In the wooded outskirts of town it's tougher, tailing her without getting caught, but the Doctor manages it. The sun is setting by the time Rose turns, touches her hand to a iron gate that is the only break in a tall, thick hedge. It swings open obediently, shuts with a clang, and he counts ten before he darts over to peek in after her, keeping his body hidden behind the hedge. Though the area is thick with trees the path she takes is wide and straight, and he can see her clearly as she unlocks the door of a pretty white cottage.

One by one, the windows light up, and he catches a few glimpses of her as she closes each shutter against the cooling night. It isn't long until the only sign of life is the glow that seeps from each window's square outline, though the Doctor continues his vigil for a few minutes longer before he realises what he is doing.

Has he gone mad? All this...creeping around, spying; it's idiotic and impulsive. He's just lucky he didn't get caught.

Even so, he makes no move to go. Just slides to sit in the grass, tents his fingers beneath his chin. No doubt he'll come up with more self-recriminations later. Maybe he'll even mean them and be sorry. But right now, he admits to himself, all he feels is profound disappointment.

Rose -Rose- is here, and he never even saw her smile.

It's such a...sentimental thought. And a strange one, as he is not at all a sentimental person. Certain past selves were quite inclined toward it, yes, especially the last two, but he'd shed his sappy softness along with the bow-tie. High time, too. His tough, abrasive outer shell is something he revels in these days. A prize he might've won an entire lifetime earlier, if not for his Tenth self's drippy, romantic, and rather masochistic dying wish to see Rose one last time, allowing her to influence the turn-out of yet another regeneration.

A snip of dusty memory steals out -you alright, mate?- and the Doctor's breath catches at the image of Rose standing in the road. Her long colourful scarf, snowflakes in her lashes and hair, the wide smile that unfolds as he predicts she'll have a really great year. It is beautiful, but the remembered agony that still taints it is powerful enough to drive him to his feet.

At last, he's found the motivation to leave this place. Getting over Rose had been a near impossible task, one that took him literal eons. And while he is no longer suffering from the post-traumatic stress which made his Ninth self so susceptible to her, so inclined to fall in love, he finds that even now, he's unwilling to risk reviving even the smallest amount of residual heartbreak.

Still, his feet carry him to the gate one last time, and he presses his face to the bars. With the house all closed up he doesn't really expect to see her, but the distance between them is small enough that he gets a clear glimpse of her timeline. It pulses and swirls before fading into oblivion, no knots or rigidities about it. That's a bit odd. Not bad, just odd. At least he knows he's not unraveling anything major by walking away tonight, allowing Rose to find her own way back to her universe.

It's for the best, really. The dimension jumps must be hard enough already; he doesn't want her discouraged by an accidental peek at the future. One where they aren't together.

You're being an idiot, he mentally tacks on, growing impatient with his own internal round and round. Making a mountain of a tiny chance encounter. One she'll never even know happened if you walk away now, since she didn't recognise you.

But the thought only makes him feel worse.

Closing his eyes to the scene, he takes a breath and turns to go.

The only warning he gets is a soft thud behind him, a sound that barely crosses the distance from his ears to his brain before he's forcibly bent forward, his left arm twisted way up his back.

A familiar female voice hisses in his ear. "Why are you stalking me?"

Hearts racing, the Doctor tries to think, tries to come up with something, anything, that sounds sane and reasonable enough to get him out of here without further question.

But then, Rose gasps- a soft, startled intake of breath. And when her grip on his wrist loosens, he's not relieved at all.

"Doctor?"

His feet tap the floor and his fingers tap the table while he sits there, watching Rose bustle about, making tea. The Doctor feels a bit like he might jump out of his skin- everything's brighter and sharper than normal, and his chest and arms still tingle from when Rose flung herself bodily into his embrace. So tight and warm. The sensation lingers, almost like he's still holding her. It's beyond disconcerting.

