Safely on the TARDIS, the Doctor ran the sonic screwdriver over Rose's hands. Lungs dragging in air from that last sprint, she could barely hear its dim hum.
"Doctor. It's paint." The gasps also made it hard to laugh. Not that it was making much of a difference.
He didn't even look up. Glasses whipped free from a bigger-on-the-inside pocket, but he continued to squint at Rose's fire engine red palm. "Does it hurt?"
"No. Because it's paint."
"You can't paint a TARDIS. Hold still."
Rose flashed him a patronizing look, forehead scrunched and lips parted. "Why bloomin' not?"
"The TARDIS isn't a piece of wood. It's a ship. It's a living being, a creature of consciousness that you've only begun to understand. She would never stand for it."
Oh, there was the hum. Her heart was coming down to a normal rate, but still the Doctor scanned and rescanned and rerescanned her hand. All she'd done was touched the side after having the, oh, so preposterous thought that it would persuade him before they dove for the safety of the inside. Silly Rose. "… Maybe she likes the color."
The corners of his mouth turned down a little, but otherwise nothing. Silence, save for a throaty mumble that was as incomprehensible as it was petulant.
"Well? Maybe she does?" Rose was not going to give this one up.
With a snap, the humming stopped and the sonic screwdriver disappeared back into the Doctor's coat. Some of the feverish disapproval left his demeanor, and now his hands were stuffed in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. Rose wondered if he knew that one half of his face was still covered in shaving foam. "But it's red. It's all so… red."
"Oi! I like red." She crossed her arms across her chest. If the TARDIS wanted to be a new color, then she was going to be a new color and the devil take the Doctor. Rose Tyler's heart swelled protectively for her Doctor's little ship.
Rose's firm declaration and a belated realization that he was on shaky ground appeared to bring the Doctor up short. And then he gave a triumphant grin and jabbed a finger at her. "And you wouldn't let someone paint you. Hah!"
"Well, I'm not a blue box. Maybe I would!" The triumph on his expression died and Rose thrust her chin out a little more to emphasize the point.
He huffed, then, rambling on about polycarbons and dimensional trafficking until Rose's posture relaxed into giggles. The corner of his mouth twitched, the only sign that he was coming around to her amused perspective on this – he firmly persisted - mess, but he masked it by focusing on the console and flipping switches, pressing buttons. "Right. Ladies. We're going to Covi Copana. Covi Copana, yes? Brilliant place that. Full of little furry whatdoyoucallthems."
He put a little extra energy into throwing that last lever and flashed a sardonic glance filled with his own self-possession at the still-snickering Rose.
When shaving foam fell from his chin in a clump onto the console, Rose laughed until she couldn't stand.
***
It was a silly thing, he supposed, to have come to mind. Human brain waves and all. After all, he was a murderer and Rose was crying so it wasn't exactly timely. He threw an arm around her shoulder, while she continued to stare into the empty space that had once held the Doctor and Donna and the best friend he'd ever had.
The price of humanity. Even as Rose turned to sob into his chest, something he'd missed as much as he'd hated every time she had a cause to do so, this Doctor felt a stab of regret. It was only going to get worse, which he knew with a Time Lord's certainty even if he wasn't one.
Rose squeezed him for all that she was worth, tears still streaming, and he cradled her head beneath his chin, eyes closing. He could taste her kiss, but he knew what was coming. Within the next five minutes, she was going to realize the enormity of what the Doctor had just done. He'd left her. Again.
Following on that, she'd have the bitter realization that he wasn't the Doctor. And even though he was, she wouldn't be able to see it that way. Her big brown eyes would be so sad and show him every inch of her discomfort. Not that she'd want to hurt him or anyone else, but she wouldn't be able to ignore that he at least looked like the Doctor who had left her. Again. And there would be resentment. And awkward pauses. And stiffening.
He could feel his chest tightening just at the thought. Knowing his stubborn Rose, this would probably go on for at least a month. And he'd pick slowly away at her walls, and he'd make her fall in love with him all over again, while living with the knowledge that she loved someone else. Someone who could give her the stars and danger and daring rescues.
The month would be the worst, he reassured himself while listening distantly to the sound of her quieting sobs. They'd find earthbound adventure and a mortgage, and she'd work so hard to pull him from the darkness all over again.
But nothing would keep her from watching the stars. And he'd have to ignore the thrill in her voice directed at every new Torchwood innovation that related in any way, shape, or form to inter-dimensional travel.
For all of his wonderful, fantastic brilliance, this Doctor nor any other liked to share. He'd had to let her go once, and having her back, he couldn't take any pleasure in the thought that she was always going to be longing for a man other than him, even if it was the same person.
Rose sniffled. While she wiped her nose on her sleeve, the Doctor took in a calming breath, preparing himself for the first day in what was to be a very, very long month. His hands disappeared into his pockets.
"He's always going to miss you. You know that, right?" No point in hiding from the inevitable.
Rose's face scrunched a bit, a step away from a fresh bout of tears until she nodded. "Yeah." Her voice was shaky, and she dug one trainer into the sand, uncomfortably. "What about you? You lost your TARDIS. Your whole life."
He made a noncommittal noise and looked off into the ocean. "Price of being human, I suppose. Besides. Better here than there, anyway. Can you imagine a universe with two Doctors? Two! Isn't enough room for one alone as it is. It'd be miserably cramped."
She smiled wanly and gave a hiccupping little laugh that sounded like grief. He felt his chest tighten further. Just another few minutes...
Another hiccupping little laugh. Rose tried to hide it behind her hand, brown eyes flashing with tearful mirth. His look of concerned calm melted into something much more cautious and confused, brown eyes looking her up and down a few times over. "... What?" He put unnecessary emphasis on the t at the end.
More humor in those red, glistening eyes. Rose bit down on her thumbnail and now laughed outright, the sound hoarse and gasping. "You... you've..." Face flushing pink, she trailed her thumb down to her bottom lip. "... you've got a little somethin'..."
She trailed off, but the Doctor's eyes went wide. It was his turn to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Something pink, glossy, and peach-smelling glistened on his skin.
Oh. He gave a grimace and wiped at his mouth a second and third time with manly urgency. If the sound of him clearing his throat didn't push her over the edge, the look of mortification in those comically expressive brows surely did.
Rose Tyler laughed until she sank into the wet sand, fingers curling into her sides. A moment later he joined her, mirroring grins breaking across their features and the laughter of two people so very happy to be alive overshadowing the waves crashing on the shore.
Jackie Tyler, far behind them, thought they were both mad as hatters.
Everything was just as it should be, and the Doctor – Rose Tyler's Doctor – finally admitted that even a TARDIS can be painted red from time to time.
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