Glimpses of Time

Chapter Eighteen: The Journal II

By Lumendea

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any spinoff material, and I gain no income from this story, just the satisfaction of playing with the characters.

AN: This is a first, a Glimpse that is a sequel to a Bit. These are getting complicated! And seriously, Twelve, not every Glimpse has to be about you! I think he's either caught up with or passed Eleven on screentime at this point.

…

Over the centuries of marriage, raising their children, and saving the universe, the Doctor's view on Rose's journal had softened. Long ago, he'd feared it as a symbol of losing her. Even after learning that she wasn't going to die on him, he'd still feared the day she'd chose to leave him like everyone else always had. Then she'd gone missing, and he'd resigned himself to finally studying it and fulfilling his roles in her past.

Except the TARDIS had hidden the journal. He'd searched their bedroom and yelled at the time ship for hours before accepting that the TARDIS didn't think it was time. Unsure of what to do, he'd thrown himself into another adventure and met an unpleasant man who refused to aid a crashing ship. That had been an awful day that ended with a question of if he had one more day with Rose, which one would he chose.

He'd chosen the day she began a Star Knight. There was no risk of crossing his own timeline, and he'd wanted to see her smiling and basking in her victory. Except… well, she'd caught him and known him. He'd been expected. He'd stumbled into one of the points he needed to visit her at without even meaning to. She'd given him a letter from his own future with the words Bad Wolf and given him back hope.

Without the journal, which the TARDIS kept hidden, he'd stumbled around in Rose's past. Giving in to his need to be near her, even if their telepathic relationship wasn't there, he'd become a part of her life. Not because he was fulfilling timelines, but because he wanted to be there, and she wanted him there. It was a far better possibility than he'd pictured before.

Then guilt and worry had begun to set in. The Doctor wasn't sure he liked being the old man creeping around in Rose's life. It felt… manipulative. He'd been guilty of that on many occasions but didn't want that. Not now, not with her. They'd only gotten started with this relationship in Rose's past when she gave him a very familiar journal.

Leather with a rose embossed on the front. But it lacked signs of age. It was her journal, but it wasn't yet. Not a single word had been put into it yet. Blank and waiting for it to be given to her. She wanted him to take it, wanted to close the loop not because it was necessary for time but because she chose him. Because despite how strange their relationship was, she still wanted him and wanted him to someday give her the journal. The meaning of the journal started to shift at that moment. Maybe, it wasn't going to be a burden. Maybe that was why the TARDIS hid it because their clever time ship knew better than he.

So, the Doctor wasn't terrified when Rose walked into the library two regenerations later and sat down beside him with the journal in her hands. Raising a bushy eyebrow, the Doctor eyed his wife and noted the soft smile on her face. He was very fond of that smile. It was one of his favorite smiles.

The Doctor glanced down at the journal in her lap. He remembered the last him giving it to her when she'd been sixteen, along with the letter that had once given him hope of seeing her again—and stealing his wife's first kiss so that it wasn't that Gavin boy. Well, not stealing exactly. They'd talked about it before hand, but he did still feel a certain level of pride that he'd been the first man to ever kiss Rose. His last body had been almost incapable of shame when it came to Rose. Every emotion turned up to one hundred that one. Then Rose snuggled up against him, and he decided that thinking about his last self wasn't his priority right now.

"Hello, Darling," he greeted softly.

"Hello, my love," Rose replied easily. Her fingers caressed the top of the journal. "I thought… I thought you might like to see what's inside now."

"Are you sure?"

Emotions stormed in the Doctor's chest. Excitement at what her offer meant for them and overwhelming relief that he'd never need to worry about the responsibility of closing their time loops while alone.

"It's history to us both now," Rose said. "Our journal now."

Their journal. The Doctor beamed, his blue eyes brighten in pleasure he wasn't even going to pretend wasn't there. It was only he and Rose in the TARDIS right now, and he liked that idea. Their journal. He hadn't taken up journaling again. Neither his last three bodies nor this incarnation were the journaling type. He'd tried in this body briefly and had found it too tedious. If he had to sit still, at least he could be playing his guitar.

"Our journal," he repeated. "I like that." He shifted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her. "I love you," he said, letting his Scottish accent roll the words.

"I love you too," Rose replied easily. She leaned up and kissed him softly before turning her attention to the journal in her lap. "But as of that little trip you took last week, we are completely in sync."

"Little trip?" the Doctor teased. "I'd hardly call Fenric reforming inside of Ace a little trip!"

"Well, some of us had limited memories of it," Rose reminded him.

"Still, I'm going to tell her that's how you described it." He was smiling again. "She already calls you, her stepmother; now it'll be the evil stepmother."

"She only calls me her stepmother when she's trying to annoy me," Rose huffed. But the Doctor could tell she wasn't really unhappy. "And this isn't about Ace."

"Why didn't you bring the journal out last week?" the Doctor teased. He kissed the exposed kiss of Rose's neck, enjoying the way his wife shivered.

"Because someone had other ideas for my time." She tried to look displeased and failed. A soft blush appeared on her cheeks, which only amused the Doctor. "Do you want to read it with me or not?"

The Doctor nodded and decided this was worth behaving for. At least for a little while. With a smile, he curled himself around his wife once more. His smile widened as Rose opened the journal, and he stared down at a drawing of his ninth body and Odd Bob.

"I got the journal when I was sixteen," Rose said. "As you know, but it felt important to record my earlier adventures in it."

"Well, I'm certain that this is going to be an excellent story," the Doctor whispered in her ear. "Greatest love story of all time as told by Rose Tyler."

"Told by Rose Tyler, but written by the two of us."

Rose turned her head, and the Doctor leaned down, preparing to kiss her.

"Better with two," he agreed.