The immediate feelings that swept over him were unrelated to the emotional loss of the TARDIS and gaining of Rose Tyler. He felt sick, and unfamiliarly so. As they drove farther and farther away from the beach, a deep nausea seized his body with increasing force; purely human hormones acclimating to the complexity of his brain— his timelord mind and memories. He could distantly hear Jackie prattling on about irrelevant matters in an attempt to clear the awkward air— Rose, creating a barrier of silence between herself and the world. The doctor still managed to have an acute awareness for those around him throughout his new experience of physical discomfort.
In fact, his awareness for one girl in particular increased tremendously. This girl happened to be scrunched next to him in the backseat of an old Jeep, her eyes wide-open with fierceness only comparable to that of when she stared into the heart of the TARDIS. Though he retained the same thoughts and memories, his emotional responses peaked with an unreasonable and unstable pattern due to his new, human body. To earthlings, he had always appeared to be perfectly human— but on the inside his body had fluctuated at an inhuman rate, keeping pace with his timelord mind and keeping the unimportant functions of that body readily in check. He could no longer control his bodily reactions so precisely, could no longer prevent his senses from seizing him completely. He took deep inhalations to calm the nausea within him, and was yet again surprised when the feeling worsened, bright lights popping across his vision, fatigue weighing on his heavy mind.
He recalled her scent to be pleasant the many times he held her in a tight embrace, or laid beside her on the green grass of New New York, blonde locks sprawled out so close to him. But she had a different effect on him now, an uncontrollable effect that shook his testosterone-filled body every scent of her that accidentally processed through his mind, every simple movement that reverberated through the seat. The feeling of her electrifying lips against his back on that beach after endless lifetimes of waiting, the feeling of giving in— oh, it was all so human. So brilliant, so fantastic!
But it all came too quickly, and it overwhelmed him more than he could realize, and the blur of Norwegian scenery darkened before his eyes as he began to lose consciousness, the weight of his body falling onto Rose's shoulder, his touch awakening her from that stupor of depression.
"Mum! There's something wrong with him— for God's sake, stop the car!"
"Well, there's no need to shout, is there? He's just a little tired, is all! Splash a bit of water on 'im and he'll be as good as the other one."
At her last remark Rose paid no attention, but she did bring him out of the Jeep, wetting a washcloth with water from a spare canteen, gently wiping his face in the fresh air. His eyes immediately fluttered open. His condition wasn't serious—simply him becoming accustomed to the conditions of his new body, as he always did. But Rose had no way of knowing, and her eyes glistened with fearful concern.
"I won't lose you, too." The words fell from her lips unconsciously, soft and full of love.
"Rose," he felt all too disoriented, his surroundings familiar yet jumbled within the timeline of his mind, before rushing back in place, "Why are you wiping my forehead? This is no time for face-care! We have an earth to defend!"
She let out an airy laugh, breath shaky with relief, and she just sat there on her knees by the side of the road, looking at him as if for the first time as he sprung to his feet. Regaining his strength and consciousness, he grinned down at her, extending his hand to pull her up. Rose took it and immediately pulled the doctor— or, whoever he was— into a warm embrace, took him into her arms and surrounded him with the love he desperately needed. His grin faded, his jaw clenching as he burrowed his nose into her neck, taking in her sweet scent as moisture began to leak onto his chest from her eyes. Little sniffles turned to sobs. She cried— a bit for him, but mostly for the other him – for the life of adventuring once led, for the boundless opportunities and wildest sights of the universe that were seemingly lost forever. She cried because they were lost and broken. She cried because she hadn't in so long, retaining tears all this time for the sliver of hope that they would be reunited again. She cried because he left her again, after all her pained efforts, after all the pent-up feelings she hoped could be returned— he threw her out like yesterday's trash, like Sarah Jane, except with a clone to keep her company rather than a metal dog. Burrowing her face deeper into him and tightening her hold on that ever-so familiar body, her sobs quieted, deep breaths halting the influx of tears. They were abandoned, but at least they were abandoned together.
From a small distance Jackie Tyler observed them—arms crossed, eyes etched with motherly worry and a tint of anger for the other doctor who left them. But she wore a slight smile, too.
"Oh, they'll be alright."
Jackie muttered to herself upon the sight of the doctor rubbing her back comfortingly. She could see this man was loads more gentle— and loving— than the other doctor could ever afford to be. Pleased, she turned and reentered the Jeep, awaiting their return.
"What are we going to do, doctor? I mean, without the TARDIS and everything— how will you manage?"
