A/N: I'M BACK! Oh holy jeez, I am so sorry this took so long! I had the most hellish two weeks at work and now I am writing this very message from Hawaii. I've been waking up every morning early so that I can write. It is quite nice, sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee watching whales spouting out yonder but it not a very inspiring setting for the Doctor and Rose's pain and suffering. BUT I AM HERE NOW and I finally completed this chapter! Thank you x 34232840938429340 to: Barefoot Beach Bum, Perminatly Lost In Thought, Acoustic Dancer, ladyamadaun, AvenJackel, JollyRoger1, badwolf2991, gabbygirl89, love-peace-choir-svu, Tardis Holmes, NoPondInTheForest, ignitedsoul, AkumakoRonso, Miss Tyler, Pig-Rabbit-Suk, Ravenlupa the DragonSage84, SittingOnTheEdgeOfTheUnivers e, Amber Forest, LadaHathaway, Whitepurity, Books. , Heart of Diamond, atalanta563, RoseKatnissWeasley7, OnceadiaryintheTARDIS, Names Have Power, DreamIntoTheOcean, hungrywhovianpotterhead, Princesscupcakes, ishouldbedoinghomework, Suuki-Aldrea, amgonyea, Luce Elena, Rozablood, Angie, CallMeKia, LostInWho, Dalek Khan, TooLazyToLogin, ElementalFoxGoddess, Purple Drow, Chris4, Amelia St. Claire, proudwombat, sockmonkeyhatinthetardis, and a few anonymous guests for your ABSOLUTELY INSPIRING AMAZING REVIEWS! I hope this chapter is worth the wait, the next one will be loverley and probably a little bit fluffy and feelsy.
She awoke with a start, blonde hair plastered to the back of her neck with cold sweat, heart racing. Taking a deep, shaking breath that sounded like a sob she sat up and switched on her bedside light. She looked about her, taking in the familiar surroundings. She was in her bed. At home in bed.
But-
Foggy memories laced through her mind.
The Doctor, he had been right there.
"Rose Tyler, I love you."
A twinge of pain jolted her heart. A dream, it had all just been a dream. Of course it had just been a dream. Her return to Bad Wolf Bay, the Toclafane…
But it had seemed so real. More real than any of her other dreams. The pain. Jack!
The Master.
Rose swept a shaking hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face, trying to ignore the lump in her throat that foretold tears.
It had seemed so real.
She lay back with a heavy sigh and pulled the blanket up over her head, hiding away from the reality that she knew awaited her. That world that didn't want her, her family that did want her but no longer understood her, her job that needed her.
She would give up any of that to get back even for an hour. To see him again.
She should have known when he had kissed her, when he had told her that he loved her that it was all a dream. The Doctor was many things, but not that.
Rose flung back the covers, resigning herself to the day ahead of her. Her feet hit the carpet with a light thud and she tugged down the hem on her turquoise silk nightgown-
Wait.
She had gone to bed in a tee shirt and knickers. Why was she wearing…this?
Her heart began to pound all over again and she crept suspiciously towards the door, her training kicking in, prepared for anything. There were those out there who would like to get revenge upon her after she had led mission after mission to foil one plan or another. Could they have finally gotten her? Forced their way into her mind somehow? She braced herself and turned the knob slowly.
Rose ripped the door open.
And her heart stopped.
Green, gold, and copper coral made up the hallway that greeted her astonished eyes and familiar humming sang through her ears.
No.
No no no no no no.
Now she was hallucinating?
Rose began to panic, frozen in place. She wanted so badly for this to be real but she knew it could not be. Maybe she was still dreaming? Maybe something had happened to her on a mission. The Void that usually warned her of danger was not making itself known but that did nothing to stop the terror she felt. And the ache for she knew that this could not be happening. He had said it was impossible.
All of a sudden she became aware of footsteps approaching from the right. They stopped abruptly and Rose heard a sharp intake of breath.
She began to turn her head, terrified at the hope she felt. Terrified at the devastation she would feel once this all disappeared.
But she did turn her head and what she saw made the breath catch in her throat.
