When I Knew
The Doctor stared aimlessly out at the bay. He fixed his gaze on the spot where murky gray water met murky gray sky, willing himself not to glance at Rose every few seconds. He promised he wouldn't leave her...but still, she wanted to be alone. He should let her be.
He had a pretty good idea of what she must be thinking. The same things were on his mind as well—though he could only hope Rose's conclusions matched up with his own.
He had no doubt that he was the real Doctor. He was real, and he was the Doctor. Simple enough. But of course, being real didn't mean he was exactly the same. He wondered just how many side effects of the metacrisis he was going to discover he had. The DoctorDonna had been a two-way creation, and though he was still about 89.486% Doctor (rounding to the nearest thousandth), that meant he was also 11.514% Donna. Just enough to have tweaked his accent, added some extra sass to his vocabulary, and who knew what else—in addition, of course, to the reduced number of hearts and shortened lifespan. All of that he could live with. It's not like he wasn't used to adjusting to a new set of tastes and personality traits with each regeneration. But this time was a little different.
When Rose had thought he was regenerating, she had been devastated. She wanted the Doctor she'd known for what only amounted to a couple of years but felt like much longer. She wanted him, as he had been. When he diverted his regeneration energy into his severed hand, he told himself it was because they were under attack and he couldn't waste time fumbling around in a new, weakened body while Daleks were bringing the universe down around their ears. But even as he thought it, he knew it was an excuse. The truth was, he wanted to remain the Doctor Rose loved. When he heard her begging him not to regenerate…he had no choice. And once again, the old him's decision had set the new him up to deal with the consequences. He was much more like his old self than the result of a full regeneration would have been. But these new quirks made him just different enough to remind Rose that he wasn't quite the same—in case she ever managed to forget.
He suddenly thought of the other him's words before he left. His other self's explanation for leaving him in this dimension was that he was dangerous, and although they both knew it was another excuse, that didn't mean it was untrue. The other him really believed the new him was a rogue (well, more so than usual). He really believed that his decision to destroy the Daleks made him inferior and hazardous—as if stopping a genetically engineered race of intergalactic fascists was a bad decision for the rest of the universe. But the old him was wrong, and not just about the Daleks. He was wrong about the new him. He didn't begin his existence full of anger and vengeance. He wasn't born in the rage of battle. He was born in a rush of love and longing. He was born from desire.
He was born because at the moment of his creation, the Doctor wanted nothing more than to be with Rose.
Yes, the infusion of Donna's DNA had come at a point when she was terrified and facing death, and his first thoughts (even before putting on some clothes) were of how to save the two of them and the TARDIS. He'd had to leap straight into battle strategy by necessity. But all that regeneration energy, the energy that in combination with his hand made him part Time Lord—the part that made him himself—that began generating when the Dalek fired on him as he ran toward Rose, feeling more elated than he had in a long time. That energy generated as he lay in her arms, her voice and her face filling his mind. When that energy was sent out into his old hand, it was sent to make her happy—to allow him to be with her. And although the current situation wasn't what the old him had in mind when he did it, he had achieved his purpose. Or he got it off to a start, anyway.
The Doctor smiled to himself. This explained a few things: why he didn't blink at wiping out a race that threatened not just the universe, but her; why he found it so natural to say the words that used to choke him up; why he was so angry at his old self for leaving Rose the first time; why he felt complete conviction when he told Jackie that he would fight for Rose in a way the old him wouldn't, didn't, couldn't. It was quite possible—likely, even—that his feelings for Rose were more intense and unclouded than they had ever been. It was possible that he loved her more than the old him physically could. Because he was made for it.
But how could he explain that to Rose? How could he tell her that one of the biggest changes in him was how deeply he cared for her? Somehow he thought that might do more harm than good.
"Doctor?"
It took him a moment to realize he wasn't just hearing her voice in his head. He turned to her, a smile lighting up his face.
Rose felt a familiar flutter in her stomach when his eyes met hers. With one look, it was like he had turned down the volume on all her confusion and anger. All she could hear was the memory of those three words he had said earlier.
She grinned lopsidedly. "Your face is a bit red. I think it's time we got out of the wind."
"Yes. Right. Allons-y!" The Doctor reached out his hand. Warmth spread through his whole body when she took it easily. "So, um…where are we going?"
She tugged on his hand. "C'mon. This way."
As she led him away from the bay and out to a well-worn road, the Doctor tried to decide how best to ask what he was itching to know. But Rose broke the silence first.
"I'm sorry for runnin' off like that," she began quietly. "I know that this is new for you too. I was just…I wasn't sure what to think at first, and I needed to be alone for a little bit. Just…to think."
"I understand." The Doctor swallowed nervously. Suddenly he made a decision.
"Rose." He stopped, and she turned toward him. "I know this is hard for you, and it's okay. This whole thing is sort of…weird. I'm weird. And I might get weirder. I don't expect you to…just because you kissed me, I know that doesn't mean…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "…I know that doesn't mean everything is going to be easy. But I can promise you one thing, Rose: I am your Doctor. I remember everywhere we've been together, everything we've done. I remember the first word I ever said to you, and the song that was playing when we danced together. I remember hearing the TARDIS coming back for me on Satellite Five, knowing you must be inside. When you opened that door and I saw what you'd done to be able to pilot the TARDIS…that's when I knew for certain that I loved you."
The words tumbled out, and he suddenly felt exposed. The old him would never have told her that, and the bolt of fear that shot through him as he watched her face for a reaction reminded him why. But he kept on. "I am your Doctor, Rose. And you can take all the time you need to think about it, I understand. I promise I'll be here when you're ready."
Rose stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. She suddenly felt so selfish. She should have trusted what she felt every time the Doctor looked at her instead of whining to herself that she had been cheated. This Doctor was not a cheap copy just echoing the thoughts and emotions of the real thing. So what if there was another Doctor out there somewhere, somewhere she couldn't go? The Doctor in front of her was just as real. His heart was just as real, even if he had only one, and here he was offering it to her freely. How could she look through him as if he weren't real when he—her Doctor—loved her? How could she throw that away?
"I'm so sorry, Doctor." Her eyes were wet. "I didn't mean…"
He grasped her shoulders and leaned in close to her. "You don't have to apologize, Rose. I didn't mean for you to—"
"But it's not fair." How can I make it right? "I don't want you to think…just because you're different…I mean, you've been different before…"
All at once her eyes met his and her heart leapt, just as it always did when their eyes locked. Just as it always had. She remembered that she was tired of crying.
"Even if some things have changed," she said softly, "You're still my Doctor."
Smiling, the Doctor brought his hand to her cheek. She'd never seen him look so relieved, yet so vulnerable.
"Doctor." The words flowed easily now. "I love you."
His eyes answered before he spoke. "I love you, Rose Tyler."
He kissed her, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Though he knew better than anyone that it was impossible, he could have sworn for a moment that time was standing still.
