Reperio vos inter astrum
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who is not mine. Neither is Rose, or Jackie, or Jack, or Pete, or Tony, or Donna, or Martha or any other Doctor Who-related characters.
This is my first. Maiden voyage into Doctor Who fiction. Hope you enjoy. Cheers!
She didn't mean to open her eyes. Not yet, not now. She wants to keep sleeping. Sleeping means she could dream, and dreaming means she can remember. The memories hurt, but dreaming makes them fluid and less painful. Softer, almost. Remembering when she knew she was remembering felt the worst—it caused her to recall what she lost. Dreams allowed her to see what she once had, the joy, the life. Rose lives for dreams, for hope that the memories might one day lead to actual happiness.
Three months ago she had managed to enter the parallel world through the dimensions canon for the first time. And she had been so close. That ginger girl, whoever she was, had been prepared to leave with him, she realizes that now. The destination of her arrival was so close-the weight loss company in London. She had been right to look for trouble. He had been there, he had caused the disruption. Near, so near. But they had missed one another and she had returned, distraught.
Rose stood at that guard rail, eyes growing sore from the flashing lights, ears hurting from the rush of the crowd around her, waiting. Then that woman, Donna, came to her asking a favour. As Rose walked away to fade back into her parallel universe, she heard, from a distance, the sound. A gentle, soft sound that is very familiar. A TARDIS, about to depart. But before she can turn back, she's in Torchwood again.
The sunlight breaks through her plastic shades in great fragments across her room. Her cat, calico, lovely and small, was curled on the edge of her bed, prepared to spend the day napping in the beams of heat. The patchy creature had been living on street prior to her cushy life here. Rose had found her in an ally. A pair of grubby children were pulling her tail, teasing her horribly. Rose Tyler, furious, scolded them away to scooped up the dazed kitty.
XXXXXXXX
Running. Jogging. Sprinting. She'd never ran so much in her life, until she'd met him.
In fact, that was the very first this he had ever said to her. Simple. One word. Just "Run!"
She'd ran. Just like that. And she hadn't stopped running. Things changed, the faces and places had transformed, but the basics had not. Always in an adventure, that was life with her Doctor.
A Paxission warship. It just had to be a warship.
"Rose, listen…"
"I'm not leaving without you!" She insists. He gives her that looks, the one that is two parts grateful, one part irritated, and five parts scared.
"All right, then."
And they run, dodging the blasts and smoke. Ready to face the music. But today wasn't that day, for they reach the TARDIS, mostly in one piece.
XXXXXXXX
Old Rose wouldn't have done that. The Rose prior to 2005 probably would've walked on, eyes sliding from the scene a though it were an everyday occurrence. Which, in the city, it was. But this new, powerful Rose would…how had she put it? Make a stand and…
Jackie had moaned, of course, saying they could get her something much nicer. A Persian, perhaps. The thing was undoubtedly a wormy fleabag, probably dumped for some good or other reason. Besides, Rose's canine counterpart wasn't all too fond of the new addition to the Tyler family, expressing her dislike through much barking.
Peter merely sighed, willing to indulge his daughter if it caused her to smile. His initial rejection of his parallel-universe daughter caused him to be a tad more lenient when it came to her requests.
The cat was not flea-ridden, nor did she have worms. A quick brushing, a bowl of warm milk, a few loving strokes, and she was good as new.
Rose loved the silly creature. To be honest, the thing was nothing special about the cat. She was ordinary, much like Rose was. Here on Earth, it was even more apparent. Rose Tyler was a regular human, albeit one who had travelled through the stars. In this universe she did not quite fit in. But it was close enough.
Her name hard to find. Rose had always believed that when it came to naming something (or someone), the something (or someone) would find their names themselves. The cat was no exception. She was with Rose for two weeks before it came to her (Rose, that is). It came while Rose sat in the too-posh parlor, reading some physics texts a bit over her head. The cat sat on the arm of the couch. Every so often, the creature would swipe the tabletop globe that rested on the end table. The ball was far too heavy for her tiny paw to move. Rose, annoyed and amused, lifted her up, cooing "Silly girl, what are you—" She stopped when the creature lashed out the globe again, touching Asia with one white paw.
