Here to Say

What a terribly hectic day it had been, to say the very least. Protecting Earth from Pyrovillians hell-bent on global domination really took it out of you - or so the Doctor had been told by his companion Donna Noble in the moments before she announced her plans to have herself a nice, hot shower and sleep for a few solid hours. She did deserve it, after all, and she still wasn't quite adjusted to the crazy, fast-paced life in the Tardis yet. So she had retreated, leaving the Doctor alone in the control room.

He circled the control panel, from time to time making a modification here or tweaking a setting there. However, for the most part, the Tardis hummed contentedly and soon the Doctor was reduced to watching idly as his space ship functioned more or less without his guidance.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "The one time I actually need something to do...!" Sighing dramatically, the Doctor unceremoniously threw himself onto the couch, slouching and allowing his limbs to dangle half-on, half-off the sitting apparatus. He knew he had to let Donna sleep, but what on Earth was he going to do in the meantime? Humans, after all, needed so much sleep and he, so little.

That was probably not such a bad thing, if he really thought about it. The disaster he'd caused today...The lives of practically every person in Pompeii destroyed by his doing and after it was all over, he simply jumped in his Tardis and left. As usual. He had no desire to relive all that death nor the terrified screaming of people as they ran about trying to prevent their own inevitable deaths every time he closed his eyes. He had absolutely no inclination to recall his argument with Donna, his standpoint to let everyone die and hers to try and save them - an argument he was sorry to say he won, despite his companion's strong will. So he did as he had always done and added his newest horrible memories to his mountainous pile of nightmares waiting to happen and moved on.

Moving on...he could live with that.

Truth betold, he really was exhausted. The longer he sat on the couch, comforted by the constant, peaceful sounds of the Tardis, the more sluggish his mind became and the will to do anything constructive any time soon thinned to a wisp. But no, his tiredness wasn't the human kind of tired, the sort that was cured with a night of nightmare-pierced slumber and a mug of strong tea, nor was it the sort that could be remedied by time itself - especially the sort that time couldn't fix. No. This was the variety that came with age,that came with understanding, that came with the weight of responsibility for vast and endless expanses. This was the kind that came with nine hundred odd years of seeing too much. Knowing too much. Losing too much.

The Doctor interlocked his fingers behind his head and lay back into them, staring blankly towards the Tardis's ceiling. For once, he allowed time to pass him by.

"Hello, you." A voice penetrated the silence, a light, slightly teasing voice that he knew oh so well.

The Doctor did not, however, turn to face the source of the voice. Instead, he rolled his eyes and allowed a hint of a smile to reach his face. "Blimey," he said, his voice low and tired. "I really must be out of it if I'm seeing you here."

Rose wandered from the ramp to the main console, circling it, looking intently at all the buttons and levers she remembered so vividly. "Yeah," she agreed. She turned to the Doctor. "It's been a while," she said, leaning in between the Tardis's gadgets. "If memory serves, one year, three months and..."

"Twenty-seven days," the Doctor supplied for her. "Although, technically for me it was two years, three months and twenty-seven days, but that's a long story."

She smiled. "I bet it is," she said. "What have you been up to, then?"

"Oh, you know," he said in his familiar jaunt - his usual deflection. "This and that. Travelling in time and space. Getting into trouble. Causing the most famous volcanic eruption in Earth history. Leaving a trail of destruction. Same old, same old."

"That's so you," laughed Rose, shaking her head.

Despite his disposition, the Doctor couldn't help but allow a smile onto his lips, even if it was half-hearted. But the bounce in his voice evaporated in an instant. "That's so me," he murmured distantly. A tremor rumbled through his hearts as he looked at her properly for the first time: she still looked exactly the same, her voice still sounded the same...She was still everything she had been when he'd seen her that last time. He was unable to decide whether or not that was a good thing; conflicted, he simply watched her for a while longer as she continued to look over the Tardis.

"You can't be here," he stated finally. "It's impossible."

"No," Rose replied sadly, taking a moment or two to find the heart to meet his eyes. "I'm not here."

"Ah." Despite what he already knew for sure, the Doctor couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It was in times such as these that he wished he were wrong more often. He hesitated for a moment, his words for once having deserted him - what did one say to somebody who wasn't there, but...was? "I miss you, you know."

"Miss you more," Rose countered with a smile.

Silence fell between them. In some distant recess of his mind, the Doctor noticed that he had leant forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

He wasn't quite sure how long it was before he opened his mouth to say something again, but for those moments he didn't mind in the slightest. Rose wasn't there (a fact that was hastily and subconsciously being forgotten) but it felt like she was and believing a self-told lie had never before made him feel so much...better. "You were right," he announced at last.

Rose frowned. "About what?"

"I thought I'd never see you again but now you're here," he took a deep breath, "and I haven't the foggiest idea what to say."

"You don't need to say anything."

