A/N Time to face the truth…and the consequences.

Chapter 11

"Oh my God…" Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, either to smother a sob or keep from being sick, he wasn't sure which. Nearly trembling, she slowly lowered her hand and attempted to speak, her whispered words cracking around the edges. "It's you. It's really you."

He nodded shakily. "Yes."

"You…you've regenerated," she rasped.

Now this was where it was about to get all the more complicated.

The Doctor opened his mouth, but any reply seemed to stick in his throat. Rose continued to gape at this impossible man, her eyes wide, her mind awhirl.

"No. No, I haven't regenerated," he spoke at last.

A multitude of questions were flying through her head, making it nearly impossible to pin a single one down. She stepped closer. He remained still, letting the initial movement be hers. Ever so tentatively, her hand gravitated out toward the unfamiliar face. She snatched back at the last second, curling her hand to her chest.

"But you've changed," she breathed out.

"Not…not really," he stammered. "This is the perceived appearance of a past regeneration."

Rose slowly shook her head side-to-side, not comprehending.

Expelling a shaky breath, he pushed back the gray sleeve of his suit to reveal the spiraling silver band around his wrist.

Rose's breath caught at the sight. She wasn't even thinking of the perception filter it had housed. Her only thought was its symbolic significance.

"Do you remember this?"

"'Course I do," came her rapid reply. Though he had only ever worn it briefly, she would never forget.

"And…do you remember how it was first used?"

Her gaze lifted from the band and found his eyes. She began to understand, evidenced by the expression of deep hurt that cut across her face.

Eyes remorseful, he withdrew the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the perception filter, deactivating the illusion.

The face she had known, the face she had longed for, the face she had last seen on a wind-swept beach, was suddenly right before her. The gravity-defying hair and sideburns, deep brown eyes that crinkled 'round the edges, freckles and that supple bottom lip, pinstripes and trainers – it was the man she had known and loved and lost.

Her head swam and heart pounded erratically. Rose stared at him, frozen, as if she were seeing a ghost. They gazed breathlessly at each other, neither saying a word. Perhaps he'd expected yelling, screaming and cursing. Perhaps he deserved yelling, screaming and cursing. What he got instead was silence. Rose was momentarily unsure how to respond. If his audible swallow and rigid frame was an indicator, this unnerved him more than any other reaction. This reaction kept him from knowing what she was thinking or feeling. He wasn't alone in that. She didn't yet know herself.

He opened his mouth to utter another feeble apology when she finally spoke one word, steeped in hurt.

"Why?"

Silently, he slipped the band from his wrist and tucked it in his pocket. He wasn't sure he deserved to be wearing it at the moment. "Because I…thought you'd moved on with your life, Rose. I thought it was better this way. Better not to turn everything upside down."

"Better to lie to me?" she flung back, finding her voice.

"That was never my intention," he swore. "I didn't even mean for you to see me at first." Rose recoiled, taking a step back. He took a half step forward, but stopped himself from breaking the barrier of space she needed. "But even though I thought you'd moved on, I needed to see you. I needed to know if you were truly happy. But then…you suddenly came upon me and I just…didn't know what to do. I regretted what I'd done that very second, but I didn't know how to tell you. Then I…I pressed questions about your life because I needed to know if it was better for me to remain a memory and let you live out your life without me overturning it; to let you hold on to whatever happiness you might have found here."

Her eyes grew wider. Each passing second bombarded her with new information to process. "You weren't even planning to let me know you were here?!"

"I would have," he vowed. "If I thought you still wanted to be with me then I would have."

Her disbelief grew. "If you thought I still wanted…? Doctor, how could you possibly think that I wouldn't have?"

His eyes dipped. She realized he was focused on her hand. The ring. "Because I thought you'd found someone else. Someone who could give you a normal human life and everything I couldn't. Because the media here said you'd married last year, Rose."

His explanation did nothing to justify this to her. "And you believed that over my feelings for you? Over everything we've been and everything we've had?"

"You deserved to move on," he answered quietly. "And then I asked and you confirmed what reports had said, and–"

"I fed the media the story about my marriage because I wanted it known that I was taken!" she cut in. Rose looked down at her left hand. She slid the ring she'd used as a prop off her finger and tucked it in her pocket. "Or so I'd thought." Her eyes lifted to his. "And I'm not in the habit of telling strangers the real facts of my personal life. That's who you let me think you were. A stranger."

"I couldn't do it, Rose!" he finally burst out. "If you had moved on, I couldn't look you in the eyes and tell you goodbye one more time. Not again. If there was even a chance you'd moved on and I had to face you telling me that…I couldn't…I just couldn't."

Silence was all that existed between them for several moments.

"So this was all because of your own selfish fears?" she questioned in a low voice.

His eyes dropped. "I never said I was right for doing it. Quite the opposite. It was a stupid mistake made in the heat of the moment. I should have just listened to Donna and–"

"And who is she? Really?" Rose questioned him, attempting to piece the shards of all this together. "I suppose you've been traveling with her, yeah?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And…?"

