Hi Everyone!

This chapter is entirely from the Doctor's point of view, so I do hope you enjoy my take on this and his emotions carried over well into my writing. The next chapter will finally have their long-awaited reunion.

Thank you to my fabulous beta reader, The Clever Doctor, who reviewed and gave me tips for improvement and whole-heartedly approved the second draft (which, somehow, has had another two thousand words added to it since then...). You're brilliant and I truly appreciate all your suggestions and your time!

And, as always, I dedicate this chapter to all my fabulous reviewers – both old and new:

CupcakeFlake

TheDoctorMulder

lillideathflower

Darkwolfberlin

angieclever

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SassyFrassKerr

Responses to your comments, as always, can be found at the end of this chapter.

"Find someone."

First her, then Donna. He knew he needed someone, needed someone with him, but he couldn't- they weren't...

They weren't Rose, couldn't replace her. They didn't understand him, no one ever had, not the way she had, from the very first moment she met him, a hand warming his, a soft smile, a teasing grin, eyes that spoke of trust – trust in him. Always, no matter how much he scared even himself, no matter what he did, no matter how scared she was - even with a gun pointed at her, even with a plan he had been almost certain would kill her and him... and yet, still, she had trusted him, had faith in him when he had lost his own.

He could've stood having Donna by this side. The vivacious redhead had seen him just moments after... after their goodbye, after his time with Rose had been abruptly cut short. Time Lord, indeed. But even though Donna didn't fully understand, she had accepted it, didn't want what he couldn't give... Except when he'd asked her to accompany him... she'd said no, said that he frightened her. Rose had never been frightened.

And he never asked twice; no one but her. And she was stuck, in another dimension, another universe, without him. But at least she had her family. She was okay, had to be; he wouldn't allow himself to think of anything else, of any other options.

Sighing, the Doctor turned back to the open console. This life, his ship... all of it had once made sense when a blonde human came into his life... but now? He stared, uncomprehendingly, at the cables that seemingly came out of nowhere, the masses of colours leading disappearing left, right and centre and he couldn't remember what they were for, what he'd set out to repair and what he was meant to do.

The old girl prodded him, drawing a weak smile from his lips.

"Yeah," he admitted to the silent room, knowing the Tardis was feeling as alone and bereft as he was. "I miss her too."

Sinking down onto the grating, twirling the sonic screwdriver uselessly in his hand, he stared up at the rotors, slowly turning, playing a silent song throughout the ship that only he could hear; a song of love, of friendship, of strength and kindness, of forgiveness and sacrifice, of laughter and grief – a song of loss, a song for a pink and yellow human that had been in their lives for far too short a time; a mere human that had been with him and her for but a moment in their long lives and yet had changed them both so much.

For just a moment, he allowed his shields to fall, allowed his grief to mingle with that of his ship, allowed the tears so show; before he forced them back down, the way he always forced them down, forced his shields to push his emotions away, subdue them until he felt as if he could breathe again.

He couldn't break down, could never allow himself the luxury of grieving... he was the Doctor and, inevitably, someone, somewhere, always needed him. So it didn't matter if he was alone no matter how many people were around him, it didn't matter if every blonde female reminded him of her, if every time he stepped out on a new planet, he could hear her excited voice in his ears, could almost see her, arms spread out wide, joyfully laughing just in front of him; it didn't matter if everyone around him triggered memories of her, memories of happier times, of times where he'd known how to laugh, to forgive... and to love.

Because she was gone and though for just a moment he'd contemplated it, had actually calculated what the chances were that he'd get just a moment, a second of holding her in his arms before the universe around them collapsed, he knew that there was no way that even he could bring her back. Not without the other Time Lords, not without Gallifrey. In the end, the Time War had claimed two more victims. Jackie and Rose Tyler.

And he had a new companion now... Doctor Martha Jones. He'd thought... For a moment, just a moment, back in that hospital, he'd seen something of Rose in her, however loath he was to admit it.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've got to earn that title."

For a moment it had sounded like Rose's voice, teasing, tongue peaking out the corner of her mouth in their first trip in the Tardis, "you think you're so impressive!"

He had thought, mistakenly, that Martha would understand, as Donna had, that she was with him – not as Rose had thought to show him the beauty, but as Donna had correctly pointed out, to stop him. With Rose, he may have been able to stop himself but now he no longer had the strength – or the will. This world, this entire universe, which one tiny blonde human girl had made sense of for him, was now foreign, something he had to fight, on a daily basis. Where every new planet, every strange custom used to be a thing of wonder, of surprise and laughter, now it became a thing of suspicion, of wondering what they were planning, what malicious plot was being hatched.

And Martha, poor Martha, had a crush on him. Of course he knew. And he hated it, hated how she kept dismissing Rose, kept trying to expound her own virtues until he was left wondering why he had ever invited her along... But then she'd do something and he'd see past all that, see that for all the growing up Martha still had to do, she was no worse than any of his other companions, that she had something inside of her, something that urged her to aspire to more, something that made her so... so human.

Given time, he hoped she'd start to look past her infatuation and start to understand that even if it had been a thousand years, even if Rose were to have left of her own free will, he still would never replace her, not with Martha, not ever, with anyone. Rose was... Rose. She was perfect.

That wasn't to say that Rose didn't have flaws – she had many, not the least of which was her grumpiness in the early morning, but none of that had made her any less perfect to him. Rather the very fact that she had flaws, that she wasn't always there with the right response and fought with him over stupid things like better flavours of jam, made her all the more perfect in his eyes. It made her Rose – all around human and just perfect; for him.

Martha was her own person; he never asked for any more from her and certainly never wanted anymore. He knew she was getting exasperated with him, with how often he mentioned Rose but he couldn't help himself. And, despite the necessity of it, he still hated the fact that he'd kissed Martha thoroughly enough to have left her with traces of himself and yet he'd only ever had the chance to kiss Rose twice, neither of which she could recall or had been herself for... and that he'd never gotten the chance to tell her how he felt.

Eyes hooded, he remembered the way Martha had, in their one and only night in Shakespearan London, asked for a toothbrush and the way he had automatically looked in his pockets and frozen, for just a second. Once, after spending three days and nights in jail, Rose had insisted on him carrying a few essentials in his pockets, one of which she called her 'emergency pack'. In reality, it included several items Rose had been adamant on needing if they ended up spending the night somewhere; her deodorant, toothbrush, snack food and drinks and, as he had found out on one memorable occasion, tampons. In the end, he'd given Martha the extra toothbrush Rose had reminded him to bring for the temporary 'strays' the inevitably accumulated in their journeys; and no, as Rose had once reminded him, Arthur the 2nd didn't count and the horse was not coming with them, no matter how perfect a companion he'd thought it would make.

