Disclaimer: Not mine, but please sue. How else would I ever get to meet Russel T. Davies? See you in court, T, I'll be the defendant wearing the Doctor Who t-shirt and fainting.

Spoilers: For Doomsday, and the Season 3 trailer, but not for Torchwood.

Summary: The Tenth Doctor starts to go through all the – um – healthy stages of grief, when something miraculous happens. He gets to bargaining, bargains everything to see Rose again, and it works! But not quite how he would have wanted. And Rose... well, Rose is an entirely different story.

Ships: 10\Rose, 9\Rose, but not at the same time!

Rating: PG, maybe PG-13.

-

Chapter 1

-

The Tenth Doctor, His World

:-: Denial :-:

How long are you gonna stay with me?

Forever.

Two days working as a waiter, wiping tables and serving and dealing with obnoxious custumers who deserved a banana shoved up their… throats. This was all he could do, this was his genius solution. It was useless, pathetic, unhealthy, and especially dangerous, but he couldn't stop himself, try as he might.

No supernovas burning, no TARDIS tricks. Just cleaning and serving and waiting. The first time around, he didn't bother to check what day they had landed on, so now all he had was an approximated guess.

It took two days, and finally, she came.

Rose Tyler, beautiful and innocent, walked into the restaurant, followed closely by his Ninth incarnation, who already looked like he never wanted to let her go, and this was only their first date. They had chips.

She approached a table, confident in her own world, somehow changed after seeing it explode, and sent her Doctor to fetch her some chips. That girl and her chips, now there was an impenetrable relationship to write poems about.

The Tenth Doctor remembered this day as if it happened mere minutes ago. He knew his former self would have to wait a long time for the chips, because apparently someone didn't peal the potatoes as he was asked and will therefore probably be fired, and the poor boy in the counter was experiencing a violent hangover, also known as TARDIS Made Him Woozy, which would cause him to have terrible trouble calculating change.

All in all, those bloody chips would take at least ten minutes more than usual to obtain.

He liked it when things went his way, especially when he was the one arranging them.

He cleaned a random table next to her, stealing looks. His Rose, delicate and just a little traumatized. He wondered if she remembered what he was about to do. Probably didn't, probably wrote it off as a normal person would, which was why this was possible for him to do.

"You all right, love?" he asked lightly, adopting an accent similar to hers.

Her head snapped in his direction, alarmed. "Oh, yes, I'm… fine, thank you," she murmured.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, managing only barely to keep his voice casual. "You sure? Y'look shaken… like you just" saw planet Earth blow up "watched your dog get run over by an airplane." He paused, feigning discomfort, "You didn't really, did you?"

She chuckled, a million miles away from all humanity, and something inside him broke.

Why was he doing this to himself, anyway? He should be moving on, not stalking former companions.

"I don't have a dog," she said easily, as if the airplane scenario made more sense to her. "Just… weird day, you know?"

He frowned, "Weird as in… aliens invading?"

This time he got a full laugh, and he couldn't care less that it was more stress related than anything else. He just wanted to see her again. This was what this was all about, seeing her again.

"Not yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time," she said under her breath, with just a bit of bitterness. "Just… you know, sometimes the day takes you places you never thought… not that I'm complaining, just- I mean, I was supposed to be sorting through t-shirts right about now."

His Rose Tyler. Now trapped in another dimension, no longer his. Sitting here, thinking she didn't quite belong in the Doctor's crazy life, when it was really him that didn't belong with her, didn't deserve her.

She craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of her current Doctor. "What's taking him so long? I'm hungry. Sure is taking his sweet time doin' anything t'day," she mumbled to herself, crossing her arms with annoyance.

Well, that was quite a low blow at his former self. It's not like he took his sweet time on purpose. Still, she had spunk, that girl.

He was tempted to say something else, but enough was enough. If he continued being quirky-yet-charming, she might remember him, or, no less harmful, take too much interest in him. Also, the pain it was causing him was already almost too much to bear.