The Doctor was standing stock-still at the end of the hallway. He was bearing a tray that audibly rattled at his sudden lack of momentum. They stood there, staring at each other, neither daring to move.
She, because she thought it would take one blink and all of this would be gone.
And he?
He was the first to move, taking one step and then another, approaching her as one would a wild animal. She turned to face him fully as her heart continued to gallop out of her chest.
Preservation instincts kicking in, Rose began to back up, back into the room.
She couldn't go through this again, she had to wake up. Her mind would not recover from this. Her heart would be destroyed by it.
She backed up until the back of her legs hit the bed. He paused in her doorway and she could only see the outline of him, silhouetted against the soft amber glow of the TARDIS hallway. That painfully familiar outline, all long, sharp lines and spiky hair.
Memorizing that image, Rose squeezed her eyes shut.
"Wake up," she murmured to herself. "Wake up!"
She heard another footstep, a soft rattle, yet another step.
"Wake up," she said again, with more force, crossing her arms in front of her. She pinched herself, hard.
Gentle hands encircled hers and pulled them away, interrupting a particularly painful pinch. They laced fingers through hers, solid, comforting and so familiar. She wanted this to be real. Why couldn't this be real? It felt like it was, her heart sang with the feeling that it was. But her mind knew better.
"Rose," his voice felt like a caress and tears sprang to her closed eyes. "Rose, open your eyes."
"If I do, you will disappear," she whispered.
"Not this time," he said, equally quiet, pain tainting his voice. A warm hand traveled from her hand to her face, cupping her cheek so gently.
Rose took a shaky breath and counted to three.
One…she was memorizing the sensation of his hands, storing the feeling away for those dark times when she felt so alone.
Two…she memorized the sound of his voice; she had been beginning to forget it. She must never forget.
Three…she steeled herself against the agony that awakening would inevitably cause, because when she awoke he would be gone.
She opened her eyes.
?*?*?*?
The Doctor ran with Rose in his arms, darting down hallway after hallway, trying to jostle her as little as possible. She was so light in his arms, so delicate. Rose had always been strong and solid, but now…
He was going to fix her if it killed him. He was the Doctor, dammit, and he would live up to his name at least one time in his too-long life.
He reached the doors marked with the green symbol he had been looking for and kicked them open, sweeping inside carefully so as not to knock Rose on anything.
The TARDIS brought the lights and equipment to life around him as he softly laid his precious burden upon the table. The Doctor went through the motions, scanning Rose with a myriad of devices, some of which were completely unnecessary. He didn't want to miss a single thing. Only after all of the scans were completed did he go through the readings, all of them displayed in the elegant swoops and spirals of his native language.
Her heart was beating, albeit slowly, her breathing was normal. Good, this was good.
Age: Twenty-Four. So it had been two years since he had last said goodbye to her. What had she been doing in all of that time? She had obviously been active - he didn't need the scans to see that. She was lean and toned, muscled calves peeking out from under his brown coat. She had been doing lots of running. He smiled at that, despite himself.
Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? He abruptly pushed that thought away, not allowing himself to check for a ring or a tan line where a ring would have been. What business was it of his if she did? She should be happy, leading a normal life in a normal world. Still, the hot stab of jealousy at the thought of this imagined man went through the Doctor before he went back to the computer.
He tried to examine her molecular and genetic structure but the computer seemed to be frozen. Angrily he bashed the side of it twice with his fist, ignoring the indignant, mechanical sound that the TARDIS made in response to the abuse.
These readings…they didn't make any sense. The Doctor pulled his brainy specs out, more out of habit than necessity, and placed them upon his face, squinting at the readings. They were flashing now, skipping from species to species at times settling on 'Human', then on 'Time Lord' and with one final flash and glitch of the screen it landed on 'Unknown' and stayed there.
The Doctor scrubbed a hand through his hair and then ran it down his face, pulling the skin of his cheeks taught. The computers were at a loss and frankly, so was he.
Never before had he seen this. Rose had disappeared. She had given herself up to the Time Vortex, allowing herself to be erased from all of time and space. Forever.
