F/O: Well here it is guys, for better or for worse, it's over. –sniffs- I have so seriously enjoyed writing this (though I must admit, at some point I think I'll succumb to the urge of re-editing it, perfectionist that I am, if I ever get past the hordes I want to write…). The last chapter. There were times I thought I'd never get here, and now I am, I feel all teary-eyed… or is that the sad fic I just finished reading :D Here marks the end of the story. Though, if you ask nicely, and the GCSE's go well, there may be room for an ity-bity sequel…
And on that note, enjoy!
Chapter 14
When they got back to the TARDIS (the piece of medical equipment forgotten), Jack looked up as they entered, soaked to the skin, and grinned.
"You took your sweet time," he noted suggestively. Rose and the Doctor ignored him, but the ex-Time Agent couldn't ignore (at least with his track record and experience) the way their hands were clasped, his jacket once again over her shoulders, and the slightly doe-eyed glances they were giving each other.
Storing up the ammunition for another date, he stood back so the Doctor could access his controls and hugged the sopping-wet Rose.
"Congrats," he whispered into her ear, smirking at her startled look.
"That obvious?" she whispered back. He wouldn't reply, but only continued to smirk. She punched his arm lightly.
"Rose?" the Doctor called, interrupting the moment. "Grab that switch, would you? The one next to the Spatial Stabiliser…"
"You mean the bicycle pump," Rose teased, taking up her position. The Doctor mock-glared in return, but a grin lingered around his lips that defied the attempted expression.
"Jack, what are you doing over there? Come on – I need you to calibrate the time differentials!"
"Yessir!" Jack pulled a crisp salute as he bounded over, aided by the sudden lurch of the time ship.
"Oops," the Doctor supplied, pulling them back upright with a series of switches. "Nearly there…"
With one almighty movement, he slammed his hand down on a big red button near the centre of the controls. Wheezing, the rotator rose and shuddered back down, before getting into the movement, and Rose felt her stomach leap as they left the wet planet.
As soon as they had left the time and space orbit, the three relaxed.
"Right, I'm off to get out of these," Rose called, gesturing to her sodden clothes. She shrugged off the Doctor's jacket and tossed it across to him, leaving a trail of sparkling raindrops as they flew off the partially water-resistant material.
"Oi, mind where you're getting that water!" he called back, and she grinned.
In her rooms, Rose dropped her sodden clothes into a pile while she undressed, thinking she would run them into the TARDIS washing machine later. After a brief shower, she dried off her hair and brushed it, dressing simply from her own wardrobe. The feel of the Doctor's lips on hers was still hanging ghostly in her thoughts, and her smile was testimony to her inner happiness.
Suddenly, she stopped. The towel she had been drying her hair with dropped from her fingers. The entire room seemed to buckle – or was that her legs? – and she quickly made for the bed, managing to drop to it.
Her balance was completely out, but she just managed to glance at her hand, where, trick of her imagination or not, a thousand lights seemed to swirl and coalesce.
Confused and not a little terrified, she felt her twin hearts rush blood around her body, pounding in her ears, there was that strange preternatural sense of time distorting, her vision was whirling…
Just before she lost herself to the eddying world that threatened to overcome her, she desperately threw out a mental thought.
Doctor!
The Doctor was humming under his breath (for once, not tunelessly) a rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', and blindly ignoring Jack's knowing glances in his direction. If he wanted to hum happily, who was the Time Agent turned conman to tell him otherwise? So what if he had a sillier grin than usual sporting on his face?
Doctor!
He froze. His fingers dropped the sonic screwdriver to the floor, where it fell with a clatter, drawing Jack's attention.
"Doc?"
"Rose," the Time Lord breathed, before abandoning his task and rushing out.
Not having had the mental call, Jack followed him, mystified. His worries were not helped by the mad dash of the Doctor, but he was healthy, and managed to keep up quite well, not surprised when they stopped at Rose's bedroom.
He didn't bother to knock – just threw the door open and stopped.
Rose lay sprawled on the bed, her blonde hair still slightly damp against the soft covers and her eyes shut.
"Rose!" Jack called instinctively, stopping just behind the Time Lord.
She didn't respond. The Doctor glanced across her, taking in the slight mottling to her skin – no, wait… Lights, dancing under her skin. Nanogenes.
He held out his hand to stop Jack from coming any closer forwards, knowing the human couldn't see the strange eddying whirls of shifting Time that surrounded Rose. It was dangerous enough to him as it was.
"Stay back," he ordered, throwing all his persuasion and command into those two words. Without waiting to see their affect, he entered the room carefully, forcing the Time strands to weave around him.