... He had yet to be able to bring himself to remove the pack from his pockets. He knew she couldn't come back, knew he'd never see her again, and yet he couldn't bring himself to take it out, to remove that last vestige of her, a steady reminder throughout his travels of her; that, and her purple jumper. He'd spent hours, standing in front of her room, indecisively, and yet not been able to put it away, to leave it behind, even though technically he had no use for it... but her scent was still on it and he could still remember every time she'd worn it.

Rose bounced into the main control room but he didn't look; he knew it would distract from his task at hand. Carefully holding the screwdriver in his mouth, he stripped the cable in front of him and started to connect it with the red one he'd held in his left when he felt her plop down beside him with enough energy to shake him slightly.

Annoyed he attempted to stabilise his hands so he could finish this last task and they could be on their way.

"Phew!" Her voice was breathy and his hands trembled for an instant at the mere sound even though he refused to acknowledge it, stubbornly focusing on his task. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

His lips quirked up in spite of himself and, the moment he gave in and looked up at her, his mouth went dry and his earlier anger was all but forgotten. Rose hadn't noticed his sudden attention, a frown on her face as she tried to remove her purple jacket as quickly as possible before throwing it carelessly to the side; it landed on one of the railings to his amusement. Her hair was curling slightly from her recent shower, her cheeks were delightfully flushed and eyes sparkling as she started to concentrate on brushing her hair and untangling the wet, blonde strands one by one.

He didn't notice his screwdriver falling out of his mouth, but they both noticed the moment it hit the floor of the Tardis with a metallic clang.

Grimacing and simultaneously embarrassed at having stared at her – he was more than a millennium older than she was; he should have better control over himself, or, even better, he shouldn't have stared at her like that in the first place! – he quickly bent down to retrieve his screwdriver, using the moment to hide his blush and normalise his blood flow again.

"It's you," he finally said, pretending his entire attention was on the cables in front of him; for the life of him he couldn't figure out what he'd been trying to do – never mind though, he was good at pretending.

"What?"

"You always shower too hot," he found himself explaining, "the Tardis temperatures are perfectly normal for humans. Besides, that can't be good for your skin."

He could almost hear her pouting behind him, still brushing her hair.

"What's wrong with my skin?" He heard her muttering, no doubt inspecting it and the Time Lord was unable to stop himself from smiling at that mental image, and only barely stopped himself from telling her that there was nothing wrong with her, nothing at all.

"Soooo... What's the plan?"

He'd been staring at the cables in front of him, but the blonde behind him still held all of his attention, all his senses focused on her every movement, so he finally decided to give in and continue his repairs at a later date. His ship would just end up zapping him if he continued his work haphazardly anyway.

With a quick move he was out from beneath the ship and beside his companion.

"What makes you think there's a plan?" he teased, grinning broadly.

She laughed. "Come on, you always have a plan."

Then, a moment later, she grew serious and he nearly frowned at the rapid change in emotion.

"Back then, on Abalon, did you have a plan?"

He'd wondered but after months it had never come, this question, so he'd never broached the subject. He hadn't expected it now, so much later, so he found himself staring at her in surprise rather than giving her the response he'd prepared ages ago – and by now, unfortunately, forgotten.

"I mean, I know we don't ever really talk about it, but I know you can't save everybody. I just...," Rose hesitated a moment, before taking a deep breath, fortifying herself and continuing, "I just- You seemed so certain, and I was wondering, if they- ... If the Abalonians hadn't been so confused about the process, if they'd known what they were doing... I..."

He stopped her, unable to listen to her further describe what she feared might have happened, what she feared he might've been incapable of stopping.

"Yes," he admitted, "I can't save everyone. But I assure you, Rose, I would have saved you, if they really had been intent on doing... that to you. I would never have allowed any of them lay a hand on you."

Rose stood up, her movements and actions laced with a kind of frantic desperation that made his hearts ache and want nothing more than to hold her; and it was one of the few things he permitted himself, which he rarely restrained himself from. So with one quick breath he stood up and was at her side, gathering the upset blonde woman into his arms, and allowing himself a small sigh of unspoken relief, when she relaxed against him.

"But how can you promise that?" she spoke after a moment's hesitation. "How can you say that? If it had been in your power, wouldn't we have escaped much earlier?"

Kissing the top of her head fiercely, allowing his emotions to the fore, his strength and his determination, his will and, most of all, his helpless, unbending and unrivalled desire to protect her from everything and everyone, which stood above all else, even his need to protect the Universe, though he'd never admit it.

"Never really told you what being a Time Lord actually means, have I?" he asked rhetorically, his hand at her cheek, silently asking her eyes to meet his so she could see the emotions he for once wasn't trying to hide. Amber eyes met his, laced with confusion but still, so much trust, not a hint of doubt to be seen and he felt the need to kiss her, to thank her in the only way he knew how, for her unfailing trust in him, for her faith which never seemed to falter despite the odds, despite the personal nature of some of the threats they ended up facing. She was so very... Rose.

"It's not just flying the Tardis – actually failed that test, if you can believe it," he confessed, eliciting a slight giggle and a mischievous smile from her which allowed his hearts to finally calm down again, relieved at seeing her happy.

"If I had believed you in any true danger, if they had actually even made the slightest move towards you, I would have gotten us out, no matter what. Being a Time Lord means an actual modicum of control over time, however much we are forbidden from ever using it. Even if Gallifrey were still alive, the only ones able to punish me, I wouldn't have hesitated. Rose, you have to believe me, they would have never been able to touch you."

Slowly, ever so slowly, her lips melted into a smile of pure relief and her eyes spoke of a gratitude she had no way of expressing. Smiling to himself, he pulled the blonde into a hug, lifting her off her feet and delighting in the sound of her laughter. He buried his face in her neck, closing his eyes, relishing in these few moments he had with her; the feeling of her body pressed against his, her lips against his ear, attempting to memorise every inch of her, every nuance to her scent, the feeling of being surrounded by her warmth, her friendship, her forgiveness.