Rose laughed. "It's a nice place." She assures the wiggling cat. "Big, too. Unlike you, sweetie."
Even if she was a tiny, young thing, the name fit. Asia took to it nicely. Or, as nicely as a cat can, seeing as they typically did not answer to their names. Two years, and Asia might look at you if you called her, but certainly not "heel". Her expression would clearly say "Oh, right. You want me to do something. Hm. I think not." All cats master this look, with their eyes half-lidded and tails flickering about.
Asia is plump from being spoiled by everyone. Even Jackie can't help but toss her the occasional table scrap. She has an appetite for a great variety of human food—sausage, eggs, chips, etc.
Rose strokes the snoozing cat. She is envious. If only sleeping all day was acceptable for a fit 22-year-old with a job. Even if it were, she doubts she would take advantage of the rest. No, she would probably be up regardless, saving the world in small ways. After all, that's what she did. What got her through the day, the month, the year. Years. She'd been stuck here for years.
If she wasn't surrounded by family, Rose is sure she'd feel more alone than ever. Probably nothing in comparison to how he felt.
She gets up to make tea, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. It's yellow, with pink roses. Completely revolting, which is why she bought it. He would adore the damn thing, down to the lace on the sleeves. If anyone ever saw her in it, it would be him. And she will never see him again.
Since she's refusing to use tea bags, the beverage takes a while to complete itself. She leans on the counter, tapping her painted fingers against the cool surface. The clicks the motion create distract her briefly. Rose is glad she decided to get her own flat. The Manor was a lovely place to live for a time, but Rose soon realized that at twenty-one, it was time to find a place of her own. Peter still paid for much of her upkeep, though it was not through her suggestion. He would not allow his daughter to live in any old apartment. No, she was a Tyler. She would live like a Tyler.
Rose sipped the too-hot tea, smoothing back a layer of wavy blond locks. Straight or wavy today? Not that it truly mattered. After all, it was just hair. She could live without the decision. Heck, she could live without the hair itself, if it would change anything.
Twice. He'd let her go twice.
This is Emergency Program One. Rose, now listen, this is important. If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing: We must be in danger, and I mean fatal. I'm dead, or about to die any second with no chance of escape.
No!
And that's okay. I hope it's a good death. But I promise to look after you, and that's what I'm doing. The TARDIS is taking you home.
I won't let you.
And I bet you're fussing and moaning now, typical. But hold on, and just listen a bit more. The TARDIS can never return from here. Emergency Programme One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do: let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No-one can open it, no-one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world will move on, and the box will be buried. And if you wanna remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all, one thing. Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life.
She'd been so desperate, then. Desperate enough to risk her life for a man she barely knew. She nearly died and, in a way, killed him. Devastated enough to go forward into time to rescue him. In comparison to now, it was a weak emotion. Still, looking back she knew… it was the worst day of her life, watching the holographic image telling her goodbye, goodbye forever.
And the last time, the very last time….
I... I love you.
Quite right, too. And I suppose... if it's my last chance to say it... Rose Tyler...
The last thing he said, and he couldn't even tack it on to the end. Typical.
She wouldn't obsess. He hadn't said it, but it's not like he'd ever said it before. If she could go back, if Rose could ever have him back, she wouldn't need to hear it. Just to be with him again…not a single word in the world would be worth more time with him.
It still hurt, though not nearly as badly as it had in the first days of separation. This time she knew he was alive. Or at least, hoped. He was still out there, soaring among the stars, living in the best way anyone could possibly ever live.
This must be what infants feel like, ripped from their warm, safe, familiar womb. Their own private world, torn from them. They're dropped into a scarier place, though still a warm place. She had been pulled from a dangerous, unpredictable, wide universe into a significantly smaller, strange Earth. And he probably thought she was happier there. After all, she had a wonderful family, a lovely home, a stable life. One with a job she adored. One with a cat, a sibling, a father. One without him.
She wishes she had savored each second. There was so much more they had planned to do. She was meant to stay with him forever, or for as long has her forever would allow her. And after they'd been through so much…a regeneration, multiple near-ends to the world, deaths…this disconnection just was not fair.