But then…
He remembered chanting the words 'Bad Wolf' over and over again. What if-? No, it couldn't possibly-
"I take the words. I scatter them. In time and space. A message to lead myself here."
"Oh Rose, you amazing woman," he said under his breath, staring at her unconscious form. Was it possible that the power of the Bad Wolf, the power of his Rose, had been great enough to follow his voice all the way back?
So then where was she? Her vital signs were, while confusing, very stable. He still did not know what the Master had done to her.
The Master. The name brought such a mix of emotions to the surface that the Doctor did not know what to do about them. Part of him was devastated by the loss. Another part, the Oncoming Storm he supposed, was glad that he was gone.
He would deal with that later.
The Doctor didn't know what to do, didn't know why Rose was unconscious, how to bring her back. There was only one thing he could do. The Master had already intruded into her mind so much that he felt wrong even considering it. But if this was the only way…
The Doctor positioned himself at the top of her head, staring down at her. Dark circles lay underneath her eyes, her face devoid of makeup. He had never told her that she was beautiful without makeup, how much he loved those rare times when she came out of her room without it. He should have told her.
Tentatively, he spread his fingers across her temples, through her silky hair, and closed his eyes. He opened himself to her, searching for the psychic connection that he knew must still be there. He was met with a wall of swirling gold that reminded him of the Vortex. Gently he parted it with his mind like one would silk curtains, and stepped inside.
The bodily part of him wanted to gasp at what he saw. Her mind was vast, enormous, branching off in a labyrinth of routes and channels. It was Time Lord but so much more. Where was she? Nervously he let his shields down. He had not been this vulnerable to anyone since he was young on Gallifrey, before harsh lessons had taught him to protect himself.
He walked forward and suddenly he was in Rose's childhood.
"Ro-ose, time for dinner!" Jackie's familiar voice called and seven year old Rose Tyler looked up from her coloring book.
Another step, ten years later.
"You're nothing without me you stupid bitch!" a dark haired, attractive boy shouted at her. Pain was blossoming across her cheek where she had just been struck.
Jimmy Stone. Rose had told the Doctor about him. He had tried to conceal his fury then, but living it through her eyes made his hearts erupt in rage. He quickly stepped out of the memory.
"Wilson? Its Rose, I've got the lottery money!" she called at the door, fear creeping through her. There was a noise and she turned. A plastic mannequin. Fear. Running. A hand.
"Run!" a strange, short haired man said, grasping her hand and pulling.
"Why her?" she asked, "Why did they want her?" that wasn't the question that Rose wanted to ask. What she wanted to do was demand to know why the Doctor had been willing to abandon her on a space station for Madame du Pompadour. What that woman had that Rose did not. Well, she supposed, the woman was probably everything that she was not. Jealousy coursed through her veins but she would not let the Doctor see her pain. But the pain was there.
"Trapped with you, wouldn't be so bad…" a part of Rose liked the idea. She still felt the pain of the loss of the TARDIS but, if she had to be trapped with anyone, she would choose the Doctor every time. Did he feel the same? Did she scare him when she mentioned their potential future?
The Doctor stepped through memory after memory, abruptly arriving at the most painful ones of all.
"Take me back!" she screamed, pounding on the wall, tears streaming down her face. Her heart was broken, utterly shattered and she rested her face against that wall of that impossible, parallel wall. Was he on the other side? She closed her eyes for a moment, tears spilling out over her lashes, reaching, searching, imagining he was there, just on the other side. She placed her hand against the plain white surface, pretending that his was mirroring hers.
She stood on the beach in Norway, bloody Norway, searching for him, her ears striving to hear the familiar, wonderful grinding of the TARDIS. The sound that haunted her dreams and her reality. More than once she had gone running, thinking that she had heard it. Always disappointed. The wind whipped through her short hair and she hugged herself. She turned. There he was. Her heart leapt with joy. Why did he look so sad?
"Rose Tyler-"
Once again the Doctor kicked himself. Feeling all of these memories from Rose's perspective, her human vulnerability heightening everything made his hearts ache.
All of these past Rose's…but where was she?
He parted another barrier of gold and entered.
Her fist connected with the rather ugly face of a Weevil. The beast let out a gurgling groan as blood began to bubble out of its blunt nose. It lunged for her again but she dodged it easily. The Void told her where she needed to go, what to do next and her Torchwood training was second nature to her now. With one final, powerful kick she sent the Weevil flying against a brick wall where it crumpled to the ground. She brushed stray blonde hair back from her face and grabbed her radio.
"Tyler to base," she said into the com device. The Doctor found that he was breathing hard. It had taken all of his self-control not to jump in to help her during the fight. But she hadn't needed his help. Hadn't needed him at all. Her clipped tone as it reported to the 'base' that she had contained the threat was brand new to him. He did, however, recognize the voice that came out of the black SUV that screeched to a halt behind her, even before he saw the driver. Mickey Smith leapt out of the back of the vehicle and held his hand up for a high five. Rose smiled grimly at him and smacked her hand against his before they loaded the Weevil into the van.
"You sure do get mauled by these things, often Rose," the Doctor heard Mickey say from inside.
"Yeah, well, you know how it is Mick," Rose replied tiredly before the doors slammed and they drove away quickly.
How was it, exactly? The Doctor wondered before the memory dissolved.
He was standing in a small flat, fairly standard issue. Rose was just walking through the door, shutting and locking it behind her. She ran her fingers through her hair and he could see – could feel, her weariness. She tossed her keys onto the counter and looked about the small space sadly.
"Welcome home, Rose," she said to no one in particular, "I missed you so much." She had just arrived from an extended trip through China. A rogue group of Kriaxic had infiltrated an entire small city, turning their power plant into a weapons factory. Four of her team had been killed, their bodies, or what remained of their bodies, being transferred via airship even as she poured herself a glass of red wine. Good people, they had been. She would have been one of them if not for that bloody damn Void.
Sometimes she wished it would just let her go. Be too late just once.
The Doctor longed to reach out to her, to take her empty hand in his. The loneliness, the sadness, the sheer despondency and guilt she felt made his hearts ache. How many times had he felt exactly like that? How many times had she been the only thing that made those crushing sensations go away? The memory started to fade when tears began to fall from her eyes, right as the Doctor was about to try to wrap his arms around her.
He stumbled up against another barrier, this one stronger than all of the others. He held up a hand against it and it hummed with power. He focused his mind, pushing away Rose's pain, his pain. A moment passed, and then his hand slid through the barrier inch by inch. The energy he felt from the other side was like none he ever felt before, and it fought against him every step of the way. But he was determined, nothing could keep him away, and after one last push he was through.
The world was gold. He knew right away that this wasn't a memory. Power, energy, and light shimmered all around him and he couldn't see past his own outstretched hand.
He could feel her though.
He strode forward blindly, relying upon his strong connection to her. She was here, she was close.
Another veil of gold mist parted before him and there she was. Her back was to him and she was still nude, the mist thick enough that it covered her modesty, swirling around her arms and legs, her hair cascading down her bare back.
"Rose?" he called, tentatively.
"She is here," Rose replied, but it was not Rose's voice. It was the Bad Wolf. The Doctor stepped closer to her and the Bad Wolf spoke again. "This body, this mind, cannot handle the both of us, Doctor. Not on our own. We made the sacrifice and we were strong enough to come when you called. You pulled us from all reaches of time and space, through the Vortex, through the Void, gathering us back to you. You should not have done this."
The Doctor, for another rare moment in his life, was speechless. He managed to pull himself together enough to ask, "What do you want me to do?" Rose – the Bad Wolf - turned to him then, and the eyes he met were not the warm hazel that he found so much comfort in. They were ablaze with fiery golden light and it took all of his willpower not to look away from them.
"That, Doctor, is entirely up to you. You must separate us, or join us. Rose could be strong enough to contain us both, but not without your assistance. If you separate us, she will wither and die, perhaps even faster than a normal human lifespan. If you forge us together, the end result is uncertain. Unprecedented. We may live on, much like a child of Gallifrey, our lifespan even extending beyond yours, Time Lord. Or we will burn, consuming one another until there is nothing left. You must choose. Condemn us or become our salvation."