The Tardis woke him from his daydreams, warning him that Martha had just woken up. Sighing to himself, the Doctor's hands caressed the cloth in his hand one last time, before hiding it deep in his pockets. Brown eyes darkened as he hid the memories, his emotions, his love for the woman he'd lost to the unforgiving universe, deep inside of himself and pasted a grin on that would've had her asking what was wrong with him.

No one but her ever seemed to notice the sadness lanced through his smile, the darkness that was closer to the surface than ever now that she wasn't here, the way that even laughing seemed so difficult, like it was draining him of energy. And that was the way he wanted it, he told himself, because the people he loved, truly loved, inevitably got taken away, ripped away by a universe that never seemed to care, no matter what he did to redeem himself.

His own voice kept resonating in his head.

"Then kill me! Kill me if it'll stop you attacking these people! Then do it! Do it! Just do it! Do it!"

His hands trembled. He was sitting on a pink bed that, though he'd slept in it several times, was definitely not his own. Martha had gone to bed – in her own room which, she complained, still looked like your run-off-the-mill hotel room. Either way, she'd stood up remarkably well under the strain of today... but even so, his mind kept thinking of all the things Rose would have done differently. It wasn't fair to Martha – or Rose – but he couldn't help himself.

Until today, the Doctor had fooled himself into believing that his moment beneath the Thames had been a one-off thing; that it had been a single moment of desperation, of self-hatred fuelled by a grief that threatened to drown him with every breath he took... he didn't have that excuse anymore and it was time to face his demons.

He had faced the Daleks, fully intending to die. Not for the humans around him, for the people, and without a single thought towards Martha, who would've been left behind, decades before she was ever born, without a way of returning home. He was so tired... tired of losing everyone he loved, of being asked to give and sacrifice and to gain nothing in return; he had killed so many to destroy all Daleks and yet here they had been again, following their prerogative as they always did – to destroy all non-Dalek forms of life.

And he had wanted to just give in, give up in the face of a universe that allowed the very worst of its creations to survive and the very best of them – Rose – to be taken away from him so cruelly. No; this was not a world he had wanted to fight for – or live in.

And yet, had Rose been there, she would have shot him a glare, would've kicked and bitten the men holding her back until she stood side by side with him, holding his hand and probably telling the Daleks that, actually, she was their greatest enemy, that she'd destroyed the Emperor.

For just a second, the barest hint of a smile formed on his face, imagining a stubborn Rose at his side, as she had always been, trying to seem more imposing than him. The amusement faded quickly and the realisation that his hand was still empty, would now always remain so, hurt more than he could express in any of the thousands of languages he was fluent in. There were no words for this kind of pain, this kind of loss.

Rose's entire room paid homage to their travels – with small pictures and plants or other tokens placed everywhere; and, above all else, lots of pictures of them, both painted and photographs taken. Some were strewn across the floor, a project she'd been working on where she was assembling them in a photo album, dating them and writing a short note below it to commemorate their time together. Rose never got to finish it and now it would always remain incomplete. He didn't have the heart to finish it, to put his own writing next to hers, to lock the pictures and memories away as if that would somehow be burying her, hiding her away when all he wanted was to dwell in his dreams, his memories, where she'd never left.

Rose had always had a way of making him feel at peace, a way of making him feel genuinely happy that he couldn't seem to recall enough even to imitate now. He missed her, missed her pleas for banana pancakes which, apparently, only he could get quite right, missed her silly dares throughout their adventures, her way of making him smile, no matter how serious the situation was and her way of soothing the darkness away with just a touch and a smile.

And yet, he knew he couldn't keep on living like this; remembering only what he lost, instead of remembering all the new friends he'd made.

He needed to start burying it, the way he used to, before he met her. The pain burrowing holes deep into his hearts, the emptiness she'd left behind, that she'd filled inside him with her every action, her every word, with the way she used to look at him, the loneliness he couldn't shake, no matter how many people were around him. Just breathing hurt and finding that every breath was not accompanied by even the slightest hint of lemon or apple or whatever Rose's latest shampoo had been, or her very own scent, a delicious mix of pheromones and Rose. He missed her, couldn't help it, but he needed to start living.

Rose had once told him she didn't want him to put her ahead of the universe and that's exactly what he was doing now. It was time to let go of that ridiculous belief, that silent promise echoing deep inside his hearts he hadn't dared put in words. Despite all his calculations, despite all of the Tardis scans, deep inside him, a part still believed, still had faith, that somehow, some way, Rose would find her way back to him.

With a broken heart and a heavy mind, he ordered the Tardis so separate his and Rose's room and to put hers into the storage. His ship rebelled and it wasn't until he opened himself to her, showed her just how much it was hurting him, that she gave in.

Rose's room was added to the storage, alongside with Jack Harkness' room, and Mickey's and Sarah-Jane's... and so many other companions he'd had that had been either left behind or left him. At least, he consoled himself, she was among friends...

It didn't help.

Every day, no matter where he turned, no matter how strong his resolution to hide his emotions, the universe seemed intent on reminding him of her.

Lazarus had been a fool; a scared young boy who got in over his head... but still, for just a moment, he'd wondered what it'd be like to have Rose with him, without the fear of facing a separation that would be too soon, no matter how long she'd been with him; but what if, rather to have her by his side for only a few years or even decades, he could've had her for centuries, for millennia, running, always running, always with her hand in his, her smile brightening his life and his hearts steadily growing with the sheer love for her.

"Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."

And Rose, he knew, would be the one person he'd entrust with that power, the one person he'd have faith in. She'd had all of time and space in her control and yet only thought of saving him; how much more good could she do if she'd been allowed to stay with him, at his side, for not just a few, short decades, but if she'd be allowed to save him, help him save the universe for centuries, millennia even...? He couldn't think of anyone more deserving and yet,... and yet, the universe didn't work like that. Rose had accomplished more in her short time with him than Lazarus had in his entire life, and yet she had still been taken from him and his dreams were nothing but the vain wishes and desires of an old man.

But he'd been tempted; and, he supposed, that was the point. Just as the Krillitanes but back then he'd had both Rose and Sarah-Jane to remind him of why he wouldn't, could never take that one step that put him so cleanly across the line he'd drawn for himself. In the end, it really was a curse. A curse that meant, no matter what, he always ended up alone.

And Martha was a good companion; and this last adventure had shown him just how much he needed someone at his side; even if Martha never quite understood, she was still stopping him... even if, despite everything, he was still alone.

