Author Note: Hello again! First things first, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry that I haven't updated in a while. School has started once again and my teachers have kept me busy with loads of work. This leaves me with less time to write more chapters and think of new ideas for the story. I wanted to post this on Billie Piper's birthday a few days ago (Happy Birthday Billie!), but the chapter still needed more revisions.

Secondly, I am beginning to write a new FanFic called Flashbacks. It's a Doctor and Rose story. Keep your eyes open for it.

Thirdly, what do you think of Peter Capaldi so far? I think he's great! I've already written a one-shot story about the 12th Doctor. It's on my profile page if you want to check it out. It's called "The Birthday Magician."

This chapter was revised by ElvishPenguin12 and ShadowLink5. I'm so grateful to have them as my beta readers. This chapter wouldn't have improved as much as it had without them!

He was . . . kissing her. Kissing her. The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, had his lips pressed against hers. She never imagined this would actually happen for them. Well, she had imagined . . . daydreamed, fantasized, but she never thought it would come true. Besides, the reality of the kiss was way better than what she had dreamed of.

Hold on, she wasn't kissing back.

Why wasn't she kissing back? Her body was stiff and frozen with shock - she couldn't even move her arms much less move her lips.

Before she could even snap herself out of it and reciprocate the kiss, the Doctor broke it, much to her disappointment, and his long arms clutched her. Her head fit on the crook of his neck and, finally she was able to bring her arms up to wrap around him.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "And I'm sorry, Rose, I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner."

"What's going to happen to us?" Rose choked on her question, her eyes already brimming with tears, both from what she had discovered and his confession. It seemed unreal, everything seemed unreal.

"I'm not going to let that happen to us," he reassured in a firm tone, tightening his arms around her.

"But what about reapers?" she rebutted. "Or the fabrics of reality tearing, or-"

"Time can be rewritten," he answered, his eyes burning with determination. "When we get back to our universe, I'll make sure that Canary Wharf, Doomsday, those Daleks, and Cybermen will never happen."

He pulled away to wipe the tears that were falling down her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"A whole new timeline," his voice softened to a gentle caress while looking deeply into her eyes. "With you still with me. The Doctor and Rose: the stuff of legends – just as it should be."

She looked at him for a few seconds as her mind buzzed with disbelief and awe at his words. Then, it was her turn to initiate the kiss. Her lips hugged his and he kissed her back. It shared all the hidden feelings they had for each other.

He spent so long trying to deceive himself, telling himself that he could have never fallen in love with her - a human nonetheless. He had this argument raging in his thoughts ever since he had a daft old face, brown short-cropped hair, and blue eyes. She would wither and die while he would have to move on. Alone. It was the curse of the Time Lords. He tried fighting those feelings that kept snapping back at him whenever he saw her smile. Whenever he heard her melodious laugh. Whenever- the internal conflict was all in vain. Trying not to fall in love with Rose was like trying to breathe underwater. Impossible.

Ever since day one, she has loved this man. Countless times she tried to convince herself that they were just mates. They could never break the boundaries set between them. The Doctor didn't fancy her that way. He was an alien, a Time Lord, mind, and she was human. Even though sometimes she would catch him looking at her like . . . maybe, just maybe- But it didn't mean anything, she would persuade herself. He kept his emotions firmly barred behind a thick stone dam, while she did her best to do the same.

The dam had shattered and the wave of emotions flooded through.

Lips moved together in synchrony. Arms steadily held one another. Two heartbeats, instead of what could have been three, beat rapidly in a thunderous rhythm.

This moment was always destined to happen, waiting for them ever since the word "run" was uttered in that shabby basement in Henrick's. A broken man who had found an ordinary teenage girl and they made each other better. She taught him to hope; he taught her a better way to live. They danced through the stars, while saving and changing lives in the process.

And it all started at run.

It felt like a whole decade had passed between them, tucked away in a couple of minutes, before they finally broke the kiss. Their eyes gave away the love and affection they had for each other. Rose thought she heard the Doctor mutter "Still got it," under his breath.

The Doctor squinted his eyes as he tried to shake off his dazed look. He saw that Rose asked him a question, but his ears felt like they were filled with mud as he could still hear his blood rushing and his heart pounding.

