When he wished to see her one more time, he hadn't expected this. He'd been moping around for so long, unhappy in his own skin for the first time in his long long life. It felt as though time had stopped that day. He'd always found it so easy just to move on, forget the past, live in the present. Only the present was stale and dead, and the past was where he wanted to be. He just wanted to relive those moments they'd had together. The insignificant ones, the quiet ones, the boring ones. Because they were what he missed now. Her presence on the TARDIS, her clothes all over the place, her awful music, the smell of bleach when she dyed her hair. The domestic stuff. He missed it.

So he asked the TARDIS to take him to her one last time. So he could just experience it all for one final time before he was forced to say goodbye. Finally.

But he hadn't expected this.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Powell estate in late September. The last of the summer's rays was beating down upon the tarmac and he felt slightly warm inside that pinstripe suit. He'd been thinking about changing it recently, he'd found a grey one in the wardrobe which he didn't think he'd worn before. But he was still loathe to part with this one. He knew he was only imagining it, that it had been too long, but he swore he could still smell her perfume on it. He hadn't washed the jacket since that day.

He walked across the open square, remembering all the times he'd been here before. Nothing ever changed, he thought, smiling at the graffiti. No wonder she'd wanted to leave. Part of him was glad she was where she was now. A new world, a new life… he couldn't have stood sending her back to this old life where she was bored as hell. Still, maybe that would have been better than living her life as a shell.

He turned round and then there she was. Her hair was flying wildly in the brisk breeze that had built up. It was longer than when he'd last seen her, and he noticed that the golden colour ended a good few inches before her scalp; she was in pretty dire need of that peroxide. She was wearing jeans and a white vest top. She was wearing a brown bag slung across her body and she dropped her phone in as she walked towards him. This was what he'd wanted; her alive and here and safe and being who she always had been. His beautiful Rose.

He took a few steps forward, unsure how to begin talking to her. She glanced over at him and he chanced a smile. But she didn't smile back. She turned her head away quickly, avoiding all eye contact. He was puzzled; why would she ignore him? If she was angry with him, she wouldn't waste time sulking and behaving like a child. She'd come right out and tell him, it was one of the things he loved about her.

He made to walk after her and he wondered if it was his imagination, or if she really did give an uneasy glance over her shoulder. She seemed to speed up, her footfalls on the ground becoming agitated, but that could have just been him being out of practice. Maybe he'd forgotten how fast she walked; he was forgetting a lot of things lately.

Finally she stopped dead and whipped round, the sunlight catching on the honey-blonde tips of her hair. And to his surprise she looked scared. She was trying to hide it, putting on that stubborn face he knew so well, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Here." She thrust her bag towards him. She unzipped it. "Take it, take it all. Whatever you want."

He frowned and looked down into the bag. There was the usual rubbish in there; tissues and broken eyeliner pencils and receipts. Not much worth taking really.

As if she'd read his mind she said, "There's nothing worth taking, but that's up to you."

He smiled. "I think I'll pass thanks, Rose."

Her eyes widened even further and she took a step back. Her bag swung against her side as her hands trembled and she dropped it. "How do you know my name?"

The Doctor frowned again, his hearts speeding up every so slightly. He wondered what could have gone wrong this time. Taking a step forward, he reached for her hand. "Rose, it's me."

She pulled her hand out of his grasp as soon as his hand brushed it. The ring on her finger cut into his skin lightly but he barely noticed. She backed away again. "I'm sorry, I really don't know you."

"But it's me, it's the Doctor." Then he had a sudden thought. Maybe she didn't know him, or at least not like this. He hadn't checked exactly when he'd come back before stepping out the TARDIS. Maybe this was before he'd changed. Maybe she knew the Doctor as a big-eared man with a number two crop and a Mancunian accent. He hastily tried to rectify the situation. "At least, I will be, in the future."

Rose's eyes looked him up and down nervously as she continued moving away. "Look, I'm late for work, I don't have time for this." She glanced over her shoulder briefly. He followed her eyeline. Mickey's flat. She turned back to look at him and caught him looking up. "I don't know anyone called the Doctor." He saw her swallow the lump in her throat and toss her hair defiantly. "And I need to get going. I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person." She walked away.