And suddenly there were two hearts where there used to be only one; his mind expanded and collapsed, like a burning star, as memories and knowledge were suddenly crammed into his brain that he'd forgotten, too many for a human brain to handle. But he wasn't human anymore – he was a Time Lord again, the last of them.

And, shining brighter than any planet, stripping every nebulae of its beauty, was his memory of her; so strong that even the Chameleon circuit had been unable to erase her entirely, so interwoven was she with not just his memories, but all his emotions, entangled in her very being...

Rose Tyler.

The only one he'd ever allowed himself to love, and the one torn from him and lost, to another universe, where he couldn't touch her, couldn't see her, feel her anymore.

The Time Lord gasped, his emotions crashing into him and he found himself floundering for a second, wondering just how he had done it, how he'd ever been able to suppress all this, especially when he had no desire to lose her again, to force himself to separate her from his everyday life when his memories, his emotions, were the only moments that still granted him some measure of peace... and yet, they were also the very thing destroying him.

This endless love mingled with despair and desire; this yearning, this unspoken longing for a person he had no hope of reaching, ever, and yet he felt his entire being, his entire self was built on that unbroken, unfailing, never-ending faith, this belief in her, above everyone and everything else. A human; one frail, young human who had nearly torn apart the universe with her need to save her father and yet... and yet, despite the lack of rationale, despite the fact that as far as Time Lords were concerned she was the equivalent of a young child, despite the fact that she was so much less experienced, had a so much smaller view of the universe, of life, had no understanding of Physics and the way the world worked... despite all that, despite everything, he believed in her.

The tears, at first, were hard to stop but, with the memory of Rose's loss, with the feeling of his hearts, slowly, growing cold, came the memory of the Time War... and with that came the darkness and his eyes darkened. An unfathomably deep, endless abyss stretching out, all-encompassing, deep inside himself, threatening to engulf him with each beat of his hearts. A cold, unrelenting anger – no, fury – rose up in him and with it came the thirst for revenge, the almost tangible need to make someone – anyone – pay for ripping Rose from him, for tearing him from these few moments of happiness he'd been allowed, for just a moment – and for hurting yet another person in his life, for hurting Joan Redfern, who'd done nothing but be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He could almost taste it, the blood of his enemies, the sick feeling of satisfaction curling inside him, followed by the very real and everlasting feeling of hatred, an emotion that, for the first time, threatened to actually drown out his love before it faltered in the face of the memory of her. But it didn't matter – all these were inside him, bubbling away just below the surface, threatening to come out at any moment.

And with the fury, with the despair and the hatred, came the one feeling he hadn't been prepared for. The inability to forgive. And with it came the realisation that, for all intents and purposes, the family had just ripped Rose from him a second time, had taken away his belief that she may still be somewhere, just as human as him, a part of this world. And that was, in the end, what governed his mind and his hearts, as he sought to punish the ones who had so cruelly forced him to face reality again. And just as he would never be allowed to forget, he made sure they, too, would live forever, alone, as he was forced to.

It wasn't what she would've wanted, but she wasn't here; not to stop him and not to help him. She was gone and they would pay.

"Who is she, this Rose?"

He halted, his breathing stopping at the name. He'd thought – he really had – that Martha would have given up after overhearing what he'd told Jack, but, apparently she'd just been biding her time. Here she was, still asking about her. Closing his eyes in pain, wishing that Rose's name would once again be able to fill him with joy rather than despair, he remained hidden behind the wall, wondering what his old companion would say about the woman they had both loved.

The clacking sound of Jack's fingers on the keyboard paused for a second, before continuing.

"What do you know about her?"

"Only that she was perfect," Martha scoffed.

Jack chuckled.

"Oh, Rose wasn't perfect, far from it."

The Doctor found his hands clenching in anger without his say-so.

"But then again, she kinda was... for him, at least. They were together, in every sense of the word, but not in the way you would understand. They didn't kiss and they certainly didn't have sex, but when you saw them together, saw the way they looked at each other, you knew. To him, I think, Rose was his entire world. I know what she did for him, because she did the same for me. When she was with you, you couldn't feel alone – you just couldn't. And Rose made everything, I don't know, hurt less, made you smile when you had been near tears just moments before. She did that for everyone, aliens and humans, just made them smile."

He leaned back against the wall, throat clogged and eyes filled with unshed tears, allowing himself a moment of weakness, a moment where the ever-present feeling of missing an essential part of himself, once again overwhelmed him and his hand twitched, looking for its counterpart, yearning for her much warmer hand which he'd never get to feel again.

Then, suddenly, Jack gave a slight laugh, saying, "and god, that pissed him off. The Doctor was so jealous every time she smiled at someone else. First time I stepped aboard the Tardis, he just gave me this glare that all but told me to keep my hands off the blonde." He paused for a moment and he could make out the slight shaking in Jack's voice, as he breathed out.

"But Rose... she just forgave you, no questions asked, no strings attached. She made you want to be a better person, mainly because as far as she was concerned, you already were. I think, for the Doctor, the sun rose and fell with Rose Tyler's smile. With her, he was the Doctor."

"He still is," Martha asserted, interrupting Jack, "he saves people, entire planets."

The Doctor closed his eyes, could almost hear Jack's smile laced with sorrow, as he responded, "yeah, he still saves people. But I've been with you for over twenty-four hours and I've yet to see him smile."

"What are you talking about? Of course he's been smiling-"

Jack shook his head.

"No, he hasn't been. You haven't seen him smile. With the Doctor, he doesn't say much, certainly not about his feelings, but he didn't need to. When Rose was with him, he'd smile. Not like now, but rather like she made him so happy that he had to smile, like it was an action he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. All I've seen of him so far is that his every action, every word, is laced with desperation and his smiles are another expression of his grief. Wish you could've seen him, when he was with her. It was like night and day. You'd understand that as much as he loved her, Rose loved him just as fiercely. If she was his sun, then he was her universe. So, no, Rose wasn't perfect. She'd be cranky, jealous and scared the hell out of us when she'd end up covered in slime after an adventure, but she made life a little bit brighter and, as cliché as it sounds, the world was a better place when it had Rose Tyler in it. Because back then, he was her Doctor. And Rose's Doctor could do anything, everything, as long as she was with him. Because she believed in him, and he in her... That's who Rose Tyler was. Just a human and yet, to him, she was everything."