But things were rarely fair when it came to him.
Rose goes about her small kitchen, making toast and setting out Asia's dry cat food. The day-to-day routine was what made time move as quickly as it does. She sets her mind to some project or task, and by the time she's done, four months have passed. Part of her hate it, loathes the passage of time without him. Deep within her, she knows that time passing just means the pieces are falling in to place, soon she might be able to return. This single hope is what lets her wake up in morning.
The telly is turned on. She usually watches the thing while eating. Eating is hard. When Rose was first left, she found eating rather difficult. The second time around, the task was simple tedious. So she tricked herself into consuming small meals by distracting her mind with the TV.
Today would be a long one. After the dimensions canon busted it's very expensive fuse, she'd also needed to reroute the damn thing. Of course, she would need help, she was far too small to open the tech hatch by herself. Rose hates asking for aid, but she's in a hurry. Today, if she perhaps manages to fix the stupid thing (it's her saving grace really—her one chance of a return) she may manage to send out another transmission, a desperate call to the universe.
"One day," She tells Asia, who is now awake and attacking her breakfast with the vigor of her usual nature. "He'll see it. I'll 'ave sent out so many, he can't miss it."
XXXXXXXXX
The machine is exactly as they left it—tucked between some huge pipes and tangled wires. Paxissions are not known for being…organized. He struggles to turn the key in the lock as she looks behind them, watching for their pursuers. In the darkness of the lower levels of ship they track the pair, a human and a Time Lord.
"Doctor." She calls urgently, pressing close, her chin on his shoulder.
"I'm trying, Rose, I'm trying!" His voice is hoarse. The key decides to click in the lock at that exact moment. Together, they fall inside.
The Doctor is first on his feet, running to the control. "All-righty then, let's see…"
There is a distinct bang on the TARDIS door. Rose scoots away, still on the ground. The TARDIS starts up. The Doctor is beside her on the grated floor again, propped up by his elbows. "Well, that was quite a success, wasn't it? Don't you think? I personally believe we might've done worse, but that's just me."
"Consider that a success, yeah?" Rose snorts. "Nearly beheaded and burned by aliens? You said a quiet little holiday and we land on a warship!"
"Well, yeah. Yeah, but could've been worse, right?" He's grinning in that manic way again. Another hit rocks the TARDIS and he looks up curiously. "Probably ought to steer."
The Doctor pops back up, on his feet. Eager to leave, Rose follows.
XXXXXXXX
In her dimly-lit basement workroom, Rose hits the outer shell of the dimensions canon, cursing loudly. "Two weeks!" She swears. "Two bloody weeks, and then you just decided you have to take a break!"
The bulky machine never seems to be able to run for any long period of time without some sort of blip, some form of a crisis, leaving her scrambling for parts. Her funds were nearly unlimited with her father's help, yet she felt guilty spending so much on the constant repair-and-rebuilt process the delicate machinery required. On bad days, it was nearly enough to make her give up.
After much twiddling, the beast awakens. Rose lets out a joyous yelp. Today, she might see him. Perhaps. She might even get a message across the waves of the parallel. Or see that Donna woman.
Rose had been slightly upset to see herself replaced. It took some time to get over the hurt. She understood, she truly did. He shouldn't be alone. Her own petty jealous couldn't keep her from seeing that. Donna's life had been preserved multiple times by Rose. While Rose was satisfied with her rescues, she wasn't getting any closer than finding him, her primary goal.
"Oi, Rosie! Wanna grab a bite?"
She leaves for lunch reluctantly. Before attempting any messages or transports, it is best to be nourished. Her lunch mates, fellow Torchwood employees, are the chatty sort. Unlike her, they are formally qualified for their positions. She merely travelled around space and time with a 900-year-old alien for a little over two years. In the end, their amount of training breaks even, so they treat her like an equal even though she knows she's not.
By the end of the day, she's seen Donna again, this time on a screen in the TARDIS. Donna saw her as well, walked to the screen. Rose did her best, she truly did.
"Get the Doctor." She says, enunciating the words with especial care. In the background, she could see him fiddling with some obscure controls, using his sleeve to polish a section. "The Doctor, there! The Doctor!"