For a moment he was at a loss for words, and the mention of the TARDIS created an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he realized he would never see her again. However, it was a fair trade-off— the universe for Rose Tyler—it was just that he had never known a life outside of time-travel, outside of the TARDIS. His eyes become empty, void of the usual energetic life that filled them, dark like an oncoming storm, before brightening once again.
"We'll do what we've always done, Rose Tyler." He accentuated her name, especially that "la" at the end of her last, all in good humor and usual playfulness. "We'll travel the world as we always have, you and I! We'll go on protecting the earth, and all the stupid, brilliant humans that inhabit it!"
Digging his hands into his pockets, the familiar image of his wide, toothy grin, eyes crinkling, hair blowing chaotically in the Norwegian wind, made her giddy and breathless, and for a moment she felt whole, as if he had never left her at all.
"That is," his words slowed into a more serious preposition, smile lessened but still remained in a hopeful yet knowing expression, "if you want to."
She nearly began to cry again, out of pain or happiness she wasn't sure. But she straightened herself up at the sight of him—so strong, so happy after losing everything, that strength summoned just for her sake. Rose couldn't go on being heartbroken when he gave her that smile. She tugged at the fabric of her jacket so as to straighten it, and cleared her worn throat.
"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Rose returned the smile; an acceptance of his invitation. "There's no use in wasting time crying, I suppose!"
Rose grabbed his hand, the doctor's fingers intertwining naturally around hers. They both felt a pleasant tingle in their skin at the long-awaited touch of a loved one, still new and fresh. They jumped into the Jeep with a feeling of excitement, and unsaid love.
"Took you two long enough! I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me, or went and got yourselves kidnapped by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time."
"Oh, quit your whining, mum. We're all here now, aren't we? With Pete and Tony and everything—"
"I know, I know," She interrupted her as the Jeep's engine began to rumble, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "I wouldn't want it any other way. And I mean that, doctor." Jackie looked him dead in the eyes.
"Thank you."
He, now ordinary in his human body, shuffled uncomfortably at the memories concerning the Tyler family. He wanted to apologize— infinite apologies could never be enough to balance the pain he had cause Rose and her mother— and yet, she was thanking him. Jackie Tyler was thanking him, Rose squeezing his hand in silent agreement, after all that time and heartbreak. Humans were brilliant, but he knew this family was the most brilliant of them all. His throat was thick with emotion, and they continued driving in that amiable silence— the doctor unable to properly respond.
The feelings of losing the TARDIS were numbed temporarily as Rose was lulled to sleep by the grey scenery and monotonous sound of tires on the road, her eyes drifting to a soft close as her head fell upon his shoulder, the weight of her clearing his mind of any worry imaginable. For once, they were safe. The feeling was so new and foreign that he could not immediately settle into the idea – but as he did, he grew increasingly comfortable with the thought of growing closer to Rose. Sure, they were already very close— the girl built a canon to break through dimensions, risking shattering the very fabric of time and space itself— all for the sake of finding him! But when he led the life of a timelord, going on infinitely as those around him were destined to leave, there remained a part of him that was unable to be seen, that was sectioned off, sentenced to an infinity of loneliness.
Here, with her warm skin so close to his, he could feel the fence of his feelings being worn away with every breath she released in her sleeping state, increasing his awareness of their closeness. He recalled the nights they would return to the TARDIS after hours of adventure, her human body collapsing on the bed in the room he had given her, worn. Many times he would talk to her as she drifted to sleep; chatted endlessly about what stars and planets and incredible species they would visit next, for the sole purpose of seeing that beautiful smile as she fell asleep, knowing that he was making her happy despite it all. Never would he join her in that bed, partly because his timelord body didn't require such massive amounts of rest, but mostly because the act would imply a relationship that he couldn't afford to give. A relationship that he couldn't afford to lose. A love he couldn't risk experiencing, only for it to be ripped away forever. So he would watch her from a safe distance as she entered that peaceful state, only for a few moments before running off to tinker with the TARDIS, allowing himself to wish that they could stay together in their carefree companionship forever, to wish in vain that he could lay beside her, holding her so tightly that their separation would become impossible.
In the rumbling backseat of the vehicle travelling across Norwegian countryside, a gentle calm swept over the pair, the doctor extending his arm over her shoulder and pulling her so carefully towards him, so as not to wake her. After endless lifetimes of opposition, he allowed himself to breathe her in, to feel her skin, to let himself drift into a comfortable sleep next to his companion.
As his eyelids became heavy, he muttered a single phrase to the girl beside him, a beginning to their new life, an internal apology for all the times he could not say the simple words:
"I love you, Rose Tyler."