You do the same thing on Earth, yeah? You give rings."
But Rose could not answer him, quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. But of pain or sorrow or confusion she could not say. The Doctor slowly brought up his hand, and opened it palm up to her. "We give the flower of this tree, the Witness Tree, as a symbol of the pledge." In his hand he was holding a delicate bracelet, the vibrant blue flower of the tree encased in some type of clear amber as a centrepiece. He turned her slowly back to face him. "In all my years, throughout all my travels and companions, I've never felt…like I do for you about anyone." He could see the question in her deep brown eyes; she is recalling that he had a wife, once. The Doctor grasped her shoulders; as if it would somehow make her hear him, truly hear him. "Anyone, Rose. Even more than her. Socio-political, remember? She and I never went to a Witness Tree, never had a binding. I never thought I ever would…until you." He placed a hand under her chin, eyes straight to her soul. "I came back here, not long after we first met…I came back here when you were home visiting Jackie and I had this made for you. I've been carrying it around with me forever and I've never had the courage to tell you before, but after Reinette and Sarah Jane I realized…and I'm rambling again, aren't I?"
He stopped as she smiled through her tears at him, nodding. Taking strength from her silent encouragement, he said "And I'm asking you to accept it, Rose. I can't give you a true home, or a family, or marriage in the sense that you know, but I can give you this." He placed the bracelet on her wrist and closed the tiny silver clasp, and her eyes followed his movements. "I can give you my pledge to stay with you for however long our forever is. I will never abandon you or leave you behind. Because we're meant to be, Rose, you and I. The Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf. Together. Forever."
She glanced up at him in surprise from the small blue flower enclosed in amber, "That's what the TARDIS told me. She said that, word for word." The Doctor reached up and wiped away a stray tear, before taking her hand in his. Turning the bracelet on her wrist to catch in the sun, he admired how it looked on her. He'd dreamed of seeing it against her skin. Kissing her knuckles gently, he placed her hand on his chest and covered it with his own.
"Do you accept it, then?" he asked, and Rose could hear the fear in his voice that she'd reject him. She returned his gesture in kind, kissing his other hand and placing it against her heart. "Oh yes, Doctor," she answered quietly, "I do. You can consider yourself bound." She waited a beat, thinking, then asked, "How long are you going to stay with me, Doctor?" and gave him a cheeky smile.
He pulled her back into his arms and spun her around under the tree, blossoms falling from the limbs like snow. "Forever," he breathed, "Forever."
They spent hours in that garden, never letting each other go as they explored the remains of his world. And somewhere down the mountain path, the TARDIS happily hummed away as the last rays of the sun faded away, and she sent her song to the stars.