Donna shook her head, frowning. Obviously, she could not hear Rose's words, her distressed tone. "Doctor!" Rose is yelling now, standing before the vortex. "Doctor—"
He's turned around, saying something to Donna. "Can you imagine, a plant with aquamarine bananas? Platanue has 'em, though there's no comparison to Earth bananas. You know what I always say, always take a banana to a party. Bananas are fantastic!"
Donna is looking at him now, eyes wide. Daft cow, say something!
"Doctor, look there, somebody is—"
The scene begins to fade from Rose's view. "No! No, no, no, no, NO!" She screams, scrambling to push buttons and fix controls. Too late, far too late. And she was so close! He was just turning his eyes to her, only a few more seconds…. "Doctor, no, God."
Rose clings to the oval frame, begging to be let in. Her own world was rejecting her. When the vortex goes black once again, she slowly slides from the machine. Today was not the day.
Yet…this was closer. She's getting better. He was there this time. So her aim, choice of location, was getting better.
XXXXXX
"We're out of their range of fire!" His voice sounds completely joyous, as though he'd received a new car for Christmas, not just narrowly escape the laser-guided missiles of a Paxission warship. "And back into the vortex. Now Rose, if you could just—"
"On it!" she says, pushing up one lever. The vehicle lurched forward, causing her to grab the TARDIS's console and yell. "Doctor!"
His eyes widen as the machine rocks. "I've got it, Rose. S'okay, s'okay." A lock of that crazy brown hair falls across his eyes. The pinstripe suit is rumpled, his trainers scrapped with burn marks on the sole and laces. Bags rest beneath the wide orbs. She swears, even though they're both ridiculously stress, horridly tired, they're still having the time of their lives.
"Now we are out of their range of fire." He confirms, pushing back the hair. The Doctor grins up at her, still twiddling with various controls. "Though quite possibly about to crash."
"What?"
Before she can get any sort of answer, the Doctor jumps to the view screen, pulling the thing toward him.
"Allons-y!"
The grin is infectious. She really can't help laughing. Even though they're quite possibly about to crash.
XXXXXXX
Later, she returns home. Asia is on the couch, sleeping. Rose is sorely tempted to curl up beside her and never leave this flat again. She kicks off her trainers and walks to the kitchen instead. Dinner for one. A piece of frozen chicken, rice, and some sort of salad. How lonely. The blond picks at her food, depressed. No telly tonight, she's sick of rotting her brain with the stuff.
Asia wakes when the phone rings. The cat jumps two feet in the air, lunging for the dark space beneath the armchair. Rose barks out a laugh (thank God she was between bites—regardless of whether she was with or without company, it was embarrassing), then checks the ID. Tyler, Peter and Jackie . Oh, dear.
For a moment, she debates picking it up. She loves her parents dearly, however tonight she does not have the energy to doge the bullets of questions. Finally, after the third ring she answers.
"Hello?" She asks and immediately feels stupid for doing so. Rose knows who it is.
"'allo, love?" Her mother says kindly. "'ave a nice day?"
Rose can hear Tony cooing in the background, throwing about toys. He is a feisty toddler, eager to see the world. And she's in love with him. She has never been a sister before. After all of her experiences, holding that tiny ginger babe was quite possibly the scariest.
"Yea, Mum. Great." She lies. "How's Tony?"
"Oooh," Jackie draws out the sound. "You know. 'es fine. In those terrible twos. Have you had dinner yet?"
"Just in the middle of it. Did Dad-" Rose pauses. The word still feels unfamiliar. "Did he go to work today?"
Jackie snorts. "'Course he did. Never misses a day, that man. Why you wonderin'?"
"Didn't see 'im. Thought maybe he'd stayed home with you. Never mind."
"Eh? Rose, you all right? You've been right quiet lately." Her mum was being kind. Rose had been "right quiet" for the last three years.
"I'm fine, Mum. You know. I get up, go to work, eat chips and watch the telly. Couldn't get any better." Her voice was a wave of bitter emotion.
"Rose!" Mrs. Tyler scolded. "Really, 'ow are you? Sound right down, you do. What is it, love?"
