Last chances. The Doctor knew all about last chances. Knew about standing on the edge and making that choice. The choice that would determine the path your timeline took for the rest of eternity. Knowing this was your moment to make it right. The last one you would ever have.
Oh yes, the Doctor knew all about last chances. He just never thought they would happen to him.
He was a Time Lord. Arrogant. All-seeing, all-knowing. Or so he liked to believe. He knew when time was in flux, what events were permanent, what could be changed. He'd like to think that 900 years of travelling gave him a certain feel for humans. What they wanted. What they needed.
Turning back toward the TARDIS, feeling the sand sucking at his shoes and the wind blowing in his face, he tries to ignore the thought that this time, that arrogance might have gotten him killed. Because surely even the body of a Time Lord couldn't survive the pain ripping through his chest. Or the steady throb in his head. Or the nausea rippling and trembling in his stomach while his visual cortex insisted on playing, over and over again, the sight of her standing on her tiptoes and kissing him.
Stupid, to be jealous. He was the one who made the decision, after all. Decided to leave her here, instead of tucking her back in the TARDIS where she belonged. Decided that she'd be better off with him, that other him. One man in two bodies, they were, but only one of them could build a life with her. A proper life, with roofs and babies and a future that included seeing the same face smiling in the mirror each morning.
He walks faster, focused on the doors of the TARDIS and the oblivion waiting inside. In the TARDIS, there's work to be done. Hopefully enough that he can ignore the way her ghost haunts every shadow. The way he can still smell her perfume on the wind. He can pretend her shirt, the purple one he tucked beneath his pillow the whole first year she was gone, doesn't still sit on a shelf, waiting to be brought down and remembered.
Opening the door, he lets Donna in first, then stops. Turning, he looks back. Just one more time. Yes, she's still kissing him. Holding on like her life depended on it. He tries not to be bitter. But it's hard, knowing that if he could have just spoken the words, told her all the little secrets dancing in his heart, he could have been the man wrapped in her arms. The man planning for tomorrow and tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that in Rose Tyler's beautiful eyes.
Better this way. He ignores Donna's sympathetic looks as he jogs up and fires up the TARDIS. She'd fallen apart when she thought he was going to regenerate. What would she do the next time? And there would be a next time. He wouldn't always have a convenient hand lying around to stop it. Would she still love him, without this daft old face? He'd love her, he knew. He'd brought that with him, the last time he regenerated. He had no doubt he'd bring it with him the next time, and the time after that.
She'd hate him for it eventually. He repeated it over and over again as the TARDIS screamed to life. She'd hate him for the loss of the life she could have had. Hate him for the day her body would become frail, and she'd have to stay behind while he regenerated over and over again. It was better this way, for both of them.
Maybe, if he told himself that over and over again, he wouldn't tear apart into little tiny pieces. Maybe his body would survive this, his mind moving forward instead of screaming at him that this, this was his last chance. That by leaving her this way, he'd lost even the hope of her. And without even the hope of Rose, he was going to be hard pressed to find a reason to keep living.
Okay, I have NO idea if I'm going to continue with this or not. Because I have a very…distinct idea of how this story should have played out, would have played out, if the writers had let it, and it doesn't involve Rose living happily ever after with the Doctor's double in a parallel universe. But I'm already knee deep in other fics I'm shamelessly neglecting, and I'm a little nervous about starting another one. (This was meant to be a one-shot, I swear!) So here we go. If you want me to keep going, let me know. Tell me what kind of ending you think they should have given Rose and the Doctor. 10th, 11th, 20th, I don't care. And if you think I should stop here, tell me that too.
And as always, thanks for reading!