A/N: I attended the St. Louis Wizard World con in 2016. During David and Billie's joint panel, a fan requested that David turn to Billie and say – without pause – "Rose Tyler, I love you." David and Billie provided some alternative responses, which were GOLD and begging to be fic'd. Gets a bit angsty. Thanks to tumblr user lunaseemoony for the beta.


"Rose Tyler—" he paused.

The Doctor and Rose had just returned to the TARDIS from a dangerous adventure on the planet Analax. They had nearly brushed death yet again when the Doctor managed to pull her from the gripping claws of the monsters.

They had found themselves wrapped in an intense embrace, both needing the comfort of touch from the other to ease their nerves. The thought of losing her terrified him and he clung to her as if his hearts beating depended on her. He had pulled back slightly so he could look at her when he began what Rose thought might be an admittance of what he felt for her, words she had been longing to hear since that night in front of the diner.

That had been the first time he nearly said it, and the depth of his feelings for her both excited and terrified him. He grew fond of his previous companions, even fiercely protective, to be sure, and he would venture to say that he fancied a few, but he loved Rose Tyler. He felt deep affection, tempered with gratitude for bringing him back to life after the slow death of his soul during the Time War. He was also terrified of being that close to another living being, and terrified at the thought of what he might become if he ever lost her.

Ever since the night that he nearly let his tongue slip the first time, their relationship became a dance, teetering on a tightrope of deep, affectionate friendship on one side and something more on the other.

"Yes, Doctor?" answered Rose, waiting with baited breath.

He nervously averted her gaze, eyes landing on her torn collar, arms releasing her waist, and hand immediately pulling at his earlobe. "Can I, erm, borrow your jacket?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You…want to borrow my jacket? But the pockets aren't nearly as handy as the ones in your coat." She released her arms from him as well.

"I want to borrow your jacket. Yes, your collar, it must have been torn while you were trying to escape the grip of that Analaxian. I want to take it to Renursia, home of the finest seamstress this side of the galaxy. I know how much you love this jacket, and she'd be able to stitch it up, and you'd never be able to tell it was torn in the first place!" He turned to the console and began flipping the levers. He did not look at her again. "You know," he added, "she made a lovely multi-colored coat for me once, as a token of thanks for saving her village. Decided to sport it a few regenerations ago. A fine coat it was for the time."

She broke her gaze, moved to sit on the jump seat, and distracted herself with the pattern of the grating on the console room floor. She wouldn't push him to declare how he felt, of which she had some inkling. She hoped he would express that in his own time, but that didn't mean his evasion didn't leave her feeling at least a little wanting.


They sat in the galley of the TARDIS. The Doctor was acting a bit unusual, as he had made her a full breakfast, an act saved for the rarest of occasions. When she had woken up that morning, he was sitting on her bed, and he flashed his best grin at her and grabbed her by the hand to pull her down the corridor to the breakfast table.

She smiled at him as she sipped her tea, hummed in appreciation, and wondered what he was up to.

"Rose Tyler—" he paused.

She thought he might have finally worked up the courage to say how he felt.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Well," he pulled at his earlobe again, "erm, I…I broke your hair curlers."

Her face fell slightly. "What were you doing with my hair curlers?" she asked.

"I may have tried to borrow them yesterday morning as an emergency thermal conductor circuit for the console. When we visited the market yesterday, I then acquired an actual thermal conductor circuit and thought I might have been able to reassemble your curlers, good as new, and return them without you knowing, but it turns out they didn't quite fit as well as I thought and the plastic melted and I'm so sorry, Rose."

She sighed. "You could have just asked me, and I would have been happy to let you borrow them. Is this why you made me breakfast?"

He reached for her hand with both of his from across the table. "Primarily, yes, but also because you've been so wonderful, and I love traveling with you, and Rose, I—" he paused again.

She waited for him to continue. Surely he would say it now.