He stayed close to that table the entire time, watching them talk and laugh and slowly become who they were, memorizing every little movement. Every expression, every smile, and all the while he still wondered what good can possibly come of this, and maybe he should just regenerate right then and there and save himself living a lifetime of agony without her.

After they were done she actually smiled at him, the waiter who was nice to her. He was 900 years old and his breath was completely stolen away.

Smiled, straight at him; looked him in the eye and everything. A genuine Rose Tyler smile. Somewhat polite and distant, but still, directed right at him. Somehow, through cosmic powers that were stronger than him, he refrained from smiling like the idiot he was, and just grinned politely and nodded, keeping his head low.

Once they left, his boss approached him. "What was that about, mate?" he asked angrily.

The Doctor stared at him, as if he forgot he was even working there, "What was what?"

"You were supposed to peel the potatoes! Customers had to wait forever for their damn chips!"

Did that midget really think he'd care about potatoes when Rose Tyler smiled at him? "Sorry."

"And how many times do I have to tell you? No. Flirting. With customers. I don't care if the bloody Spice Girls walk through that door, you hear?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. Even he knew that lunatic band of teenagers didn't exist on anyone's radar anymore. He took his apron off with something resembling glee. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't want to work in a place where I can't woo the Spice Girls into marrying me. I quit. Goodbye, now. Have a great life. See you, then."

Same went for Rose. Goodbye, great life, see you, then. This was definitely the very last time he would do anything like this. Time to move on to runaway brides and whatever faith had in store for him.

Of course, having a time machine meant he could come back and save the world at any time, which was how, for the next couple of months, he rationalized living his life with Rose a second time, usually from a hidden corner, being careful not to cause any tears in time. But sometimes, when enough time passed for her tiny human brain to forget about him, he put on a disguise, changed his hair a little, played with dozens of accents, and talked to her.

Just for a few seconds every time, and never about anything significant, but enough for her to smile at him. He always found something to say that would make her smile, amusedly, sympathetically, with him, at him, however it turned out.

Like in Cardiff, 2006. The last time he could talk to her. It was a cheerful time, with Jack and Her Doctor and lots of laughter, he remembered. He did miss Jack, but Jack was somewhere in the universe. This universe. The point was, this was a cheerful time for Rose, so she wouldn't take too much notice in him.

He took a job in this little store, Top Shop, and sorted through clothes for three days until they came. The other Doctor wasn't there, having more jumpers than he'd ever need, which was a good thing for him, as it would have forced him to hide.

They were laughing as they entered, and they never stop laughing, not even for a minute. He remembered their time together as very noisy and giggly. Bantering all day long. Jack chose a pair of pants and disappeared, giving the Doctor his chance.

He approached her, confidently, adopting a southern accent, "Need any help?"

She shrugged, barely looking at him, "I dunno. I'm not really looking for somethin' specific."

He nodded in understanding, "Just got a few quid to spend and some free time, eh?"

She shrugged again, though more bashful this time, and raised her gaze. "Yeah, I guess."

The store was small, crowded with clothes, so she was closer to him now than usually. She smelled like Rose and he missed her so much. The Oncoming Storm found himself getting weak in the knees, but he was a good actor. "See what we can find for you, Miss…?"

"Rose." She smiled, but not too flirtatiously, as would a woman who traveled regularly with a flirt like Jack, an unattainable alien hottie like The Doctor and had a boyfriend home on retainer. Too many men in her life to have much energy left for random guys in random points of time. "What's your name?"

Quick, a name that won't be memorable. "Steve," he said quickly, turning away from her, "Let's see what we have here."

He made sure not to turn around until she started absently looking through shelves, taking the time to remind himself for the millionth time that what he was doing was stupid beyond words. Suddenly, something caught his eye, and he grinned. It was a cute pink t-shirt which screamed of Rose and had 'Bad Wolf' splotched across it. In glitter.

What the hell, he thought, picking it up. Obviously that shirt was placed in time for him to find and offer her, which meant Time at least accepted - if not approved of - what he was doing enough to let him help the Bad Wolf cause. "Miss Rose?" he called.

