When he comes back, it's a hot autumn day. There's a knock on her door and when Rose opens it, she is angry.

He is not the Doctors of her past; he's somebody different – leaner, twitchier, younger. His long face is bright with the sheen of sweat, his floppy hair limp from the heat. A bow tie sits askew at the base of his neck and he shifts irritably in his heavy tweed jacket. His eyes, still familiar, are so bright. He looks at her with such tender affection and she is almost fooled.

"Hello," he says softly, a warm smile spreading across his face.

Rose stays where she is, away from him. It's a long moment before she finally breathes, "You."

Confusion flits across the Doctor's face. On the way over, he had imagined how their reunion would unfold – how he would say "Rose Tyler," or maybe "Rose Marion Tyler" – perhaps before she hugged him, maybe during their embrace (because there would obviously be a fierce hug of some kind), and then she would say something about his hair (not as great as before, but still great), most certainly something about the bow tie, and he in turn would say, "Bow ties are cool," and she would laugh and when that laugh ebbed away, all that would be left would be that beautiful smile of hers, with a pink tongue caught in-between her teeth. Maybe she would even kiss him then. Or maybe before. Or maybe during. The thought of everything had made him so giddy that he had danced around the TARDIS console until he was breathless.

But everything had already gone terribly off-plan. The Doctor is almost at a loss, but he does what he does best – he improves. He dismisses the uneasiness in his gut and instead tries to lighten the situation, his smile growing wider, his eyebrows lifting high.

"Me!" he says, with a little flourish of his hands. Gesticulation usually made things better – made him charming and likable. He waits for Rose to break now, but she remains very, very still.

"The Doctor," Rose says, slowly.

He tries to ignore everything about that sentence: the extra word, the tone, the shortness. The Doctor is beginning to get nervous, but still he charges forward. He's come too far now.

"Guilty as charged!" he replies robustly, the grin awkwardly frozen on his face. He raises a hand, a finger, and redirects events as they should be, as he had imagined them to be. "Rose Ty–"

"Fuck off," she interrupts. She moves to slam the door, but the Doctor reacts swiftly and jams his foot in between the door and its frame. He bites back a yelp – she is deceptively strong.

"Two minutes," he blurts, desperate. "Just give me two minutes."

Rose gives him a sharp look.

"Right, sorry, sorry." He grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He clenches his fists and knocks one against his forehead. "Please, Rose."

Rose lets go of the door handle and she calmly stands there. Her eyes are dark and her lips are pursed firmly together, her jaw clenched. The setting sun is bright behind the Doctor and its rays hit Rose at a sharp angle. She's gold and almost burning. He is suddenly afraid of her. He instinctively takes a step back. This is not the pink and yellow Rose Tyler that he remembers. That Rose Tyler was spunky, naive, and bright. This Rose Tyler is hardened, burnt around the edges, indelibly wise, and powerful. He swallows. She is the big Bad Wolf.

"No," she says, voice low and firm. "Not today."

"Tomorrow then," the Doctor rushes on, before she can shut the door. "Tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, any time you want, just let me talk to you."

"No." Rose kicks his foot. "Move."

"I just need to talk to you," the Doctor continues. "I owe you that much, don't you think?"

"I'm not interested in your reparations," she snaps.

"Please," the Doctor insists. "I owe you quite a lot, I think," he adds quietly. He casts his eyes down.

The admission of guilt catches Rose off guard and her anger ebbs slightly, enough for her to ask, "And why should I even listen to you? Why does it even matter now?"

He studies the ground a little while longer before he raises his eyes to look at her. "Closure," the Doctor says finally, with a wry smile.

The corner of Rose's mouth twitches in agreement. It is a long and still moment before Rose finally says, "All right, let's talk –" The Doctor smiles and moves to step inside, but Rose puts a tanned arm in front of him. "– Next week," she finishes.

He's surprised only for a moment, but he recovers and he steps back with a small smile. "Next week, Rose Tyler," he says, raising a finger.

She doesn't return his smile, but she does raise a hand goodbye. "Don't be late," she says and closes the door.