"Wha-what?"

Rose giggled. So this is his post-snog face, she thought. "I said we really need to get out of this universe. One more day of pretending I'm this Billie Piper girl is gonna drive me mad."

"Same here," he said grinning. "Talking in a Scottish accent for a day is one thing; don't think I can stand another. I should be a Scotsman in my next regeneration, would make things a lot easier."

"Rude and not ginger or Scottish." She smirked at him.

"I'll be wearing bowties after this face." He adjusted his tie as if to assure himself it hadn't changed into a bowtie. His nose wrinkled in disapproval at the thought.

"I told you, they're cool. Besides," she tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "I'd love you with any face you have."

"Yeah?" He beamed at her.

"Yes."

"Well," he sniffed. "Should we get back on set now?"

Rose huffed in annoyance.

"And, easy on delivering your lines. You're the Moment, not a Cyberman."

"It's not like I can help it. Don't know if you can tell, but I can't act."

"Oh, I can tell," he mumbled.

"What was that?" She glared at him.

"Nothing," he replied, his expression all innocence.

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess they're waiting for us now…what's that word you use? You know, the French one?"

"Allons-y?"

"Yeah," She smiled up at him and took his hand. "Allons-y!"

By the time the sun had set, Nick called it a wrap for the day – giving up trying to handle the two actors who were being quite frustrating to work with. He didn't know what was wrong with them. One of his assistants suggested it might be drugs, another suggested marital problems. Who knows? Actors these days were becoming more and more difficult to handle.

He held his phone in his hand and dialed the familiar numbers on the screen. He needed help and he knew the one person who could deal with this problem.

"Hello, Steven? Yeah it's me Nick. I'm having a little trouble with Billie and David on set. Do you think you can come in tomorrow?"

The Doctor wore his glasses as he concentrated on his painstaking task. Weelll, he wouldn't really say it was his glasses, his brainy specs rather. They were Tennant's, but he would make do with what he had in the meantime. These thin-rimmed impostors would never compare to his brainy specs. Sad substitute, indeed.

His long, thin fingers were actively engaged in screwing or snapping the metallic pieces together. The metal clinked and squeaked as he did so. He worked arduously on the gadget in his hands because it was crucial – the only vital object for them to go back home lay in his responsibility to make.

Rose lay on the couch behind him, knees bent so her legs dangled in the air. She too was focused on something – surfing the web about Doctor Who on the iPad. It was safe now; the Doctor told her that he was going to fix everything, therefore whatever the episodes of the show foretold would no longer dictate their future. If they were able to stop the Battle of Canary Wharf from happening, that timeline would cease to exist.

At least, it was what they were both hoping for.

The heater made a relaxing mechanical hum as they quietly worked. It reminded them of the TARDIS. They were both beginning to miss their beloved ship, the blue box that was bigger on the inside. Their home.

"Doo wee oooo…" Rose started singing in hushed tones, interrupting the reticent atmosphere. The Doctor smirked at the familiar melody. "Weee ooo ooooo. Da da dum, da da, da dum."

What the heck, the Doctor thought as he joined her. "Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun. Dadadada dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun."

She laughed when he joined in, but she still continued. "Doo wee ooo…"

By the end they were both bursting out with giggles and laughter. They looked like fools, laughing as hysterically and maniacally as they were, their eyes watery with tears. They didn't care. That's just how they were together. Childish fools.

"So you like the theme song?" the Doctor asked, still chuckling. His hands continued working.

"It's catchy," Rose shrugged and grinned at him.

"Well thank goodness it was. Can you imagine if it was a dull tune? Our show being dull?" He looked in abhorrence at the thought.

"It's not really my show Doctor, it's yours," Rose corrected him.

"What makes you say that?" he asked obliviously. His fingers pressed down a button on his device to hold it there.

She sighed. Was it always her job to point out the obvious? "The show is called Doctor Who."

"Ohhh yes…that. Well to be fair you are a main character in Season One and Two of the reboot. Some could even argue that you were the main character."

"Ok, whoa there. Spare the modesty, yeah?" Her tongue poked out between her teeth.

"It's true. Even if you weren't…I still think you are the star of my show," he said, his mouth forming a coy smirk.