Orangey light from two fuel lamps illuminates the room nicely, but Rose's face is shadowed and unreadable as she finally pours the kettle's steaming contents into two mugs. Her initial exuberant delight has faded, she's been quiet and tense, stealing glance after glance at him until he's horribly self-conscious. Running a hand over his unruly grey hair, the Doctor feels each and every deep line etched in his face. Good, he tells himself. She might as well see him for what he is. A cantankerous old man.

But he cringes when he opens his mouth and the word that comes out actually sounds cantankerous. "What?"

Rose's lips twitch and her eyes instantly warm. "Nothing." She shrugs. "Just, I like it. Your new look."

It strikes the Doctor dumb, because it's the opposite of what he's expecting. This body can't compete with his Tenth, he knows that, yet... he can tell she's being honest. Sincerity fills her eyes and voice and there's this funny set to her jaw, like she's daring him to fight her on it.

It's incredibly endearing.

And it reassures him enough that he takes her dare. "Always thought it was the pretty boys to catch your attention. Not the elderly."

"Like you haven't always been both," she mutters, rolling her eyes as she shoves a mug into his hands. "Though I will admit," Rose goes on, giving him a glinting, sideways look as she fetches her own mug, "your new accent has thrown me a bit. Tell me, Doctor- do lots of planets have a Scotland?"

His mouth opens in surprise, works (are they bantering now; it feels like they might be, but isn't it a bit soon for bantering?), but no witty retort manifests, and, (and shut your mouth, Doctor, you probably look like a gasping fish.)

Rose begins to giggle (okay, scratch 'probably'). The Doctor shakes his head at her, lips quirking, like her little joke is too bad for him to laugh at.

(Not her joke, their joke, rooted deep in their history, and it isn't bad, and this definitely isn't banter. Or it is, but with an edge of something more, something warmer and dizzier, and…friendlier. It's- it's how they always used to talk to each other, him and her. Like they had a secret language all their own.)

(Problem is, he's pretty sure he's forgotten how to speak it.)

"Now, ask me," Rose says, as she settles into the chair opposite him. "Ask me one question, and then I get a go, yeah? That's the agreement?"

He sips his tea. "Oi, I thought I said I didn't want sugar in this."

"Decided you need a bit of sweetening up," she grins. "Ask."

"I don't want to know too much right off," he explains again, and braves another swallow of tea before setting the mug down on the table. "Just tell me, you know, how you ended up here. There's timelines to protect."

"Okay, but thing is, it's already pretty obvious you're a..." She flutters a hand at him. "A future you."

"Ah, yes. Though if I was smart, I'd've pretended to not know you yet."

A twinkle appears in her eye and Rose hides a grin in her mug. "Wish you had, cos I woulda loved to hear your excuse for followin' me."

The Doctor blinks, stares, and then cracks a smile. "Fair point." He clears his throat. "Anyway. How did you get to this planet, Rose?"

"I have this...this device. 'S called a-"

"Dimension cannon," he finishes softly.

Her face blooms with hope. "So I did it, then? I found you?"

The Doctor nods slowly, having already determined he can't keep this from her. It's pointless to try, really, since she's clever enough to figure out that his very existence in future means she must have succeeded.

An elated Rose is half out of her chair, looking like she's ready to hug him again, when all at once the light goes out of her. "So where am I, then?" she asks bluntly. "Why aren't I with you?"

The Doctor tenses. "Sorry, but that question's off limits. You know you can't ask about your own future."

"I found you," she says again, sinking back down, "but I'm not with you now. Sort of narrows things down, yeah? Either you didn't want me anymore, or... I'm dead."

"Rose," he says, eyes pleading with her. It's neither of those, but he can't tell her the truth. Risks to the timeline aside, it's just too barmy to be believed. Even for them.

(Though even if he could explain it, he won't risk her wrath.)

Her thick lashes fall and she stares at the table, swallowing. And then, to his dismay, two fat tears splash onto its smooth wood surface.

