The Closet in The TARDIS

by EchoResonance

Everything I pick up on my travels goes into the TARDIS. The clothes go into the fairly large closet. But there was one thing that could never, ever be put in that closet, because no one else would ever be allowed to wear it. I'm not Nine. I'm not Ten. I'm the part in both of them that remained the same, the part that never changed. I'm the part of the Doctor that fell in love

Generally, any clothing I collected on my various misadventures—which were numerous and intensive—went in the massive closet in the TARDIS: the unnaturally poufy dresses of the Elizabethan era, ancient Japanese kimonos, the armor of a specific alien race that was involved in war more often than not, even a sports suit from team USA from the Beijing Olympics. There was a little bit of everything in that closet, because I just seemed to pick up a little bit of everything. Bits and bobs from this world and that world, from then and now and yonder, and everything was put into that nook. But this…this didn't belong in the closet. It belonged somewhere, to someone, that it would never be with again. The only place it could be now was with me. No one else could ever wear this. It would never be worn by anyone else; it would never be dirtied by another. It would stay, hanging on the railing of my bed, where it would never be forgotten.

The jacket still smelled like her. Like Rose. Her perfume still clung faintly to the soft material; sweet but sharp. Some nights, when I couldn't sleep, I would take the jacket, and although it was probably rather childish of me, I hugged it close to my chest and breathed in the fading scent of the woman, the friend, I had lost. Only then, curled like a baby around his safety blanket, could I sleep, and dream of her. Her brilliant smile, her shining eyes, her beautiful blonde hair.

I dreamt about every moment I had ever shared with Rose Tyler. The first time I had seen her, cowering away from those plastic beasties. The following fiasco that ensued, in which she saved not just me, but an entire region, and every time after that as she helped me save countless other worlds. Honestly it was probably more like I helped her—she was an incredible girl, and more than a match for me. She stood on the same level as me with ease, and that was why I loved her so much. She was determined to be with me, to protect me, and to make sure I was never alone again. Rose was more than my equal. She was my partner. My best friend. The love of my life

And she was gone. That jacket was all that I had left of her. All that I would ever, ever have of my wonderful Rose, ever again. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough, would never be enough of the woman, that fragile, stubborn, beautiful, naïve, perfect human being that I had fallen in love with.

I missed her. I missed my beautiful and perfect Rose Tyler. I missed my companion, the human from London who worked in that clothing store and dated that blithering idiot Rickey—no, Mickey. The woman who was so very stubborn, whose mother was completely insufferable. I missed my Rose Tyler.

My fantastic Rose.