Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.
Spoilers: Journey's End
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Standing outside the Doctor's flat, heart in hand, ready to give him what he wanted--what she finally realized that she wanted as well--Rose didn't expect the answer she was given. Didn't expect to be greeted, not by him, but by someone else, some other woman, naked but for one of his button-up shirts, blonde hair sex-tousled, fake smile plastered all over her perfect little face.
Rose made it halfway down the stairs before he caught up to her, grabbing her by the arm and halting her escape. He planted himself directly in front of her, blocking the way so she couldn't go any further. Not unless she wanted to go back up, and that direction only held more pain than she cared to suffer through right now.
"Did you think I'd just wait for you forever?"
He was angry, angrier than she'd ever seen him, this him, before. Even when she'd kicked him out his tone had been lost, sad, not the scathing, hurtful one he used now, the one that reminded her so much of her first Doctor, all leather and boots and ice.
"Two years, Rose, I waited for you for two years. Would've waited two more if you'd..." He trailed off, his voice wavering, shaking nearly as bad as the hands she clutched tight in her pockets. Swallowing thickly, his eyes narrowed on her and she knew in that instant that any feelings he once had for her were long gone, buried beneath the pain of her constant avoidance, her bitter denial of him.
"You're the one who said goodbye, Rose. Not me."
Arms crossed, gaze steady on hers, almost daring her to deny it, he took a step back, out of her way. Like he was giving her permission, granting her his leave.
Red flashed before her eyes. How dare he!
Fisting her hand around the railing, she took the stairs two at a time, not once looking back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
