There's Something About The Doctor

a/n: Written circa April 2008.

The last few lines are what I wrote almost immediately after some of the opening ones, like a reflection of Rose's musings. I've left it in since it seems like a good way to end things. The title kind of lost it's meaning. It was a lot shorter when I first 'finished it', without the whole piece in the middle. But, I like Ten/Rose, and wanted to write a proper fic for them, soooo. :)


Sometimes she catches herself whilst she's laughing light heartedly. She stops, and reflects, her face playful but her eyes show she is thinking much more deeply. There's always something in her eyes that reflects her inward thoughts; a window to her soul. She's motionless, staring across absently at the man standing on the other side of the console. Close, yet still so far.

She's in every part of his world. Every part of his life. Every little door and room he's standing secluded in, she's conquered and felled, waiting for him to greet her with that smile on his face, an embrace to tell her she belongs to him. She wouldn't have it any other way.

But there are a few doors she hasn't found. A few kept under so many locks and keys that she will never obtain, no matter how hard she tries and persists. Parts of his world she'll never be in. The secret parts. His past companions, his life before she stepped into it. And she'll never see those secrets, because she knows there are some things he will keep buried. He knows all the little details about her, because she tells him when he asks – she has at least nine hundred years of his to catch up on. She's only been there for two.

And sometimes she thinks, this Rose Tyler, that she doesn't really know him and never really will.

But does she leave, or turn around, or walk away? No. There's something about The Doctor. Something that compels her to remain. She loves him. He's her Doctor. She's his Rose. So she stays.

Until the very end.

He looks at her distant face, a coy expression in his eyes – before he breaks into a smile, and walks, hands in pockets, around the console, to stand alongside her, taking her hand. That very simple gesture has become one of the most natural things for him to do, now. It just feels right.

"So, Rose. Where are we off?"

She blinks once, debating. "Anywhere."

"Anywhere?" he repeats, raising his eyebrows.

"As long as we go together, I don't mind," she said truthfully, pulling off another façade by shrugging. Really – she would go to the ends of the world with him, to the dawn of time. Wherever he went, she'd follow.

His smile broadens, as he leads her back round the console to the controls. "Can't argue with that one, can I?"

Rose laughs, and she wipes her eyes slightly with her free hand. She loves moments like this. Just the little things that make all the hard times worthwhile. "Nope! You ain't getting rid of me," she added playfully.

The Doctor looks at her for a moment, regarding her fondly. Even though it's like he's looking at her for the first time – that 'love at first sight' kind of look, the 'I can't bare to ever let you be hurt' look. And he couldn't – her safety comes first. She's saved him so many times – he's saved her so many times. An affinity – that's what it could be called. Endless, utter devotion. Even if he knows it can't last – that he... can't spend the rest of his life with her. That's the thought that haunts him most: but he pushes it to one side.

"Wouldn't dream of it," The Doctor beams, taking her into a one armed hug, which she immediately responds to, her head just below his chin, her hands deep into his back.

Rose smiles, as if believing him, but there's a nagging. A nagging knowledge that she will be got rid of, in some way or another, by that oncoming storm. She pushes it to one side. "Olympics, then?" she said tactfully. "I've always wanted to know what they get up to in 2012."

"No can do," he says, raising his free hand in mock defence. "Your timeline. Interfering."

She raises an eyebrow, weaselling her way out of the hug, to look at him with the most serious and yet still persuasive face she could muster. "I won't exactly go looking for me, will I? I can watch from a distance." Besides, who knows how long she was staying with the Doctor - it could be longer that that. She hoped so, anyway. "And- well, when I do see it later on, properly, it won't be with you." She tilted her head.

The Doctor knew he was fighting a loosing battle here. He couldn't necessarily disagree. It'd be nice to see it with Rose. "Well. I suppose. Just no recklessness like with your dad, got it? Even if that turned out for the best. Still. You know what might turn up," he wagged a finger in her direction, warningly. She nodded sternly in response, all traces of humour gone from her face, serious. She'd rather not have to- go through that again.

He beamed, all smiles again. Rose imitated his face. "Well, 2012 it is then! Well, we won't see who wins," he winked. "You can see the opening."

"That's not fair," she said with a slight huff in her voice, as she trailed back round the console after him.

"Oh, it's not fair you're seeing it early. Gotta have some surprises in what happens, right? Right?" she sighs and gives in, raising her hands in defence. He continues, "More fun that way."

She gives him that grin of hers, and he is acutely reminded of the fact she's everything, so trails back around the console and hugs her. Slightly more tighter than he usually would, with the thought of 'I'm not letting you go' filtering through his actions.

Rose doesn't complain, but questions. "Doctor?" she says, her voice distant. "What's the matter? You're very... wanting to give hugs today," she mused.

"Well, you know me," he says cheerfully, but he doesn't let her go for a minute more or so. "Maybe it's because you just give them me back."

"Hmm, maybe," Rose says in response, holding back a slight laugh. "I should stop doing that..." she pauses, as he seems to freeze up. "... but I won't! Honest, Doctor. I ain't."

The Doctor takes this in, still standing utmost still, before he sways from side to side a little whilst hugging her, as if trying to ease the tension over his head. He hates this subject, of her leaving. Because it's the last thing he wants. "Rose, can I ask you something?"

She nods into his side. "'course. Go ahead."

"Do you..." he pauses, as if searching for the right person to put into the sentence. "... miss your mother? Mickey? Do you?"

Rose takes her turn to pause, silent. "... sometimes. Now and then." It's the sacrifice to be with the man who saved her, and she knows it. But she doesn't know him, as she's thought about before. How can she go off with someone she barely knows? ... well, she knows the answer to that one.

He broke into her thoughts. "Would you... miss me?" His voice seems to have attained a sad note from somewhere, soft and almost melancholy. It's like he's trying to ask something else, but the words he wants to say won't avail themselves.

Rose doesn't even let him fully finish the sentence. "You have to ask? Of course I would. You know that."

The Doctor releases her from his grip, and looks down at her, the smile plastered right across his face again.

He loves her beyond words. He really does.

. . . .

If he could turn back the clock - oh, how ironic it was, when he really could, but not on the short amount of time in his years they'd spent together - he would have told her everyday.

He thought she knew. Of course Rose did. The Doctor knew she did. But he never realised- until she told him herself, in their final farewell, as he chased the fading door to her new world with all his might. He realised, then, that he'd never, ever said it, and perhaps- part of her didn't know. Pat of her needed to know.

Those three little words. I love you.

When you have all the time in the world, it's terrifying to think it's so short and passes by so freely. It's terrifying to think, that as a Time Lord, you really have no power over time at all. He isn't its master. It's his - cutting him off at the last possible moment he could ever tell her.

Which makes it all that more hard to live without her.