"I just wanted to thank you, is all. Right then," he shifted in his seat, released her hand from his, and then stood up and walked towards the door, "I'll leave you to breakfast. I'm going to take you to New Holland today. We'll be just in time for the annual tulip festival. They grow the most gorgeous blooms in brilliant hues you've never seen on Earth! And you definitely don't want to miss my clogging. In fact, I'm going to warm up right now. See you in a bit." He turned down the corridor without looking back at her.

Her hand hadn't moved from where he'd released it. She rolled her eyes a bit and smiled, and rested that hand under her chin as she enjoyed her breakfast. It was a bit amusing, the way she was able to make him uncomfortable.


They were in her bedroom. He was sitting with his back against her headboard, and she was lying down on her side next to him.

Every now and then, during their downtime, she asked him to read her a story. She loved a good adventure book, but even more she loved watching the faces he'd make and hearing the different voices he'd use as he brought the characters to life off the page. He was an excellent reader, a master storyteller.

He finished the story and removed his glasses, setting the book on her nightstand. He adjusted his position so he was lying down and he turned on his side to face her. His eyes met hers, and the sight left him breathless. He would never tire of getting lost in her deep, hazel eyes.

She moved her hand to cup his neck and jawline, her thumb rubbing his right sideburn. Deep affection welled up within him.

"Rose Tyler—" he paused.

"Yes, Doctor?" She asked.

"I—"

His eyes shifted, moving past her to the open door of her bathroom, eyes growing wide with excitement.

"I like your bathroom set!" He sat up, left the bed and walked around to the doorway. "Is this what you purchased at the market on Brillium today?"

She gave a half smile and shook her head to herself.


He hung from a thick wire ten miles below the surface of the impossible planet, suspended above a deep, black pit.

She was above ground in a space station, stranded beneath a hungry black hole.

The broken comms left them with no means of contacting each other.

The wire from which he hung afforded him no more length to descend. Only one option remained: plunge into the depths. He began to detach the clips that held him to the wire. He and Ida discussed their beliefs, as a matter of some comfort for her as he knew he was about to leave her and a matter of contemplation of his life, an appropriate response to his possible impending death.

One final thought stuck at the forefront of his mind as he beheld the last clip.

"If they get back in touch, if you talk to Rose, just tell her—" he paused.

Ida waited for him to finish.

He thought of Rose's eyes, her touch, her scent.

"Tell her—"

Her smile and the way her tongue peeks out from behind her teeth, the way her hand fits in his when they run, the way she fits in his arms after an adventure.

It wouldn't have been right to tell her this way. He needed to tell her face-to-face. He thought of the way he evaded her again in their earlier conversation about being stuck together. He felt regret. He would have given anything in that moment to be stuck with her, as long as it meant being by her side for the rest of her life. It would have been the most wonderful adventure in the universe, even at the cost of a mortgage and a job.

But she has to know, doesn't she? He tried to tell her with his actions, because how could he contain his love for her in those three simple words? He tried to tell her in the way he wanted to impress her with all the wonders of the universe, though none held a candle to the way her eyes lit up when she beheld a new sight. He tried to tell her in the way he held her hand and in the way he wrapped his arms around her. He tried to tell her in the way he said her name, each syllable rolling so easily off his tongue, as if his mouth was made just for the purpose of saying it. He tried to tell her in the way he could not refuse to fulfill her requests when she rested her chin on his shoulder and she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. He tried to tell her in the way he would gaze at her when she wasn't looking, his eyes memorizing the way she walked and every curve of her face.

She had to know, right?

"Oh, she knows." He unclipped the last connection and plummeted.

Rose's voice buzzed over the comms, her voice desperate to hear his, only a second too late. "Doctor, are you there? Doctor, Ida, can you hear me? Are you there, Doctor?"

Ida, scared of the prospect of dying alone, answered quietly, "He's gone."

Rose paused. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"He fell…into the pit. And I don't know how deep it is, miles and miles and miles."

Rose blinked in disbelief, her mind swimming to make sense of Ida's statement. "What do you mean, he fell?"

"I couldn't stop him." Ida paused to take a breath, trying to temper the anxiety that seized her, but she was determined to honor the Doctor's last request. "He said your name."

Rose swallowed. Denial flooded her mind. He's not dead. He can't be.