"Hey, hey, okay, so you're not with me now," he blurts out. "But that doesn't mean you weren't. It doesn't mean things turned out badly."

He replays it in his mind as she glances up, eyes damp but definitely brighter, and really, was it the worst thing to say? Okay, he's misleading her, but she did end up with a version of him. It isn't an all-out lie.

"Was I with you when you regenerated?" Rose mumbles the question around the tip of her thumb, and it's clear she knows she's prodding boundaries. He knows he shouldn't answer. But, he won't really be telling her her future. Her destiny lies elsewhere, in an alternate world with an alternate him. And Rose will probably (he hopes) always wonder, maybe even worry, where this him ended up. What harm would it do, to enlighten her a little?

"Yes," he finally says. "Well, technically. I spent my last moments with you, but it didn't happen right in front of you that time. I knew it was going to be a bad one, and oh, it was. Totally destroyed the inside of the TARDIS. But afterward I, ah, I was pretty again. Ta for that, by the way."

"Wait, so you've regenerated twice since-" Rose clatters her cup down, and tea droplets spatter the table.

"Oh, so when I say pretty boy, you assume I don't mean this me?" says the Doctor, crossing his arms. "Rude."

Rose opens her mouth, closes it again, and shakes her head. "You are impossible. At least some things never change."

The Doctor smirks. "My turn. From the looks of it, you've been living here awhile, Ms. Peacekeeper. Nice job landing that gig, by the way," he adds, and Rose grins. "But I'm assuming something's gone wrong with your dimension cannon?"

"Yeah, the battery burned out," she says with a sigh, drawing a finger through the drops of spilt tea. "Been here about seven months, trying to fix it, but there's hardly any decent tech on this planet. I've tried the power cells they use for the communicators and cameras, but neither is even close to strong enough."

"Seven months?" The Doctor is genuinely shocked. "But, I've been here six. Why haven't I seen you before?"

"Was livin' in a different village. Just got assigned here last week, and I fought coming, cos I had friends and things, but then I thought maybe I'd find something that'd work for the cannon-" Cutting off, Rose tilts her head, brows pinching. "Wait, why've you been here so long?"

A slow grin creeps across his face. "Didn't I mention? The TARDIS is at the bottom of the lake."

Rose's eyes pop wide, and she gapes at him. "The holy lake?"

Delighted by her reaction, his grin widens. "Only lake on this planet, so I suppose so."

Rose continues to gape, and then her laugh rings out. "Oh my god, do you have any clue how much I've missed you?" she says, and it's like a sunbeam, the brilliant, bright smile she dazzles him with, and oh, whatever fallout might come from this accidental little reunion, it's worth it. "So how'd you manage that?"

The Doctor finds he can't answer right off, his throat is too tight. Being all sentimental again, no doubt. Taking up his mug, he stares into it, swirling his tea before he sips a few times.

"Not sure," he says at last. "The TARDIS was acting up, and I meant to land at the Gaspra asteroid to pick up a few parts. Ended up here by accident, and when I reset the coordinates, hoping to hit Gaspra this time, the TARDIS refused to dematerialise, and flung herself over a mountain or two before she shut down entirely. Directly over the lake."

Rose shakes her head in disbelief, still grinning. "How deep is she?"

"Quite," he says, wrinkling his nose. "Deep enough that I needed a breather to make it to the surface. Then that shorted out too. Needs rewiring, and the only tech I've come across that are built sturdily enough to use for parts are those little communicators. It's taken me ages to save for one."

He pulls the newly purchased device from his pocket, pries the back open with his thumbnail, and smiles at the length of black-coated wire wrapped round and round its battery. He holds it up for her to see. "Think this'll do. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Well, I'm loaded," says Rose immediately. "I can buy anything we might need. But why've you been so short on funds?"

"Oh, seems like no matter the planet, teaching doesn't pay much."

"What, you've been doing an assigned job?"