"Yeah?"

He spread the shirt for her to see, high enough so that the Bad Wolf would splash in front of her eyes. "How's this, then?"

Rose's grin faded, as did the color from her cheeks. This was after seeing the Blaidd Drwg project, obviously. She took a step back, and he swore she was shivering. "No, thanks," she breathed, "I'm, uh… getting tired of the pink. Maybe something purple?"

He nodded, trying to hold a burst of giggles. Rose Tyler, tired of pink? Pfft. He took out another shirt. The exact same one, only with bigger writing and a drawing of a bad wolf. And purple. "Like this?"

She sighed, her mind already blocking this disturbing incident, and him with it. "Don't think that's my color, actually. Let's look at skirts!"

Jack came flouncing back. "Rose!" he chirped, "Look at these pants. Tell me they don't make you giddy! Best pants in the whole universe, I tell ya."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and edged away from her, closer to a section of clothes by Bad Wolf Sportswear, which he knew she'd force back into the back of her head until it was time. He could be a little bolder now, since she wouldn't remember him anyway. He could look at her a little more obviously, look at them both and feel his insides warm.

Jack noticed this, and, smirking, whispered to Rose, "I think that guy likes you."

Rose gasped and busied herself with the shelf. "Jack, he's right there! He can hear you," she choked under her breath.

Jack nodded, leering at him shamelessly. "I know, and he's cute," he whispered, not bothering to lower his voice, "We have a night to kill here, go for it."

She huffed, "Yeah, I'm sure Mickey'll love that."

Oh, right, Mickey The Idiot was somewhere out there too. He remembered his former self had such negative feelings for Mickey, no matter what. Well, he had loved Rose differently back then, more possessively, even a little romantically. They stood together, side by side, allowing themselves to be a little sexual. There was always a subtext with them, so obviously Mickey was nothing but an annoying fly, buzzing in his ear, taking Rose's attention.

It was different with him. He liked Mickey just fine, now, and he loved Rose like salvation. They didn't stand together anymore. He was a few steps, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead, keeping a distance from her. The man without a home, not even the Daleks to cling to. And he was afraid to let her get too close, seeing how she liked to sacrifice herself for him when he was in trouble. Case in point.

Still, Rose was his Star, always, and he didn't mind sharing her with Mickey or Jackie, just as long as he was allowed to follow the glow of her.

Jack rolled his eyes, "I can distract Mickey, if you want. He's not really my type, but I don't really have a type."

She rolled her eyes, "Shut up."

Jack went to pay for his pants, and the Doctor knew time was up. Rose grinned at him, blushing slightly, "I'm sorry about that. He's… not from around here."

"American?"

She giggled at a private joke. "Uh… sure, American. You know how they are, with their… American ways." They shared a laugh, and then she noticed Mickey nearing the store and stepped back guiltily. "Well, thanks," she murmured, "I mean, sorry."

"What for?"

"Making you look through all those shirts. I used to hate people who looked for hours and didn't end up buying anything," she answered way too quickly, backing away from him. Just as well, too. Poor Mickey already had two guys and a spaceship keeping him awake at night, no need to add salt to his injuries. She waved at Mickey, and flashed the Doctor one last smile, "I have to go, sorry. G'bye, then."

He watched them retreat, his links to humanity, and murmured, "Goodbye, Rose Tyler."

Something ugly crawled inside him as he started to make his way back.

Maybe this was why it took her such a short time to trust him, he mused. He was always around, one way or another, she must have registered him somewhere in the back of her mind. His face was familiar to her on some level. Always there. How he hated not being there now. He would have let her get close again if she were here, he swore he would.

But he couldn't. He could look at her a little bit more, but he'd have to be careful not to be seen now. He couldn't talk to her ever again. This was the last time. Last, last time. Unless… no, that'd just be stupid. Terribly silly, not to be considered.

He could, in theory, talk to her before they met.

The TARDIS hummed in protest as if saying enough's enough, old friend.

The Doctor stared at the console, thinking, too much? Cross the line?

Just a bit.