"I'm sorry," the captain offered.

Rose breathed hard.

The captain's voice faded as he talked to Ida, "There's no way of reaching you. No cable, no backup…" She vaguely heard him mention that they had to leave her behind.

She snapped back to reality as the captain instructed the crew to close up the station. "I'm not going," she said, resolutely.

The captain, filled with regret for losing crew members, refused to lose somebody else. "Rose, there's space for you." It's what the Doctor would have wanted after all.

Rose stood her ground. "No, I'm going to wait for the Doctor, just like he'd wait for me."

The captain shook his head and offered again, "I'm sorry, but he's dead."

Rose shook her head in defiance of that thought. "You don't know him. 'Cause he's not." She fought tears. She believed in him with every fiber of her being. "I'm telling you, he's not." She fought the notion to even entertain the possibility of his death. "And even if he was, how could I leave him, all on his own, all the way down there?" She gathered new resolve. "No, I'm…I'm gonna stay."

He nodded. "Then I apologize for this. Danny, Toby, make her secure."

She tried to fight them off. They had to sedate her.


They were on a cold, windy beach. He was an image, a projection, and she was unable to touch him.

He had managed to find one tiny little gap in the universe, not quite big enough for the TARDIS to go through. He would have ripped the universes apart to get back to her, but the TARDIS wouldn't let him, and he threw out her manual into the burning star in defiance. Eventually, after he had finished raging at the universe and his blue box, they compromised and he settled for burning up a sun to send a message through.

He saw her as she walked on the beach towards him. His hearts clenched at the sight of his Rose, feeling life inside of him for the first time in three months and dread that this would be the last time he could ever see her.

He turned up the power derived from the supernova so he could send his projection through.

She turned to see him. He smiled.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Inside the TARDIS. There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close. It takes a lot of power to send this projection. I'm in orbit around a supernova. I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye."

She shook her head. "You look like a ghost."

"Hold on." He adjusted the settings on the console with his sonic screwdriver, not willing to leave his position on the grating for fear of losing the signal.

His face was the saddest she'd ever seen.

She walked towards him and reached out her hand to cup his cheek to comfort him. "Can I—"

He stopped her before she would have been able to make contact. "I'm still just an image. No touch."

"Can't you come through properly?"

"The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse." He had tried. Oh, how he tried.

"So?"

He smiled at her defiance. That was his Rose.

"Where are we? Where did the gap come out?" he asked, taking in her surroundings.

"We're in Norway."

"Norway. Right." He nodded, as if that should have been of some significance to him.

"About 50 miles out of Bergen. It's called Dårlig Ulv-Stranden."

"Dalek?" he looked confused. What would he do if there were Daleks in Pete's World?

"Dårlig," she corrected, and he felt relief. "It's Norwegian for 'bad'." His eyebrows furrowed with a slight suspicion at where this was leading. "It translates as Bad Wolf Bay."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. He laughed, a bit bewildered. Rose was amazing. Her scattering of the words to lead her back to him knew no boundaries in all of time and space. Perhaps it was even the Bad Wolf herself, reaching through time, who had managed to hold open the last tiny little gap between the universes so they could say goodbye.

"How long have we got?"

"About two minutes."

She fought for words. "I can't think of what to say." They both laughed lightly.

What does one say in a moment like this?

He looked at the Tylers on the other side of the beach. "You've still got Mr. Mickey then." Perhaps she could move on and find happiness with someone else. The one thing he wanted for her hadn't changed—he wanted her to have a fantastic life. And if she could never see him again, he wanted her to move on, even if he didn't expect the same for himself.

"There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey…and the baby."

His eyes widened slightly. "You're not…"

She sort of enjoyed his shock. She let it hang for a moment. "No," she laughed, "it's Mum. She's three months gone. More Tylers on the way."

Everyone was moving on. What about her? He desperately just wanted her to be happy. "What about you? What are you…"

"Yeah, I'm back working in the shop."

"Well, good for you." He simply nodded with a slight smile.