His hands were in a fist, knuckles white, as he tried to make his barriers stronger, tried, frantically, to suppress the grief, the unspeakable longing, the infinite love – for her – that tried to rise up inside him, threatened to drown him when he could ill-afford to lose his focus, his concentration. Eyes squeezed shut tightly, he used his superior biology to stop himself from crying, refusing to allow his body the relief it so craved. Now was not the time. He was up against the Master, and his enemy had had far too much time to plan against him. He couldn't give in, not now. Not with Martha just a few steps away.

He slammed down every wall in his head, every door shut tightly, until his walls were so high he could barely tell what he felt at all anymore. Satisfied, he stepped out and into the room where Jack was sitting on his laptop and Martha had occupied herself otherwise; had he not overheard their earlier discussion, he would have been hard-pressed to notice the minute shaking of Jack's hand or the slight tinge of red to his eyes from tears he had, undoubtedly, suppressed just as the Doctor had.

Still, his walls held firm and so he focussed on his current problem. Koshei.

When he was captured, aboard, along with Jack and Martha's family, he was, for the very first time, glad that Rose wasn't here anymore. Because more than anything, Koshei wanted all of his attention, wanted to play with him, and Jack was right – he would have never been able to hide how he felt for Rose; had she been here, the Master would've made her suffer simply because it would hurt him.

So, in the end, he was glad she wasn't here; at least she wouldn't have to see, wouldn't have to live through this nightmare.

"Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex."

For a moment, just a moment, he'd thought the Master knew who Rose Tyler was but then he realised – she'd written her name across the stars, literally, but other than the fact that Bad Wolf was his companion, he didn't know anything else. He didn't want to find out just how much it still hurt, had the Master found out and located her old friends or paraded her belongings in front of him, her pictures, her trinkets, bits and pieces that had made up his pink and yellow human. He was glad, now, that her room was not connected to his anymore but rather safe in storage, hidden among so many others.

She was in another dimension, another world... and she was safe.

Shortly after Martha left, another blonde, another maybe-could-have-been companion was taken from him before she got her chance.

His hearts ached and the pain inside him grew until every breath hurt again, every time his hearts beat and she wasn't here, wasn't with him. Maybe Rose could've saved her or maybe with Rose at his side, he could've saved her. But she wasn't here and he hadn't been able to, had watched as she fell to her death.

Astrid. Another one in an ever-growing list of people he'd failed.

Donna was a whirlwind, rapidly taking over his life with the approach of a stubborn, determined, older sister who was still insecure about herself and yet refused to show any weakness.

She frequently had him befuddled as she took to organising his life to her pleasure and, loathe though he was to admit it, he'd needed it, needed her. Donna was no more in love with him than he was with her and she understood about Rose, knew enough to not ask questions, to distract him.

And that she did, with her unbending will, her compassion and empathy, her stubborn refusal to leave him, to let him be the only one to activate Pompeii and destroy an entire civilisation. Unlike Martha, who had forced the comparison by comparing herself, constantly, Donna was herself and allowed him to forget, even for just a moment, how much he missed her still.

For just a moment, he wondered if Rose would have been able to hear it, that terrible, wonderful, painful song of the Ood. He'd forcibly closed himself off when she was with him and yet, so often – too often, he'd felt her, that bright, golden light, shimmering just at the edge of his conscience. Every time he touched her, he could feel it, pink, yellow and edged with gold, bristling with emotions and thoughts, subdued and vibrant, happy, sad, affectionate, caressing his mind until he nearly shuddered, barely able to stop himself from reaching out to her, too, the way she was to him. Rose, of course, had no idea what she was doing – or, more to the point, what she was doing to him – and yet he'd wanted what her mind so willingly offered, unaware of the consequences – and he had wanted it, so badly, to bury himself inside that light, that affection, that forgiveness until they were one, until she drowned out everything else inside him.

And yet she was human and a part of him knew that it was unlikely – the far more likely and frightening variant would've been that he would've extinguished her, her light, everything she was, that his mind would've swallowed hers with the centuries of accumulated pain and sorrow, that she would've been unable to withstand the onslaught.

And yet, a quiet, traitorous voice in the back of his mind had whispered, she withstood the Tardis.

He had never succumbed to temptation, never found out just how much Rose could tell, how much she could understand – how telepathically receptive she was. And yet, here, when Donna couldn't hear even the vaguest hum, he wondered if Rose would have; and if she would've quietly suffered through the excruciating agony of that song echoing in her head, never making mention of it for fear of drawing his attention away from saving them.

In the end, he forced himself to stop the pointless wondering which he knew he would never resolve, he'd never know. Because she was gone.

"Doctor?"

He gave Donna his wide smile, the false one, because he'd forgotten how to truly smile. This body had been born with Rose in his mind, had been made for her, and it did not seem to be able to fully function without her.

"Hm?" he responded absently, flicking switches on the Tardis console, dreading the conversation that was coming even if he didn't know what it was. His companion had that dreadful, hesitant tone to her which inevitably meant they wanted to talk to him about something he definitely did not want to talk about.

"Why don't you ever talk about her? I mean, I know it must hurt, but don't you think it would help? Having someone else, I mean, to remember her."

Compassionate, wonderful Donna. He paused, throat closed up. Rose had asked him – practically begged him, in fact, not to forget her, had pleaded with him, asked him to not leave her behind like Sarah Jane, to be the only one to remember her. And yet- it hurt. Deep inside him, everything ached just thinking of her, of the love of his lifes, and to share that with someone else, anyone else, was showing a vulnerable side of himself he had not shared with anyone but her.

"You don't have to," Donna amended quickly, obviously having noticed the shadow of pain crossing his face.

"She would have wanted me to," he finally admitted, dark eyes searching out the redhead, trying to force himself past the pain and the grief, to talk about her.

"Rose hated it," he finally blurted out, before elaborating after a moment, voice only slightly less urgent, "Spaghetti Carbonara. Went on a date, once, and the boy thought he'd order for her." His lips twitched, almost turning into a grin at the memory of her eyes sparkling mischievously. "She emptied her entire glass of wine over him. Didn't much like the pretentiousness, preferred companionship rather than fancy or expensive restaurants. Reminds me a bit of you, actually, that way."

He sighed, grateful that for once Donna had not interrupted him but rather remained silent.