Leaving him standing there, utterly baffled. She said she didn't know him, didn't know anyone called the Doctor. But she must, she must…Unless…

Stepping back into the TARDIS he took a deep breath before accessing the screen and looking up his current location.

"The Powell Estate, London, England, Earth. September 2004," he read aloud, before sitting down heavily in the chair. "That was before she even met me. The other me. She's just a kid, a girl, someone who goes to work and…" He shook his head uncomprehendingly. "She doesn't even know me! How is this supposed to help? How?" And then he found himself releasing the anger that he'd had stored up for so long. He wasn't sure how he'd kept it in check all this time when all he'd wanted was to rage and rant and demand to know why the world was so unfair. But he had, for one reason or another. Anger when you could do nothing about it was pointless, he'd always thought. Emotions for the sake of it. He only ever got angry when he felt he could help, could actively do something, anything to change things.

As he began his shouting and kicking he wondered who he was really angry with. The TARDIS for bringing him here? It wasn't her fault, she was getting old too. Old and temperamental and she tried her best. Angry with Rose for not knowing him? But she too was faultless. She was living in 2004, before he'd exploded into her life. She was just doing what humans did, and had found herself in a strange and frightening situation then. Was he angry with the world, the universe, for causing all this to happen, to have put him in this ridiculous position where the woman he loved was miles beyond his reach, and the only way he could ever see her again was to spend time with her before she'd ever met him? He wanted to blame someone, anyone, for the pain that was tearing him apart day by day. The Daleks, the cybermen, Torchwood… they'd all contributed to it. But ultimately he knew who he was really angry with, the only person there was left to blame in this whole sorry mess. Himself. Because he was responsible, for Rose being there and for having fallen for her so heavily. Just him. No one else.

Finally, after screaming and shouting and kicking and crying, he found himself sitting on the control room floor, his head resting against one of the pillars wearily. He felt so tired now, like all his energy had gone. He felt like a child after a tantrum. And still he had no clue what was going on.

"Why?" he asked again, his voice breaking and his eyes filling with tears, which he scuffed away with his shirt cuff. "Why here?"

And as the TARDIS told him why she'd brought him here, he knew what he still had left to do.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

How he hated public transport. He stepped off the bus thankfully, having stood for the whole journey wedged between a young mother with a screaming baby and a sweaty stockbroker shouting obscenities into his mobile phone. He stumbled onto the street and couldn't help brushing his shoulders unconsciously. Shoving his hands in his pockets he gazed up at the building in front of him. It really wasn't that nice looking; blowing it up had been too good for it really. He glanced in the shop window, frowning at the dummies. Only when he was completely certain that they were regulation stationary mannequins did he step through the doors into Henriks department store.

It was a dead day. He noticed that immediately. He also noticed the utter soulessness of the place. He felt a sudden urge to throw Rose over his shoulder and bundle her out of there, rescuing her from this mind-numbing life. But he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. He'd probably put his back out if he tried.

He sauntered through the perfume department, trying to avoid getting sprayed and failing. As he came out the other end, he realised that he really did need to change his suit now. He smelt like a tarts' boudoir.

He found himself in the men's department. He lingered by the shirts and ties, trying to kill some time, pretending to look like he knew what he was doing. Obviously his acting needed a bit of brushing up, as a man in a very sharp suit sidled up to him.

"Looking for anything in particular, sir?" he said, flashing pearly teeth.

The Doctor shrugged, trying to avoid focussing too hard on the pathetic attempts the man had made at facial hair. "Erm, this and that."

"A new suit, maybe?" The man's eyes flickered over the pinstripe jacket. "And shoes?"

"Really?" The Doctor glanced down at his beloved Converse. "You think so? I kind of like these actually."

"Right, well, yes. Just a suit then?"

"Oh I've got a new suit. Well, new-ish," the Doctor replied. He grinned cheerfully. "It's grey."

"We have some very nice new suits in." The assistant guided him over to the rail without even seeming to register his answer. "Perhaps if sir would like to choose a few and possibly try them on…?"

The Doctor looked at the daunting rails of suits in front of him, in every conceivable colour. He half-thought about running away screaming then. But he was a Time Lord, he could handle a bit of shopping.

"Right. Yes. A suit. Lovely." He nodded firmly to himself. He made to move forwards and found the assistant right at his elbow. He moved back and gave him a pained smile. "Is it alright if I just have a browse for now?"