What is it? What it always had been—her loss, her abandonment. The depression came and went, a constant ebb and flow of emotion. One week she was a perfectly adjusted girl, ecstatically in love with her work and her new family. Then time passed and she was suddenly a Debbie Downer. She would sleep and dream and remember and the sorrow would crash down upon her.
"You need to move on, darlin'." Jackie would say frequently. ""es not coming back, Rose. C'mon now, find yourself a fellow and settle down."
"Moving on" and "letting go" is out of the question. Rose feels like leaving behind those days would be like a betrayal. She's not sure she will ever find him again. Still, to move on-to let those memories rest-couldn't be right. They were never meant to be separated.
"Rose? You alright?"
Rose lets out a low breath. "Nothing, Mum. Just had a long day."
After finishing the latest physics magazine, Rose wanders to bed. Asia curls around her feet, a dangerous place to be—Rose is known for being a wild sleeper. For a little over an hour, she has lays there, staring out the small window directly opposite her side of the bed.
She has sides to the bed. She keeps a space to her right empty, waiting. Occasionally she will touch the blank space, stroke the cold sheets. They had never shared a bed, but somehow the spot still felt…wrong. Empty.
The stars are unusually bright tonight. Rose sometimes wonders if maybe they are brighter than the stars of her world. It's odd, because the stars are going out, but many still remain brilliant. Perhaps, she muses, it's like a forest. A sapling dies, allowing the others to grow bigger, stronger. But she doesn't think the galaxies work quite the same.
If only he were in those stars. Rose could stand not being with him if she knew he were alive, up there. Alone.
He wasn't alone. He had Donna. And perhaps someone before Donna. She'd been replaced fairly quickly. "Well, not replaced." Rose thought. He had merely found new friends. Or, as Sarah Jane put it, assistants.
She's becoming something she swore she would never be—like Sarah Jane. Waiting for her Doctor, almost wasting her life with longing.
XXXXXX
The TARDIS made a discontented grunted as the Doctor knocked the console, cursing in Kimlayan when the machine responded in the negative.
"Ah, c'mon." He mutters, twirling one control as he tugged on another. "Just a bit more…"
"Are we going to crash?"
"Oh yes." He says absently. "Though, we might avoid a crash and make more of a jiggly landing if the hydration router doesn't act up. But if the Cretion plug were to—"
The resounding "smoosh" of the TARDIS making contact with the ground was enough of an answer.
XXXXXX
Still unable to sleep, Rose plays over key moments in her life in a last attempt to tempt herself into sleep.
He couldn't say it. This variation had the gift of gab, a huge mouth, the jaw that never stopped. Yet when it had mattered, he just couldn't say it. All she got was a "Quite right." What did that mean, exactly?
"Yes, I got that."
"I love you, too."
"Shut up."
What?
When she found him, Rose would make him finish that sentence. It would be the first thing she did.
Besides kissing him, of course.
The prat.
XXXXXX
"I do believe we've landed!"
"I thought you said we were going to crash." Rose struggles to stand, gripping the console for support.
"Crash, landed, potato, pot-o-to. Same difference. Good job!" He croons, stroking the vessel. Then he rounds on Rose. "Rose, that was fantastic. You were fantastic."
"Where are we?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He's making incredulous noises. "We're at the scene of the crash!"
She doesn't say anything, instead ducks her head.
"Now, where to?"
This causes her to look up. "We're not even gonna take a break?"
"Nope." He pops the 'p', making it crack. The Doctor grins, pushing a lever and leaning to his right to spin a gear. "At least, not yet. No, still a lot to do today. Fancy a trip to Earth? 1980s? Or 1880s, we could have just as much fun there. Oooor, we could go to that seven moon on Trystalar, the one with the water that can make you sing like an opera star?"
Rose stares for nearly a full minute. He pauses, looking back at her. "Rose? Is that all right with you?"
"I—" Her mind has gone entirely blank for a moment. Nothing but a pulsing light fills her vision. She's slightly dizzy.
"She is coming." A cold voice intones in her ear. "She is coming. Bad Wolf. Baaad Wo-"
"Um…."
"Rose?"
