"Doctor..."
Two heads lifted.
"'Kay that's going to have to change," the blonde said, amusement turning up her lips.
"Well I'm keeping my name," the Doctor said, broking no argument.
"Well it's my name too!" The second Doctor whined. "I can't just give myself a new name!"
"John Smith," the Doctor suggested callously.
"That's not a name!"
"It's served you in the past!"
"You too." The two of them started at each other until Rose walked between them.
"I think it's a fine name," she said quietly.
After a moment, the copy muttered that it would do.
The Doctor almost smiled to himself. It just proved how much he was in love with her...

It was lonely some nights. The nights that Rose chose to sleep with his human self. He'd made it clear that there was no way he was going to share a bed with himself. Too incestuous. Rose looked embarrassed that he might think she would suggest it. He shuddered, tucking over the corner of the page of his book before setting it down on his night stand.
His other self had agreed. But he hadn't missed the jealousy in his eyes when she'd said she was going with him for the night. And he didn't miss the smugness that hovered behind his eyelashes when she said she was going with him.
Turning out the light and laying back in his bedding that still smelled of Rose and her lotions and her shampoos and her perfumes, he sighed.

After some years, long enough for the three of them to know the others' minds but short enough that Rose was still growing into her woman-hood, she'd hooked her fingers into each Doctor's sleeve and tugged them after her into the large bathroom.
The air was humid with steam and the big tub was full of fragrant water. Bath salts she'd picked up on one of their alien planet shopping trips, she explained.
She was tired. They'd come close to dying today. Why not bathe. Her smile was kind, but the Doctor could still see the scared realisation that maybe this wouldn't last forever. She needed to treasure what she had while she had it. She needed to take advantage of the time they had together. And instead of split that between them, why not be selfish for a night and have time with both.
As all three of them sunk up to their necks in the hot water, the Doctor wondered if she wasn't right. Why couldn't the three of them spend the same time? He stroked her thigh absently.
John did the same on herb other side.
Leaning his head back on the rim of the tub, he shared a glance with his human copy. Maybe tonight they could look past the incestuousness of the situation and be with her. For comfort. That was all.

They lay in bed, having just returned from celebrating Rose's thirty-sixth birthday. She had one wrapped around John and a leg lying carelessly over his waist. It turned out that the three of them made a brilliant trio in bed, the Doctor reminisced. John, they assumed, was of similar age, and dubbed his birthday as the day he was created. Given all of their non-linear travel, it was hard to tell, but the Doctor kept an Earth clock running on the TARDIS console that was able to tell them current Earth date.
Rose turned over.
Nestled against his chest, the Doctor could see it.
Her deterioration. Natural. Eventual. Predictable. Human.
John could see it too.
But John could also FEEL it too. One more thing he could share with Rose that the Doctor couldn't. The Doctor could see the signs of ageing that were beginning to appear. The crows feet around his eyes. The deepening of smile lines. Rubbing at sore shoulders and feet and hands and neck.
A smile twitched at his lips as he pondered the irony of it: watching the two of them age only made him feel older.
The Doctor rubbed small circles on Rose's thigh.
"Y'alright?"
"Hm?"
"You've got that look," Rose murmured quietly, reaching over to smooth the lines on his brow he didn't know he was creating.
"What look?" He replied, knowing she'd read him like a book anyway.
She smiled. "The one that says, 'I'm lonely.' But refuse to do anything about it because you're too stubborn and a Time Lord needs no such comforts."
"Pish-posh," he demurred, even though she was right.
"Mm-hmm. That's what I thought." Rose shifted over, on top of him, holding his face so she could stare into his eyes. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking about how old I am now."
"But you aren't old!"
"Exactly."
Rose smiled at him as he caught on. "You robbed the cradle, remember?"
The Doctor gave a short breathy laugh. "So you like to remind me."
"Well," Rose drawled, fiddling with the tie that still hung about his neck, "you need reminding. You also need reminding that you're not alone, Doctor. When I said for ever, I meant it."
"I know, but I..." He dropped his eyes, the seriousness of the pending conversation threatening to infect their safe haven.
She shook her head. "You see time so fast, Doctor. And you've made me see... See soo much. You know you have. I've SEEN time. Experienced it. And you can't tell me to ever regret that. I have everything a person could ever EVER want. Don't ever regret me, Doctor. Because that would be the worst thing ever."
"Rose Tyler," he said, her very name imbued with all of the emotion he felt for her. But he said the words she needed to hear. "I love you."
"I love you too. Always. For ever." And smiled like the sun.

She was angry. He could see it in the pinched form of her mouth, the tense hold of her shoulders, the wide stance of her legs.

It was his fault.

But he refused to be sorry.

There was more they could have done for the people of Xinchre, but the Doctor dragged her out early. Dragged themBOTH out early.

If he admitted the reason why to himself, it was because he was scared. Rose was 42. She was getting old. Old for humans. She was still strong and healthy, but he was scared. Humans were so fragile.

It made him uneasy for her to be amongst the civil unrest. And, if he cared to admit it to himself, he even worried about John.

Turning around the TARDIS console, he snuck a look at his ageing face. Sun-worn and lived-in, it was still attractive, of course, but it was getting older. Visibly. Unlike, per se, his own.

Rose didn't look at him. If he said anything, it would only spark the argument that had been hinted at for the last year.

So he avoided her gaze.

Rose cornered him later though. He was in the middle of changing for bed. John was hanging around—they'd been talking. About Rose. John, having the human perspective, had berated him for not knowing Rose's strength, but they'd both known that they'd die had anything happened to her.

There he stood, in his pants, trousers around his ankles, shirtless, when Rose slammed in and fixed him with a look that was scarily close to Jackie's glare. He waited.

"Please don't manage me."

"What?"

