The jacket still hung on the railing in the Tardis, and the Doctor felt both his hearts stop for a moment, the muscles in his throat tighten, and that stubborn burning in the corners of his eyes. The heel of his palm ran across his eyes, and he stepped up to the console, the warm glowing light welcoming and familiar. Fingers brushed across all the knobs and dials, though his mind was far away. Logic dictated it would be best to just leave. He'd saved the Earth again. Both Earths. But that purple jacket, tossed carelessly over the railing, kept drawing his gaze. And he did exactly what he shouldn't have done.
The familiar whir of the Tardis filled the room, and when it stopped he knew he would open the doors to somewhere that he knew almost as well as this control panel. The creak of the wooden police box door revealed the alley that had become so familiar these past months. Years, for Earth, and sometimes it felt like Rose had always been there right beside him, for even longer than that.
The Doctor stepped out into the street, hands digging their way into his pockets, fingers closing around the sonic screwdriver. He couldn't remember if they'd locked the door on their way out (he caught himself with this, and had to bite back a bitter laugh at the thought of Rose, himself, and Jackie as some sort of family.
Up the stairs, down the hall, and to the door that was exactly the same as every other door in this hallway. But it was also so much different, because this was the door that had belonged to Her.
He tried the door, but it was locked. Of course, conscientious Jackie. He pressed the sonic screwdriver to the lock until he heard the click of it releasing, and pushed the door open. There it spread before him. There were still mugs sitting empty on the coffee table from the morning tea.
It was so mundane, so painfully, horribly every-day, for a day like today. It took every ounce of his strength to step through that door, and into the room with the fluffy pink comforter that Rose had grown out of, had said to him once that she didn't think fit her anymore when they'd stopped by here and she'd wanted to get a few things from her room before they left.
She'd come out of the room with a bag of clothes, smiling like usual, and laughed and said, "You know, I don't miss that bed at all." And they'd laughed together, and she'd kissed her mum on the cheek and they'd strolled back out into the alley and into the Tardis like they'd be back for afternoon tea.
Like they had this morning, investigating the ghosts.
He couldn't bring himself to move anything, to pick anything up or put away those cups from morning tea or close that cupboard left ajar.
Instead, he fled. He didn't run, because there wasn't enough room for it in this tiny flat, but he could barely bring himself to slow down to close the door behind him, to lock it again, and walk away.
That empty flat that still smelled faintly of Rose. Just like the Tardis did.