She startles from her daze. "Wha?"
"I asked if you wanted to go home. You all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, just…tired. You know."
"Yeah." His eyes never leave her. The concern is bright in them. Rose looks away.
"I don't care what we do."
He pulls back on the lever he had just pushed, and stops turning the gear. "Let's take a break."
XXXXXXXX
"Hi, you. Long time no see!" Chipper, as always. Even after he's just been shot. Typical Doctor.
"Yeah, well, I've been busy." Trying to find you, you stupid bloke.
The first thing that actually happened was a hug. Or, rather, it would've been a hug if it weren't for…well, cradling was close enough.
She's back on the TARDIS for the first time in what feels like eternity. Under circumstances she had never wanted to deal with, not again. Regeneration. Again. Her Doctor, her new Doctor, dying again.
Donna doesn't know what's going on, that much is clear. "Will somebody here tell me what's going on?"
Once again, it had slipped his mind to tell traveling partner of his little immortality back-up. Typical. Before Jack can explain, Rose cuts in quietly.
"When he's dying... his body... it repairs itself. It changes... but you can't?" She's looking at him, praying.
"I'm sorry, it's too late. I'm regenerating."
Too late. After all the work, the struggle to get here, she had mere seconds with her Doctor before…
It just wasn't fair.
He was sorry. So sorry. Those eyes plead with her to understand. If he could, he'd stay the same for her. He didn't want to go, he loved being himself. But it was too late. Just…too late.
In a burst of fiery energy, the Doctor exploded.
XXXXXX
"Napoleon Bonaparte? Seriously?"
He's slightly offended. "Of course I was serious! He's truly a charming chap, right mad a points. But total genius once you get to know 'im. Would've been a brilliant Time Lord. Pity, though. Went too soon, that one."
The location is a 20th century café in France. Rose wishes she could hear herself speaking the native dialect, listen to the French words roll off her tongue. Still, beggars can't be choosers. She's picking around on her pastries, not really interested in the food. The really spectacular thing in this tiny, elegant café is her "date"—a certain Time Lord stuffing his face with cream puffs and cherry-topped chocolat éclairs.
"The really cool person I met here—and I do mean cool—was Benjamin Franklin."
"The American President?"
He gives her a patronizing look. "Ben Franklin was never president, Rose. Really, you ought to brush up on your history, completely atrocious."
"His face is on their money, excuse me."
"Great bloke!" He thrills, the insults now in the past. "Brilliant, questioned everything. Never knew a mate with so much…spunk. Wanted to find conveniences through technology like nothing else."
"I heard he was a bit of a manwhore."
"Fellow tends to get lonely, Rose. It's not a crime, seeking female company." The Doctor says sternly. Though he doesn't quite pull it off with the tip of his nose smeared with cream puff filling. She bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing allowed. It's bad enough in her head.
His warm eyes linger on her lips for a few moments before. "Oi! What's so funny?"
Too, breathless to give a proper answer, Rose points in the general direction of his face.
"Sayin' my face is…silly, is it?"
She can't hold it anymore. Rose howls with pent-up laughter. Her Doctor just sits there, bemused. "What? What?"
"Wot?" Rose had a mockingly innocent expression on her face.
"Rose!"
She leans over the table, pointer finger outstretched to sweep across the very tip of his nose, successfully removing the sugary cream. Smiling beatifically, she offers the finger. Unsurprisingly, he licks it.
What an odd fellow.
That's why she is here, with him. Why she has always been with him—he's different, a complete gem. Something that does not belong in her dull little world, because he expands its horizons to make it no longer dull. No longer little. No longer hers, anymore. The Doctor puts everything under a magnifying glass. Everything is bigger. He shows her, plain little Rose Tyler, that the universe, the galaxies, are everyone's to explore.
XXXXXXXXX
When she steps outside of the TARDIS, she thinks there has been some terrible mistake. The machine must have warped itself again. Or perhaps the Doctor didn't put in the right coordinates. Yes, yes, that must be it.
Because he would've never taken her here on purpose.
Bad Wolf Bay.
She's standing on that bland-coloured sand, stock still. As casually as she can, Rose says: "Hold on. This is the parallel universe, right?"
