Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue.

Well folks, this is it! The End. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

And by the way, I'm toying with the idea of writing a sequel of sorts to this… I could do something very evil with the end… Heehee. But tell me what you think.

And anyway, I'm gonna need some therapy after what those little b-----ds at the BBC are gonna do to Rose in the last episode… Grrr.

Anyway. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed before, and enjoy!

Breath of Life

Epilogue - Patching and Coffee

They lay in a tangle of sheets and cast off clothes, her head resting on his chest, his arms around her waist. She was asleep, long lashes resting against her flushed cheeks, but he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He was a lifelong insomniac.

For now, just love me.

That was all well and good, 'live for the moment', but the morning-after was what he dreaded. She would expect things of him, things that he couldn't give her. He was supposed to be the all-powerful Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, but in reality it didn't take much to scare him.

And a single teenage girl scared him more than any Dalek ever had.

He sighed softly and buried his face in her hair. He breathed in, and the mingled scents of lavender, applegrass and hormones flooded through his head. He vaguely wondered why the scent of the New Earth applegrass still clung to her fine blonde hair.

"Oh Rose…" he breathed. The guilt was kicking in already, and along with it came the doubt.

He was a Time Lord, and she was a shop-girl from London.

She was too good for him.

He was the Oncoming Storm. It wasn't supposed to be.

Slowly, careful, he disentangled himself from her, tracing his fingertips across her satin-smooth cheek as he slipped off the bed. Of their own volition his hands tucked the sheet around her. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake. He felt something damp prick at the back of his eye.

He sniffed and left, his shoulders hunched.

Rose's gold-flecked eyes slid open, and a lone silver tear trickled down her cheek.

>>>>>>>>>

The TARDIS whirred softly in the middle of the night. The noise was comforting to his ears, soothing his frayed nerves.

The Doctor flicked absently at various switches that were dotted across the control room console. He sighed softly. "What am I doing?" he murmured to himself.

That's not the question. Why are you doing this? It was the TARDIS again.

The Doctor was too preoccupied to care. "Why am I doing what?"

One of the screens next to him flickered into electronic life. The Doctor glanced up at it, and then froze.

Rose's face, close up. Eyes wide, lips parted oh-so-slightly. Irises slightly red, hazing over the gold.

Liquid diamonds running down her cheeks, sparkling in the dim light from the interior of the ship.

His hand drifted up to the screen. "Rose…" he whispered.

Why are you doing this?

He closed his eyes forcefully and bit his lip fiercely. "Because I can't."

That's a pathetic excuse.

He was mildly surprised at the TARDIS's bluntness. "I can't though," he said in return. "She will leave. Eventually." He twisted a dial with more force than usual. "And that'll break both of us."

What if she doesn't?

"She's…" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "She's human. She'll die." Something glistened in his eyes. "She'll grow old, and she'll fade. And I'll have to watch her." He sniffed hard, drawing his hand across weary eyes. "I can't do that," he whispered.

There was silence. The TARDIS seemed to be thinking. Finally, What if she doesn't?

"Doesn't what?"

Grow old. Die. Leave you.

"She will. She's human." He stuck stubbornly to his argument. "It's not her choice."

She won't.

The Doctor sagged down, as if the meagre argument exhausted him. "She's human," he murmured, as if that explained everything. His fingertips skated across her face on the screen. Tracks of crystal still trailed down her skin.

No. She is the Bad Wolf.

"What?"

She is the Bad Wolf.

"But…" I am the Bad Wolf. A recurrent memory. "What is that? The Bad Wolf?"

It is the gold that kept you safe. It is balance. It is the partner to the Oncoming Storm. It is Rose.

"I don't understand," he breathed. It wasn't exactly true, but he desperately needed clarification. "I don't understand."

The Time Vortex clung to her. You tried to take it from her, but you failed. It is woven into her soul; it is her. You may be the last Time Lord, but she is the Time Goddess. She is your equal.

It was surreal, not quite real. "How?"

I do not know. I do not believe that even the Vortex knows. But she is, and she needs you. Just as you need her. Everything in the Universe must have an opposite; a balance. She is yours.

Realisation. "The gold, in her eyes."

Yes. Physical manifestation.

"She's not gonna die."

No.

"Will she regenerate?"

I do not know. She may change when you do; you are tied together. But I do not know.

He pushed himself up, his body tense with joy. "I have to go to her!"

Amusement. Yes. You do. Patch things up.

"Patch things up. Right."

With his most Doctorish grin on his face, he ran.

>>>>>>>>>

He had left again. Again.

Rose lay curled up on the bed they had shared, her tears staining the pillow. He had left her.

She had thought that it might mean something to him, that he might have meant what he said. That those touches and kisses and caresses might have been something more than just physical comfort.

She had seen the look in his eyes. The utter devotion. The complete adoration. The pure love. Surely he couldn't have been faking that?

Could he? He was the last of the Time Lords, and she didn't know what that might mean.

Didn't know what he could and couldn't do.

Didn't know whether he was capable of loving her in the way she needed him.

She just didn't know anymore.

Rose knew the Doctor was there before he spoke. It was a little itch in the back of her mind, a little nerve that whispered his name to her in rich tones. She heard him shift nervously; heard his tongue flick out to moisten his lips. She could hear everything; every tiny little shift and click and shuffle.

"Rose?" His voice was like music in her ears; the clear song of a flute rising above the accompaniment of the orchestra.

She couldn't bring herself to reply. What was going to happen now? Would he kick her out? Would he ignore her? Would they just continue on as before; just a one night stand?

It was her turn to have no answers.

"Coffee?"

Coffee? As in… coffee?

She raised her eyes, looking up at him. He held a brightly patterned mug between his hands, the heady aroma of fresh caffeine intoxicating her senses. It was held out to her slightly, his long fingers wrapped around the porcelain surface.

She pulled herself into a rough approximation of a sitting position, and her gaze moved up to his face; to his eyes. The dark brown depths were swimming with emotion.

Guilt.

Joy.

Fear.

Hope.

Worry.

Love.

He loved her. He loved her.

She smiled. "Coffee," she agreed.

His face relaxed into a grin.

Two words. Well, one technically. That was all it took.

Rose's smile widened as she accepted the steaming mug and the Doctor seated himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Coffee," she said again, circling the brew under her nose.

He kissed the side of her neck. "Coffee."

She leaned back against him and raised the mug to her lips, smiling. The coffee felt like liquid stars as it rippled down her throat. Gorgeous, she thought. She wasn't just referring to the coffee.

Her eyes slid shut as his lips again made contact with her smooth skin, tracing a delicate path down her flesh.

She smiled.

Everything was going to be alright.

Scrap that.

Everything was going to be perfect.

end