He leans back in his chair, feigning bafflement at her question. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno," she replies, with a slight eye-roll, "for some reason I figured you'd just flash the psychic paper at the bank. What, is scrupulous honesty a new quirk of yours or something?"

Smiling blandly, he pokes a hand into his inner coat pocket, finds the brown wallet and tosses it to her. "I tried. Didn't go so well."

Rose flips it open, and squints. "It looks like a pay-sheet, for two-hundred obols. But- why is it backwards?"

"Don't know. Weird, isn't it?"

"Maybe there's something about this place that makes things short out," she says wisely, handing it back.

"Might be. That's one of my top theories, too."

"Look at you," comments Rose, leaning back in her chair and smoothing her dress. "Working a job, saving money. Bet you're going spare."

"Not really. It's been sort of...nice. I've always liked teaching. Good group of kids, too."

"Oh, that's right! At the shop, I heard that girl call you 'Professor'," she remembers, chuckling. "So what classes do you teach? Not physics again?"

"No," he replies with a wry smile, "that's a bit beyond this lot. And anyway, I'm sure you've noticed that the way of life around here is very similar to, say, the old pioneer days in America. It's like an Amish community, if the Amish had their own planet. The Professor thing is meant as a joke. I just teach generalised classes like any other teacher. Mostly."

"Mostly, huh?" Rose fusses with the white fabric draped over her shoulder, eyeing him thoughtfully, and he wonders if she'll press him for more. Part of him wants her to, if he's honest. It would be lovely to talk to someone who'll understand what he's been trying to accomplish here, introducing these people to the joys of the arts. Someone who'll be proud of him, who'll cheer him on.

But her mind has taken another path. "So, are you a known associate of any dinner ladies, by chance?"

"Dinner ladies? I teach in a six-room schoolhouse; of course they don't-" It sinks in then, what she's referring to, and he cuts off, feeling foolish. Blast, he's slow on the uptake with the inside jokes. "Why? Are you tired your prestigious, well-paying job already?"

There, he thinks when she snorts derisively, not a bad comeback. Not at all.

Then again, is he still missing something? Rose is looking at him -studying him- over the rim of her cup, like she's still waiting on his real answer, and she's trying to puzzle him out.

He stares back, bringing his own cup to his lips as he thinks over her question again. "Oh- you want to know if I have a companion here with me," he states bluntly. "I don't, but that's all I'm saying on the subject. It's not safe to reveal more, no matter how much you'd like a clue as to how long it's been since I've last seen you."

It comes out a bit sharper than he means it to and Rose scowls at him. "I just want to know if you've been okay, Doctor, god. It's not like I'm asking to read your diary or something. It's just, you have no idea how worried-"

She takes a breath, eyes skittering away briefly. "Do you know that this is the second time I've run into you on a jump?"

"What, really?" he asks, frowning. "Was it before we met or something? Did I have to forget it?"

"Not 'forget'," she hedges, gaze turning suspicious. "There's another reason why you won't recall seeing me, though. An' if I really did stay with you again for any length of time, there's no way I wouldn't have told you about it."

The Doctor scrunches his face up, sure she's caught him out, and then, a flash. Not of Rose but of a deeply-concerned Donna, plus a long, uncomfortable, soul-baring chat. "You mean when I... in the aborted reality."

"I mean when you died. When you just let yourself die, because you were alone."

"No," he automatically contradicts. "It was because-" he bites off the rest of it, all the stupid words he is not going to say. Or think, even.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he says, and nearly reaches for her hand before he thinks better of it. "But that wasn't me, not really. So please remember this, if you remember nothing else from this little peek into my future- I'm fine. I travel, muck about, get up to all sorts of trouble. Same old Doctor."

Rose considers him, pinky denting her chin. "But that's what makes all this so hard, you know? I've been searching for ages, and now you're here, and I don't care how old you are now, I care about you. So yes, I'm dying to know what's happened and where I am and all that, but I know I can't. I have to settle for knowing you're alright. That's all I get, so I refuse to just take your word for it, Doctor. I know you too well."