"Shut up." She knew he was giving her a hard time. "Nah, I'm not. There's still a Torchwood on this planet. It's open for business." She laughed slightly to help keep the tears back. "I think I know a thing or two about aliens."

He beamed with pride, a few tears starting for himself. "Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth."

"You're dead, officially. Back home. So many people died that day and you've gone missing. You're on a list of the dead." He paused as he watched the tears streaming down her cheeks. He wished he could hold her hand to comfort her. "But here you are." He smiled. "Living a life, day after day, the one adventure I can never have." The one adventure he wanted more than anything else in the universe.

She sobbed. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

The corners of his mouth turned down. "You can't." Tears threatened.

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords."

"On your own?" She hurt for him. Her greatest concern was who was going to hold his hand now?

He nodded. He didn't want to travel with anybody. How could he, after traveling with Rose?

"I l—" she paused.

Tears choked her. She took a deep breath.

"I love you."

"Quite right, too." His hearts nearly leapt out of his chest at her declaration. He'd known it all along. He wished he had not waited so long to say it himself. It was now or never.

After all, what else could he say to the woman who had brought him back to life, who held both of his hearts with her one? He needed her to hear it. He was desperate not to leave it unsaid.

"And, I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it–" he paused, his hearts brimming over with love.

"Rose Tyler–"

She faded from view before he could say those three words. He stood there, overwhelmed with grief that he would never see her again and he could not stop the tears from spilling over onto his cheeks.

She was left without the warmth of his embrace and his smile on that cold, windy beach.


They were on the beach again. The Doctor smiled as he watched Rose place a hand on the Metacrisis' heart. They would be alright.

The TARDIS groaned and summoned the Doctor to leave before the walls of this universe closed forever. But he couldn't leave. Rose Tyler, the love of his lives, summoned him and his Metacrisis to herself.

"When I last stood on this beach on the worst day of my life—"

His hearts clenched. He knew what was coming.

"What was the last thing you said to me?"

The lump in his throat and the threatening tears kept him from answering.

"Go on. Say it," she pleaded.

He swallowed hard. "I said, 'Rose Tyler.'"

"Yeah? And how was that sentence going to end?" She longed to hear it.

He couldn't say it. Not now. If he said it, he'd never be able to leave. Their life together flashed through his mind. All the shared adventures, all the stolen glances, all the handholding, all the embraces, her promise of forever. He hated himself in that moment. He knew what she wanted to hear. He knew she deserved to hear it.

He knew he would have to break her heart. He hoped she would understand someday. "Does it need saying?"

Her face was incredulous. Her deep, hazel eyes, the ones in which he longed to lose himself, fought back tears and shut him out and he had to keep his hands in his pockets. It was all he could do to keep from wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her neck and whispering "I'm so sorry," to comfort her.

After a moment, she turned to his Metacrisis. Yes, he was born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge, but he was also born out of so much love for Rose. The Doctor knew he would help her understand.

The Doctor watched as she asked him, "And you? What was the end of that sentence?" Before she had finished the question, his hand reached out for her and he leaned in to whisper the words the Doctor had always longed to say himself.

I love you.

His hearts nearly beat out of his chest in regret and jealousy at never having been able to say the words himself. He swallowed back tears again as he watched her tug on the lapels of the man's blue suit and they crashed together in a deep kiss. He turned away, unable to watch any longer, as the Metacrisis' fists unclenched and his arms wrapped around her waist in desperation, her hands gripped around his neck and running through his hair.

The Doctor knew his Metacrisis would be able to say those words to Rose every morning as they woke up, every night before they fell asleep, as he was holding their children and he would lean over and kiss her temple. He knew his Metacrisis' love would only grow deeper for the rest of his one life, the one adventure the Doctor could never have with Rose Tyler.

She heard the whoosh of the TARDIS as it left Pete's World for the first and last time. She broke the kiss and walked toward the vanishing blue box and watched the Doctor fade from her life again. Then, after a moment, she felt that familiar hand, the same hand she loved to feel in hers, and looked up at her new new Doctor, and he looked at her, and it was the start of their forever, and his eyes said he would never evade those words again.