"Rose," the Doctor sighed, setting down his screwdriver and turning to look at his friend. "You're doing it again."
"Hm, what?" Rose said and looked up at him.
"The tapping. Makes it kinda hard to study," he said with a small smile. Rose looked down at the desk she was sitting on and stilled her bouncing foot sheepishly.
"Sorry."
The Doctor was about to return to his work when Rose started drumming her nails absentmindedly on the wood. With another sigh, the Doctor removed his glasses and then turned to face Rose fully.
"Okay, what's on your mind?" he asked.
"Nothing," Rose said quickly.
"Rose, you've been antsy all evening."
"I'm fine," Rose wouldn't look at him and instead hopped off the desk and started to walk around his room. The Doctor turned his chair around to watch her. Rose had been acting strange for the past few weeks. Instead of being her usual light and bubbly self, she'd been quiet and secluded. She was starting to fall behind in her classes too.
The Doctor wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Martha and Mickey were also starting to pick up on her mood changes. Well, that is when they weren't so engrossed in themselves. It'd been over a month since they found out they were soulmates; a whole month of fun and bliss for them, while a whole month of awkwardness and giggles from their friends.
It seemed almost unreal that Mickey and Martha hadn't met sooner. Mickey was one of Rose's closest friends, and Martha was one of the Doctor's. Rose had met Martha countless times when she would spend free period with the Doctor's science study period. The Doctor too had gone out for plenty of drinks with Mickey and Jack—the shared mutual friend between pretty much everyone at the college (it was hard to think of a person Jack didn't know). Yet strangely, Mickey had never met Martha until last month. Their numbers had counted down exactly to that fateful day when they had all gone out to celebrate Rose's 20th birthday.
An exasperated sigh from Rose brought the Doctor out of his memories. She had stopped pacing now and returned to sit on the edge of his desk. There wasn't much room to walk around the Doctor's apartment, let alone in his bedroom/study.
"You ready to talk about what's been bothering you lately?" the Doctor asked her cautiously.
Rose fiddled with the hem of her sleeve and murmured, "I've just got a lot of anxiety right now."
"What about?"
Rose didn't respond but instead hid her face in her hands.
"Hey, hey, if you're not comfortable with talking about it, you don't have to tell me," the Doctor reassured her, reaching out to rest his hand on her knee. "But you know I'm always here if you need me."
Rose was silent for a few more moments before she brought her hands down and whispered, "My countdown started."
"W-what?" the Doctor stuttered, even though he knew what she was talking about.
"It started," Rose repeated. To prove her point she rolled up her left sleeve and showed him the soft glowing tattoos on her inner forearm.
07·00·03·15·48
"Rose, that's…" the Doctor started. "That's great, Rose. So brilliant!"
He tried to put enthusiasm into his voice, giving her the best smile he could. He should be happy for her. The end of the countdown would be one of the happiest days in Rose's life. Yet as his words of congratulation left the Doctor's lips, he couldn't help but feel the pain start to grow inside him.
In seven more weeks Rose Tyler would meet her soulmate.
"What am I supposed to do?" Rose's voice wobbled and the Doctor glanced up at her and saw nervousness covering her features. Her hands were shaking and she rubbed the moving tattoo as if she could make it disappear.
"You don't do anything," the Doctor stood up and took her hands in his. "Just let it run out and everything will be fine."
"…but what if it's not?" Rose's eyes flicked over to his forearm briefly before returning to look at their clasped hands.
"It will be," the Doctor assured. "I promise, okay? It'll be just like Mickey and Martha! It won't… it won't be like me."
"I don't think I'm ready for this, Doctor."
"You two can take your time. There's no rushing, you'll have all the time in the world."
"But I like my life the way it is!" Rose cried and looked up at him. "I don't want this! I didn't ask for this stupid clock to start now!"
The Doctor took a step back at her outburst. He'd seen Rose get angry before, but he didn't think she'd get mad at this. The countdown was supposed to be a blessing, for her at least.
Without even realizing it, the Doctor murmured, "I didn't ask for mine to stop."
Rose stiffened and clasped a hand over her mouth. The Doctor winced.
"Oh god, Doctor I'm sorry," Rose said. "I, I'm so sorry. I'm being so selfish—"
"No, no you're fine," the Doctor stopped her. "I'm sorry, forget about me. This is about you. You're nervous about your countdown and scared of what the future will bring. You're acting completely normal for someone your age. Martha was beyond nervous too remember?"
Rose looked at the floor and rolled down her sleeve slowly saying, "Yeah, I remember."
The Doctor walked back over to her and helped off his desk before wrapping his arms around her. Rose returned his embrace and pressed her head into his chest.
"It'll be great, Rose," the Doctor said softly. "You'll be brilliant—they'll be brilliant."
Rose pulled away from his embrace gently, and wrapped her arms around her. She kept her gaze fixed to the floor and sniffed softly.
"But I," Rose fumbled over her words. "I don't… I want…"
"…Rose?"
Shaking her head, Rose mumbled, "I'm gonna go back to the dorms. Thanks for letting me hang here. Night Doctor."
Rose gave him a small smile before walking past him. The Doctor watched her go and called out, "See you tomorrow?"
She paused at the door and gave him another tight smile, "Yeah 'course."
The Doctor stood where he was until he heard her close the apartment door behind her. Slowly he made his way back to his desk and slumped into his chair. After rubbing his eyes, he glanced back down at his work. So many thoughts and calculations covered the pages, it was impossible to tell where it all began. What did it matter anyways? He had spent years trying to figure out how the countdown worked. Everyone just took the clocks for granted. They accepted having their fates drawn out for them without question; they appreciated it. If the world leaders supported the soul clocks then why shouldn't everyone else?
But what about him? What was he supposed to do? The Doctor had heard of people like him, and people who had moved on. They all said they were better off anyways. How could it be better to be broken?
Angrily the Doctor swiped his hand across the desk, scattering the papers and pencils. He knew he shouldn't have let himself get close to Rose. He knew her clock would start eventually. But he let himself go anyways. Let himself fall in love and now let his heart break once more. He hated the clocks, hated the countdown, and wished his had never started. It wasn't fair. Running a hand through his thick hair, the Doctor gazed down at his own forearm.
03·10·15·45·22
The faint green numbers were the same as they were when they stopped six years ago.
