Out of Time
*Summary: "How is that possible that, after all you've been through together, all that he's been able to do, that you were now out of time?" 10/Rose continuation of the goodbye scene in Doomsday.
AN: So! I'd just finished watching Doomsday, and, as a diehard 10/Rose shipper, felt the need to write some fanfiction. It went in a different direction than I'd expected, but I think for the better. First Doctor Who fanfic, please review, yadda yadda, the whole shebang. :P Thank you, and hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: No, sadly, I don't own Doctor Who. That is all.
"I—" the words are choked off by your wracking sobs, but you swallow your sadness for a moment to get it out, because you need to say it, "I love you."
He smiles, with difficulty, "Quite right to." You try to laugh, but just end up crying again. He takes a breath and continues, "And I suppose, if this is my last chance to say it," (it feels like your chest collapses just a bit more at these words), "Rose Tyler," he begins.
And then he's gone. Your eyes widen in surprise for a split second before you realize what just happened. Your eyes flood once again, and you cover your face with your hands. No. That's not fair. That can't have happened.
"Doctor…" you whisper weakly, anything that remained of your heart shattering. How is that possible that, after all you've been through together, all that he's been able to do, that you were now out of time?
You don't notice your mum rubbing your back to calm you down. You don't notice Mickey, whispering in your ear that it'll be okay. Of course you don't notice your dad, who's standing a little far off, awkwardly, because he just doesn't know what to say.
That night, you stare up at the stars from your bedroom window and say all the things you never got the chance to tell him. You whisper to the night sky, hoping in vain that somehow, he can still hear you. But, as far as you know, on his side, all the way in another world, he's speaking to you, too, and you can't hear him either.
Two weeks later, you're walking through a mens' clothing shop (Mickey needed new trousers, and made you come to get you out of the house). You notice a lone coat on a hook, all by itself. It was exactly the same as his, except it was grey. You bite your tongue to force back a new wave of tears. So close, yet so far. So, so far from your beloved Doctor.
You take the coat to the cash and pay for it without thinking. Then you run back to your flat, Mickey entirely forgotten. You lock the door and hug the coat to yourself. After a few seconds, you realize it smells nothing like him. This was not your Doctor's coat. There's no trace of him anywhere on it. Of course there isn't, you chastise yourself. How could you have been so stupid? You toss the coat to the floor.
A year later, fourteen months, to be exact, you unlock the door to the flat you share with Mickey, and step in after a long night. You'd been out dancing with your mate, Shireen, and Mickey won't be back for some time. He's out on a date with some girl you've never met, Martha Something-Or-Other. You would usually take advantage of this, watch some gooey chickflick or something, but you have work in the morning. Torchwood is never pleased when you're late, so you lie down on your bed, still dressed, ready to conk right out.
And that's when you hear it. A sound that's still so familiar after all this time, one that you thought you'd never hear again. A sound that is unmistakeable.
Like scraping on the strings of a piano. (But who in their right mind would ever do that?)
You spring out of bed once you know you're not dreaming, and you follow it outside.
The most beautiful, amazing sound in the world.
In any world, for that matter.
And there he is, standing outside his blue box that's bigger on the inside, waiting for you, just like always, smiling his same old smile.
"Rose Tyler," he says, before you can even say hello, "I love you."