"Of course, sir can take as much time as sir needs," the assistant practically bowed in front of him and backed away. "Come and find me when you're ready to try them on. If I'm not around, just ask for Steve."

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief and flicked through the rails slowly. He really didn't want a new suit. He didn't even want to change this suit for the grey one back in the TARDIS. It wasn't the suit she knew, the one she'd cried into so many times. She'd never teasingly buttoned the grey one up, or smoothed its collars down. This was as much her suit as his, and he couldn't bear to think about casting it aside like that, just giving up on her completely.

Half-heartedly, he pulled a few suits out and looked at them. Just as he was about to shove them all back onto the rails and hurry away, his tail between his legs, he saw her. She'd entered the department without his even realising it, and was standing talking to Steve. Or was being talked at by Steve from what he could see from here. Grabbing the first few suits to hand, he hurried over to them.

Her eyes widened as he got near and he saw her glance around for an escape route.

"Ah, has sir found what he was looking for?" Steve said, smiling creepily as he surveyed the hangers.

"Sort of," the Doctor nodded, not taking his eyes off Rose to her distress. "Can I try these on?"

"I should be getting back to work," Rose said quickly.

"Stay!" Steve barked. The Doctor was surprised such a harsh sound could come out of a mouth so dripping in sugar-coated customer endearments.

"Actually, you could be of some help. I could do with a woman's perspective," the Doctor said, and he saw Rose pale underneath her make-up.

"Well, I…" Rose stuttered as she tried to protest, but Steve was already fussing around.

"I'll just go and prepare the changing rooms." He took the suits out of the Doctor's hands and bustled away self-importantly.

Rose sighed heavily, before meeting the Doctor's eye again. She still looked troubled by his presence, but there was curiosity beginning to creep into her expression. Some of usual bounce and confidence was coming back. "You stalking me or something?" she asked, unable to hide the grin on her mouth.

"You could say that." He smiled back. "Look, I'm sorry about this morning, I must have got myself confused…"

"It's okay." Rose shook her head hurriedly, not breaking eye contact with him. "I've been stalked by worse people." She bit her lip before saying, "But how did you know my name?"

"Coincidence."

"Right, yeah, 'course."

"Would sir like to come this way?" Steve reappeared.

"And Rose." The Doctor gestured to her.

Steve practically spat venom as he replied, "Yes. And Rose."

Once in the changing rooms, the Doctor managed to rid himself of Steve after a long time assuring him that sir would be fine, and that sir would call for him straight away if there was any trouble. Rose stood by as the conversation continued, ignoring the poisonous looks the other assistant was giving her. Finally, he left them alone.

"Wow, he was hard work." The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

"He works on commission," Rose explained. "And they get bonuses for their sales figures down here too."

"And you?"

"Nah." She snorted and shook her head. "But can't complain, it's a job isn't it?"

"I suppose."

She gestured to the cubicle. "So? Are you going to try on your suits or what?"

Through the door, she kept up a muffled conversation.

"So what is it you do then?" she asked, and he could hear her putting a stick of chewing gum in her mouth as she spoke.

"I sort of…" he hesitated.

"Sort of what?"

"Travel." He zipped up the trousers and pulled the jacket on before opening the door. "What do you think?"

Rose tilted her head on one side and surveyed the jet black suit. "It's nice." She nodded. "But what do you need a suit for if you travel? I thought all travellers wore like tatty jeans and manky old t-shirts."

"I'm an eccentric traveller." He shrugged and flashed her a grin. "One of a kind." He looked at himself in the mirror and pulled a face. "It's a bit… isn't it?"

Rose looked him up and down again and, wrinkling her nose, nodded. "Yeah, very."

He went to try on another one.

"I've always wanted to go travelling," Rose said. "See the world, visit all those places they show you on Wish You Were Here. Me and Mum have never got further than Wales."

"Cardiff?" The Doctor smiled to himself in the mirror as he pulled the next pair of trousers off the hanger.

"Yeah… how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"Not always Cardiff… sometimes Swansea," Rose continued. "But I'd love to see a bit more of the world."

"You will." The Doctor came back out, dressed in a cream linen suit.

"Yeah right!" Rose laughed. "In my dreams."