"Don't play dunce with me," she snapped.

"What do you want from me." Well, if she was in no mood to play games, then neither was he. John shrunk back in his chair.

"I want respect, Doctor. I've been travelling with you for how long? Over twenty years now? I think I deserve it, yeah? I've been with you for EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, Doctor. The good, the bad, the brilliant, the shit. I deserve you respecting me knowing my limits. You can't manage me and tell me what I can and cannot do because you're afraid."

He resisted flinching at the hard words that cut deep, choosing anger instead of reason. "I'm just trying to PROTECT you, Rose. Like I always have!"

"Like you always have, my ass! Doctor, half of the time it's me saving YOU! That excuse is rubbish. And we both know it."

"I..." He couldn't look at her any longer, dropping his eyes to his feet. "I have no excuses."

"Like hell you don't!" But then she fell silent as well.

"Where from here," the Doctor asked, not knowing himself.

"I... I don't know," she admitted, voice small.

"Can I... Can I apologise?"

"It's a start."

"I mean it, Rose. I'm sorry. It's scaring me, and I...don't know how to deal with this. I just want... I just want things to be normal. I just want us to be together. Please forgive me?"

Rose's face crumpled. "I don't want things to be this way either."

"Rose Rose Rose! Don't cry!" He wrapped his arms around her and all of a sudden they were kissing. Rose moaned into his mouth, and he was hard. She pressed up against him, murmuring words the he thought were "I'm sorry" against his neck, into his chest, his cheek, his forehead.

His hands wandered under her shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way. A hot body was suddenly against his back, arms reaching around him to help him with the shirt.

Rose pulled back as he stiffened. "John..." she murmured.

The Doctor dropped his hands to her trousers, pushing them down as John removed her top and then began unbuttoning the Doctor's shirt. Rose pushed the material off of him and all three of them somehow staggered to the bed.

"I—"

"I know," John interrupted. "Just this once. Like this."

The Doctor swallowed, unable to ignore the pleasure as John rocked against him, Rose's cold hands making his skin pebble under her touch as she inched her fingers into his pants. He hissed when she grabbed him, gripping her to ground himself. John hooked a leg around his waist, reaching to cup Rose's breasts, kneading her until she squirmed with pleasure. The rest of their clothing was shucked aside, leaving them to work themselves into a frenzy twice before they were all spent.

Did he really, the Doctor wondered in the after-orgasm haze, have a fetish for himself...?

But Rose was nuzzling and John was wrapped around him, so the answer seemed slightly obvious. Perhaps they were more different than he thought.. the Doctor mused as he drifted off, arms wrapped tightly around Rose, himself snug against John's chest.

The next time the three of them lay in bed together, however, John had pneumonia. Rose had fussed and fussed all week long, nearly driving the Doctor mad. But with John's turn for the worse, the Doctor realised the seriousness of it all and they set down on a planet and got medicine and slept while John healed.

It took him another week to heal and then they were off again.

Eventually they couldn't run. Not the way that he ran. They couldn't do it anymore. And the Doctor was more than loathe to take the two of them on adventures. To be honest, it scared him half to death. But only if he were honest. Which, if he were honest, he rarely was. Especially these days. Because the older Rose got, the less time she spent with him. The older Rose got, the more nights she spent with John. John whose face was beginning to sag. John whose not-so-trim-anymore waist was beginning to sag. John whose triceps were beginning to sag. John whose hairline was retreating. John whose skin was beginning to show age. John whose eyes were no longer as sharp. John whose nose was beginning to get rather long hairs in it. John who sometimes forgot to trim his toenails.

The Doctor punched the console. And then regretted it. John would have broken his hand. His bones were getting weak. Which meant that Rose's bones were getting weak. He wasn't stupid—Lord KNOWS he wasn't stupid. Of course they would die sometime. But being around the two of them was getting harder and harder. Who knew that 'forever' was this... 'disgusting' was cruel. 'Painful' was pitiful. 'Pitiful.' 'Pitiful' was just right. Forever was just pitiful. And it was only so long before they could see it in his eyes.

"Doctor?"

He jumped. "Rose!"

She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, you just startled me!"

He smile was old. Wise. Human wisdom. Time Lord wisdom. She'd travelled with him long enough.

"Oh Rose..."

"We're getting tiresome, aren't we?" She patted his arm.

'We.' There was that 'we' again. Like she never alied herself with him anymore. It was always with John. "What do you mean?"

"Doctor, I know you. Please." She patted his arm again. Like a mother. He pulled away.

"Rose..." He couldn't look at her.

"What's troubling you?"

"Stop treating me like a child, Rose!"

She blinked. "Sorry?"

With a blank noise of frustration, he dragged his hands over his face. "Rose, you're treating me like I'm a child. Like I need petting and soothing. Rose, I don't. I don't. It's... It's YOU, Rose. You don't know how to deal with me anymore. I look like your son, but we were lovers! What's happened here?"

"Well." She blinked. "Geeze. Tell me how you really feel."

"I love you, Rose. LOVE. And it's not just familial love, Rose, I still burn for you. You need to still see me!"

She blinked again. Smiled slow. Got teary-eyed. "I... I was afraid!"

"Afraid? Afraid of what!"

"Afraid you didn't like me like that! God, that was stupid. I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm so so so—"

"Don't."

"I love you, Doctor." She reached up and kissed him. Smiled.

John went first.

Rose fell into depression.

The Doctor showed her all the best sights in the universe. Their old sights. The good they'd done. All they'd accomplished.

Rose lived another sixteen years after John died.

And the Doctor lived long after that. But he loved her still. He kept a photo of them young and virile in his room. Next to his bed. Even still. Even still, his heart burned for her. He would always burn for her. For ever. Forever.

Humans... These humans. They thought dying was hard. Watching them die was so much harder...