He felt the explosion of energy begin.
"Rose Tyler." He tasted the words. He could say them forever. Rose. Rose. Rose. "I was going to take you to so many places. Barcelona! Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona. You'd love it. Fantastic place. They've got dogs with no noses. Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke. And it's still funny." He babbled. He wanted to babble on forever, as if it would keep him there, her listening attentively to every word. He almost snorted at the thought. Rose hadn't listened to anyone in her life, and she wouldn't start now.
"Then why can't we go?" she asked, watching him carefully.
"Maybe you will." He tried to stay lighthearted as he explained, doing a rubbish job of it. "Maybe I will. But not like this."
Desperately, she looked at him, wondering what on earth or in all of creation was happening to him. "You're not making sense." She told him, as if it would rectify the situation.
"I might never make sense again." He grinned at the thought. Sense had no use to him yet. Only his own brilliance. "I might have two heads. Or no head." He smirked at the thought. "Imagine me with no head! And don't say that's an improvement. It's a bit dodgy, this process. You never know what you're going to end up with."
He rushed out the words, as if it would make it easier for her to process.
Pain racked his body, and he nearly fell to the round as a striking pain went through his side. The process was starting, and he was only sorry to worry Rose like this.
"Rose, before I go, I just want to tell you, you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And you know what? So was I." a soft smile crossed her lips at that, but she was frightened.
As he moved about, she watched him uneasily, her shirt slipping off her shoulder. When she first joined him, he simply thought of her as a hand. Then his companion, his partner. Now he knew better. She was the love of his life. He could never leave her.
She was the light of his life, blooming under his care and her smiles and laughter and bravery were his proudest moments.
He felt the regeneration energy take over him, the fear and concern stamped on her face. He laughed at his own idiocy. He had truly died for this girl. But in all of time and space, he couldn't think of a woman who would deserve it more. Rose Tyler, his Bad Wolf, who saved him and the station and couldn't even remember what had happened.
Right then, he promised never to tell her. If she blamed herself for his death and regeneration, he'd never forgive her.
Out of his sacrifice he transformed, for her. He had kissed her and protected her after she saved him – it was the least he could do.
When he next stood, unsteady on longer legs, his hair poking into his face and his favorite jacket suddenly far too loose, he saw the stark terror and confusion on her tired face. She would hopefully recover, because he needed her, now more than ever.
He was being reborn out of his love for her, he was being made and designed for her. He didn't know what he would do if she decided to leave him now. He needed this beautiful brave girl who lit him up out of the darkest shadows and pulled him from the recesses of his own nightmares. His body had been too old and tired and war-ridden for her.
Maybe now, she would be able to see him.
-xXx-
The Doctor stared at her image solemnly, feeling as though he were regenerating on the spot. Fire burnt though his blood, though he was outwardly calm. Every moment they had spent together flashed through his mind, the times she had leapt into his arms, when they had kissed for the first time, the second time, her gentle kiss on his helmet, her cheerful grin with her tongue sticking out. His pink-and-yellow girl. His timorous beastie. His Bad Wolf.
She stood in front of him now, crying. He'd do anything to break down that wall.
Where are you? Her voice was quiet, steady. She was beautiful, even in the midst of her sorrow and fatigue.
Inside the Tardis… he was calm while she was. If she couldn't continue on bravely, he didn't know if he'd be able to. There's one little tiny gap of the universe left, just about to close. It takes a lot of power to make this projection. I'm in orbit around a supernova… I'm burning up a sun, just to say goodbye.
He wanted her to know what he felt, what he'd do for her. Anything. Anything in his power.
You're like a ghost.
'Hold on.'
Can I to…?
Quickly, but gently, he shook his head, regretfully. He wanted her in his arms, to comfort her. He was reminded of his regeneration, way he'd wanted her touch, needed her acceptance. Now, all he wanted was her. Her red face was killing him. He wanted to comfort her. His own pain was secondary to the anguish written on her face.
'I'm still just an image. No touch.'
Can't you come through properly? Her hope was destroyed in a second, even though she knew as she asked it that it was impossible. It was too late now.
'The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse.' Still, he briefly considered it. Anything to make her smile, to laugh in joy instead of sorrowful irony.
So? She shared a broken little smile with him, and he almost stepped forward. Nine hundred years of self-control was all that stopped him.
They made small-talk, both still unable to fully absorb the situation. There they stood, at Bad Wolf Bay, until Rose hiccoughed, her face shattering.
I l-…
I love you.
These were truly the worlds that could topple empires and raise kings. He took those words and locked them away, deep within his hearts. Although he knew it, with the confidence of a man who was made for the woman he loved, the words lit a tiny fire in his soul. It hurt, the fire spreading through him, but it warmed him. He was so different now, from the cold man he had been before.
She loved him.
She loved him now and she had loved him then and she loved not just him, but the entirety of the Doctor, the Time Lord, the man, and though it seemed as though there would never be anything but this moment, as he formed the words the worst possible event happened.
'Rose Tyler…' he began clearly, ready to confess everything, to give her something because they would never be together again and he needed her to know.
And she was gone, and he couldn't see her, and the tears fell fast as the engines sounded and his hearts broke, because he knew he could never see her again. He mouthed to himself.