There was only serenity upon her features, directly contrasting with the hurricane of conflict raging within him. Never before had he been faced with a decision quite like this. His vast mind was failing him. It was an utter gamble. A roll of the dice.
A roll of the dice with the most important thing in his lives on the line.
"How can I make this choice?" he finally asked the Bad Wolf, his voice choked with pain and anger.
"Because you must. You are the only one who can, Time Lord. We are sorry, we are so sorry, but you must or we remain forever in the Void."
Her face showed a flicker of emotion then, a glimmer of Rose. But then she was gone.
The Doctor stood there, staring at Rose, at the Bad Wolf, but not really seeing either. His mind was too consumed, traveling down each path. Leave it how it was and Rose would remain forever lost to him but still alive inside of her mind, inside of the Void.
He knew what she would say to that one without even thinking. She would hate that, being trapped as a veritable vegetable, unable to speak, unable to act.
Unable to run.
Could he bet her life, bet her existence on a guess? He had done it before. He lived for the unknown, for the impossible, leaping without a plan, making it up as he went along. But look where that had gotten him. Alone. Making the choice whether to let Rose live or die.
He wanted to run away. He hated that part of himself but it was there regardless. That instinct to run away from the emotion, from the attachment. He could not run this time.
He pulled himself together and looked the Bad Wolf straight in the eye, unsure of his answer until he spoke it.
"Come here."
The Bad Wolf paused, and then came towards him, the golden mist dancing and swirling in her wake. She paused inches in front of him, their eyes locked.
Without preamble, without giving himself time to reconsider or even think, he placed his hands on either side of her head and she closed her eyes, giving herself up to him. He looked at her beautiful face one last time before delving deeper into her than he had ever been in anyone's mind before. It was fire and ice, pain and pleasure. By far the hardest thing he had ever done.
The Bad Wolf fought against him, Rose fought against him. He almost gave up more than once. He visualized the melding, each individual seam and stitch he put into place, forging them together. He reinforced each connection with his own regeneration energy, probably giving up decades of his life but not caring one bit. It would all be worth it if this worked.
Please, Rassilion, please let this work.
The Doctor's strength was waning, his mind put under more pressure than it had ever experienced in his nine hundred years, buckling under the panic that he was killing the one thing he held dear.
Then it was over.
Before he retreated he put up barriers between Rose's mind and whatever she was now. If she awoke to the full fury of what now lay within her, that is, if she awoke at all, then she would surely burn. Behind the barriers he sealed her resurrection, placing the true memories behind such a haze that it would appear as if it had been just a dream.
Carefully he withdrew from her, closing door after door behind him.
He came back to the world with an excruciating gasp of air, tears falling down his cheeks, his hands stiff and still buried in her hair.
What had he done?
How long had it been?
She remained unconscious, still wrapped in his jacket, shallow breath coming from between her slightly parted lips.
His knees shook, all of his energy drained from him and he supported himself on the table upon which she lay, gazing down at her.
The TARDIS hummed at him, her concern apparent.
"I don't know, Old Girl, I really do not know," he murmured.
Mustering the last of his strength he slid his arms under her knees and shoulders, lifting her off of the table and heading for the exit. The TARDIS opened the door for him and he dragged himself down the hall towards Rose's old bedroom.
He knew the way well; his feet had often brought him here. After Donna had refused him, after Shakespeare, time after time he found himself at this door, pausing outside of it much as he had innumerable times when Rose was still there. When she had laid sleeping mere feet away from him.
He had never allowed himself to enter though, then or after. Then, he had been too afraid. He had known that, if he went in he would watch her sleep, that, if she had a nightmare his willpower would crumble and he would comfort her, that, if she awoke and reached out to him, he would be powerless to resist. So he had never gone in. Never exposed his true feelings, true desires.
But on more than one occasion he had stood in the doorway whilst she dashed around, gathering a sweatshirt or applying one last coat of mascara. While she dug around in a drawer for a Traychoridan Amulet that they needed or a random object required for a TARDIS repair. The room had always felt so comforting. So Rose.