"No. Beyond your wildest dreams." The Doctor turned to face her suddenly. "One day, Rose, you'll travel further than you could ever imagine."

Rose looked at him bemusedly. "How do you know so much?" she asked. "You barely know me. But you act like you know all about me."

The Doctor remembered himself. "I see things in people," he replied. "You've got a great future ahead of you, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Rose rolled her eyes. "I don't like that one, try another one."

Back in his cubicle, the Doctor ventured to ask a question. "So have you got a boyfriend or anything?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Rose replied warningly, "but yes, I have."

"Nice bloke?"

"The nicest."

"Good."

"But…"

He paused in his dressing and waited for her continue. When she didn't he prompted her. "But?"

"Well… don't you ever think there should be more to life than nice?" Rose sounded wistful. Finishing pulling the jacket on, he opened the door and looked at her.

"Such as?"

"I don't know. Excitement, adventure…" She tailed off. "I don't know. What you do, travelling, that sounds exciting."

"It is." The Doctor nodded. "It can be pretty lonely though."

"You on your own?"

"You sound surprised."
"Well, nice looking guy like you…" Rose blushed. "Sorry."

"That's okay. It's complicated."

"I bet. Well, anytime you want some company, I'm always up for a bit of travelling and adventure," Rose joked. "Call me anytime."

"I might just do that one day."

Rose looked at him suddenly, frowning. "You know, I have the weirdest feeling I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"

There was a long silence as they looked at each other. He didn't know what to say. Panic set in. What if this was messing up time completely?

"Is sir finding everything okay?"

They both jerked out of their reverie and looked at him. Rose hastily swallowed her gum.

"That's a very nice suit, sir, don't you think?"

The Doctor looked down. It was a vibrant blue; nothing could have been more different from his old brown one. It fit nicely and he liked the colour. But he still wanted her opinion.

"What do you think, Rose?"

Rose looked him up and down. "Yeah, it's nice."

"Now if we could find sir some shoes!" Steve looked at the Doctor's feet disdainfully. "Really, sir, a nice pair of shoes will finish that outfit off a treat."

"Really?" The Doctor looked over at Rose again.

A smile spread across her face, as Steve began to enthuse over a simply divine pair of brogues that had come in only that morning. "I like them," she said suddenly, interrupting him.

Steve turned to look at her. "Sorry?"

"What he's wearing. I think they look pretty good."

The Doctor beamed. "Fantastic. I'll just have the suit then please, Steve."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After paying much more than he'd have liked to pay for the suit, the Doctor walked with Rose towards the down escalator.

"Right, well, hope you enjoy the suit," Rose said awkwardly as they stood by the moving staircase. "It looks good on you."

"Thanks. Thanks for your help." The Doctor nodded.

"That's okay." Rose pulled at her sleeves self-consciously. "I better be getting back to work," she gestured downstairs with a flick of her thumb.

"Right, yeah, of course."

She smiled. "So, um, goodbye then."

"Yes, goodbye."

"You… You never told me your name," Rose said hesitantly.

"Oh, Smith, John Smith."

"Really?" Rose said doubtfully.

"Why, is that unbelievable?"

"No, I mean, if it is your name…" She pulled a face. "Maybe a bit."

"That's not my name."

"Then what is?"

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Yep."

"But…"

"The Doctor."

Rose took a few seconds to digest the information before nodding. "Okay. So I'll see you around then, Doctor."

"You most certainly will."

"I will? Won't you be off travelling again somewhere?"

"No doubt. But I'm sure I'll see you again."

"How do you know?" Rose shook her head. "Have you got a crystal ball or something?"

The Doctor smiled. His sweet naïve Rose. He felt in his pocket for the scrap of folded paper. "Here." She frowned. "It's my number," he lied. "If you ever fancy that trip of a lifetime, give me a call." He took one last look at her face, and locked the image away in his heart. "Goodbye Rose."

As he turned and walked away he heard her say, "This isn't your number this is…"

As he walked down the street outside he thought about what the TARDIS had said to him:

This is her life before you. She had a life before you, a good life, she was happy. She'll have a life again without you. Just tell her you love her. That's all she needs now. Move on. She's fine.

And as he got on a London bus for the second time that day, he felt, for the first time, that she really was. She was fine.