The Doctor wore a blank expression. "And…and what?"

Rose expelled a long breath. "Are you and she anything more?"

His eyes widened. "What? No! No. How could you think that?"

Her laugh was short and bitter. "How could you think I'd just as easily move on to someone else? Bit hypocritical to judge my question, don't you think?"

His rigid shoulders slumped. "You're right. I'm sorry. But no, Rose. She's traveled with me. Donna's been with me but not with me. Not like that. Not like…us. Never like us. No one else was."

Rose's arms crossed to wrap around her middle. "There were others, too?"

He nodded. "There was Martha, before Donna. Well, sort of before. Technically I met Donna first. But yes, there was Martha Jones. She was a medical student, and–"

Rose held up her hands. "W-wait. Wait. No, just…just hold off on all that for now. First things first." Her mind was whirling at a dizzying pace as she voiced her next question. "How? How did you even get here? You said it was impossible."

"It would have been impossible, if it hadn't been for you." Rose waited for further clarification, not following much of any of this. "The Dimension Cannon," he explained. "That's how I was able to make it through."

Rose combed her fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ears. "But it hasn't even been able to make it all the way through the walls of reality."

"But it created a partial opening from this side. The TARDIS detected the disturbance. Then, by applying equal pressure from the other side, I was able to complete the process and create a temporary stable portal that I could slip through. You helped make it possible, Rose. You did that."

Even as he spoke, she was still trying to get a grasp on it all. So much time and effort and devotion had gone into the Cannon, only to yield what she'd thought were failures. Yet it had apparently worked and she hadn't even known. He'd been here and she hadn't even known. "H-how long? How long have you been here?"

"Just since yesterday. Shortly before you arrived on the scene and found us. Where you first came upon us, Rose, that's where the TARDIS came through."

"But it wasn't there…," she puzzled out loud.

"I…," his eyes slid from hers, "I put it one second out of sync so that it wouldn't be seen."

"Of course you did," she answered angrily. Her gaze bored into him, studying his every breath until he was squirming uncomfortably. "I knew there was something more about you," she uttered. "I could feel it. And y'know what else I felt? Guilty. I felt guilty for feeling something more toward you. All the while you went on and said nothing."

He took a wary step forward. "Rose…"

She released a laugh then. Even to her own ears it sounded a touch hysterical and far from joyful. "I imagined it so many times, y'know? Every time it was this…this larger-than-life moment. The TARDIS just materializing right in the middle of Torchwood or the middle of the street or the middle of my flat. Or I'd make it through with the Cannon and there you'd be, waiting for me, running toward me. We'd see each other and just…run. We'd run and not stop until we were together and nothing else mattered anymore. S'pose we've never had storybook moments like that without somethin' mucking it up though, eh? But it didn't have to be epic. It didn't have to be romantic or even close to perfect. But no matter how it might have happened, I never once imagined that you would make it here and not even try to let me know – that you would hide yourself from me."

His voice was thick. "I never planned this either, Rose. But I did have fears of getting here too late...imagined scenarios that almost stopped me from even trying. And then when I got here and read–"

"You think that makes it better?" she interrupted. "Justifies it? That means you thought I could just easily move on."

"You deserved to be able to move on," he stated honestly.

"Maybe I did," she agreed sadly. "Maybe you did, too. But we both know that wasn't possible. Or at least…I knew it wasn't. Maybe it would have been easy for you, and that's why you thought it would be easy for me, too."

"Of course not," he vehemently objected.

"Then why did you think I could have?"

"Because everything about your life here said you had."

"And that's all it took to convince you," she concluded sharply.

He dragged a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture doing things to her insides in contradiction to the pain, confusion and anger she was currently feeling.

"I made a mistake. An enormous mistake for which I will no doubt regret for a very, very, very long time. A mistake I am eternally sorry for right now. I don't know how many other ways I can say it, Rose. I was wrong and I'm sorry and I wish I had thought it through. But I'd hoped…I'd hoped that once it was out in the open between us we could begin to move forward." His eyes were pools of regret and voice a touch desperate. "Let me start over."

His plea lodged in her chest, trying to crack the walls that were forming in self-preservation. Then a startling thought occurred to her in regards to this man and his capabilities. Simple words were never simple when it came to him. "You can't go back in time and change this," she answered in alarm.

He looked as if a chill ran down his spine. "No," he agreed darkly. "Some things can't be changed. I know that better than anyone. But I can start over from here. At least I hope I can. You have to believe that I wanted one of those perfect reunions you dreamt of just as badly as you did. I've had my own dreams. Oh, so many times. And I want nothing more than to make this up to you now."

"Sounds familiar," she murmured.

He nodded. "I keep making mistakes with this sort of thing, it seems."

"You don't trust me," she finally concluded. "That's the issue."

"Rose, I trust you with my life. And not just this one. Every single one of them."

"But not with your hearts. You've always been afraid of trusting me with your hearts. You were afraid to let me in for so long. And then even when you began you still resisted it…still held back. I thought we'd finally begun to move past it before. But now? Maybe we never really had." There was a long, weighted pause. "Do you even still want this?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

She shrugged and looked away. "Maybe you were really just lookin' for a way out from a relationship you never planned to let happen in the first place. 'Rose is alright. She's moved on, so I can, too.' Was that it?"

His voice was incredulous. "Why would I have even come here if I felt that way? Rose, you can't honestly believe that."

"I don't know what to believe!" she cried. "Because you don't tell me the truth."

"I've told you the truth tonight."

"And that suddenly makes everything alright?"

"No. No, but…I'd hoped it was a start."

She squeezed her hands into fists at her sides as a jumble of words tumbled out. "Do you know how badly I just want to slap you right now?" He swallowed. "And how badly I want to drag you down to the floor and make love until neither of us can think or even breathe? How badly I want to pull you to me and never let go? Or shove you so hard you crash through the window?" Her body trembled with emotion. "I don't know what to do!"

He took two tentative steps closer. "If…if it helps, I vote for options two and C."

She almost laughed, but it came out a sob as she clutched her arms to herself. "Life has never once been simple with you, has it?"

"No," he answered honestly. "And I'm sorry. I wish that I could just–"

"Oh, just shut up," she breathed out shakily. "Just…shhhh." Rose approached him with caution, a manner she once never would have associated with drawing close to him. She swallowed down with such force that she could feel every muscle in her throat contract with the effort. Her hands reached toward his face, hovered in the air, then settled on his skin with a tremor that passed between them both. Trembling fingertips mapped his face and traced his features as her disbelieving eyes drank him in. "You're here. You're really here," she whispered. "Oh my God, you're here."

Despite the emotions coursing through him, he fought to remain still and let her have this moment, to take from it whatever she needed. Her hands swept along his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his eyelids. When they reached his temples, however, she drew back with a shuddering intake of air.

He moved to bridge just a small gap in the space between them. "Rose…," he breathed out.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't. Just…don't. Not yet. Just let me…let me…I dunno. Just think. I need to think. I need to try to make sense of these past ten minutes. Of my whole bloody life."

"I'll give you as much time as you need."

Her eyes snapped open. "Is that supposed to sound generous? S'pose I should just be grateful that you're even still here."

"I deserved that," he responded quietly. "But I mean it, Rose. I won't walk away."

"But you would have," she answered back, anger equally fused with pain. "That's what always frightened me most about us. What still does – now more than ever. You would have left me again. If you thought it was best, you would have left me again. Just like Satellite Five. Just like Canary Wharf. You make the decisions that you decide are right for my life."

He began to respond, to form a rebuttal, but found he couldn't. "I've only ever done what I thought was best," he finally replied.

"Exactly. What you thought was best."

"But I didn't say my decisions were always right, despite my intentions," he added. "And I certainly acknowledge my mistake here. I was just…I was afraid, Rose. And sometimes that makes me do things I regret."

"And when does it end? You can regret it all you want afterwards, but that doesn't change it."

At that moment they were interrupted by the chirping of Rose's mobile. Numbly, she pulled it from her pocket, taking a second to gather a needed breath of air. A quick glance to see who was calling revealed it to be Torchwood.

"Tyler," she answered, forcing her voice into a professional tone. She listened carefully for several moments, growing concerned as a message was relayed to her. The Doctor noticed her expression, watching carefully. "When were they last seen?" she quickly asked. "And nothing else? Nothing more to go on this time?" She listened silently for a moment. "Well, that's a start. Alright. I'm on my way."

She rang off, hastily making for the door.

"What it is, Rose?" the Doctor asked, following on her heels.

"More disappearances," she replied succinctly. "And this time one of our own. Shaun Temple." She paused at the door and looked back at him. "And Donna, too."

"Donna?!" the Doctor repeated in alarm.

"She placed an urgent call to Torchwood. Apparently she and Shaun went into the forest and encountered whatever is out there. Now neither one can be reached. But they took a scan and transmitted the data, so we have that, at least. Torchwood's sending a car 'round. It's probably already here."

"Right. Let's go." The Doctor made to follow Rose out the door.

She turned back, forcing him to stop just short of crashing into her. "Just…stay here."

"Do what?" he spouted in surprise.

"We can handle this," she answered crisply.

He stared at her, eyes disbelieving. "Are you honestly telling me that you're letting personal feelings get in the way of focusing on what needs to be done here?"

"No," she responded hotly. "That's the very thing I'm trying to avoid."

"You said yourself that you needed my help with this," he fired back indignantly.

"That was before I realized I couldn't trust you," she answered, voice low.

He stared her down for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was calm, measured and resolute. "I can either assist Torchwood or I can do this on my own. But I am not going to sit here and do nothing while Donna is out there in danger. Her safety is my responsibility. She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me."

Rose knew him well enough to realize he wasn't backing down on this, and they didn't have time to argue. "Fine," she bit out, turning to leave. "Just…don't get in my way."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Agent Tyler," he mumbled to her back.

The Doctor heaved a breath and followed Rose out the door. This night was on a downward spiral that seemed to have no end in sight.