"You're back home." He has a serious, morose look about him, like somebody's told him the last of the banana trees have died out. His clone shuffles his feet, unreasonably uncomfortable.
This isn't home.
"And the walls of the world are closing again now that the reality bomb never happened. It's dimensional retroclosure. See? I really get that stuff now." Donna can be so irritating.
Rose strains to make him understand, locking her eyes to his. "I spent all of that time trying to find you. I'm not going back now!"
"But you've got to. We saved the universe, but at a cost, and the cost is him. He destroyed the Daleks. He committed genocide. He's too dangerous to be left on his own." He is trying so hard. It almost seems easy. Does he not want her anyone? All her dreams of sailing through the stars, the Doctor and Rose, together forever, crumble.
"You made me!" The clone is feeling just as indignant. She feels for him, she truly does. He's got no-one, because he's not truly the Doctor. Nobody will really talk to him, either.
"Exactly." Her Doctor rounds on his twin. "You were born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge." Now he's looking at Rose again. "Remind you of someone? That's me when we first met, and you made me better. Now you can do the same for him."
Does he think she's some nurse for aliens? "But he's not you."
"He needs you. That's very me."
Rose knows better. The Doctor doesn't need anyone. He has his TARDIS. He has a life among the stars.
Donna is the only one who is showing any emotion that is not negative. In fact, the ginger woman is a million miles away from negative—she's bleeding exuberant. "But it's better than that, though. Don't you see what he's trying to give you? Tell her, go on."
The clone is by her now, looking into her eyes with those warm orbs glowing. They're identical to her Doctor's eyes. He's very hopeful. Timid. It's an odd expression to see on her Doctor's face. "I look like him. I think like him. Same memories, same thoughts, same everything. Except…I've only got one heart."
"Which means?" Rose thinks she knows. But surely…not with her luck…
The clone-Doctor takes a hesitant breath. "I'm part human. Specifically the ageing part. I'll grow old and never regenerate. I've only got one life, Rose Tyler." He even says her bloody name the same way. "I can spend it with you, if you want."
Her Doctor is turning to leave. But she's not letting him go on just that. No matter how much this clone-thing looks like him, she has to have one last try. Rose tugs the New Doctor behind her. He obliges kindly. She tries to ignore the unusual warmth of his palm against hers, or how tightly he is holding on. When she stops, they're standing on either side of her.
"All right, both of you answer me this. When I last stood on this beach on the worst day of my life, what was the last thing you said to me?"
Both men hesitant, identical expressions on their worn faces. "Go on, say it!"
Her Doctor answers first. "I said 'Rose Tyler.'"
"Yeah and how was that sentence gonna end?"
The Doctor gives her a long look. He's begging with his eyes. Don't make me do this.
"Doctor?"
"Does it need saying?" Rose can almost taste the pain in his tone.
Yes, of course I do.
"And you…new Doctor? What was the end of that sentence?"
This one is almost eager to answer. He casts his twin one cautious "You-okay-with-this?" look before leaning in, her hair brushing the side of his face. The New Doctor's breath is hot in her eye. "Rose Tyler…" There he pauses (either for dramatic effect, or because he's genuinely unsure of himself, it's hard to know with him) "I love you."
The years of waiting—both in the parallel world, and the years with him—escape. She lunges for his mouth, sealing it with a kiss that catches him off guard. He stumbles briefly. Those words were exactly what she needed to hear.
What he wanted her to hear.
When she looks up, it is not because she's done kissing. Rose hears him leaving. Again.
Too late.
XXXXXXX
Four hours. They come back to the ship a little before twelve a.m. France turned out to be horridly fun. Well, perhaps by Rose's standards. The Doctor seemed to have a fair enough time, but she imagined he'd seen a thousand things twenty times better.
"Lovely!" He croons, supporting a weary Rose with his thin "man-y, hairy arms." She's barely awake, stumbling along toward the TARDIS. She can almost feel him smile, because the air nearly shifts around them. "Brilliant evening, eh, Rose? Have fun? Hmm?"
She makes some sort of groaning noise and he laughs. "Sorry, right. Let's get you inside."