"The reason she didn't like it because she was embarrassed, didn't think she'd fit in or be good enough. Bit like you; you're brusque and a force of nature to cover up your feelings, your embarrassment, pretend you're more confident than you actually feel, have yet to realise that you being who you are, that just being Donna Noble is more than enough, is more than most people could ever dream of being," for the first time he offered her a smile and allowed his affection to show – not the love he had for Rose but rather the deep-seated affection, almost sibling-type love he had for her, for Donna. He could see her eyes water and continued, pretending not to see how much his words had affected her.

"Rose was like that, too, never thinking she was enough, never understanding just how much she meant to so many people." He shrugged slightly, knowing that he had not helped that feeling, had, in fact, shortly after his regeneration accidentally enforced that notion – first with Sarah Jane then with Reinette.

The pain in his hearts increased, throbbing with every word.

"She loved celebrating things, little things," he recalled, remembering the many times she'd come up to him, positively beaming with excitement. So many anniversaries, so many firsts she'd been intent on honouring. "First time we met, first time Jack came on board, first dance, first alien planet and then of course the big things like Birthdays and Christmases. Rose saw the wonder in little things and appreciated every moment. And," he added after a pause, admitting only hesitantly the words as the truth hurt, knowing that the feeling of inexplicable wonder had left him, with her, "through her, so did I."

It had taken him a long time to realise he had started keeping track, started counting, without any prompt from her and had even started his own celebrations, his own little commemorations of dates. The day she said 'there's me', the day she agreed to travel with him, the first time she found her way into his bed after a nightmare, the first time he learned that when Rose Tyler believed in you, it was unfaltering, unbending, infinite; she would never stop believing in you, no matter what you did, and would always be there to remind you of who you wanted to be, rather than who you thought you were.

The grief inside him seemed to increase exponentially, the pain nearly unbearable and he knew his hands were shaking, his eyes were glassy.

"Rose," he finally managed to squeeze out, voice rough and trembling, "said I showed her how to lead a better life. Only I didn't – she already knew how to. Rather, the truth is that Rose showed me not what being the Doctor meant or simply forgave me, she showed me the kind of man I already was, in her eyes and that there was nothing – nothing – I wouldn't do for her."

Swallowing hard, he looked down, allowed the shadows to obscure his face as he took a moment to gather himself, refusing to let even Donna see just how much it hurt to talk about her, to remember just how much he loved her, how much better, how much easier, life had been when her hand had still been in his.

"Doctor," Donna's voice was choked with tears and yet, when he looked up, he refused to let her see the grief that still encompassed both his hearts as they beat hollowly against his chest, echoing in a deep rhythm that spoke of all he'd lost, of how empty he was inside.

"Time for bed, I think," he announced to the room at large, eyes hooded as watched the redhead trying to compose herself.

"I think I would have liked her," she finally told him, a soft smile on her face, before leaving and turning down the corridor, to her room.

He watched as Donna left the room and for a moment, just a moment, he could imagine it, them meeting, and, unwittingly, his lips curled up in a smile. He wouldn't have had a moment's peace between the two of them.

"And this, Rose, this is Woman Wept. Believe it or not, this is actually the middle of Summer; Winter on this planet is too cold for humans to survive in. No one lives on this planet but in the Summer a lot of religious orders find their way here to meditate and enjoy the peace and quiet."

"'s beautiful, Doctor," Rose said, her eyes widened in amazement, unable to look away from the frozen waves.

"Of course," he started, grinning slightly as he quietly gathered snow off the ground into a ball behind his companion's back, "never much been one for quiet."

With a flick of his wrist he launched the snowball and watched, satisfied, as it hit his target and slowly slid down her back. Rose turned around, watching him, agape for a moment, before a wicked smile stretched across her face.

"Oh, you didn't."

Grinning widely, whipping on his feet, another snowball in his hand, ready to be launched, he teased, "Oh, but I did."

Her laughter was music to his ears and his hearts skipped for a moment and Rose took advantage of his temporary distraction to launch her own snowball at him. The Time Lord spluttered as the icy snow exploded in his face, taken aback and realising a moment later that, in some respects, she really was her mother's daughter – not that he'd tell her that – and, apparently, that included her aim and the unbelievable strength behind her throw.

When the snow finally stopped obscuring his vision, for just a moment, time stopped. Rose was grinning at him cheekily, a wolf's grin where her tongue peaked out between her lips in a way that never failed to make his hearts flush with a curious mix of affection and desire, and her amber eyes sparkled with delight, cheeks flushed from the cold, melted snow dripping off her like dewdrops. He wanted to remember her like this, wanted to engrave every second into his brain; the way the cold hurt when he took a deep breath, the way she made him feel alive, made him behave like a lovestruck teenager, the way his hearts beat, just for her, and the way his hands trembled with his need to hold her, touch her, the way he longed to kiss her, feel her lips under his and find out if they were as cold as his or if, somehow, inexplicably, she'd retained some of that innate warmth and would set him on fire.

In every way he knew, Rose Tyler was his weakness, the one person in the world that could make him give in, give up, that could make him say what he never told anyone, speak to her in ways he'd never have dared to with his own wife, his family; she was the one person enemies could use to coerce him, to force him to do their bidding. And yet, above all else, above the weakness she was to him; she was his strength, the one who lend him her own fierce determination, had a way of making him stand up when his nightmares left him shaken, weak in the knees, as if he'd never be able to stand up again. Rose Tyler was everything he'd never dared to hope for, never dared to imagine or dream he'd ever find and yet, now that he'd found her, she was the one thing he couldn't imagine living without; his strength, his weakness, his love, his obsession, his desire, his passion, his life, his guide, his family, his trust and his faith – no, not faith. Faith was too simple a word to describe what she was to him, how much he believed in her.

Rose Tyler was his entire religion.

And then time resumed and he quickly threw the snowball he had, ducking another one of hers, laughing loudly when she grumbled at the fact that he'd managed to evade hers. But moments later, in a move he hadn't expected, Rose had launched herself at him and forced him into the snow.

He would deny it until his last breath, but he wouldn't mind losing to her. But this was not the day he'd lose to her, not yet. Grinning mischievously, suppressing his shiver at the cold snow she'd forced under his jacket, his hands slid around her waist and, to her surprise, lifted her easily off him. His blonde companion had made the unfortunate mistake of forgetting about his superior strength. Chuckling darkly, he reversed their positions.

