"Say my name."
Her words broke a silence established since the lights had been turned off. Jackie and Pete were fast asleep, Tony had gone to bed several hours ago. However, the Doctor hadn't dared to change from his day clothes when he laid down on Rose's bed. She didn't seem all that convinced either, almost frozen on the spot as soon as he sat on the matress. He mimiced her and reclined on top of the blankets, several inches apart from her, looking up, hands over his own still strangely-single-beating chest. It wasn't the first nor the second day after their return. It had taken them a while.
The Doctor finally unfixed his eyes from the ceiling and turned his head to meet hers. Rose's gaze was unexpectedly intense, pulling a double take out of him. He hadn't attempted to speak a word out, either, yet he didn't have much of a choice now. "Come again?"
"Say my name." Rose replied simply, staring deeply into his eyes through the dark.
He blinked a few times, trying to decipher her expression, but it proved to be hard, and not just thanks to the shadows that covered them. It was the first time since they had left that beach that he found himself in that position – luckily for him, Rose was very expressive, so, when she couldn't keep eye contact and avoided being alone with him during the first day, he understood her conflicted emotions. He wasn't really the Doctor for her, because the real Doctor had left her once again and was out there in the other universe.
He didn't press the matter. He had gotten his hopes up with the kiss – oh, what a kiss that had been –, but he couldn't blame Rose for not being one hundred per cent convinced; her leaving him to sleep in a separate room was definitively her choice. After all, he was dealing with his own set of adjustments. No TARDIS, one heart missing, and lots of hunger and tiredness. How did humans accomplish anything without two lunches and twenty hours of sleep per morning? In truth, he was sort of afraid he'd never catch up.
They had tried to get along after the second night. Jackie sent them shopping – there was no way he'd be seen wearing the same blue suit three days in a row – and they had to babysit Tony for the afternoon. But after every grin, they found each other holding back, up to the point of an awkward pat in the back as a good night.
Which only made her invitation to her room the more inexplicable. He'd in no way refuse it, of course, but… what did her name have to do with anything? And, why now? If he could tell anything from her face, was that she wasn't going to explain her request. If he wanted to figure it out, he'd have to do it himself.
Was it because it was the last thing he got to tell her before the connection vanished? Was it because she had forgotten the way it sounded?
But then it hit him. His head was so stupid! Maybe it was the human brain. If he said that outloud, though, Donna would probably slap him until his next regeneration. Or, in this case, well...
If anything remained constant in this case, it was their names, was it not? He was still the Doctor, he was the Doctor, and she… had always been fantastic, brilliant Rose Tyler. If anything, it was the Doctor – Ninth, Tenth, and now Tenth too – in the TARDIS, with Rose Tyler. If anything was still the same and could ever be the same, and better, than what she had been looking for since they parted, wasn't it all condensed in how the Doctor used his voice, his same voice, to call for her name? Wasn't it the ultimate proof?
"Rose." He didn't falter.
She held her breath and blinked once. "Again."
"Rose Tyler."
It sounded just the same. No, it wasn't that— it felt just the same. Caused the same tingle in her gut. Rose's hand made a bee line to his and intertwined their fingers together. "Again."
"Rose…" Her head moved closer to his and she didn't need to ask anymore. "Rose… Rose."
He rolled to her side as well. She squeezed his hand and cut the last few inches that separated them. "Doctor." The Doctor closed his eyes as their lips met, still needy, still incredibly unreal, but slower, longer, and – he knew now, certainly – for good. Nothing short of bliss, nothing like it, nothing else that mattered, nothing else for it.