One step. Two steps.
Rose looked almost peaceful – practically angelic with her hair fanning out and the illumination of her skin making her glow.
"Rose?" he asked softly, approaching as quickly as he dared.
Rose opened her eyes. The usual soft brown was a confliction of emotions and thoughts – flecks of pain and understanding, swirls of joy and hope, timeless knowledge.
"Doctor?" she breathed, focusing on his face. Then, gracefully, she closed her eyes and relaxed.
One hand was reaching slowly out to her, but before he could touch her, she became a blaze of light. Wincing and shielding his eyes, he blinked away the dazzle and after-images, waiting for it to clear.
The air was filled with the tension he'd come to recognise amongst his peers and the non-taste on his tongue of a regeneration. With fear, he suddenly realised what this meant. This was the end – the final transformation. No turning back.
There was a rushing of non-existent wind and the light faded. Blinking, his eyes watering desperately, the Doctor forced himself to see Rose, or what she had become. His heart constricted as his vision focused and a million nightmarish ideas threw themselves in his face.
Was she alive? Was she still Rose? What had he done to this young human girl?
But when he could finally see, she was still young, still blonde, and judging by her open eyes, still alive. He almost fell forwards, coming to the edge of the bed.
"Rose?" he asked for what felt like the millionth time, trying to reassure himself with the familiarity of her name.
"Doctor? What-?"
"It's alright," he comforted, not sure what he should say. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms. She didn't resist.
"I feel…"
"It's alright," the Doctor repeated, kissing her hair softly. "It's over."
There was a pause.
"Then I'm…?"
"…Yes," he sighed and held her closer.
"It's so lonely."
He smiled sadly, his eyes feeling suspiciously stung. "I know."
"I could see everything – I could see them die," Rose muttered, her voice thick. "They all looked so terrified."
He tensed, fighting back his own remembrances.
"I am so, so sorry," she said, leaning back so she could reach up to stroke his cheek. "I never understood…"
"You have nothing to apologise for," he replied, his voice thick.
They remained silent for a few minutes, though Jack still at the door felt himself burn with questions, not least of which was concern for Rose.
"There's no going back."
Her voice surprisingly accepting and strong, the words seemed to fall into the void.
"Only forwards," the Doctor agreed. "Are you sure-?"
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Rose replied with a hint of a smile. "Thank you."
With tenderness, she reached up and kissed the nearest part of his face she could reach – his neck. He smiled slightly at the odd gesture, and pecked her nose in return.
"I'll, um, I'll just go and…" Jack trailed off, gesturing vaguely into the corridor, looking slightly uncomfortable.
"No, it's alright Jack – we'll stop flirting for now," Rose told him with a grin. Extracting herself from the Doctor's arms, she stood and pulled him up as well. She stretched, before walking over the Time Agent and enveloping him in a hug.
"Good to see you're OK," he muttered, kissing her forehead tenderly before releasing her.
"Me too," she laughed slightly. "I feel weird though – wired, like I could run for miles."
"I have a swimming pool," the Doctor offered, closing the distance between them. "It's probably just post-regeneration energy, combined with the different sleep patterns we Time Lords have compared to humans."
"Hmm, I could live with this," Rose replied, her tongue between her teeth. She frowned however. "What's regeneration?"
The Doctor sighed. "A long story."
"Everything with you is a long story," Rose pointed out, unwilling to let go of her good humour. "Simplify it."
"Basically, it's when we 'die', so to speak. We have this trick – sort of a way of cheating death really. When our bodies die, we turn into someone else, someone new, with the same basic personality, memories and stuff, but different characteristics. It's part of why we live so long – each Time Lord has thirteen lives. I'm on my ninth, and judging by back there, you're on your second – maybe your first."
Rose just let the information settle in her mind for a moment and chewed it over. "So I get thirteen different bodies?"
The Doctor nodded.
"And I change appearance each time?"
"Yeah. Hey, I'll find the old photo albums if you like – one of my old friends, a journalist called Sarah Jane Smith put one together for me, and it kind of kept getting added to," the Doctor offered.
"And you can explain why one of the jackets in the wardrobe has celery in the pocket," Jack chimed in. The Doctor shot him a curious look, then laughed.
"Now that would be telling," he replied, grinning.
"If we're being nostalgic, you can tell us what 'Oncoming Storm' means," Rose commented as they wandered out of her room.
The Doctor shot her a quick look. "Where did you hear that?"
"'Oncoming Storm'?" Jack asked, oblivious of the question, an odd note in his voice. "Where have I heard that before…?"