For a moment, just a short beat of his hearts, he thought she was still with him, expected to find her warmth just beside him, her discontent murmurs at his movements, blonde hair spread around her, eyes dark, the colour of whiskey, as she blinked at him and full lips drawn into a pout, silently begging him not to get up, not yet. With a warm smile he found himself turning, wanting to explain how he'd remembered their snowfight on Woman's Wept, only to find his bed empty, his room desolate, dark, devoid of her.

The smile dropped and the Doctor gasped in pain, feeling his hearts freeze, a coldness spreading through his entire system until, for just a moment, he'd thought he'd been poisoned. He hadn't been, of course he hadn't; it was simply her absence that made his hearts grow cold, made his throat close up and feel like he was choking, gasping for a breath he didn't need, his entire body aching, needing to feel her; her hand in his, her body warming his bed, her voice to remind him that there was something other than silence, her smile lighting up his world and her very presence to chase away the darkness, the emptiness in his head.

But that would never be, could never be; she was gone. He'd barely slept since she left. Not that he needed much sleep; he was a Time Lord, after all, and with superior biology... biology he dearly wished Rose would have had; maybe it would have given her that extra strength she needed to hold on, to stay with him.

Donna was still deeply asleep, he knew, as he padded out of his room, eyes dark with melancholy, a deep-seated need inside him that could not be completely quelled, never again, but that could at least be soothed. The path was an all too familiar one; though her room was now in storage he'd been unable to stop himself from searching it out all too often.

Feeling drawn, energy sapped, he sank onto the Tardis-blue carpet, leaning against the pink bed linens, closing his eyes and pretending, pretending that he could hear the shower, that he could hear her, just a few steps away, happy and with him, the way she'd promised him she would always be. A promise she'd broken shortly afterwards.

He knew it wasn't fair, had, in fact, attempted to send her to that same parallel world without her consent just moments prior to when she lost her grip, but it still burned deep inside him, stung the way an open wound always did. Why couldn't she have held on for longer? Just a little longer...? Why couldn't she stay with him? He'd have traded everything, everything, in this entire universe to have her at his side. He would have lived the slow life if necessary, gotten a job, a mortgage, if it would have kept her with him.

Chasing away the dark thoughts, dark thoughts that all led to her being gone, he allowed himself to use his fabulous mind to recall her voice, surround himself with her scent until even he could, for just a moment, believe that she was actually here, with him. It wasn't healthy, wasn't good, but he didn't care; he'd given up a long time ago, given up denying one very simple fact.

He didn't know how to be the Doctor anymore, not without Rose Tyler at his side.

First Martha had called and then there'd been the Sontaran debacle and now she was on another planet with him and Donna, again. He could pick up so many of his former companions again, should he wish to, all but her.

He hadn't meant to; it had become an unconscious actions – the way his hands used to seek out Rose's, the same way he now sought out her jumper in his pockets, something to soothe away the pain. And then they'd taken his hand and used his genetic material to make a daughter... except she wasn't just his.

The reasons he rejected her were many, but, above all of them stood that she was the genetic daughter of not just him, but rather of Rose and him. The moment he'd seen her, had seen that sparkle in her eyes, he'd suspected. Blonde hair, eyes like his, and yet her emotions, laughter and thirst for adventure so much like her, like Rose. His Rose... And then he'd found it; that one, stubborn strand of blonde hair wrapped around his finger and he'd understood with terrible certainty that Jenny really was Rose's daughter. And his. And that she would never get to see her, to see her mother, because of him. And he was a dad again. It had been so long, he'd been nearly certain he'd forgotten how to be one.

And Donna – good, wonderful, Donna kept prodding him, not realising that he was rejecting Jenny only because it hurt so much to look at her, to see that glint in her eyes, that curling of her lips that was too familiar and made his hearts ache and burn. But, in the end, she was Rose's daughter and there was no way his hearts had not already made a place for her inside of them.

And then she, too, was gone, taken from him except this time he had someone to blame, a very real culprit, someone responsible. And he'd wanted, wanted it so badly, could feel the darkness encroaching, could taste the blood in his mouth, the need to... but he didn't.

The man who never would.

Because, in the end, she was Rose's daughter and if he knew one thing about her, then it was that she wouldn't have wanted him to.

And so Jenny, too, was taken from his side, as her mother had been. Too young, too little time together, too much time spent not appreciating every moment; he'd never gotten to see her as a baby, never got to see her grow, just had her with him for less than a day and yet she, too, had found her way into his hearts with unprecedented speed, a place she'd carved out all for herself deep inside of him.

And now he had yet another piece of emptiness echoing deep inside of him, doomed to never be filled again. Because, like her mother, Jenny too had gone, disappeared beyond his reach.

And far too soon thereafter, they went to the library and the Doctor learned something that nearly made him break, made his hearts scream and yet his throat was closed and his eyes dark as he accepted the stark reality.

Dr. River Song. Archeologist.

And she knew his name – not the Doctor, not that one, no; she knew his real name, his true one. The name he could've only given her if he married her.

He had married her.

And he loathed himself for it; didn't understand what could possibly ever make him marry this woman when all he had ever wanted, all he had ever dared to dream of in the darkest of nights, was Rose Tyler, whispering his name, his true name. He'd held himself back, then, had believed that Rose needed to know him better, needed to understand just who he truly was and now he wished he'd asked her anyway. Because she'd loved him; even if he hadn't known up until that dreadful day on the beach, he wished, desperately, he'd had the courage to tell her anyway, to ask her. To be his.

Because now it was too late.

Not that it hadn't already been, since she was in a different dimension, but this was a most cruel twist, brought a finality to their relationship in a way he'd never expected. River Song had not married him in a casual Earth ceremony, not in a way he could break; she'd married him the traditional Gallifreyan way – he had given her his true name.

And he didn't understand, couldn't, how he'd ever feel anything even remotely close to what he'd felt for Rose for anyone else. He couldn't imagine himself ever wanting to endure his kind of pain again, but above all else, he couldn't imagine he ever could feel as much for anyone else as he had for her.

She was Rose Tyler, his Rose. And he'd just... betrayed her.

For all he knew, she was moving on with her life and yet he couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop the nagging feeling inside of him, that said he'd just walked over grave, he'd just betrayed the woman he loved, had married someone else instead of her, no matter what reasons he may have had.