The pair enters the TARDIS, still stumbling together. Rose untangles herself from the Time Lord to lean upon the console. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks him over, eyes half-lidded. Her grin is slow, tired. However, her Doctor is as bright as ever and saunters over to lean with her. Arms crossed, legs crossed, he mimics her pose down to the tilt of her head.
"Ah, Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose, Rosie-Rose."
"Yeah?"
He laughs. "What shall we do next?"
Rose lets out a puff of breath that could've been her own laugh. "Go to sleep."
"Oooh," He draws out the word. "That's no fun."
"Well, no. But it is necessary." Rose shrugs over to lean against him once more.
"I suppose." He allows, knees buckling under the additional weight. "But not fun."
Her eyes are drifting. "Does it always have to be?"
"No, but aren't things typically better that way? Eating, running, dancing, sleeping?" She emits a bark-like laugh at that last bit.
"Well, that's not…you know what I mean, Rose."
"S'okay. Yeah. I gotcha."
"You don't think I know anything about that, do you?" He's mildly offended."Rose Tyler, I do believe you think I'm—"
"Doctor, you give that impression."
"Rose," He mimics. "I'm nine hundred years old, I think I would know a thing or two about things like…things!"
"Right."
"I do." He insists.
"Prove it." She teases. Rose does not believe he will actually attempt to prove anything, but she finds herself very mistaken when the Doctor leans in, eyes half-lidded.
"Fine." He's leaning into her, his lips in the shell of her ear, hips pressing against hers. "I think I can-" The word is emphasized. "—quite possibly do that."
Huge gob, even in the face of a bet.
She is entirely awake now. Cool hands rest on her waist. Her Doctor smirks slowly, inclining forward until his lips are a hair's breath above her own. Rose almost jumps to close the gap.
Only to find that the he's jumped himself, only backwards. She wants to wipe that dumb grin off more than anything.
"Don't know anything about things, do I?"
"That was nothing, just—"
"Rose Tyler," He proclaims. "I was right. Because I'm clever, very clever. More than clever, brilliant."
"You," Rose yawns. "Are irritating. I'm going to bed."
The Doctor follows. When she reaches the doorway, he somehow mauves himself before her, effectively blocking her path. "Aw, Rose."
"I am tired." She whines. A wave of weariness hit her and Rose clutches the doorway for support. In her motion forward, the Doctor catches her arms.
"Rose." His eyes are gleaming in the shadows of the hall.
"Bed…"
Sighing, he scoops her up. Rose giggles quietly. Oh yes, she is really tired. This regeneration is nowhere near as physically fit as his previous one, but he is fairly certain he could still support her weight.
Rose is a slip of a thing, he had no trouble. And the walk is a relatively sort one; her room is within an easy distance from the control room.
He hesitates at the door. The Doctor has rarely entered Rose's room. It was her domain, created for her privacy and peace. Intruding felt…well, like intruding. But he doesn't hesitate another second when she groans "Bed!" for the second time. Cautiously, the Doctor walks in, taking the five quick steps to lay her upon her four poster. Her eyes are barely open.
The Doctor turns to leave, but Rose calls him back.
"Doctor."
"Mmm?" He wander back to the bed, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Thank you. For today. N' everything." Rose's breath comes out in even wisps. "For letting me tag along."
His grin makes him look like he's about to burst from joy. Squatting down, the Doctor rests near her level to whisper, "Rose Tyler, I wouldn't wish to show the stars to anyone else, clever girl."
Taking a chance, he takes her hand and leans close, breath brushing her skin. "Rose."
There's no answer. Affronted, he pulls back. 20 year old Rose Tyler is completely, entirely, one hundred percent, certainly… asleep.
Too late.
With one last grin, the Doctor presses a chaste kiss to his companion's cheek. Then he walks himself out, very much planning to follow her lead.
A year later, as his Rose stands alone on the sandy shores of Bad Wolf Bay, tears falling upon her youthful cheeks, the Doctor realizes that not only was it too late…
It was to never be.
XXXXXXXX
Gods, that was so much fun. My first Doctor Who fiction, less than a month after I start the series.
Please, reviews/advice are very welcome! Thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed.