Introduction
Set after Journey's End. The Doctor has departed, leaving behind Rose and the Human Doctor in the parallel universe at Bad Wolf Bay.
Of course, I don't own Doctor Who. I wish I did, but all credit goes to BBC and the brilliant writers (Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, just to name a couple).
This is just a story to help me "understand" and develop the complex relationship between Rose and the Human Doctor. After all, it's a happy ending and a new beginning.
Chapter One: Bad Wolf Bay
Rose felt the warmth of the Doctor's hand covering hers. Their fingers were intertwined, his clasp strong and resolute. Her heart glowed at the feeling that he was protecting her, fiercely showing that he was hers and that he knew she was his. And yet she felt emptiness; a sense of cold sadness settling deep within her stomach. She couldn't understand how one could feel so warm, and happy – skin aglow, heart racing with the fluttering of requited love – yet so inexplicably empty.
"Rose," said Jackie suddenly, breaking through Rose's haze, "I need to call your father. He's going to have a fit when he finds out where we are. We've got to get out of here soon, or we'll freeze." She looked at Rose, then at the Doctor, and back at Rose again. Rose knew what Jackie was thinking. It was exactly what she herself was thinking. This Doctor wasn't – couldn't – be the same as the man she had fallen in love with, lost, found and then lost again. Yet somehow, he was. This very contradiction tore through her mind and almost made her feel faint.
Jackie took her phone from her pocket and began shaking it, then upwards toward the sky. "Bloody thing," she said. "Hardly any reception. What on earth was he thinking, leaving us –" she began, then stopped short when she saw Rose's eyes fleck with tears. "Never mind."
Rose let go of the Doctor's hand and found her mobile phone in her jeans pocket. "Here you go, Mum," she said. "I have loads of reception." Jackie took the phone and moved carefully away, as though trying to create yet minimise distance at the same time.
Rose stared at her feet. Sand was whipping around her trainers. Somehow, the patterns and swirling of the wind and sand became fascinating; an entrancing distraction from their sudden solitude.
"Rose –" said the Doctor, taking her hand again. She didn't respond. "Rose?"
Rose shifted her feet. She tried to respond. She felt the words form in her throat, but she couldn't seem to make her lips move. The Doctor squeezed her hand. "I know you don't think I'm…right." His voice trailed off. "But I need you to know this, Rose." He clasped her cheeks in his hands – the warm hands she knew so well, and didn't – and gently lifted her head. "I'm everything he is. He's everything I am. I know you like he does. I lost you like he did. I missed you like he did." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She quivered at the sensation. "I love you, just like he did."
The tears prickling at Rose's eyes suddenly spilled over. She had no way to stop them.
"Oh, Rose." The Doctor sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, fiercely wrapping his arms around her. He knew that this would either make things far worse or much better, but in that moment, it was all he could do.
"I'm happy," she said. Her voice was muffled against his suit jacket. She didn't sound convincing to herself, let alone the Doctor, but there was truth – somewhere – in these two small words. The Doctor's breath, cold from the Bay wind, touched her face and she felt giddy. "I am. I just need time to…sort it out. Understand. You know."
The Doctor nodded. His lips found hers briefly, and left a kiss there. "Well, Rose Tyler, time is what I'm best at."
"Can't you send us a plane?" Jackie demanded, annoyed. "We'll be stuck here for twelve hours in the cold, Pete. I'm not too happy with that!'
"I can't help it," said Pete. "I'll have to drive, it's all I can do. I can't organise a plane at short notice. Just go stay in a hotel, and I'll pick you up from there."
"A hotel?" Jackie shouted. "Where do you think we can find a hotel out here? Oh, wait, there, I can see one! Sitting in the middle of the bloody ocean!" She had to restrain herself from hurling Rose's phone into the ocean as Pete hung up.
"Your father," she shouted, storming back to where she left Rose and the Doctor, "is driving to pick us up. Driving. From London. We might blow away before he gets -" She barely noticed that Rose was sitting on the sand, alone, hugging her knees and crying.
"Rose!" Jackie shouted, rushing over and throwing her arms around her daughter. "Where's he gone? What's happened?"
Rose shook her head. "He's gone to look for a place to stay tonight, Mum," she said through her tears. "He'll be back."
In the distance, they could see the Doctor striding back toward them. Jackie stood, and help Rose stand with her. "You have everything you ever wanted, Rose," she said. "Just remember that." She stared at her daughter fiercely, lowering her voice. "You're going to have to trust him. You have trusted him with your life since the day you met him. In every single moment that you were together. You trusted him enough to leave your father and I behind. The Doctor – the other one - would never leave you like this, if this man wasn't really him. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt you, you know that. You'll just have to try."
Rose nodded, and was about to respond when the Doctor reached them, and interrupted. "I've found a place to stay," he said, almost jovially. "A nice little B&B up the road. Odd old lady, but she's got room for us."
The B&B turned out to be nearly a five mile walk from the Bay. Jackie didn't want to ask how the Doctor had managed the return journey, on foot, in just under twelve minutes.
It was set down a rather picturesque, winding lane. The little old lady who owned the B&B was, true to the Doctor's word, a little doddery; but she was a harmless little thing, with rosy cheeks and a stature best suited to an Enid Blyton storybook. Rose almost managed a giggle, imagining that her outfit would be more complete with a tea-cosy.
"Welcome here," said the lady, with a thick Norwegian accent. "Mrs Smith?" she said, smiling at Rose, whose heart skipped a beat at the words. Mrs Smith. Mrs John Smith. Mrs Rose and John Smith. That's what we'll be. Someday. She turned to Jackie. "And you are…?"
"Mrs Jacqueline Tyler," said Jackie carefully, with as rounded an accent as she could manage. "I'm so very pleased to meet you." She extended her hand and the little old lady clasped it gingerly and shook. The Doctor had to force himself not to laugh at the absurdity of Jackie's contrived gentility.
They were led inside by the little old lady, who excitedly introduced herself as Margit Alden, seventy-two years old and mother to three lovely cats. Her English was, to their surprise, quite sophisticated, and her accent easy to understand.
"Here is the kitchen," she said. "And here is the bedroom." She pushed open the door to a cosy little room, lit by the warm glow of a fire and the soft scent of cinnamon. Margit looked at Jackie, who looked at Rose and then at the Doctor.
"I'll take the lounge room," said Jackie finally.
Margit pretended not to have heard her. "Now, I hope you'll be comfortable here. There is some food in the fridge, or else you are most welcome to join me and my cats for dinner tonight."
The Doctor stepped forward. "Thank you, Mrs Alden. We'll let you know."
Margit smiled, shook each of their hands happily, and disappeared into her own cottage, which adjoined theirs.
"I'll leave you two here," said Jackie.
As soon as the bedroom door swang shut, Rose collapsed onto the double bed and curled into a ball. She hugged her pillow to her chest, almost for dear life.
The Doctor removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the upholstered chair sitting beside the window. He paced around the room, hands deep in pockets. He stopped, unlaced and removed a trainer, then the other. He turned to stare at Rose, whose hunched body was shuddering with each tear.
His own heart – his own one, single heart – was breaking, knowing that he was what she wanted and yet not what she wanted at all. To her, he was just an echo of somebody she adored, and that realisation sliced through him like a knife.
He inched around the side of the bed and knelt down beside it and looked at this girl – this woman. Rose. Rose Tyler. The one he loved so much, and always had. Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her. Startled, her eyes flew open, and their eyes locked for what felt, in that split moment, like an eternity. Finally, he drew his gaze away and moved around to the other side of the bed. He lay beside her, and drew her close to him, wrapping her fingers through his.
It was all he could do, really. Nothing more.
And they slept that way until morning, though both their dreams were anguished with echoes and shadows of that fateful day.