Oh, she knew. She had always known, because she could always see him.
-xXx-
Rose Tyler sat patiently at her desk, annoyed. She had practice soon after school and her tutor was late. After Mum had called the school about her failing marks in maths and history, the school offered to help her with some extra credit work.
Rose didn't care either way, but getting stuck in a classroom with some smelly old lady right before gymnastic practices wasn't her idea of fun. She'd rather have gone home and watched some telly for a bit. Her stomach rumbled quietly as the door opened, and a funny looking man in a suit and bow tie came strutting in.
Hiding a smile, she waited for him to sit down when she caught the smell of hot chips. Chips were Rose's absolutely favorite food. Maybe if he shared this tutoring wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Hello there!" he practically shouted in her face, grinning manically.
Startled, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Rose Tyler."
"I certainly know that." He beamed, his hair flopping in front of his face. His large chin dominated his face, and he set the bag on the desk next to her, bobbing his head. "Would you like some?"
Without waiting, she stuck her hand in the warm, already greasy paper bag and grabbed a handful. He seemed overly pleased at it, and as she stuffed the slightly mushy chips in her mouth, she opened her book. "Well, I got to do this paper on Charles Dickens—"
"Dickens!" he yelped excitedly, before looking at her unamused, slightly bewildered brown eyes. "Sorry—" he glanced around the bright, childishly postered classroom. "Anyway. So. Dickens. Yes."
"What's your name, sir?" she asked suspiciously.
"You can call me Doctor… Smith! Yes, that's my name, I'm Doctor Smith."
"Alright, mister Smith—"
"Doctor," he corrected, watching her eyes roll.
Rose was probably fourteen right now. in five years, her whole life would change. Because of him! First she'd meet him on the street at Christmas Eve, then she'd meet him at her shop, and then it would all begin. His manic joy faded a little as he realized that although for him, it was over, for this Rose, it hadn't yet begun. Perhaps he shouldn't be here.
"Uh, I um, just realized… I've got to go actually, right now, so if you don't mind, I need to—"
"Oi," she complained, crossing her arms over a pink jumper, eyeing him. "I got to get good marks for this, else my mum'll hit the roof. You said you're my tutor, so you're gonna tutor me. Got it?"
Her hair was as he fondly remembered it- soft blonde with the dark roots. He never did ask her if she dyed her hair. It hadn't mattered what the color of her hair was. Pink and yellow she was.
It was funny, that he would've died for her so recently, but here she was, completely innocent of everything to come. Of course, he was used to it. Timey-wimey and all that. And of course, nobody knew it better than he. He was brilliant! Fantastic, actually. So he sat down, and began to speak of Mr. Dickens, the man she'd soon meet and like. Right now though, she hissed. After nearly fifteen minutes, she was hissing with boredom and impatience. It was difficult to fight back a smile.
"If you're a doctor, how come you're here?" she asked him, flipping through the pages of Oliver Twist.
"The Mystery of Edwin Drood is better," he nodded at the slightly battered book printed with her school's name.
"Why?" she asked, putting her chin in her lap. "And you haven't answered my question."
"He died before he finished it." He stared at her seriously while she fingered the book's lettering. "It's a mystery still."
"I dunno why I should have to read anything by him, unless I got it from the library. What's this got to do with history?" she demanded. "Can we do maths? My head… is killing me." she took another bite of the now-cold chips, giving a long-suffering sigh.
"Tell you what," he says with a conspiratorial wink. "I'll tell you all about Charles Dickens. Did you know that his nickname was Charlie?"
"So? Lots of peoples got that nickname. It's not uncommon."
"This famous writer had girls call him Charlie. Just the girls though. Bit personal, I suppose."
She giggled reluctantly, her wide mouth beginning to turn upwards in the ghost of a smile.
No, not a ghost, a semblance. Ghost and Rose were too closely connected. It hurt, to look at her now. As joyful a reunion this was for him, it hurt. So much.
Looking at her, he named all the facts about her that he knew. She loved pink, and chips, and sleeping in. She'd flirted with him all the time, even when she was still dating Mickey. Even before he'd been as dashingly handsome as his last incarnation had been. He had to give it to himself, that regeneration had been one of his best yet.
"I don't even know why I'm here." She confided. "Don't suppose I'll get my A levels anyway. Got to finish up what I'm doing here and get a job, I s'pose."
She expected him to argue in favor of an education, to insist she go on and deny her self-deprecating honesty. "You'll be excellent at anything you do."
Rose listened to his statement, but to her it sounded like a promise. Her eyes looked amber in the winter light, and he missed her and knew that she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
She was his past and his sweetest, most painful memories.
He was her future, and the joy and novelty of time travel.
Time ticked too quickly for him, this time.
She checked her watch lazily, and leapt up. "Actually, I'm sorry, I'm late. M'Coach'll kill me if I'm late again. Thanks for the help though, Mr. Smith."
"Say it!" he grinned at her, hiding his need. More than anything, he needed the word from her lip.
"Alright, alright, Doctor." She packed up her bags, rushing off, and he watched her out the window.
He said it again. "Rose Tyler…"
She couldn't hear, but she saw him and waved. She had always been able to see him.