She had declared, upon settling in, that she was done with the pink and purple décor of her childhood bedroom in the Powell Estates. The TARDIS had happily accommodated every whim. The Doctor had always been in slight awe of the swift attachment that his ship had developed towards this human girl.
Almost as swift as his own attachment had been. He may have not known it at the time, so stunted by the hate and rage that had dwelt in his former self, but the moment he grabbed her hand he was addicted. The TARDIS changed Rose's bedroom at least once every other month, adding décor that Rose adored from one planet or time, subtracting things that Rose grew bored of.
The TARDIS was never that cooperative with him, but he didn't mind. The grin that spread across Rose's face when she chose to tell him about these changes was enough to bring one to his and an unseen lift to his hearts.
The one constant had been the photographs. Rose loved taking pictures. The TARDIS had even set up photography development capabilities for her, smitten ship that she was. So Rose's walls were covered with pictures of them. Of her with various alien species, of her with Vanessa from Rome, them and Jack, Mickey's candidly stupefied face at one wonder or another, the Doctor wearing a goofy grin whilst draped in a rather ridiculous cloak that Rose had insisted upon. Christmas with Jackie. Frames and frames had been placed carefully upon her walls.
After she had gone he thought he just might break if he went in so, when he arrived in front of the door, the one that had 'Rose' scrawled in Gallifreyan, and the TARDIS opened them for him, he was slightly unprepared for what he saw.
The walls were bare, the furniture sparse. There was not one single stich of personal touch to the room. A small pile of clothes lay in the corner, a half empty glass of water stood on the nightstand. A deep purple comforter was the only remotely Rose accent that this room bore.
His mind pieced together what his eyes could not understand. This was her room from Pete's world. Sadness once again gripped his hearts and he forced himself to walk forward, turning slightly so he would not hit her unconscious form on the doorway. The TARDIS had changed the room entirely so that, upon waking, Rose's mind would not be overwhelmed. He supposed it made sense, hadn't he just sealed away the newest memories inside of her head? But seeing the room like this pained him more deeply than he would have thought. This was not Rose's room, there was no comfort here. He swore to himself then and there, that, if she woke up, if she was his Rose (and even if she was not) he would spend every second healing what he had broken.
The lights turned on as he laid her upon the queen sized bed, pillows only enough for one.
He saw it as he pulled back the neatly made covers. A photograph. Grainy but familiar.
It was a picture that she had taken on her phone, one of their very last adventures together. They were standing in front of a crystalline, deep pink waterfall, heads pressed together, smiling for all they were worth. He remembered this particular adventure. She had gotten a kick out of the shade of the water and so, therefore, she had to take a picture. He had feigned reluctance, stating they had business to take care of but both of them knew he did not really mean it.
Not long after the photo was taken they had, had to run for their lives from a flock of Jitori ravens, tripled beaked with a thirst for blood. But in that moment, in that one single moment, he had been blissfully happy. From the smile on her face she had felt the same.
It was the only remnant of him in this room. The only thing that had withstood time and space.
Before his eyes the TARDIS replaced his jacket with a turquoise blue nightdress, silky material draping over her curvy yet lithe body.
Was his Rose still in there? Had he done it? Or would she awake screaming, burning before his eyes? Would her hazel eyes ever open again?
He pulled the blankets up over her body, his hands shaking, legs still quaking. Suddenly he fell to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer.
With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled himself up onto the bed beside of her, only the blanket separating them. Her scent, so familiar after all this time filled his nostrils as his eyes closed, and he succumbed to the exhaustion, to the sorrow, slipping into his own personal void.
His last conscious thought was of the way that her body conformed to his, warm, solid, and the way that, when he laced his fingers through hers, they still fit as perfectly as they did that Christmas night all those years ago.
A/N: SO WHAT DID YOU THINK?! What will Rose be when she awakens and the Doctor opens her mind back up? I apologize if I got some of the quotes wrong, I have awful internet here and so it would have taken me forever to look them up, so please excuse them if they are slightly wrong! As always, review, darlings, let me know what you thought. Inspire me! The jury is still out on whether or not this will be a long, long fic or will have a sequel but, either way, I hope you will read!
Love you all, Xx Lady Ten