River was flirting, and, admittedly, intriguing, but there was no spark; she didn't make his hearts flutter and when she smiled he didn't feel compelled to respond in kind. Her mere presence didn't lighten the darkness in his head, in his hearts and, on top of that, he couldn't feel the bond he'd expected between, couldn't feel her mind touch his the way he'd been told it would be, through every regeneration right down to his first body... there was nothing.

And yet he'd apparently bound himself to her for eternity, because how else could she know his name?

And then, when Donna said those two words, his heart leapt for joy and his mind screamed in sorrow.

Rose was back.

But he'd married someone else.

And, for infinitesimal but glorious moment in time, they had even had a daughter; and he'd have to tell her, tell her that she had slipped through his fingers, that she'd never get to meet Jenny.

And he could never marry her, had betrayed her.

But even that couldn't quite stop him, couldn't extinguish the joy at the mere thought that she was back now, with him. His Rose.

He didn't know and he didn't care, not now. He just wanted to hold her, feel her hand in his, even if the entire universe collapsed. She was back, at his side. The way she was meant to be.

That Tardis was singing again, of joy and love, of reunion and of grief.

And the Doctor found he didn't care why there was still sorrow in the song his ship sang; no matter what, it couldn't be that bad. Because, somehow, Rose Tyler had done the impossible, had broken every rule of the universe as he knew it and made her way back to him.

The words he'd once spoke to the beast echoed in his head and even though he didn't understand how he could ever lose his faith in her of all things enough to marry someone else, for right now he'd been proven right, again. His impossible girl had found her way back to him against the odds.

And if there was one thing he believed in, it was her.

And that now that he had her back, he would never, ever let her go again. Not for anything.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so please review.

Thank you to all the previous reviewers, below are your responses:

CupcakeFlake

Yay – a new reviewer and reader! Thanks ever so much for the review! I'm glad I managed to draw you in and you're enjoying it. A quick note, though she has been in that universe for eight years, she has actually only killed for three years. It took them four years to actually convince her to believe in the reality they were creating. She left with only one year left before she'd return, so there were three years in between. Yep, definitely can see where you draw the correlation between the two. In that case, I do hope the title of this chapter rings yet another bell – I loved Fred. She was brilliant, too! I'm glad you liked Rose's solution. I tried and tried to come up with anything else that would have been on video and could have, potentially lasted through the years but things keep getting updated and re-enacted and that was the only certain thing I could think off, so there you go.

I do hope you enjoyed this chapter which gave you a bit of the Doctor's perspective on things without his beloved. Unfortunately, the Doctor finding out it still a bit away. Well, sort of and sort of not. Hmmm... I think I'll stop giving hints – it just causes a lot of confusion. Anyway, so glad you are reading and I hope you enjoyed the update. Next chapter has the reunion – finally! I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter as well.

TheDoctorMulder

Yay! Welcome back! I missed you – and thank you for the review. I'm glad you empathise with her. I think it would be terribly difficult to separate yourself from the actions you took under their control and Rose is a very emotional creature, she'd definitely take it very hard. I'm glad you enjoyed it and I hope this chapter is just as enjoyable, giving us a quick glance from the Doctor's perspective. I'd love to hear from you again!

lillideathflower

YAY! Someone new! Thank you so much for the review and I'm glad I've got you hooked. Thanks so much for the compliments *blush*. I do hope you're enjoying this latest chapter, a quick peek at the Doctor without her, before the next chapter has her and him reunited – finally. I would love to hear from you again and find out what you think of this chapter.

Darkwolfberlin

Hallo – danke fuer deine Kommentare. Du wirst dich freuen, das naechste Kapitel hat jetzt endlich die Wiedervereinigung. Ich musste dieses Kapitel schreiben um ein bisschen mehr Einsicht in den Doktor zu gewaehren, wie er ohne Rose war. Vielen Dank fuer deine Komplimente. Ich kann religioese Vernatiker auch nicht leiden; wenn man schon nicht in der Lage ist, die Fakten zu akzeptieren (150 weisse Rosinen faelschlicherweise als 150 Jungfrauen uebersetzt, sowie dass es keinen roemischen Zensus zu der besagten Zeit gab und tausend andere wissenschaftlich mehrfach belegte Fakten – nicht Hypothesen, Fakten! – die alle belegen wie sehr diese Schriften all erfunden wurden), dann sollte man zumindest nicht andere dafuer verklagen, dass sie inder Lage sind ihr Gehirn einzuschalten und logisch nachzudenken. Sorry, wie du siehst ist es ein empfindliches Thema. Ich finde es einfach manchmal schwer zu glauben, dass Menschen glauben, Religion koennte es rechtfertigen, andere Menschen umzubringen, oder jeden dritten Jungen zu ermorden etc. Aber wie dem auch sei, vielen lieben Dank fuer deinen Kommentar. Es macht spass, wieder mal auf Deutsch zu diskutieren :) Ich hoffe das heutige Kapitel hat deine Erwartungen erfuellt und ich verspreche, im naechsten Kapitel haben wir endlich die Wiedervereinigung. Habe mich umentschlossen, Abalon passt besser ins naechste Kapitel als das heutige. Wuerde mich echt freuen, wieder von dir zu hoeren!

angieclever

Another new reviewer! Thank you so much for your review. And a great, big thank you also for saying you're scared! I'm glad I managed to frighten you. I do hope you enjoyed this new chapter with the Doctor. I promise the next one will have the reunion and I'd love to hear from you again, see what you thought of the Doctor's point of view.

Technokitty818

Yay, thank you so very much for your review. I'm glad you're looking forward and I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a bit more difficult writing entirely from the Doctor perspective, but also great fun and I do hope his emotions carried across well in my writing. She travelled for several decades but is still less than a century old at this point; that's as much as I'll say about her age at the moment :) I do promise the next chapter will finally have the long-awaited reunion and I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks so much again for reviewing and I'd really love to hear your take on this chapter.

SassyFrassKerr

Hey – thank you so much for your review. Glad I didn't go with my first draft, which, aside from other flaws, was also much, much more difficult to understand and much more obtuse about what was happening. I would have had everyone totally confused about what was going on.

I feel terrible now. This chapter is not very fluffy except for momentary flashbacks. The next one will be all fluffy and dramatic, and sad and happy if that helps. Yep – you guessed it; everyone's long-awaited reunion is finally coming. I'd love to hear what you think of the Doctor's perspective (this chapter). Thanks so much for taking the time to always review.