Yeah, she had a point. It was one thing to relive memories they shared together through new eyes, but stalking a teenager… no. It was over. Rose was gone, time to face it. Make amends, move on.

But first. He remembered an excellent little restaurant in Brazil where they celebrated their elevation to Sir and Dame. And then the Olympics, and after that he'd stop. I swear, I'll stop. Just those two times. Please, old girl?

The TARDIS sighed in his head, fine. But after that, it stops.

Promise.

-

:-: Anger :-:

-

Of course, the day he listened to anyone, himself included, would be a day of festivities.

Still, after the third time he experienced his life with Rose, twice vicariously, he knew that it was time to stop, for real. If only because he was running out of places to hide from his two selves, the stalker one and the lucky one, but also because he knew this couldn't be healthy.

It was time to say goodbye to Rose. But first.

He stepped out of the TARDIS, who was very supportive throughout his dangerous detour at insanity, and into the Torchwood Institution. Minutes after, maybe an hour. After the fight, after his other self finally let go of the wall.

Inside, so dirty. Bits of Cybermen, bits of Daleks, sickening bits of human flesh. The lever that took her away firmly placed and locked, and that damned Wall.

That stupid, hideous, idiotic Wall.

He didn't even register his fist connecting with the wall until he saw blood dripping from his knuckles, but then he just kept punching, scratching, kicking. He had a feeling in the back of his head that if he punched through the wall, he might somehow dig his way to the other world.

And right there, kicking and screaming, he realized for the first time how alone he really was.

There was no one to stop him, no one to hold back him back, tell him he was being insane. Not even Jackie, scoffing that he was an unfit idiot, or Mickey, rolling his eyes. Or Rose. Sweet, beautiful Rose, who'd bandage his hands and plant a kiss on his forehead and hug him until he was better.

She was so alive and he was so alone and it was all the Wall's fault so he kept destroying it until crashing to the floor, exhausted and panting. Being a Time Lord, though, he actually did manage to bulldoze a hole right in the middle, stained in furious blood. Good for him.

He looked around at the debris, the bleeping computers filled with harmful information that the humans only ever used stupidly or for evil, and he knew what he really had to do.

Building a homemade bomb took about three minutes, which were two more than it would have usually taken him, had his eyes not been clouded with unshed tears. This was the only way to destroy all these stupid, classified X-Files the little humans liked to play with. Plus, just thinking about destroying this place, along with The Wall, caused him a shiver of sadistic pleasure and even that was better that the usual nothingness.

Why'd she have to pull that lever back up, anyway? Maybe the plan would have worked. Silly girl, always rushing, never stopping to think.

Well, he did remember how the Daleks started to float around when her lever went down. But still, maybe if she took the time to lock it properly before… right now they could have been in Marbella, 1989, having chips or getting into trouble. Or maybe it was all his fault for not taking the right lever in the first place. He was a Time Lord, he could have held on.

God, he was so stupid.

She was the one who revived the last- pfft- Dalek, and then the one to destroy the new, half human Daleks. He should have known third time would be her charm.

He almost slapped himself. She wasn't dead. Rose wasn't dead, he had to remember that. Just because he felt like she was. Just because he felt dead. She could have a great life, normal and full of human connections and healthy relationships. Domestic.

All he had was this Wall, and in a few seconds not even that.

Watching the building destroy, the Doctor decided it didn't help at all and that the humans would probably have Torchwood back up and running in a week, tops. It was time to look for Rose, if only to say goodbye. So he looked, and found her in Bad Wolf Bay. They said goodbye, she told him she loved him, he was cut right before and that didn't help at all, either. If anything, it made it worse.

Right after that he met Donna, offered to show her the world he could no longer give to Rose. He thought maybe she could be the one to stop him when his grief drove him mad, made him a cold-blooded murderer. She refused and he wasn't as sad as he should have been.

Then he met Martha, but it wasn't the same. Only now he didn't even have The Wall to keep him company, so he was left with all this pent up fury and no truly satisfying outlet for it.

He used to have so much mercy.