"Were you trying to be smooth right there?"

"Yup," He grinned at her.

"Well it worked." She stood up to kiss his cheek and sat back on the couch, leaving the Doctor with a smile of content on his face.

Despite the dramatic shift in their relationship, it hadn't changed anything between them. They were still best friends – mates. The only thing that was different was that they were finally honest with each other. They were best friends who were in love.

Rose snorted a laugh. Oh, this was priceless.

The Doctor turned around and raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Well Doctor," she said as she looked back at the screen of the iPad. "You know your wife Georgia."

"Yes, I know my fake wife Georgia." His voice signaled for her to continue.

"Apparently," she bit down her lip to prevent another giggle from coming out, "she's the daughter of a man named Peter Davison."

"Great, which affects me because...?"

"Well, he certainly does affect you. As he was you."

"What?" His eyes widened and his mouth fell ajar.

She laughed at his reaction. "Yup, played your fifth incarnation."

"Oh no." He shook his head. "That's just wrong. I married the daughter of my fifth incarnation?!"

If he was shocked by this news, she couldn't wait to tell him the rest. "Not only that," she trailed off to heighten the suspense. "Georgia played your daughter. You as in you as the Doctor, in Season Four."

"Wait...Season Four..."

Give him a minute, Rose thought.

"I'm in Season Four! David Tennant, me, stayed till Season four" his forehead scrunched together in realization. "That means, oh." He stuck his tongue out in disgust. "That means she actually is my daughter in our universe. Oh, blimey, I married my daughter."

"You committed incest," Rose said in sing-song. This was going to make great blackmail someday.

"No, no." He continuously shook his head to get the image out of his mind. "He's not me." He quickly turned back to his work to try and forget what he just heard.

"So that means you're your own son-in-law," Rose teased him. She was absolutely enjoying this.

"Rose, stop it."

"And father-in-law," she added, her mouth smirked jeeringly at him.

"Hah!" he cried in sudden triumph. He held his gizmo in the air. "I finished!"

"Really?" she asked excitedly, although she had a feeling he was just changing the subject.

"'Course, I told you I would be able to finish it soon. I even finished it sooner than I predicted."

"So can you tell when a wormhole will come by?"

"Mhmm, just got to-" he shook his device a little and pressed a big red button on the side of it. Its functions awoke, whirring and buzzing as it became animated. "My Timey-Wimey Detector. It goes ding when there's stuff." He announced, beaming proudly at his invention.

Ding.

He frowned.

Ding.

"What does that mean Doctor?"

"It means that a wormhole had just opened."

"What?!"

"It could be faulty," he proposed, but he thought it unlikely. His craftsmanship was hardly faulty. Most of the time.

Rose groaned. "How long ago did it appear?"

"About," he read the data on the detector, "three minutes ago. The coordinates actually point towards the studio."

She looked down, hope already vanishing from her eyes. "So does that mean that was our last chance to get back to our universe?"

"Oh Rose Tyler, don't give up so quickly." He continued reading the detector. "Because according to this there's one more bus trip back to our home universe."

She gazed up at him, anxious to hear his confirmation. "You sure?"

"Definitely," he assured her. "In fact, same place we arrived at. The studio… about tomorrow night."

She smiled widely. "Yes!" She ran to him and firmly hugged him. They were going home. They were going home!

He hugged her back, but something just didn't feel right. "The studio," he murmured, "Why is it always at the studio?"

At an unoccupied, dark studio a few miles away, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

The shaggy raven-haired man looked around in puzzlement. He wore a baseball cap on top of his bedraggled head of hair; his tan skin was clothed in a blue janitorial uniform. Where there would normally be an abundant amount of piercing on his face, there was only one hoop hanging from his left ear. He carried a normal, everyday mop in his hand, but his stance with it told otherwise. He held it out in front of him, in a ready-to-stab position.

Once he realized what he held wasn't a weapon, he dropped it in surprise. Scratching his head in confusion, he walked around this new, unknown world. His head felt empty. He couldn't hear his telepathic brethren anywhere.

Nonetheless, he knew the mission with which his tribe charged him. Search for the yellow woman and the tall man with the porcupine hair. Justice had to be served.