"No, but I do." The Doctor suddenly leapt to his feet. He began to pace back and forth, his steps wide and brisk, as he scratched his head hurriedly. "Back at the Sanctuary Base," he started, his voice beginning to raise in volume, "with the beast and the pit, I was going to give Ida Kane a message for you."

"You did?" Rose frowned. "What was it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "You see, that's the thing! I never did!" he continued, speaking practically faster than the speed of light - but no speed could have disguised his guilt. "I didn't - because "you knew", I said. Then, on Bad Wolf Bay, I had the perfect opportunity, but I let it slip away! Both times, I couldn't say it; both times, my fault! Why couldn't I...? I wanted to, but I just...couldn't."

"The connection was closing," Rose attempted to console him softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"Not my fault?" the Doctor demanded with a frustrated laugh. "How could it not have been my fault? I could save the world, but I couldn't save you! I could save the universe, but I couldn't bring you back! I could tear a hole in the universes to say goodbye, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you..." He trailed off and begun to tend to the Tardis purely to have means to occupy his hands. "I couldn't..."

Rose moved closer to him. "But I did," she said, "..know, that is."

Their brown eyes met, his pleading her forgiveness and hers pleading he forgive himself. "What use is it that you know," he whispered, "when I never got to tell you?"

To that, Rose had no answer.

The Doctor took a deep breath. He could feel the misted sadness in his eyes - mist that he could feel becoming denser and denser until it was a tear running down his face. He tried to clear the lump in his throat, but the echo of his shuddering hearts pulled at his willpower. Choked words eventually forced themselves to the surface. "That day," the Doctor said slowly, "on Dalig Ulv Stranden, what I wanted to say: Rose Tyler, I..."

"Doctor." The interruption came reluctantly from Rose. The Doctor deflated. Her eyes were misted in sadness as they looked up at him, the sadness that plagued her voice, too. "I'm not really here."

Sighing, the Doctor rubbed his stinging eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I know," he said. "But I was enjoying pretending."

"Would telling what you would have told me to an empty room make you feel better?" she asked. "Would it make a difference?"

No longer able to meet her eyes, his gaze locked on the metal grates of the floor. "No," he said. He thought for a split second. "Yes." He looked up from the floor, cogs turning maniacally in his brain as ideas, thoughts and feelings raced within. "Yes! Oh!" His answer changed quick as a flash and his voice became louder and louder as his mind found a hundred things to say. He propelled himself into the air and did a little twirl - the one that only came with a fantastic revelation that would wow the socks off the most awesome person in time and space - and grasped at his hair. Determination burned like fire in his eyes; pushed itself to the surface of his very being like a plant straining towards sunlight. "It would make a difference!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands, "because there's something else I never told you! You keep me fighting, Rose Tyler! And one day, I am going to find a way to see you again, mark my words! Until then, these words that I never got to tell you, they're going to keep me fighting!" He grinned at her, hope filling ever single one of his features; his hope was mirrored in her own.

Rose looked up at him, her smile widening: she would only believe a promise like that because he had given it to her.

He brought himself around and faced her square on, mere inches separating their faces. "Rose Tyler!" the Doctor said, "I..."

"She is returning."

As though charged with electricity, the Doctor leapt back. Where but moments ago Rose had stood now stood Lucius Petrus Dextrus; the voice that had been Rose's feminine, sadness-tinged voice had been replaced with a horrible grating, rocky sound that matched the soothsayer's harsh, glaring face; where Rose's soft brown eyes had been were now eyes of the molten rock that covered Pompeii. The Doctor limbs froze like ice and he found himself unable to move; fear and surprise fixed in his wide eyes. There was a beat of silence. Then the soothsayer's face split into a grin and he began to laugh. Evil, cackling, the sound reverberated inside his bones; it made his ears burn; it made his hearts claw at the inside of his ribcage...

And the Doctor shuddered into consciousness.

He tried to calm his rapid heartbeats and his breath that that came quick in his chest; he tried to shake his rational mind from that of his dreams. Rose couldn't return. It was impossible, after all.

"Doctor?" He had been so busy that he hadn't noticed the figure standing not too far away - Donna. "You okay?"

He jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm okay! Good!" he sung as he busied himself with the Tardis. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to get some sleep?"

"I did," Donna replied simply.

"..what?" The Doctor was taken a little aback. "How long has it been?"

"About seven hours."

"Really?" The Doctor immediately sobered and checked a screen, making a small "oh" sound in his throat.

"You were mumbling," Donna pressed gently.

"Was I?" The Doctor kept a firm eye on the console in front of him.

"Yeah," said Donna softly, pausing for a moment as she decided if she should push the matter further. "Really, though, Doctor," she said in the end, "you alright?"

The Doctor sighed and looked contemplatively into nowhere. "'She is returning'," he hummed.

Before Donna had time to state her confusion, he fired up the helmic regulator and released the handbrake and they jolted off to their next adventure.

True to form, it's a horrible title...not to mention the rest of it. Suggestions for better titles and feedback are always welcome.

Thanks for reading and have a great day ^_^