Straightening up, she fixes him in a firm stare. "So, guess I'm not leaving this planet till I see for myself that you're really okay."

An unanticipated thrill zips up his spine, and he quashes it by glaring at her. "You don't get to make that choice. I don't belong in your timeline; even this, us sitting here together, is risky. You can't make decisions based off emotion, Rose. Sometimes it's best to just not get involved."

The Doctor blinks when Rose laughs at him. "Oh my god, like you can talk. You're the one who followed me! And risky or not, you did it anyway, even though you know I end up getting back safely. All because there was a slight chance I might need your help."

She's so delightfully wrong about the last bit that he hastens to agree. "Okay, fine, you've got me. But I'm the one who's the Time Lord, you know. I might've also seen a blip in the timelines."

"Yeah, sure," she retorts, laughing at him again. "More like, you were also just bein' nosy."

He smiles, liking the new spin she's put on things. Yes, that's why he's here, drinking in her laughter and smiles and attention, feeling like he might float right out of his chair. Because he's a nosy old sod.

"Full disclosure, though," Rose goes on, her smile turning mischievous. "When I asked about a possible companion, I wasn't trying to figure out how long it's been since you and me. Cos thing is...I'd already sort of guessed."

"What?" Startled, he begins a rather panicked play by play of their conversation in his head. "How?"

"Easy," she says, leaning forward on elbows and gazing up at him with warm, knowing dark eyes. "Can't be all that long, or you wouldn't still care this much. Don't think you'd be sitting here if I was only a distant memory."

The Doctor swallows, having no idea how to respond to that. And then Rose yawns, and he notices the vines in her hair have wilted slightly.

"It's late," he says, glancing at his watch. "I should go."

"Why?" She frowns. "You could stay. I have a second bedroom and everything. It's pitch black outside, and it's a long walk back to the village."

"Oh, I'll be fine." He brushes it off, because staying sounds like a lovely idea and that's precisely why he shouldn't do it. "Class starts early. But I'll, ah, meet you afterward? Sometime late afternoon. I'll take a good look at that cannon of yours to see what it needs."

"Yeah, alright." Rose sounds profoundly disappointed.

Sliding his chair back, he gets up to go. "Goodnight, Rose."

She stands too, wavering, and then rushes at him in a blur. "I missed you," she tells him as she hugs him tight, face buried in his chest, and, oh god, is she breathing him in? His hearts speed, his own arms wrap around her, and his impulse is to clutch her even tighter, bury his nose in her hair.

It scares him so much that he jerks away.

Rose lets him go, cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Um, for the record, it's a good thing you found me, yeah?" she comments over-lightly, as if she's not quite sure if he's going to agree. "I was beginning to think I was gonna be stuck here forever."

It clicks then. Why he ended up in that shop today, why he followed Rose home against his better judgment. Might even be why he's been trapped here on this planet. The Doctor was meant to be there, to cross paths with Rose, so he can fix her cannon and send her away, again. That's his job, isn't it? Time's grossly-undercompensated repairman.

"Don't worry," he replies as he backs toward the door, hoping he doesn't sound as bitter as he feels. "We'll have things set to rights before you know it and you'll be off again. Back to saving the universe."

Rose goes quiet, and does not return his sorry attempt at a smile. Her dark eyes are soft and sad, full of far, far too much understanding.

It's something else he's forgotten about her, how she could always see right through him.

"Doctor, is it...is it hard for you to see me?"

Her teeth gnaw her bottom lip and then he knows, despite her earlier teasing, she's still assuming she went and died on him. She is blaming herself for what he is now. This curt, grey, gloomy old man.

"No, Rose Tyler," he assures immediately, and he means it from the bottom of his heart. "It's an absolute joy."

And so it begins. :)